Chapter 7

I did not want to leave, and I cannot wait to return. I fear this means I'm wicked.

~The Duchess of A

"…F ucking kill him…"

Ladylike horror and disgust were, of course, the very much deserved and appropriate response from Raina over the vulgar gladiatorial calls thundering through Maynard and Bragger's Fight Society .

"…break his throat…"

From the center of her makeshift box, Raina parted the crude curtains wide enough to catch another look at the latest fight, this one between Mr. Bragger and Mr. Maynard themselves.

Her viewing area set away from the grandstand, as it was, afforded her an unobstructed view of the two men, naked from the waist up, still locked in battle.

Thus far, it'd been the longest match of the night.

Under the immense candlelight filling the arena, their bare chests gleamed with sweat. With every punch thrown and every blow landed, each man's sleek, well-defined, muscles strained and bulged.

The pair had been fighting for the better part of what seemed like thirty minutes, and neither appeared to be flagging.

"…hit him in the ballocks…"

Even as the audience screamed their demands for that brutal assault, when Bragger slammed his knee hard between Maynard's legs, a collective groan rolled through the stadium.

Heart pounding, Raina released her grip on the curtain. As either side of the fabric fell into place, the material danced, leaving a slit between them and revealing flashes of the savage match still unfolding.

Raina closed her eyes.

Between the frenzied cries for violence coming from the arena and the primitive, hand-to-hand fight, it hadn't taken long for Raina to make her first discovery about herself.

Where the Fight Society was concerned, Raina's heart did race—but it was an outrageous thrill of excitement. Having stolen glimpses of three matches now, her attempts to will away that shameful eagerness had proven futile.

Instead, the crowd's wild shouts of encouragement for their favored boxer mocked her efforts; the ribald cries only deepened Raina's longing to view for herself the strong, sinewy, men fighting like warriors of old.

When it came to matters of boxing, there was nothing predictable about the sport. Two, equally matched, men entered onto a stage, and who emerged triumphant in the primitive battle changed every second of every match. One minute a fighter was one blow away from defeat, and the next, he'd felled his opponent with a lucky, unexpected shot.

The world Raina knew, on the other hand, was a predictable one. In it, ladies were sheltered and shielded from everything except dull, proper, activities like the ones Raina had spent doing with Mr. Cadogan.

Mr. Cadogan.

For the first time since she'd pulled back the curtains to reveal the mesmerizing fights on the other side, thoughts of her gaoler slipped in.

Between his muscle-bound form and ferocity, Mr. Cadogan fit in this primal world. A provocative image took root of Mr. Cadogan. Naked from the waist up. Emotionless and cold and powerfully built, she'd put money on his being able to take down all the fighters who stepped into the ring—even several of them at once.

Proud, hard, and unpredictable, he wasn't a man who'd accept defeat.

Once again, her pulse took on a quick, erratic, beat. This time, it wasn't excitement which drove the rhythm.

For this night, with her actions, she'd made herself a foe to Mr. Severin Cadogan—if he discovered what she'd done. Though the gentleman didn't know it, Raina had declared him an opponent to be outsmarted and outmaneuvered.

Her reasons for doing so would never matter to a man such as he.

"Stop it," she spoke quietly to herself. "You are here, and he is not." He was likely retired for the evening and remained none the wiser of her first outing. "There is nothing to fear."

Even uttering that reassurance didn't ease the ice that traipsed along her spine.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so certain of that, Princess." That quiet voice, loaded with mockery, sounded from somewhere behind Raina.

Her entire body recoiled in shock. At some point, like she'd conjured him of her thoughts, Mr. Cadogan had entered the box and availed himself of a chair. He now sat upon that gilded, high-backed, imperial seat, sat like he was the King of England, himself.

Nay, Raina's protector wore his power with a greater ease than William IV did his cloak and crown.

At her continued silence, Mr. Cadogan sent a dark brow arcing up.

Say something.

Raina's dry mouth made it difficult to get out a full response. " You ."

He smiled coolly. " Me ."

"Bloody hell ," she whispered.

"No. I fear we're both still here on this Godforsaken earth," he drawled, with an amusement that threw her further off-balance. Ice glinted in his eyes. "Though, I'd very much like to send you to hell right now."

Yes, that confirmed it. No actual amusement there. Not that she'd expected there to be. Not after what she'd done.

Still, she feigned a laugh. "How funny you are, Mr. Cadogan." Her heart tripled its beat and knocked wildly against her ribcage.

"I don't make jests, my lady ," he said flatly taking in her boyish clothing.

That she believed. She almost felt badly for this man incapable of mirth. Almost. The fact remained, he sought to bark orders and expected Raina to listen like some obedient dog.

You are not a coward. You are the daughter of a duke and now sister to one. You don't answer to anyone—certainly not this overbearing man.

Finding herself fortified by that reminder, Raina lifted her chin and looked him dead on. "Then, it would behoove me to inform you, Mr. Cadogan, that gentleman do not go about cursing so at ladies."

"Then we are an unlikely match, Princess," he said frostily. "As ladies don't visit fight clubs," He gave her a derisive once over. "At least not respectable ones."

Raina felt like she'd been slapped.

Her stomach muscles seized into painful knots. "You bastard," she whispered. "How—?"

"Dare I?" he finished for her.

Is he really wrong, though?

"And on what grounds are you calling my character into question, Lady Raina? Hmm? From our meeting yesterday, I've been nothing but straightforward with you."

He gave her another derisive up-and-down sweep. " You , on the other hand, fed me a pack of lies and dragged me all over London as some sort of childish game."

"It was not a game."

"No, because you're a grown woman. What, you didn't like that I rebuffed your calls for friendship, so you sought to punish me?"

"That isn't why." Maybe a little bit it had been. She just hadn't acknowledged as much until Mr. Cadogan called her out.

"I truly don't care what your reasons were," he said with more of his cool bluntness.

Her lower lip quivered, and she hated that telltale tremble.

"What I do care about," he continued, "is that you sneaked off and recklessly took off and would have likely been raped, killed, or worse, had one of my men not shadowed you."

Realization dawned. "The guard who escorted me to this box, he works for you."

Slowly, he unfurled nearly six feet of thick, raw strength. What her fearsome bodyguard lacked in Gregory's height, he more than made up for in muscle. On sleek, silent steps, he started over to Raina.

"This box is a storage area he hid you inside and guarded until I got here. Otherwise, I don't have a single doubt, Princess, you'd not be standing here before me now."

Her heart sped up. "Would it have mattered, Mr. Cadogan?" she ventured. "If something happened to me?"

Given he'd gone as gruff as the grizzly bear she'd observed at the Royal Menagerie years earlier, hope stirred that there was some tenderness within Mr. Cadogan, after all.

His next brusque response swiftly killed that delusion.

"If something happens to you, I don't get paid."

A vise gripped her heart.

In the end, that's all she meant to any man—what value she had. What she could bring them. And she hated that be it her brother or a near stranger, that both should so viciously sting.

Mr. Cadogan cut into her mournful pondering. "Who are you meeting?" He did a glance about.

"What?"

"According to the guard I had watching you, whoever the gent is, has yet to show."

A muscle at the corner of his left eye twitched…as if he were annoyed with some imagined sweetheart who'd abandoned her.

She had to tamp down a snort at that improbable thought.

"Why do you believe I'm meeting a suitor, Mr. Cadogan?"

"Lover," he crudely corrected.

Heat blazed across her cheeks. "Fine. Why do you believe I'm meeting any man?"

"Why else would you be here?" he asked, his brow as puzzled as his deep baritone.

Raina twisted her fingers in the jacket she'd borrowed. Before her courage left her, she spoke on a rush. "I came to watch a boxing match."

She immediately tensed and braced for more of his mockery.

They stared at one another.

Raina looked away first. "I trust you are going to drag me off," she said, not bothering to disguise her bitterness.

"And deprive you of the pleasure of witnessing the evening's entertainments? Hardly, Lady Raina."

His tone revealed nothing of what he was thinking.

She eyed him dubiously. "You're making…light."

"I've already told you, Princess, I'm not capable of joking."

"That I believe," Raina muttered under her breath.

Mr. Cadogan narrowed his eyes. "What was that?" The lethal look he leveled on her, knocked her briefly off-balance. "I believe the next match is beginning."

Raina lied. She had no idea what was unfolding on the other side of that crude wool curtain that stood between she, Mr. Cadogan, and the hundreds of spectators.

The hard grin he wore said he knew it, too.

In clear challenge, Mr. Cadogan dragged the chair he'd previously occupied over and set Raina up near the center where both curtain edges met. "Sit."

Raina made a show of staring straight ahead.

Strange how a ruthless fight club should be far safer than making eye contact with Mr. Cadogan.

Alas, he'd not let her have that.

"Here," he said. "Put this on."

Raina forced her gaze his way.

She shot her hands up just in time, catching the cap he'd flung her way.

"Your hat conceals next to nothing," he explained, while she examined the wide-brimmed, John Bull cap he'd provided. "Your disguise is shite, by the way."

"Thank you," she said, wryly.

"It wasn't a compliment."

In addition to not making jests, he couldn't detect droll humor, either. Raina added that detail to Mr. Cadogan's growing list of attributes .

"In fact," he remarked, "you look like a bawd dressing herself up for her male clients with a taste for—"

"Mr. Cadogan!" she exclaimed, slapping her hands to her burning cheeks. "If you'd please ."

"Please clarify?" His hard features were a perfect expressionless mask. "Or, please stop?"

"The latter!" she exclaimed.

Outside the window, the crowd cheered.

"And I assure you," she continued when the spectators quieted enough that she needn't shout, "I am well aware yours was not a—"

She caught the distinctly devilish gleam in his hard eyes.

The look went as quickly as it'd sparked to life.

He grunted. "Put it on."

Oh, no. She'd not abandon this that easily—no matter how much he clearly wished it so.

"It appears you do have a sense of humor—"

"Put it on, Princess," he snapped.

"Very well." She'd pushed his rare show of agreeableness too far. Raina hurriedly switched out her hat for the one he'd given. " There . Anything to make you happy, Mr. Cadogan."

"If that were the case, I wouldn't have spent my day in hell and my night chasing after you."

She wrinkled her nose. "I was being sar—"

"I know," he said, dismissive once more.

The stoic guard headed to the front of the boxed room and drew the curtains wide enough to reveal the two fighters still in their respective corners, preparing for their match to begin.

"You've come to satisfy your craving for bloodshed, don't let me stop you, Lady Raina. So sit ."

The incisive warning in his low baritone compelled Raina to scramble into the seat like some docile terrier.

He bowed. "Now, please, enjoy the blood sport to your heart's content."

Mr. Cadogan went and fetched himself a chair.

He returned and set the oak dining chair next to Raina's more extravagant seat.

She'd never been alone with any man. Now, she found herself in the Seven Dials, on the fringe of an arena of hundreds of drunk, screaming spectators, and with a sinister Mr. Severin whom, other than his previous work and familial connections, she knew nothing about.

Everything is scary in the dark.

And that truth extended to her irate guard.

Raina, however, was no longer a girl afraid of imagined monsters and mysterious, and dark shadows. Such was the reason she'd set out in search of answers about herself.

Mr. Cadogan seated himself.

He'd positioned himself so close, his knee touched hers; a fierce heat emanated from him. It penetrated the fabric of her trousers and for the way Raina's skin radiated there may as well have been no material barrier between her and Mr. Cadogan's flesh.

Oh, she'd seen any number of legs in the course of her life. Not a single, living, breathing male, not even the skilled fighters she'd witnessed firsthand this night, possessed the oak-hard, muscularly contoured limbs of Mr. Cadogan.

Raina closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing slowly and evenly. She fought—and failed—to reign in this shameful awareness of her primal bodyguard.

In the whole of her nineteen years, not once had any boy or man been so close she could feel any part of his body.

With the whispers she'd heard behind her mother's back from disapproving servants, Raina didn't so much as let herself think about touching any man, in any way.

And maybe she hadn't because, deep inside, Raina had known to do so would have revealed parts of herself and her morality, that she didn't want answers to. When she'd grown up and fully confronted her origins, out of fear of what it would reveal, she'd ran as far and as fast away from any real introspection.

"If you came to watch, opening your eyes would be a good place to begin, sweetheart," he drawled.

Her eyes flew open.

Damn him and damn him for the amusement he'd find at her expense.

And worse, damn her body for being so bloody aware of him, a man who saw her as a job; at that, one he immensely despised.

Desperately attempting to quash her illicit response to Mr. Cadogan and his nearness, she carefully edged her leg away from him. When she'd managed to do so, she inched over to the far corner of her spacious chair.

"Funny, that."

At Mr. Cadogan's deep, gravelly baritone, she looked at her unlikely companion .

By the way he intently studied the match, which during some point of her self-ruminations had begun, she thought for a moment she may have imagined his curt utterance.

"What is that, Mr. Cadogan?"

"It's just ironic, a fancy lady such as yourself, who's got a hunger for blood-sport should be repulsed brushing up against the man hired to protect her."

A hard grin, one that looked like it'd been even harder to achieve, graced his stern, smooth lips.

That's how he'd perceived her attempts?

"Well, it appears between that and your suddenly discovered sense of humor and ability to detect sarcasm, you've learned two new things this night, Mr. Cadogan," she said pertly and with all the regal haughtiness he believed she possessed.

He scowled.

Good, let him despise her for the denigrative image he'd painted of her in his mind. Better that than his discovering she sat here lusting after him.

"Are you wanting to wager, Princess?"

"What kind of wager, Mr. Cadogan?"

Her heart sped up as she thought of any forbidden number of challenges, he could put to her.

"The match, Princess. The one that was so important for you to see you risked life and limb to attend."

Oh.

"Er…yes?"

Mr. Cadogan stretched his right leg out. The tip of his boot sent the crude wool fabric into a slight flutter.

An instant later, the back flaps opened, and Raina looked at the familiar figure who'd earlier escorted her through the boxing hall.

"Who are you placing your wager on?" Mr. Cadogan quizzed her.

She slid her gaze to the opening and her stare landed on the pair of fighters, just as one of the bare and barrel-chested boxers sent his right fist flying into his opponent's cheek.

Blood and teeth sprayed from the man's mouth, but somehow, lankier and leaner by several stone, the fighter kept his feet and returned with an even more powerful blow.

Raina recoiled. With fists held close to their faces, the fighters circled one another, and each searched for their next opening.

"Are you wagering or not?" Mr. Cadogan's impatient question barely penetrated her engrossment.

"The tall, slender, fellow," she said, unable to glance away as the boxers exchanged another set of punches.

The fight dragged on. Both men, their bodies slicked with sweat and blood, appeared willing to die before they conceded.

The crowd's deafening cries created a hum in Raina's ears and added surrealism to the grisly scene at play in the arena.

Breathless, she angled her body in time to her fighter's sleek movements. Each hit he landed was like a victory of her own.

Suddenly, an infinitesimal shift occurred.

Then, a hungry grin formed on her fighter's bloodied mouth. He came at his opponent with all the fury and speed of a tempest, and with a like energy, Raina exploded to her feet.

"Go," she cried. " Go ," she repeated over and over until her voice grew hoarse.

At last, the bigger, but lesser contender faltered.

Raina's fighter pounced; with a final, lethal-looking blow his adversary's collapsed onto his back.

Raina joined her excited scream to the ear-splitting shouts that flooded the arena.

She'd always felt trapped; both by her birthright and having been born a woman in a world controlled by men. In the thrill of this moment, however, a dizzying freeness left her buoyant. Here, she didn't belong to anyone or anything other than this untamed arena.

When the referee stepped forward, raised the man's swollen and bloody fist, and declared him the winner, Raina joined her hands together and shook them over her head.