by Shirl Anders
]Chapter Ten
Drummond found Gabriella, not surprising, exactly where he had left her, only she appeared as a morose figure spilled limply against the wall. Her small head was bent to his approach, therefore, she surprised him when she spoke with the knowledge that he was near to her.
"You shall have to beat me, my lord. Throw me into chains, before I-I ... Oh!"
Drummond swung Gabriella up into his arms to carry her, eliciting her startled squealing. "Entirely too dramatic, madame," he muttered.
Gabriella clutched his neck to near strangulation proportions, allowing him to assume that no man had carried her in his arms before, as she sputtered rather indelicately. "Y-You would not think so, if you w-were the one being bullied!"
"Bullied, madame?" Drummond fairly blurted, then caught himself. "A smattering autocratic ... perhaps," he grumbled for a finish, while he noticed Gabriella's release of some tension, namely her fingernails gouging his neck, when she saw that he carried her away from the direction of the salon.
"Autocratic," she snorted delicately, with a puff of breath warming his jaw.
"I can detect that this situation calls for a gesture of proof," he drawled, starting up the long staircase to the upper floors.
"Gesture?" Gabriella asked, tightening her hold on his shoulders as she glanced precariously downward.
"Do not look down," he ordered. "Look at me."
"Bully," she whispered, burying her face into the crook of his neck.
Being so unobserved, Drummond smiled and held Gabriella a bit more tightly as he took the last five steps to the top of the stairs. "I shall allow you one objection a day, over anything you wish, except my releasing you."
"W-What?"
"I suggest, madame, that you use the boon wisely. A full day is a long measure," Drummond said, opening his bedroom door with a twist of his hand and a shove of his foot.
"And today ... do I have one for today?" Gabriella asked, as he set her onto her feet beside him.
"Exactly," Drummond stated succinctly as he dropped his chin to regard her gently uplifted face.
"Well then, of course I will use it to ..."
Drummond quickly used one finger to press over the delicate texture of Gabriella's lips, silencing her before she could use her boon precariously. "I feel it only fair to inform you, madame, that we shall not be entertaining the gentlemen, Archangels this evening. Our plans have changed."
The relief was readily apparent in Gabriella's violet eyes as she stepped back, releasing his finger's impression upon her lip, while asking incredulously, "Why?"
Drummond stole a moment's hesitation by padding further into the room, then sidestepped her query entirely by asking, "Do you play chess, madame?"
Gabriella's delicate features showed surprise, mild reproof, and then perplexity, before she finally answered, "It has been many years, my lord, however I did play chess with my father when I was young."
"Excellent," Drummond answered, watching Gabriella's awareness dawning to realize just where they stood and what she could only assume that meant would be happening soon.
"I would challenge you to a game, my lord," she declared suddenly, a little too suddenly he thought, suppressing a smile.
"Challenge begets a wager, madame. Is that what you are suggesting?" he asked bemused.
"Well, I ..." Gabriella's voice faltered, then regained its footing, while her gaze skittered for a moment. "Of course," she finished, nearly in a squeak.
"Being a gentleman, I would have to give you a lead, denoting your rustiness over the game," he paused. "A rook and a pawn, I should think would be sufficient."
"How honorable," Gabriella muttered, appearing for all the world as if no matter how high the advantage was, she had no hope of winning.
"What shall we wager ... hmm?" he asked, as he eyed the white and black chess pieces already set in the beginning position, on a low table in front of the fireplace.
"I really have nothing to wager, my lord."
"Drummond, madame, I shall have to insist that you call me Drummond." Drummond picked up the smooth-marbled queen, running his thumb over the sculptured outline. "And, I would not say that you have nothing." He paused, lifting his gaze to Gabriella's. "Your diamond earrings perhaps?"
"Oh no, I ..." Gabriella's slender hand flew to her earlobe where she fingered one of the diamond ear bobs.
Drummond chuckled warmly, looking once again at the queen. "I am pleased to see that you like them so well that you have no desire to part with them, madame."
"We could wager a deed. If you insist," Gabriella suggested suddenly.
"A deed?" Drummond questioned, with prompt and heightened awareness.
"I could perhaps mend your shirts or, um, cook you a meal. Oh no, possibly not that as you already have an excellent cook. No, I could ..."
"A meal," Drummond interrupted, being that she surprised him. Women of Gabriella's station in life did not normally lower themselves to such benign labor.
"Why yes, a meal, my lor-, um, Drummond, something you favor perhaps?"
Gabriella appeared so earnest, Drummond reflected, and in his surprise he had gotten captured carrying their game in a much different direction than he intended. Ah well, there was no hope but to regroup. "A meal ... perhaps. However, what would I give you?" he asked, setting the chess piece down.
"Above all else, I should like your vow that you will not spank me again." Gabriella's cheeks turned pink as Drummond watched her struggle to hold his steady gaze, whilst he fought down a pesky smile of admiration.
"All that for a meal?" he inquired as he began to walk toward her purposefully. "Perhaps for a meal and anything that I might desire for dessert, madame."
If possible, Gabriella's delicate features turned pinker and she appeared about to bolt, however, she stood her ground as he stopped very near to her. "I believe that is too vague," she replied bravely, tilting her face up to him.
"Even for such a boon as never being spanked by me again?" Drummond asked with a wicked soft infliction.
"Yes ... you could ask for the world for dessert," Gabriella replied with a graceful sweep of her hand.
"Your loins." Drummond abruptly stated. "Dessert would be tasting your loins."
Gabriella faltered a step backward, apparently in shock, with her hands clasped to her agitated bosom and her cheeks turning scarlet . . .
And, Drummond unhurriedly began to unbutton his shirt. "The wager is set, madame."
