Magnus nodded without hesitation. “I’m richer than I could have ever imagined,” he said. “I have a place where I belong, where I can make my way. ’Tis more than most men can say.”
“Ye dunna mind fighting like this for a living?”
Magnus cocked his head thoughtfully. “Being Scots, we are expected tae fight,” he said. “We fight the Sassenachs, each other… It is in our blood. Why did ye come here, Defender?”
Bane avoided the question. “I havena been here as long as ye. There is a lot tae learn.”
“How long have ye been here?”
“Little more than a month.”
Magnus’s eyebrows lifted. “And ye fight like that? God’s bones, lad, ye’ve got talent. In fact, they have games where men fight in pairs. I’ll pair with ye anytime.”
Bane was mildly flattered. He found himself taking a second look at the man, thinking he wasn’t so short after all. And he had good taste in warriors.
“If there’s a chance tae win a purse, I’ll do it,” he said.
Magnus eyed him as if sensing something in that statement. “Do ye need money, then? Is that why ye’re here?”
“Aye.”
“Why do ye need money?”
Bane sighed faintly; he supposed it was no great secret why he’d come. “Tae buy my lady’s freedom,” he said. “She’s a servant in a great house, working off a debt.”
Magnus stood up from the stool. “’Tis as good a reason as any,” he said. “So ye have a noble streak, do ye? Buying a woman’s freedom?”
Bane scratched his head. “I dunna know about that, but I want tae marry her and the debt must be paid before I can.”
“Good,” Magnus said as he moved for the door. “That’ll make ye fight harder than most if ye’re fighting for a reason. I suppose I came tae see ye because no man has lasted as long as ye have against me. Now I know why.”
Bane watched him lift the latch. “And ye intend tae use it against me somehow? Is that why ye came—tae discover my weakness?”
Magnus simply smiled, a genuine gesture. “From what I see, I’m not sure ye have any weaknesses. That makes ye interesting…and dangerous.”
It occurred to Bane that Magnus had really come to inspect the competition—him. There wasn’t any animosity, but there didn’t seem to be any trust, either.
Simply an honest appraisal.
“Mayhap,” Bane said. “But the next time, ye just might be getting kicked in the head instead of me.”
Magnus chuckled as he quit the cottage, closing the door behind him. Bane stood up and went to the door, throwing the bolt because he didn’t want any more surprise guests. Magnus’s visit had been odd, but not entirely unexpected in the grand scheme of things. The man had fought someone who impressed him, and he wanted to inspect him. Fair enough.
But what Magnus didn’t realize was that Bane had inspected him, too.
Next time, there would be no mistakes.
With that thought on his mind, Bane lay back down again, physically and mentally exhausted. He was still hoping Lucia would return to him, but as the minutes dragged on, he had to accept that it was less of a possibility. Just as he closed his eyes and settled down for sleep, there was a knock at the door.
His eyes opened, staring at the ceiling in frustration. Again? With a grunt of effort, Bane swung his legs onto the floor and stood up, staggering his way over to the door.
“Who comes?” he demanded.
“Lor,” came the muffled reply.
Curious, Bane unbolted the door. Lor was standing on his stoop, looking at him with concern.
“Are ye well, lad?” he asked.
Bane nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
“Did I just see Magnus leaving yer cottage?”
“Ye did.”
“What did he want?”
Bane shrugged. “He came tae see if I was well,” he said. “I think he came tae discover for himself if he’d badly injured me.”
“He dinna try tae smother ye?”
Bane gave him a lopsided grin. “Nay,” he said flatly. “He made no move against me.”
Lor seemed satisfied. “Good,” he said. “The man is a bit…questionable. I wanted tae make sure he dinna try tae harm ye.”
Bane shook his head. “He dinna,” he said. “But that’s not tae say I wasna on edge with him. He’s unpredictable and that makes him more dangerous than most.”
“Ye’ve met him twice in battle. Unpredictable is where he begins. No one knows where he ends.”
“What do ye know about him?”
Lor shrugged. “As I told ye, he’s come from another fight guild, so he hasna been here long.”
“I know that. But what do ye know about him?”
“Him?” Lor repeated thoughtfully. “He keeps tae himself, mostly, but Clegg told me that he’s the bastard of a Scottish prince.”
That brought surprise from Bane. “Magnus?”
“Aye,” Lor said. “I dunna know more than that. But it seems strange tae me that a royal bastard would choose a life like this.”
“I suppose he’s got tae earn his way somehow.”
“Or mayhap he was forced intae earning his way.”
“Ye mean his sire refuses tae acknowledge him?”
“Possibly. All I know is that when I see him fight, there’s anger there. Can ye not see it?”
Bane rubbed his head. “Aye. I can feel it, too.”
Lor smiled weakly. “Do ye feel it enough that ye willna be able tae fight in a bout tomorrow night? Sir Clegg liked what he saw. He’ll let ye fight for a purse tomorrow if ye feel well enough.”
Bane’s eyes widened as he forgot all about Magnus. “He will?” he said, shocked. “But I dinna think novicius could fight for a purse.”
“Not usually,” Lor said, amused by the look on Bane’s face. “But ye did so well tonight that he’ll make an exception. Can ye do it?”
“Of course I can. I could move mountains if there was money involved.”
Lor grinned. “Good,” he said. “Sleep well tonight, and tomorrow we’ll see how that wound fares.”
Bane looked down at his wrapped torso. “It wasna deep enough for stitches,” he said. “If I keep it wrapped, it should be fine.”
Lor had a twinkle in his eye as he patted Bane on the shoulder and left him standing there in his doorway. Bane watched the man go, suddenly not so tired. The prospect of fighting for a purse tomorrow night had him excited.
This was what he’d come for.
The first step toward securing Lucia’s freedom.
He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, but he was wrong. The moment he lay back down on his bed, an exhausted sleep claimed him.
His dreams had visions of plucking the feathers from a certain royal eagle.
Chapter Eighteen
Bane was back fighting again tonight.
The only good thing about coming to the Ludus Caledonia two nights in a row was the fact that Lucia got to see Bane again. Clearly, the wound on his torso from the previous night wasn’t a factor that hindered him because as she sat in the front row of the arena yet again with Lady Currie, Bane was in the very first bout and he looked strong and healthy.
Even so, Lucia was so racked with nerves that she was trembling, and beside her, Lady Currie was breathing heavily at the sight of the warrior she was beginning to obsess on.
The woman hadn’t worn the Roman gown this time. She’d dressed in a wine-red silk that Lucia had made for her some time ago, one that was cut low so that her bosom would show. It wasn’t very warm in this icy weather so she wore a heavy fur wrap with it. She’d dressed carefully that afternoon, primping and powdering, putting perfume on her breasts and on her thighs.
Lucia had been in the chamber when she’d dressed, watching Lady Currie as she prepa
red herself for what she hoped would be a night with the warrior they called the Highland Defender. That’s what she’d told Colly, who frowned but wisely kept her mouth shut.
The main reason Colly wasn’t allowed to go to the Ludus Caledonia was because she was old and frumpy, and Lady Currie didn’t want to hear her judgment. She wanted companionship that wouldn’t dispute her wants, and she also surrounded herself with pretty young women so the warriors would have more incentive to look in her direction.
That was why Lucia and, at times, Amy were permitted to go.
They were bait.
Therefore, as Lucia sat next to Lady Currie and watched Bane stretch out his shoulders, she knew that Lady Currie was focused on Bane and she hated the woman for it. She’d never felt such anger or jealousy in her life and it was difficult to suppress it, but exposing her feelings would open Pandora’s box.
She knew that.
Therefore, she bit her lip when Lady Currie stood up and waved to Bane as the man stretched himself out.
“Look at him,” Lady Currie said, waving her hand like an idiot. “He is not looking over here. Why is he not looking over here?”
Lucia was watching Bane as the man twisted his torso, somewhat gingerly. “He seems focused on the fight, m’lady,” she said. “Mayhap ye shouldna distract him. If he is wounded again, ye’ll not have the chance tae see him tonight.”
Lady Currie immediately sat down. “Good thinking,” she said. “I do intend to see him tonight. Sir Clegg cannot tell me that the man is wounded again, for clearly he is not.”
“He’s also not fought yet tonight.”
Lady Currie appeared worried. “You are right again,” she said. “God, I hope the man does not get hurt again.”
Lucia dared to glance at the woman, but Lady Currie was focused on her prey across the arena floor.
Lucia prayed for strength to get through the evening without throttling her.
It was true, however, that Bane hadn’t looked in her direction, for which she was grateful. He seemed focused on what he was doing, stretching out his muscles and preparing for the coming bout, which turned out to be against a very big and barbaric-looking opponent they called the Thistle, presumably because he was hairy-looking.
But that wasn’t the case.
Once the fight started, Lucia realized it was because the man had a prickly temperament. There was no rhyme or reason to his actions; he simply came at Bane with a roar and swinging a club. Everything about him was edgy and abrupt. As the crowd screamed in excitement, Bane simply stayed out of the man’s way until he exhausted himself.
It didn’t take long.
When the Thistle was winded, Bane swung into action. With the broad side of his wooden shield, he hit the man in the jaw so hard that the force lifted the Thistle up and sent him flying backwards onto his arse. The crowd roared in approval as Bane pounced, using his shield to press against the man’s face when he was down, effectively smothering him. The Thistle fought and kicked, trying to move away from the shield in his face, but Bane was merciless.
He was in for the kill.
But the rules stated that once a man was down and clearly disabled, the battle would be over. The Thistle wasn’t getting up on his feet anytime soon, so the field marshals called the fight.
Still, Bane remained on top of the Thistle.
The big Saxon who officiated the fights was forced to come out onto the field to break up the brawl, followed by a muscular blond man who was quite handsome. Lucia watched with great concern as the pair went to Bane and his opponent, literally pulling Bane off the man.
But Bane had bloodlust in him. He was the victor and he fed off the thrill. He threw his arms up to the crowd, who screamed their adoration for him. They cheered their champion and Lady Currie was on her feet, waving her white kerchief like a flag.
Lucia, thinking that Lady Currie might be displeased if she sat there and did nothing, also rose to her feet and clapped hesitantly as Bane soaked up the adulation of the spectators. He was walking by the front row of the stands, from one end of the arena to the other, being congratulated as he went. Men shook his hand and patted him on the shoulder. Some even slipped him coinage. Lucia watched with wide eyes as he moved in front of her and Lady Currie.
He didn’t even look at them.
Lady Currie was thrilled that he was so close and she reached out, tucking her kerchief into the neckline of his tunic as he came near. But Bane ripped it out and tossed it onto the ground as he walked past, causing Lady Currie to shriek in outrage.
“Did you see what he did?” she demanded. “How rude! I will have him whipped for that!”
Lucia was standing alongside Lady Currie, looking after Bane with a worried expression on her face. “Mayhap he dinna want it tae get wet, m’lady,” she said. “He’s sweaty… It would soil yer kerchief.”
Lady Currie was furious. “He threw it on the ground,” she said, jabbing a finger at it. “It is filthy now. I shall see Clegg about this right away. I will not stand for this insult!”
Bane was just leaving the arena floor as Lady Currie bolted from her seat and practically ran up the stairs that led out of the arena. Only Lucia had come with her tonight, so she was the only one following the woman as she marched over to the gate that guarded the entrance to Clegg’s viewing box.
The guard at the gate greeted her by name but told her that Sir Clegg was busy with someone else inside his private box. That didn’t sit well with Lady Currie. She demanded to be announced, and when the guard wouldn’t comply, she shoved him out of the way and yanked the gate open. The guard, who was not permitted to put hands upon any woman, and especially not a steady customer like Lady Currie, simply stood back in surprise as Lady Currie marched down the tiled walkway and into Sir Clegg’s private box.
In fact, Lady Currie didn’t care that Clegg was occupied with business. It never occurred to her that she wasn’t the most important person at the Ludus Caledonia. She barged into the viewing box as Clegg and another man stood in one of the archways with a clear view of the field. When Clegg looked up and saw her, his brow furrowed in displeasure.
“Lady Currie,” he greeted. “I am occupied at the moment. Would you please excuse—?”
Lady Currie cut him off rudely. “I will not be put off,” she said. “Do you know what just happened? Your insolent and arrogant Highland Defender insulted me deeply, and I demand satisfaction.”
Clegg’s irritation turned to concern. “What did he do?”
Lady Currie was so angry that her forehead was peppered with sweat. “He won his bout, and being a gracious lady, I gave him my favor,” she said. “He tossed it onto the ground and stomped on it. What right does that man have to show me such disrespect?”
Clegg, who had watched the astonishingly good match with Bane and the Thistle hadn’t seen that part of it. Lady Currie had offered for Bane last night but had been denied, and here she was back again, now demanding satisfaction for an insult dealt by the man.
Clegg had seen women like Lady Currie all of his life—demanding, spoiled, used to having their way in everything. Lady Currie was used to men falling at her feet and Bane hadn’t done that. Now she was furious and embarrassed. Unless Clegg wanted trouble on his hands, or worse—losing a high-paying customer—he knew he needed to placate the woman.
Even though he really didn’t like her.
“Sometimes, men in the heat of battle do things they would not normally do,” he said evenly. “Did he say anything to you?”
Lady Currie fumed. “Nay.”
“Did he look at you?”
“Nay.”
Clegg smiled. “Then clearly he did not know you gave it to him,” he said. “You must understand that men have a sort of blood madness when they are victorious over another man. There is something that temporarily drives them to do things they would not normally
do. In this case, Bane did not see that it was you. He did not know it was you who had given him the favor. If he had, I am certain he would not have removed it.”
Lady Currie was cooling down at his logical explanation. “I suppose,” she said. “I guess…I would agree that he did not know it was me.”
Clegg was quite comforting. “You see? There is nothing to be angry over. In fact, I shall summon him immediately and he can apologize to you personally. Would you like that?”
Now Lady Currie was completely cooled off and, in fact, enticed by the thought of finally meeting the mysterious Highland Defender. “You called him Bane?”
Clegg nodded. “His name is Bane Morgan,” he said. Then he indicated the nearest cushioned couch. “Please, sit. I will have him brought to you.”
A smile spread across Lady Currie’s face as she turned toward the silk-cushioned couch to await the delivery of the man she’d been trying to know for two days. Clegg went to the man he’d been speaking with when Lady Currie so rudely interrupted them and lowered his voice.
“Bring Bane here,” he said. “Tell him why so he is prepared.”
Lor had been that man. He and Clegg had watched Bane’s fight together to assess his performance and were speaking of it when Lady Currie barged in. He eyed the woman on the couch.
“Bane has a woman, m’laird,” he muttered. “I know Lady Currie and I know what she wants. It is unfair tae put Bane in that position.”
Clegg grunted. “We make a good deal of money from her, so I will not deny her the chance to meet him,” he said. “Tell Bane he is expected to apologize to her, but beyond that, I expect nothing from him as long as he is polite about it. If he is to decline her offer, then he had better explain why. Meanwhile…meanwhile, send Warenne to me as well. If one man denies her, mayhap the comfort of another man will satisfy her.”
Lor nodded and headed out of the chamber, out into the icy night that was beginning to fog over. Clegg went to sit with Lady Currie, making sure she had warmed wine and making small conversation as they waited for Bane’s appearance.
Highland Defender Page 15
