Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

“ D o you want to suffer?”

It wasn’t Aaron who asked that question.

Recognizing the familiar voice, Keith turned around to see both Philip and Xander standing there, their eyes wide. “He’ll kill you!”

“Then ye have never seen a Scottish laird fight,” Keith grunted, smiling a little when he saw Xander laugh.

“Now this I can’t wait to see,” Xander snorted and waved his hand for the ringleader’s attention. “You have a volunteer here.”

“Ah, excellent.” The man put his top hat back on as he shifted his focus to Keith. “Come, come forward, and take off anything nice you’re wearing, Sir. We wouldn’t want it to get destroyed.”

Keith shrugged off his frock coat and then proceeded to take off his waistcoat and tie. Aaron happily held them for him.

“This will be something,” Xander muttered rather excitedly as Philip repeatedly shook his head.

“Do you want to pick a dead man up off that platform?” Philip waved a hand madly at the ring.

“Have you seen him?” Aaron grunted as he gestured to Keith. “Don’t doubt the capability of a warrior.”

“I don’t,” Philip assured him. “I’m just aware of how that man looks like he could kill with one punch.”

“I’ve fought worse,” Keith declared.

He nearly took off his shirt. The last thing he needed was an entire warehouse looking at the scars across his back and asking how they had been put there. He kept his shirt on and moved toward the ring.

“Good luck,” Xander called as Aaron clapped him on the back.

Philip continued to curse and mutter to himself.

As Keith reached the ring, he climbed between the two cords and stepped inside. The Bear turned to face him, grinning wildly and revealing that he was missing half his teeth. Keith would have guessed that he’d lost them in this ring.

“Now, we have our fighters. We have… the Bear.” The ringleader gestured toward the large man, earning a holler from the crowd. “Then we have…” He paused, looking at Keith. “What’s your name, Sir?”

“The Duke of Hardbridge.”

Keith’s declaration seemed to send a shockwave across the warehouse. Whispers and murmurs rippled through the crowd before they started waving money madly in the air.

Keith caught a few of the whispers.

“Isn’t that the duke who was a Scottish laird?”

“Not just that. He was a warrior.”

The Bear seemed unfazed by such rumors. He snorted and sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, and then he began to shuffle sideways around the ring, clearly impatient to start the fight. Calmly, Keith walked the other way, keeping him at a distance.

“Have you made your bets?” the ringleader called.

The cries from the audience rose to a roar as people made their last bets.

The Bear took a step forward in the ring, so Keith did too. The ringleader stepped between them, palms outward, preventing them from touching just yet.

“Nearly there, gentlemen,” he whispered, with a sort of malicious grin. “Then you can tear each other limb from limb.”

“Takin’ down a duke, eh?” the Bear said, his eyes flashing red. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Keith didn’t answer with words—he just raised his eyebrows. The Bear rather looked confused that Keith didn’t take the bait.

“Step back, then we’ll begin,” the ringleader urged them both.

Keith stepped away as the Bear did.

“Are we all ready?” the ringleader bellowed.

Cheers rippled through the crowd.

“Hey! Keith!” Xander called above the cacophony.

Keith moved to the ropes and hung his head down to listen. Xander, Philip, and Aaron had all gathered at the side of the ring to watch.

“They say his footwork is his weak spot.”

“Take out his feet so you can win,” Aaron seconded. “It’s the one way I managed to beat him once.”

“Aye, I’d already seen how he moves about this ring.” Keith laughed when he noted the surprise on their faces. “This isn’t my first fight.”

Then he stood straight and turned to the ring as a bell rang loudly.

“Argh!” the Bear roared and launched himself forward.

Keith danced out of the way. Staying on his toes, he raised his hands a little in front of his chest but didn’t shield his face. He didn’t see the point when he didn’t intend to let the Bear land a single punch.

The Bear lunged forward again, and as Keith jumped out of the way, he fell forward over the ropes. People hollered and urged the Bear to his feet again as Keith laughed under his breath.

Aye, this is what I needed.

Suddenly, he wasn’t thinking about pleasure or infatuation. He wasn’t thinking about Celia. All he was thinking about was the excitement and the rush of the fight.

The Bear came at him again, and Keith saw his opportunity. As the Bear raised his hand high, Keith brought his forearm up against the Bear’s wrist, blocking it. It left the Bear’s torso exposed, so Keith could drive his right fist into the man’s gut.

Winded, the great brute of a man gasped and stumbled back a little.

“He got hit!” someone called from the crowd.

“I can’t remember anyone landing a blow on the Bear before.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t happen again. The Bear has never lost.”

Keith ignored the whispers. They weren’t helping matters.

He will lose today.

Keith raised his hands again, waiting for the Bear to recover before he landed his next blow. After all, what would be the point in ending this fight too quickly? Where would be the fun in that?

The Bear recovered and came at him again, swinging too wildly, lumbering forward.

Keith stepped out of the way and lifted his foot high. He kicked out at the Bear’s leg. It crumpled beneath him, so the man fell to one knee. Keith raised his fist and landed a punch on the side of the Bear’s face.

Once more, the crowd oohed in amazement.

Keith was enjoying himself too much to knock the Bear out just yet. He stepped back again and waved for the Bear to take his time in getting to his feet. The crowd erupted in laughter.

“He’s toying with the Bear!” a man tittered loudly.

“It will end now. Just you wait. The Bear will kill him.”

“They had to sweep a man off the platform with a broom last week when the Bear nearly killed him.”

Keith stood tall, waiting, hearing his heartbeat in his ears.

He wasn’t sure what made him do it. There was something moving in his peripheral vision, so he tilted his head to the side, just a little.

Then he saw her.

Standing there in the middle of one of the tiered seating was none other than the very woman he was trying to forget.

Celia?

She stood beside one of the opera singers who had been performing on the stage the night before. Celia was wide- eyed, not hollering like all the others around her, but staring, dumbstruck.

What the hell is she doing here?

“Look out!” Philip’s voice hollered from the crowd.

Keith didn’t see the punch coming, but the warning was enough to make him move.

He dodged to the side, the Bear’s punch almost catching his ear. How he managed to dodge the blow completely, he didn’t really know, but he drove his shoulder into the Bear’s gut and ran forward. The sheer velocity propelled the Bear backward. He fell onto his rear as Keith stood over him, but now Keith was finding it impossible to concentrate.

He stepped back, dancing around the Bear as the man groaned aloud and tried to get to his feet. Keith looked for her again.

Was she in my imagination?

Yet, she certainly hadn’t been conjured up by his mind. She stood there in the middle of the seating, her hands now over her mouth as she watched in…

Fear? Is she worried for me?

The Bear thrashed around like a fish on land for a second before he moved to stand again.

“You’re done,” he spat at Keith. “No more playing.”

“As ye wish.” Keith waited, his stance wide and his hands raised high.

The Bear came at him, but this time, Keith was determined not to be distracted by Celia’s presence. If he didn’t concentrate, he could indeed find himself on the platform after such a hit to his head that he’d struggle to wake up again.

As the Bear lunged forward, Keith blocked the first hit, then the second. He kicked out and stomped on the Bear’s foot. The man stumbled forward, just enough to expose his face. Keith brought up his fist against the man’s jaw.

There was a loud crack as an almighty roar of pain escaped the Bear. He stumbled backward, his arms flailing like the sails of a windmill, before he hit the platform with a loud thud.

His jaw was cracked as he clutched his face madly, trying to fix it with his bare hands.

“Something tells me he won’t be getting back up,” Keith remarked to the ringleader, who stepped into the ring in amazement, his jaw so slack that it could have been broken too.

Then the ringleader laughed, an almighty bellow.

“It seems we have a new champion.” He took hold of Keith’s wrist and raised it high. “The Duke of Hardbridge!”

Great cheers and catcalls went up from the crowd. Many people were disappointed they were not going to get their money back, having bet on the wrong man, but there were also plenty who were utterly delighted they had bet on the right one.

A quick glance toward the other dukes showed Keith that Xander, Aaron, and Philip had all bet on the right man. Xander was collecting the money as Philip cheered and Aaron clapped.

Keith moved toward the edge of the ring, intending to step down, for his gaze kept drifting back to one person in the crowd.

She’s gone.

He jumped down from the side of the ring.

I have to find her.

“Well done!” Philip called and clapped him on the back as he landed on his feet. “In all my days, I don’t think I’ve seen anything half so impressive as that.”

“Damn, I should have bet more money on you.” Xander chuckled as Aaron nodded in agreement.

“Did ye see…?” Keith trailed off. He had seen her again.

Celia was trying to elbow her way through the crowd toward him. Her auburn hair was wild about her ears, her face flushed red. It reminded him of how she had looked beneath him in that dressing room. That pinkness was intoxicating. He had to fight the excitement coiling in his belly. He could not grow hard now when so many eyes were on him.

This was not the way this night was supposed to go. This should have been a distraction from her. It shouldn’t have delivered her to me.

“Your waistcoat.” Aaron passed it back to him.

“Thanks.”

Keith threw the waistcoat over his shoulders but didn’t bother with anything else. He was too busy walking away, trying to reach Celia in the crowd too. They stopped about a foot apart from one another, though it was rather difficult to come face to face, as many people kept trying to get in the way to congratulate him.

“What the hell are ye doing here, lass?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Celia couldn’t stop staring at the Duke of Hardbridge. He was still covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the fight.

She supposed she should have been horrified. Even Miriam had been stunned at the power with which he had fought in the ring. However, while Miriam had found it rather terrifying, Celia had only found it exhilarating.

Watching the Duke of Hardbridge fight so magnificently, when the day before, he had pleasured her with such passion, was a huge contrast. There was something exhilarating about the fact that with her, he could be so different.

“I come here,” she said pointedly. “I watch the fights.” She waved a hand at the ring. “I didn’t know you were going to fight.”

“It was a last-minute decision,” he said, his voice dark and deep.

He stepped toward her, preventing anyone else from moving between them at that moment. He came so close that she found the breath stolen from her body as she looked up at him.

Being so near to him when he wasn’t fully dressed, with his waistcoat loose about his body, reminded her of things she had been trying her best to avoid thinking of.

“Why are ye really here?” he asked. He didn’t blink as he asked the question.

“It’s…” She could have lied, especially when there was such a risk of being overheard, but for some reason, with the Duke of Hardbridge, she didn’t want to lie. “It’s my escape from the ton.”

His lips quirked up, just a little. “Then ye know why I came too.” His voice deepened even further.

The thought that maybe the Duke of Hardbridge wanted to escape the real world for a while made her want to turn back the clock. If they were together in her chamber again, the day after she had been bitten by that adder, she would have pulled him into her arms and embraced him tightly. She wanted to be his escape, to let him know that she would escape the real world with him.

She didn’t say anything of the sort, though. She just continued to stare up at him in wonder.

“What are you trying to escape from?” she asked instead.

He looked away, across the heads of the punters who were now making bets on their next fight. “It doesn’t matter.”

Her gut churned. This was one of the reasons why she could not be so weak as to let him touch her again. When he did and she shed her clothes for him, she wanted to know him. All of him. However, he clearly was not going to let her any further into his life.

“Of course, it doesn’t matter,” she said wryly. “That’s why you decided to get in the ring with a man called the Bear. Is life so bad that you’d rather get beaten to a pulp than live?”

“Which of us got beaten to a pulp?” He pointed at his face, showing how there wasn’t a mark on him.

“How did you avoid being hit even once?” she asked in concern, moving toward him.

In the press of the crowd, she hoped her action was hidden, for she couldn’t stop it. She reached out, her fingers tangling in his loose shirt.

“Ye look worried about me, lass.”

She didn’t confirm or deny it. She just continued to hold on to him.

Something in his expression softened.

“I have told ye so many times by now, I’m not an ordinary gentleman.” He winked at her.

She couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips, though she flattened it quickly enough.

I will not jump into his bed again, no matter how tempted I am.

“And I’m no ordinary lady, which is why you find me here.” She nodded at the crowd.

His hand moved, nearly touching her own. Fearful that he would press her hand closer to his chest—that she would submit, as she always seemed to do—she snatched her hand way quickly.

“I have to go.” She stepped away from him. “Try not to get yourself killed, Your Grace.”

“I told ye, don’t call me that. Not anymore.”

“It’s your title,” she reminded him as she slipped back into the crowd.

He looked ready to follow her when, suddenly, the ringleader appeared behind him and took hold of his shoulder. He was jerking his head back toward the ring, clearly wanting him to fight again.

Good. If he is fighting, he is not close to me and making me feel…

“So that is the man you were telling me about?” Miriam said with a giggle as Celia reached her in the tiered seating. “No wonder you find it hard to stay away from him.” She bit her lip as she watched the Duke of Hardbridge.

Celia couldn’t help watching him either as he took his place in the ring again. “Exactly, which is why I have to leave.”

“What, now?”

“Yes, now.” Celia gave her betting slips to Miriam, having no intention of collecting them—it would simply delay her. “Whenever I am around the Duke of Hardbridge, I do things I never thought I would do. It’s high time I took control back from him.”

“I don’t know.” There was a mischievous glint in Miriam’s eyes. “Something tells me it would be quite fun to give him control of my body.”

Jealousy roared inside Celia before she pushed it down.

“Then you go for him,” she said abruptly.

Her gaze flicked to the ring, where the Duke of Hardbridge’s next opponent had taken their place. The gentleman looked rather like a soldier. He was ready for the bout, though he looked cautiously at the Duke. Clearly, he had witnessed the fight against the Bear.

“I need to go home. From now on, I’m staying as far away from the Duke of Hardbridge as I can.”