Finessing the Contessa

by Wendy Soliman

  God’s beard, she had a lot to answer for.

  “Signora.” Rob proffered his arm. The contessa hesitated for a beat, and then placed her hand on his sleeve. “This ought to prove highly entertaining.”

  She shot him a suspicious sideways glance. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Why, Sophia’s al fresco dinner, of course.” He schooled his features into an innocent mask. “Whatever did you think I meant?”

  “I, that is to say—”

  “I dare say she’ll have engaged performers to entertain us.”

  “Will there be fireworks?” she asked, her eyes shining. “I love fireworks.”

  “I’m sure there will be.”

  And if there aren’t, we’ll just have to create our own.

  Her animated features, the pleasure he detected in her expression at the prospect of something so relatively mundane, robbed him of the ability to say anything remotely sensible. He gave himself a mental shake and the moment passed. Even so, the spell she appeared able to cast over him without any apparent effort ought to have concerned him more. He’d never before experienced anything like the gravitational pull that drew him to the contessa in spite of his doubts about her. He glanced at her profile and a fierce determination to both protect her and give her the benefit of the doubt burned through him.

  “I’m so glad,” she said.

  For a moment, Rob forgot that she was talking about the fireworks. They walked slowly towards the farthest table. Rob wanted to keep her as much to himself as he politely could.

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Why? You know nothing about me.”

  “I know you enjoy explosions,” he said, struggling to keep his lips straight.

  “Either you speak in riddles, my lord, or perhaps my English isn’t good enough to understand you.”

  “On the contrary,” he said, holding out a chair for her. “I believe we understand one another perfectly, and your English is excellent. Where did you learn?”

  “My grandmother was English and so my own mother spoke to us only in English. Added to that, we had an English governess.”

  “She taught you well.”

  “Thank you.”

  Surrounded by others, it was impossible to maintain their verbal sparring. That was probably for the best. Every time he looked into her magnetic eyes, the line between duty and pleasure became further blurred. Instead he was consumed with the desire to throw himself at her feet and dispel the underlying worry he could detect in her expression. Slaying dragons for an attractive lady suddenly seemed like the most worthwhile occupation on God’s earth.

  With a supreme effort of will, Rob turned to the lady sitting on his opposite side and engaged her in animated conversation for a good fifteen minutes.

  The meal was drawing to a close. It was decision time. Did he go with the plan he had agreed with Hal and let her slip away and search his room? That would be the sensible course of action, but something about the contessa made good sense and irresponsibility switch places in his mind.

  With the guests absorbed by the tumblers’ performance, Rob slid his chair back and offered her his arm.

  “Come,” he said. “We have business to attend to.”

  She looked up at him for a protracted moment. A succession of reactions flitted through her eyes. Curiosity, fear and excitement dominated. Curiosity won out.

  “Very well.”

  Without asking him any questions, she stood up. Fortunately the other gentlemen at the table, still absorbed with the entertainment, didn’t notice and therefore didn’t get up themselves. As Rob led her away he was satisfied that their departure went largely unobserved.

  “What business?” she asked belatedly. “Where are you taking me?”

  Rob didn’t answer. Instead he led her into Charles’s private study, closed the door behind them and indicated the superb jade chess set displayed on a mahogany table inlaid with ivory.

  She gasped. “It’s exquisite. Too precious to be touched.”

  Rob conducted her to a chair and then took the one on the opposite side of the board. “You don’t escape that easily.”

  “I have no desire to escape you, Lord Robert. But I thought the chess was not to start until Monday.”

  “There’s nothing to say we can’t entertain ourselves with a game before then.”

  “I should warn you that I don’t play for high stakes.”

  He fixed her with a searing gaze. “Then what do you play for, signora?”

  Chapter Seven

  When he focused his intelligent brown eyes on her face with such disarming intensity, Electra found it impossible to look away. He compelled her, and yet she had no choice but to deceive him. She hated herself for that. Why couldn’t he be an elderly despot with gout, a wart on his nose, bad breath and a worse temper? It was indicative of the way her fortunes were running of late that he was young, chivalrous and handsome. Worse, he possessed the ability to stir her dormant passions, just by looking at her in a particular way. Damn him, she absolutely did not wish to be attracted to him.

  And yet she seemed powerless to help herself.

  An amused smile played about his lips as he watched her conduct her inner struggle, almost as though he understood her dilemma.

  “Then what do you play for?” he asked for a second time.

  Lost in thought, Electra realised she hadn’t responded to his question. She lifted her chin and finally succeeded in pulling her gaze away from his.

  “The satisfaction of winning,” she replied tritely.

  “Ah, satisfaction.” He leaned back in his chair, two fingers idly tilting a pawn from side to side. “Satisfaction is all very well...in its place.” He sent her a look that said its place wasn’t on a chessboard. “But there’s nothing to prevent us from playing for something other than financial gain, just to make the game more interesting.”

  “What do I have that could possibly tempt you, my lord?”

  He expelled a decidedly wicked chuckle, still looking completely at his ease, whereas she was a tangle of nerves and indecision. “Being a gentleman I shall avoid giving you an honest answer and tell you instead what I’d like from you, should I be fortunate enough to win our battle of wills.”

  “That was what I just asked you.”

  “Did you?” Lord Robert shook his head, sending a shock of fair hair tumbling across his brow. “Excuse me, I must have misunderstood.”

  Electra was all out of patience with him. He’d understood her perfectly and was amusing himself at her expense, seemingly immune to her supposed charms. Her insides were knotted with tension, for which she held him entirely responsible. This was not going at all to plan since if she was to do as Maynard required of her, she must somehow win his trust.

  She regretted now that she hadn’t sought him out during the day. She had supposed that making it obvious she was avoiding him would heighten his interest in her, making her task that much easier when they did actually meet. The candlelight was too dim for her to be able to read his expression, but her instincts told her that her stratagem had failed and he was several moves ahead of her before their game had even begun.

  Liquid heat coursed through her veins as she felt the weight of Lord Robert’s gaze focused on her face. A taut silence stretched between them, charged with tension and heady anticipation. He had brought her to this quiet room for something other than a game of chess, of that she was certain. What he really expected from her was less clear. Electra endeavoured to shake off the feeling of recklessness that seemed to grip her whenever she was in his lordship’s presence. She moistened her lips, twisting an escaped curl around her finger as she considered her options, wondering where this encounter would lead.

  Images of Vincenzo’s laughing eyes flickered through her
mind’s eye, bringing her to her senses as she recalled what was at stake. A burst of renewed determination strengthened her resolve. She adjured herself to remain concentrated on her assignment and ignore Lord Robert’s compelling charm. She had a duty to perform that had absolutely nothing to do with pitting her wits against his.

  At least, not across a chessboard.

  Lord Robert continued to cast glances her way, presumably waiting for her to speak. She took a perverse sort of pleasure in keeping him waiting. She recalled the searing nature of his kiss, delivered when he’d been completely naked and her desire to be so as well had been almost overwhelming. Indeed, to her annoyance, she’d done little else other than think about it when she had far more pressing matters to wrestle with. Like gaining access to his chamber and finding that damned report. She’d planned to do so this evening. Instead she was trapped here, alone with her nemesis.

  Surely there was a code of conduct to be adhered to when stealing from a virtual stranger. Even if there wasn’t, she was absolutely certain that she shouldn’t like him very much. As it was, she felt an attraction towards him she was powerless to suppress, making her doubly ashamed of what circumstance had forced her to become.

  He’d all but warned her earlier that he knew why she’d been in his chamber, had he not? She found it difficult to think coherently when in his company, which made her a sorry excuse for a spy. If he did know, why had he not said something, or at least questioned her about her intentions?

  No, she was still safe. He’d merely been playing word games with her.

  “Oblige me, Lord Robert, by speaking plain. Tell me what you want from me if you win. Or are you being deliberately obtuse?”

  “Misunderstandings brought about by a stubborn refusal to see the truth can be enormously entertaining. I make a point of indulging in them whenever possible.”

  She looked away from him. “We’re wasting time.”

  He quirked a brow. “Is there somewhere else you need to be?”

  Her heart rate accelerated. Ah, so he did know, or suspected. “Not in the least.” She did her very best to appear disinterested. “Should we be here alone?”

  “Are you afraid of me, or is it your reputation you fear for?”

  “No, on both counts. I’m a widow so the rules are different for me.”

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t remind me of that tantalising fact.”

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t, but I’m hardly telling you something you don’t already know perfectly well.”

  “Then let us agree on terms.” He canted his head and offered her a slow, lazy smile that heated the air between them. “Tell me, my lady, what would you like from me if you win?”

  She absolutely couldn’t tell him the truth. “Oh, your acknowledgement to the company at large that I outwitted you will suffice.”

  “Hmm, is that all?” He rested one elbow on the table and rubbed his chin with his hand. To his credit, he didn’t suggest that her winning would be an unlikely outcome, although he probably thought it. He wouldn’t be the first gentleman who’d underestimated her skill, simply because she was a female. “You disappoint me, signora. I thought you more daring than that.”

  She offered him a superior smile. “There’s nothing else I want from you.”

  “Is there not?” He impaled her with a knowing look. “Are you absolutely sure about that?”

  The heat that invaded her face caused her to speak incautiously. “I’m absolutely sure that you’re insufferably arrogant.”

  He chuckled. “Very well. Your ambition is modest enough and I agree to your terms.”

  He smiled across at her, clearly waiting for her to ask what he required from her. Electra disliked being predictable, but he was obviously willing to sit here in silence, looking at her with a faintly mocking expression that played havoc with her nerves until she chose to speak. Per amor del cielo, she’d met her match in this infuriatingly compulsive, quite disgustingly self-confident Englishman. Had the circumstances been different, perhaps, for the first time since her husband’s death, she might have been tempted. But she wouldn’t allow herself to think along those lines. Her aspirations were both dangerous and impossible. Lord Robert might enjoy her company now but when he discovered the truth about her, as he most assuredly would eventually, he would look upon her with absolute disgust.

  Electra shuddered. It shouldn’t matter what he thought of her.

  But it did.

  “Would you not find that humiliating, my lord?” Electra found it hard to imagine Lord Robert ever being humiliated, which is why she asked. “Admitting that a mere woman got the better of you?”

  “There is nothing about you that could be described as mere, signora. Besides, you have yet to better me.”

  She laughed. “I’ve anticipated this moment, planned for it, and you won’t find it as easy as you probably imagine.”

  A fine tremor ran through her when he fixed her with a glorious half smile that suggested she could have chosen her words with more care.

  “You still haven’t told me what you require from me,” she said hastily, “in the unlikely event that you win our game.”

  “Ah yes, that.” He stretched his long legs out to one side of the table and crossed them elegantly at the ankles. “One kiss, signora,” he said calmly. “That’s my price.”

  Colour flooded Electra’s face, probably making her appear like a green miss who’d taken exception to a relatively harmless suggestion. Harmless? Had she run completely mad? There was absolutely nothing harmless about Lord Robert’s kisses. They were more lethal than a battalion of soldiers running riot in a sacked village.

  “You can’t mean that,” she said in a commendably calm tone.

  “On the contrary, I was never more serious.”

  “Then I must conclude that you don’t consider me a worthy opponent. I doubt you would play Lord Billingham for such ridiculous stakes.”

  He threw back his head and roared with laughter. “Perhaps I should. It would definitely put him off his game and I might achieve the upper hand for once.” He abruptly abandoned his lazy position, sat forward and leaned both elbows on the table, his face now mere inches from hers. “And if you think I underestimate you,” he said softly, “then you’ve seriously miscalculated. Your reputation precedes you and I have long wished to cross rooks with you.”

  “Then why such a whimsical request?”

  “Be careful not to insult me.” He held up a warning hand. “I’ve already kissed you once and there was absolutely nothing whimsical about that experience.” He paused, drilling her face with the intensity of his gaze. “And you didn’t think so, either.”

  She gulped. How the devil did he know that? “You go too far.”

  “On the contrary, I’ve barely started.” His relaxed pose made him seem quite at ease. She, on the other hand, was a bundle of confusion. “Shall we begin?”

  “By all means.” Electra was white and therefore moved first. She positioned a pawn two rows forward.

  Lord Robert countered before she had time to draw breath. “You disappoint me, contessa.”

  She sighed. “What have I done now?”

  “The Sicilian defence?” He quirked a brow. “I was hoping for something a little more original.”

  “One sixth of all games supposedly start with the Sicilian.” She offered up a serene countenance for his inspection. “That doesn’t mean they necessarily end with it.”

  He conceded the point with an inclination of his head. “Quite so.”

  They played several more moves in silence. Lord Robert was like a sleek cat. Shiny and comparatively harmless on the surface, he bided his time, not doing anything with his pieces to excite her suspicions, but countering her moves with telling accuracy. He was waiting for her to miscalculate so he could pounce on her mistake, she cou
ld sense it. That was, after all, the point of the game, but the reason for this particular contest went far deeper than that. Unfortunately she didn’t quite know why.

  Electra was half tempted to make a mistake, so that he could win and she would have to endure his kiss. But that would be problematical because she was as competitive as he appeared to be and it was beyond her to throw a game, for any reason. She forced herself to concentrate and managed to create a lead in development and extra kingside space. He must have seen it, surely? Why hadn’t he stopped her?

  Dannazione, it was so difficult to remain focused when she sensed his gaze constantly roving across her face, and lower. Her cheeks heated when she caught it lingering on her breasts. She was accustomed to gentlemen observing her with varying degrees of appreciation. It had never concerned her before, but Lord Robert was easily able to unbalance her with his gaze and taunting, provocative remarks.

  “Check.”

  Fastidio, that was why he’d allowed her to continue her line of attack. She was so sure of her moves, so distracted by her opponent, that she hadn’t taken proper notice of his counterattack.

  “Congratulations, but I’m not beat yet.”

  “Possibly not.”

  But she was, and they both knew it. She’d fallen for a gambit that ought to have been obvious to a novice, simply because her mind wasn’t on the game. They played on, but the end was mercifully quick.

  “Well done,” she said when her king was trapped without escape.

  “You weren’t concentrating.”

  “No,” she said. “Perhaps not, but you won fair and square.”

  “What were you thinking about instead?”

  “I, oh...nothing of consequence.”

  He smiled at her. “Now I know you’re not being honest with me. Nothing matters to players of our calibre more than the thrill of the win.”

  She shrugged. “You’re too good for me.”

  “I wish you’d tell me what troubles you. I could—”

  “Ah, there you are.” The door opened and Lord Billingham walked in. “We wondered what had become of you. Couldn’t wait, huh?”