“Women!” William exclaimed. “I shall think on ‘t,” he said. Then he stroked Eleanor’s arm with a greasy hand. “If it shall make my wife happy, perhaps, then…” Eleanor forced herself to leave her arm where it was, but she wanted desperately to jerk it away from his loathsome touch.
Next to William, Hugh’s attention had been caught by the conversation, overhearing the words “Mary” and “marriage.” In disgust, he watched William stroke Eleanor’s arm, and he fought back the impulse to reach out and knock William’s hand away. What was wrong with him? Why did he feel so protective of Eleanor? Was it because William was such a swine’s head? Was it Hugh’s own chivalric upbringing? Or was there something else, some other reason he could not abide seeing William force himself on Eleanor? Bah! He must stop thinking this way and prepare himself for negotiations with Eleanor and with William for Mary.
The meal over, servants began clearing the tables, moving them against the walls, and the musicians began playing some carol dances, ladies and knights joining hands in sets of round dances throughout the Great Hall. Laughter and loud conversation added to the gaiety, and the colorful gowns swirled around the hall.
William looked at Eleanor and held out his hand. “Shall we dance in celebration of the christening of my son and heir—and of our future marriage?” he asked, a smirk flitting across his face.
Eleanor wildly cast about for an excuse, any excuse to keep away from his insistent pawing. “I—I am so tired from our journey,” she lied. “Perhaps a game of chess instead?” At least that way, they would be separated by a chess board—and he could hardly reach across to grab her without scattering all the pieces and looking like the fool in front of everyone.
“Chess!” William grunted. “I am for the dance. But,” he said, “if it does make you happy, then we shall play.” He signaled for servants, gave orders, and several boards and pieces were produced.
To Eleanor’s surprise, Mary had been approached by Henry, and blushing but smiling, she was walking with him to the circles of knights and ladies dancing in the center of the floor. William, fortunately, did not notice, but was busily arranging the boards and pieces as he wished, and giving orders to the servants for more wine. This attraction of Henry to Mary and vice-versa, if that was what it was, could only complicate her life even more than it already was at the moment. Eleanor frowned.
Hugh watched Mary and Henry’s progress toward the dancers. He had been late in asking her for the dance, his attention distracted, and young Henry had beat him out. Pah! That did not augur well, either, he thought, watching Henry take Mary’s hand and Mary smile up at him in return. That was more of a smile than he had ever been able to coax from her on his own behalf.
“A game, Lord Hugh?” William asked, motioning to the boards now set up at the high table.
“Nay, but I shall watch for a time,” Hugh said. He sat down in a chair and leaned his chin on his hand. For a while he’d amuse himself watching Eleanor and William play, but he would keep an eye on the dancers—and either find Mary when she was finished with that young pup Henry, or find himself a comely lady. Maybe that would cure what ailed him when he thought of Eleanor.
The game began, and Hugh, amused, watched Eleanor leap her bishops and glide her rooks across the chess board, trouncing William almost with every third move. William’s captured pieces were lined up on Eleanor’s side of the table, and, judging from the anger on his face, he did not enjoy being bested by a woman.
Eleanor was studying the board intently after William had castled, and, indecisively she reached out her hand and picked up a knight just briefly—gave a little gasp—and set it down again. “I am sorry,” she said. “I lose my turn, William.”
“What? You did not move,” William said.
Hugh looked at Eleanor quizzically. He knew well the rule about picking up a piece, as did William, but to call that on oneself when one’s opponent had not noticed was indeed a mark of virtue.
“I picked up the knight,” Eleanor explained. “I did change my mind and suddenly knew I did not want to move him. I must be true and own up to it.”
William threw back his head and laughed. “Such a virtuous one!” he crowed. Reaching across the chess board, he chucked her under the chin, scattering all the pieces from the board as he did so, and they rolled on the table and onto the floor.
“Hah!” Hugh could not help exclaiming. “I believe your game is over.” He grinned and clapped William on the back. “Clever,” he joked. “Checked on both sides!”
Eleanor fought the desire to wipe William’s touch from her chin with the sleeve of her surcoat. “Lord William,” she said, “I believe Lord Hugh is right. We have finished, indeed.” She surveyed the chess pieces littering the table and sighed. One by one, she began picking up the pieces and slipping them back inside the pouch they had come in.
“A worthy opponent,” William growled. “Where did you learn to play chess?”
“From my father,” Eleanor answered. “We spent many an evening while he taught me moves and tactics and strategies. But, the most important move of all, he taught me, was integrity and being true in the game—as in life.” She lifted her chin, and as she did so, she caught Hugh’s stare full-on.
Her heart fluttered at the intensity of those blue eyes, and she instantly dropped her gaze to the chess pieces once more. With shaking fingers, she resumed putting the chess pieces away, but managed to drop the queen on the floor, under the table, it slipping from her trembling hand. With a blush, she leaned
