Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
“Chess.”
Elijah looked up from his ledgers again, one dark eyebrow raised. Iris stood in the doorway of his solar, her chin lifted in that stubborn way that had likely gotten her in trouble her entire life.
When had she come back inside?
“I beg yer pardon?”
He wasn’t in the right frame of mind for another exchange of words with Iris, so he turned back to his parchments, pretending to be engrossed.
But even with his head down, he could sense her studying him, probably deciding what to do next.
“I challenge ye to a game of chess,” she said, stepping into the room. “If I win, ye spend an entire afternoon with yer son—talkin’, playin’, whatever he wants to do.”
He lifted his head slowly, taking his time giving her a response. “And if ye lose?”
“Then I’ll do whatever ye ask me to.” The words came out before she could second-guess them.
A slow smile spread across his face. How he would use this opportunity to his advantage, he was yet to determine.
“Whatever I ask?”
He saw uncertainty flash across her features.
Too late to back down now, lass. Ye should think more instead of lettin’ yer emotions run away with ye.
He watched with satisfaction as she swallowed before she whispered, “Aye.”
He leaned back in his chair, rolling his quill between his fingers, studying her. “I warned ye nae to challenge me, wife.”
Her eyes flashed with fire. “Are ye afraid ye’ll lose?”
Elijah laughed, rich and genuine. “Oh, lass, ye have nay idea what ye’re gettin’ yerself into.”
Twenty minutes later, the chessboard was set between them on a small table near the window. He watched Iris stare down at the carved wooden pieces, seeing the way her confidence continued to spike downward.
“What’s the matter, wife? Suddenly realized ye daenae ken how to play as well ye imagined?”
He watched that stubborn tilt of her chin again. “I leaned to play with me faither’s steward. I havenae played in some summers, but how hard can it be?”
Elijah had to force himself not to burst out laughing. He moved a pawn.
“Yer move,” he said pleasantly.
She moved a pawn forward. He countered immediately, barely glancing at the board. Within ten moves, it was clear she was outmatched. He played like a general commanding troops, every piece precisely positioned, every move calculated three steps ahead.
“Checkmate,” he announced fifteen minutes later.
Iris stared at the board in dismay. Her king was trapped, surrounded by his pieces with no escape, and she’d barely managed to capture two of his pawns.
“That was pathetic,” she muttered.
“Aye, it was.” But there was no mockery in his voice, just amusement. “Lack of strategy on ye part aside, did ye really think ye would be able to beat me?”
“I hoped.” She slumped back in her chair. “I just wanted ye to spend time with him. He misses havin’ a faither.”
“He has a faither.”
“Does he? To me, it just looks like he has a laird who occasionally acknowledges his existence.”
Elijah could feel his expression hardening. “We had this discussion already.”
“Aye, and ye made yer position clear.” She stood up, brushing off her skirts. “So, what do ye want me to do? Clean the stables? Scrub floors? Whatever it is, let’s get it over with.”
Elijah leaned back in his chair, something unreadable crossing his expression.
“Get ready to go to the river.”
Iris blinked. “What?”
“Ye heard me. Get ready to go to the river.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what I’m askin’ ye to do.” He stood also, moving around the desk until only inches separated them. From this close, he could see the way her pulse quickened, smell the lavender on her hair. “Or did ye forget the terms of our game so quickly?”
“But why the river? What are we goin’ to do there?”
“I daenae have to tell ye that. The rules were simple—ye do what I ask, nay questions.”
He could see she wanted to argue. Her mouth opened and closed then opened again before it finally closed.
“Fine. How long do I have?”
“Meet me at the barn in half an hour.”
He couldn’t help smiling as he watched her stumble out of the solar.
Stubborn lass.
“Ye’re bein’ ridiculous, Iris,” she muttered to herself as she descended the stairs wearing her simplest dress and sturdiest boots. She’d braided her hair back and held a light cloak in one hand.
Her mind was still churning from their confrontation in the solar. The way he’d dismissed her concerns about Codie and the cold authority in his voice when he’d called her incompetent still burned in her chest like swallowed coals.
“And then that wretched chess game.”
She’d been so certain she could best him, so sure that winning would give her the leverage to help that poor boy. Instead, she’d made a fool of herself, stumbling through moves like a child playing at strategy while he demolished her defenses with casual precision.
“Checkmate,” she said bitterly under her breath, mimicking his satisfied tone. “Of course, it was bloody checkmate.”
Now, here she was, bound by her own rash promise to do whatever he asked.
The humiliation of it made her cheeks burn anew, but underneath the embarrassment was something else—a treacherous flutter of anticipation.
When he’d said they were going to the river, something in his voice had made her pulse quicken despite her anger.
When she turned into the barn, she tried not to show how much his appearance affected her.
Elijah had changed into riding clothes, and even furious with him, she couldn’t deny that he cut a magnificent figure.
The way his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, the confident way he held himself made her stomach flutter with feelings she had no business having for a man who’d just proven how little he thought of her judgment.
He was holding the reins to one horse. “I can ride me own horse,” she snapped immediately.
“Maybe next time.” Before she could protest, his hands were on her waist, lifting her onto his stallion like she weighed nothing. “Today, ye ride with me.”
“This is ridiculous. I’ve been ridin’ since I was five.”
“And today, ye ride with me,” he repeated, swinging up behind her.
The moment his body settled against her back, every thought in her head scattered like startled birds. He was warm and solid behind her, his chest pressed against her shoulders, his arms coming around her to take the reins. She could smell him—all leather and male in ways that made her head spin.
This is a mistake.
“Comfortable?” His breath was warm against her ear.
“Fine,” she managed though her voice sounded strangled even to her own ears.
They rode out of the castle courtyard at an easy pace, but every step of the horse pressed her back more firmly against Elijah’s chest. She tried to sit straight, to put distance between them, but there was nowhere to go.
“Relax,” he murmured. “Ye’re too stiff.”
“I’m fine.”
“Ye’re nae fine. Ye’re practically vibratin’ with tension.” His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her more securely against him. “Better?”
Worse. So much worse.
Because now she could feel the steady beat of his heart against her back and could feel the strength in the arm that held her steady. Her body was responding in ways that had nothing to do with the horse’s movement and everything to do with the man behind her.
“Why are we goin’ to the river?” she asked desperately, needing to think about something other than how perfectly she seemed to fit against him.
“Ye’ll see.”
They rode in silence for a while, following a path that wound through trees and over gentle hills. The late afternoon breeze was calm. Under different circumstances, it might have been romantic.
Daenae think about that.
But it was hard not to when Elijah’s thumb was unconsciously stroking along her ribs where his hand rested or when he leaned forward slightly to guide the horse around a fallen log and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck.
“Here,” he said finally, bringing the horse to a stop beside a wide, slow-moving river, and Iris finally breathed.
The spot was beautiful. There were willows trailing their branches in the water, smooth stones along the bank, and the sound of water flowing over rocks. Wildflowers bloomed in patches of sunlight, and somewhere, a bird was singing.
Elijah dismounted first then reached up to help her down. His hands spanned her waist easily, lowering her slowly until her feet touched the ground. For a moment, they stood so close that she could see gold flecks in his brown eyes, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.
“What are we doing here?” she asked softly.
Instead of answering, he moved to the horse and began unbuckling his sword belt.
“Elijah?”
“I come here to swim,” he said matter-of-factly, draping the belt over the saddle. “It helps me think.”
Swim.
The word was so unexpected that it hit Iris like a blow. “I’m nae swimmin’ with ye.”
“Why nae? Can ye nae swim?”
“Of course, I can swim, but I’m nae... we’re nae...” She gestured helplessly between them.
“Nae what?”
“Nae goin’ to be naked together!” The words burst out like a burst pipe.
His grin was wicked. “Who said anythin’ about bein’ naked? Ye can swim in yer shift.”
“I am nae swimmin’ in me shift!” Even the thought made her face burn. The thin linen would become transparent when wet, clinging to every curve.
“Then swim in yer dress.”
“And ruin it?”
“Then I suppose ye have a problem.” He was already pulling his shirt over his head, revealing a chest sculpted like a god that made her mouth go dry. Scars crisscrossed his skin. Some were thin white lines, others more recent and angry-looking, evidence of the battles that had made him legendary.
Daenae stare. Daenae stare at his chest.
But she stared anyway.
“This is what ye wanted?” she asked weakly.
“This is what I’m askin’ ye to do.” He sat on a fallen log to pull off his boots. “Honor the rules of our game, Iris, or admit ye’re nae a woman of yer word.”
The challenge sparked her temper. “I never said I wouldnae do it.”
“Then what are ye waitin’ for?”
Courage. Sanity. A miracle.
But she’d made a deal, and she’d honor it even if it killed her. Turning her back to him, she began unlacing her dress with shaking fingers.
“Need help?” His voice was closer than she’d expected.
“Nay!” She clutched the dress to her chest. “Just... turn away.”
“We’re married, lass. It’s nae like I havenae seen a woman’s body before.”
“Well, ye havenae seen mine!”
“Nae yet.”
The promise in those two words made heat pool low in her belly.
She closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart.
She stripped down to her shift and chemise, draping her dress carefully over a bush.
When she turned around, Elijah was already waist-deep in the water, and the sight of him made Iris stop and stare.
Water droplets clung to his broad shoulders, each muscle of his sculpted chest clearly defined beneath sun-bronzed skin.
Lush, dark hair slicked back from his face, revealing the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the strong line of his jaw.
The water lapped at the ridged planes of his abdomen, and she could see the powerful muscles of his arms flexing as he moved through the current.
He looked like some ancient Celtic god. Powerful and dangerous and utterly masculine.
Every line of his body spoke of strength earned through years of wielding sword and shield, of a man who’d carved his reputation with his own hands.
The sight made her mouth go dry and her knees weak in equal measure.
“Come on then,” he called, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Water’s nae that cold.”
And may God help me.
She let out a loud sigh, walking in slowly. She gasped as the cool water hit her legs, her waist, and her chest. The current was gentle but persistent, tugging at her shift and making her acutely aware of how little she was wearing.
“See? Nae so bad.”
Iris flashed him a look in response, continuing to wade in. One moment she was walking carefully on the smooth stones, and the next, her foot slipped and she was falling backward. Strong arms caught her immediately, pulling her against a hard chest.
The hard planes of his chest pressed her closer, and the muscled strength of his thighs bracketed hers, solid and warm even in the cool river water. She could feel the rigid line of his arousal against her hip, proof that he was as affected by their closeness as she was.
“Iris,” he said, and her name sounded different on his lips. Rough, hungry.
Heat flooded through her at the realization, making her breath catch. His hands spanned her waist easily, his palms burning against the thin, wet fabric of her shift, and she could feel the way he held her firmly but carefully, as if she were something precious he was afraid of breaking.