Toran.
“If ye will not accept the offer, sir, then we are obliged to flip a coin for it.”
From her sleeve, she withdrew a silver coin, one he’d never seen before. Face up in the palm of her hand, it showed the royal arms of Scotland. She carefully turned it over, showing the profile of a young Prince Charles Stuart. This was one of the infamous Jacobite coins. Currency that could get one killed. Just for having it here in her hand, she could be hanged. Even his uncle who’d sworn allegiance once more to the Jacobite cause did not have the notorious coins on hand.
“Pick a side. The crown or the prince?” she said.
Was this a test? Why did everything she said feel that way? If he chose the crown, would she think he was siding with the English? If he chose the prince, then he was declaring himself a Jacobite in mixed company. There would be no easy excuse for it later.
So be it.
“The prince.”
She grinned, obviously pleased with his choice. He must have passed her test. Jenny tossed the coin into the air and caught it again, pressing it down onto the back of her hand. When she pulled away, revealing the crown, he conceded. “Ladies first.”
Jenny’s face went blank as she studied the board, and then she moved her right pawn forward two spaces, freeing her rook for movement.
Toran mimicked her move on the opposite side of the board.
She moved her pawn, third from the right. And he did the same.
After the third time he’d copied her movements, she blew out a huff and glanced up at him. “Ye propose to win by moving the same way I do?”
“Does not any good soldier follow his leader?”
One delicately arched brow lifted as she studied him. “Is that what ye are? My soldier?”
“Does everyone always do what ye tell them?” he asked, genuinely interested in her answer.
“What kind of a question is that?”
Why my mother? “An honest one.”
“The duty of a soldier is to obey orders.”
He knew it wasn’t a confession, and yet it felt that way all the same. Toran moved his knight into position. “Check.”
Jenny countered by taking his knight with her queen. “Ye see, in any game, whether on the board or on the field, a woman can take down a knight in protection of her king.”
“At the sacrifice of all those pawns in the way.” He took out one of her pawns with his bishop.
“We all make sacrifices.” She took his bishop.
“Some more than others.”
“All give some, Toran. That is what we are made for. Whether it is the knight on the field or the grieving widow at home.” She took one of his pawns, and he parried by taking her knight.
“Or the grieving parentless children. Ye’re good at this.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice.” She kept her eyes on his, giving away nothing. “I will not give up.”
“Neither will I. Check.”
They grew quiet then, as she moved out of his way and he continued to chase her around the board, each of them losing piece by piece. Those around them had stopped what they were doing in order to watch, gasps coming from one or another watcher when either of them made a check. Finally, Jenny had him cornered.
She was a damned good player, he’d give her that, for he’d been trained by the best. Which meant this wee chit across from him could best the Fox. Sitting beside him were two orphans, the woman responsible had him in check, and he still didn’t have the answers he sought.
“Ye’re in check. Do ye surrender?” she asked.
Toran sat back in his chair, eyeing her across from him. The light from the candelabras and the fire reflected in her emerald eyes. There was a triumphant gleam to them and a flush on her cheeks. Her lips curved slightly, not quite a smile, and her breaths were coming only slightly faster than before. Was this what she’d look like if he kissed her? Bloody hell, he was more likely to put his blade to her throat than kiss her.
“I’ve no other choice,” he mused aloud.
Her smile hitched a little higher. “Everyone has a choice. Ye could flip the table and toss all the pieces into the hearth, or ye could try one last time to best me.”
“I’m not an irrational man.”
“Good to know.”
“I surrender to ye, my lady.” But only in this game.
Those around them clapped, and someone called out, “Good game.”
“A rematch?” she asked.
“Perhaps another time.”
“I’ll