He stretched toward the table, and his body shifted deliciously against her. She was thinking about that, and trying to ignore the urgent signals her body was sending, when she suddenly gave a little scream. Elijah must have drunk from the Champagne bottle because cold lips slid across her throat.

Her skin felt as if it were burning. “No,” she gasped, turning her head toward him.

“It’s not your turn to ask for a kiss,” he said, laughter running through his voice. “Not even if you beg, Duchess.”

“I never beg!” Jemma said, instantly remembering the move she planned. “Knight takes Bishop. Your boon.”

A cold tongue ran shockingly up her throat.

“Oh—”

His lips trailed fire and ice across her cheek and hovered at the corner of her mouth. She opened her mouth, but his lips evaded hers. “I’ll have you begging,” he said. “That’s what I want, more than a boon.”

“Oh—”

“Rook takes Knight,” he whispered in her ear.

The very sound of his voice turned Jemma’s legs to sweet fire. She tried to think of the next move, the one that was going to smash his game and win her the top spot in the Chess Club. He was braced over her, nuzzling her chin. He smelled wonderful, like clean male. His lips were tracing patterns on her cheeks.

She couldn’t think. The only thing she wanted to do was tear off the blindfold and run her hands into his hair. Kiss him again, and again.

“Your move!” he commanded. She didn’t answer, and she felt his ripple of laughter as clearly in her body as in his.

Jemma suddenly realized something that she should have known all along.

There are times where winning at chess doesn’t matter. She loved Elijah. She loved him with all her heart—and that meant that she wanted him to win. Or rather, she didn’t care. She didn’t have to win every game of chess.

“You win,” she said huskily, and gave him a free kiss, one that had nothing to do with boons or chess pieces.

“You win,” she repeated. Then she reached up deliberately and pulled off her blindfold.

Only to meet Elijah’s dark, smiling eyes.

Chapter Nineteen

“You’re not blindfolded!” she gasped.

“I cheated.” He rolled off her body and sat up.

Jemma pulled herself to a seated position as well.

“You—You cheated?” She couldn’t believe it. Not only had Elijah the Perfect Paragon cheated by untying his blindfold, but he didn’t seem in the least repentant.

“Why did you remove your scarf? Wait! I’ve been running my fingers through your hair! I should have known—”

He was laughing outright. “You must have been distracted.”

“But why?”

“I don’t want to win.” He leaned forward to brush his lips across hers. “I took my blindfold off the moment we began the game. I didn’t want to miss even a moment of watching you.”

She scowled at him. “You should have told me!”

The look in his eyes was tender and rough at the same time. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. “I never really saw you when we made love before. You were always under the blankets.”

“I watched you,” she said. “I used to lie very quietly and pretend to be asleep while you dressed. Remember? We would sleep in the master chamber then.”

He glanced indifferently at the walls of her chamber. “No difference.”

“The difference is that you’ve come to me.”

“I’ll come to you anywhere,” he promised.

“Just come, and I’ll be happy,” she said, giggling.

But he didn’t laugh with her. “I don’t remember you coming, all those years ago.”

Jemma was torn between the delicious feeling in her body and a small tingle of embarrassment. “I didn’t.”

“Tonight, will you tell exactly what you like?”

She felt a blush starting. “Well…”

“Do you mean to tell me that the reputation of Frenchmen is exaggerated?”

It was embarrassing to admit. “Perhaps.” She might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. “I never—I didn’t stay long enough—I—”

His mouth twitched and she realized he was laughing. Laughing! “I’m trying to tell you something important!” she protested, giving him a little push.

“I should have known it. I was in England, suffering the tortures of the damned because I was so convinced you had discovered far better lovers than I.”

“I didn’t drop them because our intimacies were unsatisfactory,” she said, shaking her head. “It was because of you.”

“Of me!”

“I always felt that I was betraying you. I would decide, in the most cold-blooded way, to have an affaire, but it never seemed to work. They were so tedious, and the bedding wasn’t terribly interesting.”

“We were fools, Jemma.”

“Was there something you learned from your mistress that you would like me to try?” she said, clearing her throat.

His eyes were serious now. “There are things I’d like to try, but none of them came from poor Sarah. I think perhaps we need to talk about her, since we keep circling the subject.”

She bit her lip, but she wanted to know.

“A mistress appears with her private parts oiled, Jemma. Did you know that?”

She could feel her eyes widening. “So that a man—”

“Precisely. Before we were married, I did try to give her some pleasure. I would touch her breasts. She was a good woman, and I was fond of her. But after I married you, I lost all enjoyment in it. I used to simply take her. With few words, and with all possible speed.”

Jemma bit her lip. Her body felt suddenly cold. “We both made some terrible mistakes. I should have fought for you. Instead I simply ran away.”

They stayed silent a moment. “Would you like to just—sleep tonight?” he asked, finally. “This has undoubtedly made you feel rather ill.” His eyes were black with self-recrimination, somber.

“Are you going to sit there and feel bad about a woman who was paid a fortune to make love to a man who had one of the most beautiful bodies in England,” Jemma asked, “or are you going to make love to your wife?”

His mouth softened, but still he just looked at her, as if there were something more she had to say.

So she slid down onto her back and said, “Of course, we still need to talk.”

He nodded.

“I’ll tell what I learned in France.” Elijah frowned, and she added hastily, “Not from my two lovers. I’m afraid those encounters were less than inspiring, which was undoubtedly my fault since I was both cold and apathetic.”

His eyes definitely looked less somber now.

“I learned a great deal from Frenchwomen,” she said dreamily, running a hand down over her breasts.

“I want to hear every word,” Elijah said, leaning over her, but not touching her.

“Did you know that women love to be kissed, here?” Jemma asked, running a finger straight down her belly and below.

“I’ve heard as much. And I would love to experiment.” The throaty pleasure in his voice was entirely genuine.