Page 54 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

Sebastian did not immediately lead her through the main corridors. Instead, with a quiet word and a subtle shift of direction, he guided her along the edges of the ballroom, his pace unhurried, his manner entirely composed.

“This,” he murmured as they passed beneath the shadow of a column, “is how one avoids the notice of those who have nothing better to do than observe others.”

Darcy glanced at him, amusement stirring. “You make it sound like an art.”

“It is,” he replied mildly. “One I mastered rather young.”

He timed their movements with precision, slipping them between clusters of guests, past an open doorway, and into a quieter corridor before anyone might remark upon their absence. Darcy felt a thrill at the subtle mischief of it, at the quiet rebellion of stepping beyond the expectations the ton placed upon her.

A few moments later, he opened a door and ushered her into a study. The room was warm, the fire already lit in the grate, its glow casting a golden light over shelves lined with books and a polished desk set neatly to one side. A chess set rested upon a small table nearby, as though awaiting their arrival.

Sebastian took up the board without ceremony, set it upon the rug before the hearth, and lowered himself to the floor to arrange the pieces with efficient familiarity. There was no longer even a pretense of propriety. Darcy hesitated only a moment before joining him, gathering her skirts with little care for convention as she settled opposite. A quiet rush of exhilaration moved through her at the impropriety of it. Here she ought to have exercised caution, perhaps even timidity, yet she found herself unable to summon either.

“Shall we begin?” he asked, glancing up at her.

Darcy inclined her head. “If you are prepared to lose.”

A faint smile touched his mouth, though his eyes had already sharpened with focus. “We shall see.”

From the very first move, she understood. He was not indulging her. He played with precision, each movement deliberate, each piece placed with quiet certainty that spoke of long practice and deeper instinct. There was no carelessness in him, no allowance made for her comfort, and as the game unfolded, Darcy felt a flicker of surprise give way to something far more potent.

Respect stirred first, followed by something perilously close to awe. She had wondered, fleetingly, if his extravagant wager had been offered lightly, perhaps even as a means of placing money in her hands without offense, charity cloaked in the guise of sport.

That notion dissolved with each passing moment. Sebastian played to win.

Darcy drew in a slow breath, forcing herself to match his concentration, to push aside the awareness of the firelight, the quiet intimacy of the room, and the man seated so close before her.

A thousand pounds waited upon the outcome.

The sum was staggering—enough to alter the course of her future. Combined with her earnings from painting, it would give her a measure of independence greater than she had ever allowed herself to imagine.

Darcy could not afford distraction. And yet, as she studied the board and anticipated his next move, a treacherous thought slipped through her carefully maintained focus. He might win. Her pulse quickened at what would follow if he did. Darcy’s gaze flickered upward, meeting his for the briefest moment before she forced it back to the board. If Sebastian won, she would have to grant him another kiss, though he would believe it their first. The memory of his mouth upon hers, of the way he had undone her so completely, rose unbidden, sending a subtle warmth through her that she could not entirely suppress.

Darcy straightened slightly, her expression sharpening as she reached for her next piece. No. She would not yield so easily. Not when the stakes were so high. And so she played on, her mind fully engaged, her resolve hardening even as the quiet, dangerous awareness of him lingered between them, as steady and consuming as the fire at her back.

CHAPTER 19

“Checkmate,” Miss Whitley said, laughter lacing her voice as she leaned back slightly, her eyes alight with triumph.

Sebastian stared at the board for a long moment before a slow, genuine smile curved his mouth. He had been bested, and found he did not mind it in the least. “Well done, Darcy,” he murmured, lifting his gaze to hers.

Her name had slipped from him without thought, and he saw the instant the intimacy struck her, the way her cheeks warmed, the way her lashes fluttered. More than once, he had wondered how he might secure Darcy’s future without wounding the fierce pride he had already come to recognize. She possessed a quiet determination, a strength that would not accept charity, no matter how it was offered. The wager had been his solution, though not entirely selfless, for he had very much desired to win.

He had wanted to claim his prize, and so he had played in earnest. Every move, strategy and feint had been carefully considered, and yet she had met him move for move, surprising him with a brilliance that left him both impressed and intrigued. He had not granted her the victory; she had taken it from him.

“You are an impressive player. My father must have taken considerable pleasure in teaching you.”

Darcy’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. Then she leaned forward, and before Sebastian could anticipate her intent, pressed her lips lightly to the corner of his mouth. The kiss was so chaste it scarcely qualified as one, her aim missing his lips by the barest fraction.

And yet Sebastian stilled. A tremor moved through him, subtle yet undeniable, as though the fleeting touch had opened some unsuspected fracture within him.

The force of his reaction was absurd, laughable even. Sebastian had known far more skilled embraces, far more practiced seductions, and yet this fleeting, almost innocent touch dispossessed his composure.

He drew back slightly, studying her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, a soft sheen brightening her eyes.

He understood that she thanked him not merely for honoring the wager, but for playing in earnest and never diminishing her with condescension. A faint smile touched his mouth. “You have earned it. You are truly a brilliant player.”