Page 111 of The Last Chance
“Don’t get hurt,” Joanna said, hugging him so tightly her breasts were squashed against his bare chest. “Fight like your life depends on it. I’ll be waiting for you, to talk and tend your wounds.”
“How am I supposed to hurt men when I’m anticipating the feel of your hands on my body?” A cockstand would hinder him in the ring. Indeed, Joanna would be the death of him, quite literally.
“That’s simple. I’ll only sleep here tonight if you win.”
He smiled, though the primal urge to claim her, to have her living with him, sleeping with him, made him want to put a torch to The Burnished Jade.
“Daventry will be your chaperone during the boxing event. You’ll wait here until he comes for you. I don’t expect you to watch more than one fight, but remain with him at all times.” He kissed her on the forehead, not the lips. He needed hatred burning in his veins, not this potent blend of lust and love. “I must go before the contenders grow impatient.”
“Be careful,” she called.
“I will,” he said, closing the door behind him.
Aramis pushed away from the wall and uncrossed his arms. “Are you sure you want to fight tonight? I can take your place. It would be an honour.”
Aaron gripped his brother’s shoulder, reassuring him. “This may be my last fight in the ring. I need Joanna to see what I’m capable of when pushed to my limits. I just pray I don’t lose her.”
Aramis knew not to argue. “Joanna is an incredible woman, the wife you truly deserve. She would never leave you—why would she? To me, there’s no man greater.”
A lump formed in Aaron’s throat. “And you’re everything a man could want in a friend and brother, but unless you want to see me beaten to a pulp, I suggest we dispense with sentiment. Tell me something to get my blood boiling. Spar with me while we’re talking.”
Aramis laughed and raised his fists. “Two-Teeth O’Toole is here. He’s calling you Dandy of the Den. Said he heard you’ve gone soft over a woman.”
Aaron thought love would weaken him, but it was empowering.
One fought harder when there was something to lose.
“You’ll tell everyone I’m the Demon of the Den.” Aaron swayed and ducked to miss Aramis’ skilled jabs. “A fact I’ll prove when I win my first bout.”
“I’m sure the name will become popular in the salons if the King grants your request tomorrow. You’ll have the lords of thetonquaking in their boots.”
Aaron smiled to himself. “All I need do is throw a lavish ball that meets their approval, and I’ll have them eating from the palm of my hand.”
“An earl with a fist of steel will be a tour de force.” Aramis jerked from a jab to his chin. “Have you told Sigmund you plan to make him the manager?”
“I thought it best to wait until I’ve spoken to the King.”
“Amongst the corrupt peers, you’d be a refreshing addition to the House of Lords. We’ll still hold their vowels. Indeed, interesting times lie ahead.”
Christian mounted the stairs, panting like he had raced around the perimeter of Hyde Park. “You’re fighting next against that neckless fellow from Manchester. Remember, his left knee is weak, and he’ll try to trick you into overreaching. Sigmund hasstopped taking bets until the first round is over but says we’ll make a fortune tonight.”
Aaron straightened, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck. “Is there bad news? Something that might spark my temper?”
“That beast from Hungary won. Gustav is through to the next round. He’s told everyone he’s taking the purse home tonight.”
The need to prove Gustav wrong lit a fire in Aaron’s blood. “Does he still have a habit of leaning forward if he’s convinced he’ll hit the mark?”
Christian nodded. “Always when he throws a right hook.”
“Anything else?” Aaron said, moving towards the stairs.
“Yes, Rothley is here. He said if you lose tonight and are knocked out cold, he will kidnap Miss Lovelace and take her to Gretna Green.”
Aaron firmed his jaw against the inner inferno. “Like hell he will!”
The knock on the bedchamber door came as Joanna finished pinning her hair into a bun. Her hands shook as she tightened the belt on her peacock-blue dress. The closed neckline and modest collar would help to avoid unwelcome male attention, though she planned to linger in the background, not take a front-row seat.
Mr Daventry wore black and greeted her with a warm smile. “Are you sure you want to visit the basement? They’re particularly wild tonight. A walk through the hallway should convince you the fighters are savage.”
