Anthony knew the gambit she was playing. If he didn’t stop it, he would find himself entangled and slowly squeezed to death.

“White will win,” Olivia stated again.

“Oh?” He moved his pawn to king three.

Olivia without pause for thought moved her knight to king’s bishop three. “White has the advantage, but I never lose,” she said. “Even if I’m playing black.”

“What a cocky young thing you are,” he said, making his responding move.

After that they played in silence.

Until Olivia said quietly, “Check,” as she moved her rook. “And mate in three. Unless you want to play it out.”

Anthony examined the board. He examined it for a very long time. He’d sensed his defeat coming several moves back and had done, he thought, everything he could to circumvent it. But she had him. There was no denying it. And much to his surprise the loss piqued him.

His long, slim forefinger tipped over his king. He sat back in his chair and regarded her.

“Still say I’m cocky?” Olivia asked, unable to hide a rather smug smile.

“I think you have to give me the return match,” he said, a smile flickering in his eyes now. There was something quite endearing about her smugness.

“Best of three,” Olivia said instantly. She began to replace the pieces on the board.

Anthony glanced at the window. The night darkness was lightening. It would soon be dawn. “No more now,” he said, rising from his chair. “I need to be away.”

Olivia followed his eyes to the window. “Oh, yes, I suppose you do.” She sounded disappointed. “I know I would win playing black.”

“We shall see about that, my flower.” He tilted her chin on a fingertip, then in one swift graceful movement bent and kissed her mouth.

He drew back immediately before she could react, before her eyes could cloud over in the way they had when he’d touched her before.

Olivia stood very still. Her heart was beating rather fast, and although the kiss had been so swift and so light, she could still feel the imprint of his mouth on hers. And she felt only pleasure.

“The next match will be on my home ground,” he decreed, going to the window. He straddled the sill. “Mike will contact you. Just do as he says.” He touched his fingers to his lips and blew her a kiss, then he swung himself over the ledge and was gone.

Olivia went to the window and gazed down. She thought she saw him disappear into the trees, but he moved so swiftly and silently it was hard to be certain.

Just how did he think she could drop everything and come running when he summoned her? Did he think his own plans were more important than hers?

But of course he did. Whatever those damned plans were. They were as dangerous as they were outside the law, that at least was a safe bet.

She went back to the bed where the sketch he had made lay amid the rumpled covers. The fine hairs on her nape lifted as she looked at it. It was so sensual. It was as if every stroke of his pencil was a caress over the body he was sketching. She remembered how his hands had felt on her body when they’d made love.

She tucked the paper back between the pages of Aeschylus and climbed into bed. Her hand slipped beneath her pillow, her fingers closing over his kerchief. She fell asleep with it balled in her hand as she had done every night since she’d returned from her dream on Wind Dancer.

Chapter Ten

“Wake up, lazy. It’s not like you to sleep betimes.” Phoebe bounced into Olivia’s bedchamber an hour or so after the pirate’s departure. She carried the baby on her hip and held her elder son by the hand. “I have splendid news.”

Olivia dragged herself up from sleep. It seemed that this night was destined to be broken. She blinked at Phoebe, for a confused moment wondering where she’d come from.

But gradually now the world reasserted itself. The early sunshine, the sound of birdsong, the fresh scents of the grass as the night’s dew burned off. Phoebe’s bright engaging smile and the baby’s soft cooing.

Olivia yawned. “What news?”

Phoebe grinned mysteriously. “I’ll give you three guesses.” Little Earl Grafton pulled free of her hold and tottered towards the dresser, where he knew he’d find shiny enticing objects from Olivia’s jewel box. Phoebe deftly removed scissors and a pincushion before his dimpled fingers could light upon them. Then her eye fell on the washstand.

She said in astonishment, “What’s that all over the washcloth? It’s all red. Have you cut yourself?” She picked up the cloth by a corner.

“Oh, I was experimenting with rouge,” Olivia said. “I thought I looked so pale when we went out last night. But I didn’t like it.”

Phoebe cast her an appraising glance. “Where did you get it?”

“From a peddler.”

“Well, where is it? Can I see it?”

“I threw it away.”

“Olivia!”

Olivia looked rueful. She really was not very adept at deception. At least not with those who knew her almost as well as she knew herself. “Anthony was here. Disguised as some kind of a drunken fisherman. It’s his paint.”

Phoebe absorbed the implications of this in wide-eyed silence. Then she said in some awe, “The pirate? He came here? Into your chamber at dead of night? With Cato asleep two doors away?”

Olivia nodded. “Up the magnolia tree and through the window.”

“Dear God!” Phoebe exclaimed. “What for?”

“We played chess.”

Phoebe looked at her as if one or both of them had lost their minds. “Did you say chess?” Her startled gaze shot to the chessboard. The black king was toppled; neat rows of taken pieces lay beside the inlaid board. Somebody had been playing.

“I thought you said it was over.”

“It is,” Olivia said, her fingers knitting the coverlet. “He brought back my book… the one I was reading when I slipped. I left it on his ship by mistake.”

Phoebe sat down on the chest at the foot of the bed, settling the baby on her lap. “Let me understand this. This… this pirate, whom you never expected to see again, out of the blue climbs through your window at dead of night in order to give you back a book and play a game of chess?”

“It does sound unlikely,” Olivia agreed. “But he’s a rather unlikely kind of a person.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Phoebe’s gaze was sharp. “You can’t pretend to me, Olivia. You know you can’t. We’ve known each other far too long.”

Olivia knew she was not going to tell Phoebe about how the pirate and a dandified jackass called Mr. Caxton were one and the same. If Anthony was playing a game that put him in opposition to Cato, then Phoebe would not want to know it.

“I’m just trying to put things together, Phoebe,” she said slowly. “It was such a shock. I never expected to see him again. I told you how I felt that it had just been a dream while I was on the ship, and that now I’d woken up.”

She pushed aside the covers impatiently and sat on the edge of the bed, searching for words. “But when I saw him again, it felt just as strange… just as dreamlike. Can you imagine playing chess in the middle of the night with a man who…” She gave a helpless little shrug.

“Playing chess with an outlaw under your father’s roof in the middle of the night sounds like the product of a disordered mind to me,” Phoebe said tartly. She regarded Olivia with a frown. “Was that really all you did?”

“Yes,” Olivia said. “That was all.” Apart from those touches, the light brushing kiss. Her eye went to the book that contained the sketch. She didn’t think she would show that to Phoebe.

“Well, I don’t like it. It seems stupidly reckless to me,” Phoebe said roundly.

“You’re sounding so elder-sisterly and prudish,” Olivia complained. “You used not to be. You used to do reckless things yourself, if you recall. Who was it who rode off after my father and hid on his ship without his knowing?”

Phoebe brushed a loose lock of hair from her eyes. “I suppose if you put it like that… I don’t mean to be prudish, but I can’t help worrying about you, Olivia. You’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Well, that is certainly true,” Olivia said with a reluctant grin. “The opportunity never arose.”

“That’s so flippant… Oh, sweetheart, did you bump your head?” Without ceremony, Phoebe dumped the baby into Olivia’s lap and rushed to the wailing Nicholas, who had lost his precarious balance and sat down with a thump, knocking his head against the leg of a chair.

Olivia held little Charles, playing with his toes while she waited for the kissing and wailing to cease. “I might play chess with him again,” she said consideringly, when Phoebe had once more given her her full attention.

Phoebe shook her head. “I don’t mean to be prim and proper, really I don’t. But it’s crazy, Olivia. What if Cato finds out?”

“He won’t,” Olivia said with a confidence she didn’t quite feel. “Not if you don’t tell him.”

“Of course I won’t,” Phoebe said indignantly, taking Charles from Olivia.

Olivia offered a placatory smile. “Anyway, what was this splendid news?”

Phoebe looked as if she was unwilling to be distracted, then she sighed. “Guess.”

Olivia felt she’d had enough of games, but she thought she’d put Phoebe out enough already and it would be unkind to refuse to guess. “You’re going back to London with my father and you’ll see all your poets again.”

“No… no,” Phoebe said impatiently. “It’s something to please both of us.”

Olivia thought, then she smiled. “When’s she c-coming?”

Phoebe’s blue eyes sparkled, her customary sunny temper restored. “I knew you’d guess if you’d think for a minute. Portia’s coming to stay for a few days. Rufus sent a message from London. He’s been dealing with the army troubles-all the mutinies and things-and needs to have talks with Governor Hammond and Cato. So he’s going to stay at the castle, but Portia wants to stay with us.”