After dinner the group retired to the drawing room, where Andrew challenged Stephen to a game of chess. Badly in need of mental stimulation, Stephen accepted. Hayley, Pamela, Nathan, and Callie played cards while Aunt Olivia concentrated on her needlework. Stephen was well impressed by Andrew's skill. The boy played a wickedly clever game, and Stephen enjoyed himself thoroughly.

"Checkmate," Stephen finally said, moving his bishop into position. "That was an excellent game, Andrew. You're very skilled," he praised the boy. "You certainly had me on the run. Did your father teach you to play?"

"Yes. Papa taught all of us, except Callie, of course. I can beat Nathan all the time, but I've yet to best Hayley."

Stephen's brows rose in surprise. "Your sister plays chess?"

"Hayley's a better player than Papa was, and Papa was one of the best." He eyed Stephen with a speculative glance. "You're good, but I bet Hayley could beat you."

Stephen hadn't lost a chess game in years. He recalled his last defeat. He'd been about Andrew's age and had lost to his private tutor. That defeat had earned him his father's scathing scorn. "I don't think so, Andrew."

"Indeed? Would you care to place a wager?" Andrew asked, his eyes glowing.

Stephen's hands stilled from replacing his chess pieces. "A wager?"

"Yes. I bet that Hayley can best you at chess."

"And what are your terms?"

Andrew thought for a moment, his brow puckered. Suddenly his face cleared. "If you lose, you must help Nathan and me complete the building of our castle in the meadow by the lake."

Stephen cocked a brow. "And if I should win?"

"You won't," Andrew stated positively.

"But if, by some miracle, I do?"

"Well…"Andrew obviously didn't foresee such an outcome.

Stephen leaned forward. "If I win, you and Nathan must help your sisters weed the flower garden."

A look of pure horror passed over Andrew's face. "Weed the flower garden? But flowers are so … girl-like," Andrew finished lamely.

"I used to think so myself," Stephen said with an inward chuckle, thinking of the previous evening, "but I recently discovered flowers are something every man should know about."

"They are?" Andrew clearly didn't know whether to believe this man-to-man advice.

Stephen placed his hand over his heart. "Trust me, Andrew. Helping out in the flower garden is a very manly activity. Besides"-Stephen flashed the boy a grin-"if Hayley is as fine a chess player as you think, you won't have to pull up a single weed."

"That's right," Andrew said, his face clearing. "You'll be building a castle." Reaching his hand across the chess table, he said, "Done. You have a wager."

Stephen returned the boy's firm grip. "Done."

"When will you play her?" Andrew asked eagerly.

Stephen's eyes wandered over to Hayley, who was frowning at the cards she held in her hand. "I shall challenge her this evening," he answered softly.


* * *

"I understand you're a very fine chess player."

Hayley, on her way to the study to get some writing done now that the family had settled down for the night, paused in surprise. Stephen stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, his long frame supported by his broad shoulders. His arms were folded across his chest, and his green eyes studied her with interest. She walked toward him, trying to calm her suddenly erratic pulse.

"I thought everyone had gone to bed," she said, stopping in front of him.

"Everyone has… except for us," Stephen said softly. "Andrew informed me you're an excellent chess player. May I interest you in a game?"

Surprise raised her brows. "You realize it wouldn't be proper for us to be alone, staring at each other over a chessboard. I'd hate to receive another scolding."

"I've admitted I spoke out of turn. I thought you accepted my apology."

"I did, but-"

"Then play chess with me."

Hayley hesitated. She really needed to get some writing done. But the thought of spending time alone with Stephen was simply too enticing to ignore. The adventures of Captain Haydon Mills could wait a few hours.

Flashing him a smile, she walked past him into the drawing room. "I'd love to play."

They settled themselves opposite each other in front of the fireplace, the mahogany chess table between them.

A slow smile curved one corner of his mouth. "What shall we play for?"

Hayley looked at him in surprise. "Play for? You mean as in a wager?"

"Exactly. It would make the game more interesting, don't you agree?"

"Perhaps," Hayley murmured, embarrassed to admit she had no excess funds for gaming. "I'm afraid I cannot afford to wager much."

"I wasn't thinking along the lines of money."

"Indeed? What else could we wager?"

Stephen tapped his fingers against his chin. "Ah! I have it. The winner may ask the loser to perform a task of the winner's choice."

"What sort of task?" Hayley asked, totally at sea.

"Well, for example, if you should win, you might ask me to pull weeds in your garden, and if I should win, I might ask you to mend one of my shirts." A slow smile touched his lips. "Or perhaps shave me again."

Her breath caught in her throat. Clearly he was teasing her. "But I would happily do those things for you anyway, Stephen."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure I could come up with something," he said, waving his hand in a dismissive fashion.

"Provided you are able to best me, of course."

"Of course." He inclined his head toward the table. "Shall we play?"

Anticipation skittered through her. It had been ages since she'd engaged anyone other than the boys in a game. She shot him a jaunty smile. "Prepare yourself to be trounced."

Hayley quickly discovered Stephen was a very skilled player. Relishing the challenge, she attacked with an unusual offensive her father had taught her, and counteracted Stephen's every move. With each passing moment, they slipped back into their previous easy camaraderie. The awkwardness between them faded until they were chuckling and teasing each other after every move.

After two hours of steady play Stephen leaned back in his chair, a smug look on his face after making a brilliant move. "Top that."

"If you insist." Hayley leaned forward and moved her queen. "Checkmate."

The self-satisfied smile faded from Stephen's lips. His gaze dropped to the table, and he shook his head, clearly amazed. Then his surprised expression turned to one of clear admiration.

"Checkmate it is," he agreed. "I don't know how you did it, but I never saw it coming." He leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. "I'll have you know I haven't lost a chess match in years."

"You don't seem very upset at your loss. You may not appear quite so happy when I collect my wager."

"Why? Have you decided what you wish for me to do?"

"Not yet, but weeding the garden does hold a certain appeal."

Stephen clutched his taped ribs and bandaged shoulder. "Much too strenuous for a man in my weakened condition." He coughed several times for effect.

Hayley pursed her lips in mock concern. "Of course. Perhaps I'll have you bathe Winky, Pinky and Stinky instead." She nearly laughed out loud when the color seemed to drain from his face.

"The garden is quite all right," he amended hastily.

"Calm yourself. I promise not to make you do anything undignified."

"Thank goodness." Stephen rose and walked to the set of crystal decanters by the window. "Do you mind if I have a drink?"

"Of course not. I told you, you must make yourself at home. Help yourself. I'm glad someone is able to enjoy Papa's brandy."

"Thank you." He eyed her speculatively. Some inner demon, perhaps one that wanted to prove he, too, could behave unconventionally, prompted him to ask, "Would you care to join me?"

She raised her brows. "Me?"

"Yes. Your victory calls for a celebratory drink. Have you ever tried brandy?"

"No, but then brandy isn't something women drink." She sent him an arch look. "Surely you know that."

"I promise not to tell," he said in an amused, coaxing tone. "Aren't you curious how it tastes? I assure you it's excellent brandy." He poured two drinks, then joined her on the settee. He held the snifter out to her. "Taste it."

Hayley eyed the amber liquid dubiously. Captain Haydon Mills often partook of brandy, and Hayley decided that if she wrote about it, she should at least taste it. For literary purposes, of course.

Drawing a resolute breath, she said, "As Winston would say, 'Down the hatch!'" She tossed the entire drink back with one gulp. The potent liquor burned a fiery path down her throat, leaving her gasping. Tears puddled in her eyes.

"Dear heavens!" she gasped.

Stephen rose and pulled her to her feet. Stepping behind her, he clapped her on the back until the coughing stopped.

"Are you all right?" he asked when she could finally breathe again.

Hayley nodded weakly. "Yes, I'm fine now." She fixed him and his as yet untouched brandy snifter with a baleful glare. "How can you possibly drink that vile stuff? It's awful."

He choked back a laugh. "You're supposed to sip it slowly. Not gulp it down."

"Now you tell me." She shot him a sheepish smile, which faded as a spell of dizziness washed over her. "Oh dear. I feel rather unsettled."

Stephen took her by the arm and led her to a long brocade sofa near the fireplace. "Sit down," he said, helping her then settling himself next to her. "Is that better?"

Hayley nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry. I just felt so odd for a moment." She leaned back and closed her eyes. A wave of hot dizziness washed over her, leaving a strange, liquid languor in its wake. "Oh my."