Page 14 of Temptress in Disguise
For the first time since she’d kidnapped him at gunpoint, panic flashed in her eyes. “Don’t say that. You’re sure to succeed. I’ve never met a man more courageous.”
So, she was a virgin.
Only an innocent presumed it took courage to hit a man.
Aside from the competitive aspects, men fought out of fear.
“Rest assured. It will be over quickly.” He put all thoughts of Miss Grant behind him as he followed Duckett through the crowd. Woods snarled and made vile threats. None of it penetrated Aramis’ armour.
While he stretched his muscles and flexed his fists, he let the painful images surface. A man fought better when he had a cause. His wasn’t vengeance for the scar on his arm. His anger didn’t stem from being tricked out of his own inheritance. Whenever he recalled how Aaron had suffered to protect his kin, hell’s fury fired through his veins.
“Let the nabob have it, Woods,” someone yelled.
“There ain’t no place here forbleedingdandies,” said another.
“Happen his wife might need a shoulder to cry on.”
Damnation!
The last comment hit a nerve.
“Any man who touches her will lose his fingers.” He goaded Woods and beckoned the giant forward. The sooner he knocked the fellow out, the better.
The crowd continued hurling threats and insults, but Aramis calmed his mind. The key was to strike quickly and to stun one’s opponent. Most men aimed for the face first. Indeed, Woods kept his fists high as he barrelled forward, anticipating an obvious attack.
Don’t underestimate the element of surprise.
Aramis bounced lightly on his feet, his movements fluid, though he let Woods think he was preparing to deliver an uppercut to the jaw. The halfwit lunged first, throwing all his weight behind a punch capable of knocking a man to the ground.
Aramis ducked and delivered a hard jab to the weak spot between Woods’ ribs and upper abdomen. The blow knocked the air out of the brute’s lungs. Arms flailing, he fought for breath as the second punch caught him under the chin. Woods hit the ground with a thud. Despite his supporters racing into the ring to rouse him with a few sharp slaps, Woods struggled to stand.
Aramis smiled to himself.
Aaron would be proud.
Amid the stunned silence, Duckett charged into the fray and raised Aramis’ hand, quickly declaring him the victor.
“I’ll fetch you a drink and find another opponent,” Duckett said, chuckling at his good fortune. “Though the odds won’t be as good next time, I should still earn a tidy bunce.”
“Not tonight.” Aramis glanced at Miss Grant. The lady smiled as she held his gaze. Why he felt compelled to join her was anyone’s guess. “My wife would never forgive me, and I have business in the inn.”
The nature of that business was yet to be determined.
Indeed, he would have to call in a debt to secure a special licence unless the plan meant having the banns read.
Intrigued to know why she’d dragged him to the Copper Crown, he slapped Duckett on the shoulder and made to depart. “Enjoy your winnings. I expect to come and go without incident. Cross me at your peril. I have three brothers equally skilled in pugilism.”
He joined Miss Grant, cupped her elbow and directed her to a nearby well. Touching her proved a novelty. Like he’d known her a lifetime, not mere hours.
She watched him raise the bucket and splash water over his face and chest. “I thought there was a no-touching rule. You’ve touched me twice since we arrived.”
He reached for his shirt. “I can touchyou.”
“Because you function best when in control?”
“Because this was the penalty for allowing a woman to touch me.” He gestured to the arm she surely found abhorrent. No further explanation was needed.
“What if I accidentally touch you when we consummate our union? Will you bind my wrists or place me in shackles?”
