Page 10 of Love Is A Draw (Check Mates #2)

G ail’s slippers crunched softly against the gravel, each step across the gardens echoing her tension as she trailed her fingertips along the edge of her blue muslin dress as she came to stand before him.

Victor sat rigid on a low wooden bench beneath the sprawling oak, hair gently tousled by the breeze.

A chessboard lay on the grass before him, mid-battle.

His fingers hovered over a knight, hesitating; he was waiting for someone.

Gail stepped closer, curiosity pulling her forward. “I don’t believe I’ve seen that strategy before.” She folded her hands before her.

“Good afternoon, to you, too.” His eyes glinted with fresh warmth. “You’ve caught me at a disadvantage.”

“Have I?” Gail tipped her chin, studying him with a mock-serious expression. “You seem to be winning.”

“Or losing,” he countered with a flick of his brow. “Though at present, I’m not doing either. That would lack challenge in a match against myself.”

Her lips quirked as her attention drifted to the open book at his side, the pages filled with column after column of tidy code-like markings.

“What is this?” She leaned in before he could answer, inhaling the subtle spice of his scent.

Her brows furrowed. Russian chess notation.

She’d recognize it anywhere, the kind she grew up with under Grandfather’s instruction.

She taught Maia the algebraic style, a different system, which essentially conveyed the same information.

Victor gave her a crooked but seemingly genuine smile that sent a peculiar warmth climbing her spine. Her gaze dropped to the positioning of the pieces on the board.

Within moments, her lips pressed into a line. “Wrong,” she murmured, almost to herself.

“Pardon?” Surprise flickered in his dark eyes.

“You’ve gotten it all wrong.” She leaned forward and reached for the board without hesitation, moving a bishop to a new position. “There. Black gives check.” She adjusted her gloves, a quick, precise motion. “And in the same move, black threatens the queen in a discovered attack. Now you win her.”

Victor’s gaze lingered on the board for what seemed like an eternity. Then he found her gaze waiting, his expression unreadable at first. The corners of his mouth finally crooked into something maddeningly confident. “I wasn’t playing for black. I was studying white’s defenses.”

The way he smiled then, slightly lopsided and entirely disarming, caused something to stir in Gail’s chest. A small, unexpected thrill rippled through her.

He was good.

Gail batted her lashes quickly, directing her attention to a family strolling past with an excitable little girl, and adjusted the ribbon of her bonnet with fingers that, strangely, felt unsteady.

What was wrong with her? She prided herself on composure.

And yet here she was, blushing for no reason she could fathom.

A sharp crack echoed in the distance—a gunshot. Gail flinched, hands freezing mid-movement as a flock of birds burst from a nearby tree, their frantic wings cutting through the air.

Victor stood to face her and his hand covered hers, warm and steady. “It’s nothing, just the balloon spectacle,” he said softly, grounding her. “You’re safe.”

The warm hum of conversation from the crowd enveloped them, softened by the gentle lilt of distant music. Gail couldn’t tear her eyes away from the balloons drifting higher, their colors striking against the endless sky.

“Gail.” His voice broke the stillness, lilting with curiosity and framed with a hint of a challenge. The corner of his mouth tilted upward in that maddeningly self-assured way. “If I asked you, would you take a balloon ride with me?”

The question, so simple but startling in its intimacy, tugged at something deep in her chest. Her lips parted, but no words came. Something in his expression, a combination of levity and sincerity, left her utterly disarmed.

Movement blurred at the edge of her vision. Small fingers darted, swift and expert. She didn’t immediately process what had happened. Her wrist felt suddenly weightless, and Victor turned.

It hit her at once: her reticule and his satchel were gone. She barely caught sight of the child, weaving through the crowd like quicksilver, before Victor moved.

He didn’t shout or demand retribution as she might have expected, but folded the chessboard shut in one smooth motion, slipping the pieces haphazardly inside. He tucked the board under one arm, along with the notebook.

“Are you hurt?” He spared her a single glance, even as his focus honed in on the thief. His dark eyes flashed with a controlled fire that left her momentarily breathless.

“I… no,” she stammered, still catching up to what had happened, rubbing her wrist where her reticule had been.

Victor’s mouth pressed into a firm line as his gaze tracked the child through the thickening crowd. “Good. Let’s go.”

His hand closed around hers, his grip strong and unyielding.

The contact electrified her. She barely had time to draw a full breath before he led her into motion, weaving through the bustling pathways with startling confidence.

Not a moment’s hesitation, not one backward glance.

He charged forward with single-minded determination.

Surprise unfurled within her, quick and warm. To witness Victor so composed yet so daring was arresting. He didn’t pause to curse their misfortune or lament their belongings; he simply acted by instinct, brave and unabashed.

The crowd thickened as Gail and Victor neared the main thoroughfare.

Onlookers’ heads tilted skyward to watch the great balloons drifting higher into the blue yonder.

Children clapped and twirled; ladies craned their necks, parasols forgotten.

The scent of trampled grass mingled with the rich smoke of the balloon displays.

Somewhere, a violin played a lively tune, grief and excitement colliding in its melody.

Gail heard the soft oohs and murmurs of the crowd, the shuffle of feet across the gravel paths, as Victor navigated through it as a quick mouse slithering through a field of tall flowers. Her steps faltered briefly on the uneven ground, her slipper catching on the edge of a stone.

Victor noticed instantly. His fingers tightened around hers, steadying her, keeping her from falling. He didn’t stop, didn’t break stride, but the tilt of his head toward her told her everything that she was safe with him.

The little girl turned, and Victor followed, pulling Gail along.

“Victor,” she said breathlessly as the air between them thickened with urgency, “it’s impossible to catch up. She’s too quick!”

“Don’t let her out of your sight.” He showed no doubt, no hesitation. Just a quiet, almost startling confidence that sent a shiver down her back.

As the child darted right, breaking toward the shadow of a balloon tent, Victor made a sharp turn, keeping Gail close.

He moved like a man chasing not a thief, but some greater purpose.

The ferocity in his pursuit sparked something unexpected within her.

She leaned into his pace, into his determination, and held tightly to his hand as though she might never let go.

Around them, the crowd gasped as another balloon lifted into the air, its silken surface glowing in the golden sunlight.

For most, the sky held all the marvels they could dream of.

But apparently not for Victor. He remained focused on the fleeting figure ahead, and Gail found herself.

.. trusting him. Whatever his plan, whatever he intended to do when they reached their quarry, he would not stop until they succeeded.

She didn’t understand it fully; she simply ran beside him, and inexplicably, she knew wherever he dragged her, she’d follow willingly.