THE ENCHANTED CAVE
CHAPTER FOUR
Galen would never admit it, but he was really quite bored. Ladies, at least of this sort, were at their most engaging when naked. Chatting with them in the press of the crowd before the fight ranked as one of the more odious of his social obligations within the past year. It didn't help that all he really wanted from them was to release the hold they seemed to have on the Mad Clan. Watching the looks that Conan cut in their direction, it was clear that the man wasn't as disenchanted with Bridget as the girl feared. And it was always a risk to have Bran spend too much time with any woman. Although of earthy hungers, the man was as loyal as the day was long. Galen wasn't quite as worried about Oscar. The man considered any sort of commitment to be anathema and by the age of sixteen he had already begun complaining that his mama would want him to marry one day. Finn seemed content to sit back and wait for Miss O'Malley's turn in the ring without any female company. That, Galen thought, was the worst sign of all.
Bridget wriggled in his arms. “Sorry, lovey, but I have to go into the ring.”
“So soon? How will I survive without you?”
Her expression softened as he expected and she pressed a quick kiss to his lips. He captured the back of her head in one of his large hands and deepened the kiss. Moments later she slid off his lap with a satisfied smile. Conan glowered at him, but he shrugged. It wasn't his fault if the girl encouraged, and liked, his kiss. The hard part would be making sure that by the end Conan blamed the girl and not Galen. That was when he realized that Finn was looking at him speculatively, and then leaned over to talk to Oscar. Had their golden-haired leader already surmised that Galen was up to more than he claimed? That remained to be seen. Oscar laughed and shook his head, not even glancing in Galen's direction. Galen relaxed again and turned his attention to the ring where the first pair of women were being paraded out.
The master of ceremonies who brought the girls out was slight, fair, and the sort of boastful chap that made Galen itch to punch him. His style seemed made for the circus ring more than the boxing one, barking out details about the girls as though they were a sideshow. Tonight the Irish Sisters were apparently taking on the Slav Beauties. As was common, the girls stripped to the waist, causing most of the men to lean forward to get a better look. Galen recognized the brunette as the slight girl, Eva, who had spent her time before the fight in Oscar's lap. He wondered where they found so many women trained to fight, but a few minutes in it was clear that this Slav Beauty didn't have a clue what she was about. She had undoubtedly been chosen from a local brothel for her long, dark hair and generous bosom. A clever decision on the part of the Cave's owner based on the leering among the crowd. Drinks were ordered, ladies were engaged for the evening's entertainment, and the crowd cheered when the Beauty fell to a sharp right upper cut. Eva danced in the ring to celebrate her victory and then walked out through the men, still bare-chested, to settle back on Oscar's lap for a celebratory kiss. Galen had to control himself not to roll his eyes at the puerile showiness of it all.
Finn must have sensed his discontent, leaning forward to shout over the din. “Enjoying yourself?”
Galen merely raised his drink in salute, making Finn laugh.
“Don't worry,” the man shouted over to him. “The fights will get better.”
Because that's what he wanted. Women who were better able to pummel one another.
* * * *
Maeve could hear the fights out in the courtyard as she did her customary preparatory stretching and jumping in the kitchens. Margie was about to go out as the last fighter before her. Rather than stretching, her friend was eating a radish.
“What do you know about that new friend of Lord Cole's who showed up?”
Maeve twisted her torso. “He's looking for a mistress.”
“Is he, now?” Margie said, interest peaked. “I wondered why Bridget had changed her attentions.”
“Well,” Maeve said, hopping in place. “Conan told her she was ugly, so there's that, too.”
“He didn't!”
“You've heard his mouth, how can you be surprised? He probably only did it to annoy her.”
“Well, he was mighty annoyed when she was crawling all over that new man's lap. Although I might do it next if this friend is truly looking for a mistress.”
“I thought you liked Bran.”
“I do. But he's not promised to set me up in a home and buy me jewels.” Margie patted Maeve's cheek. “You need to learn how to plan ahead for yourself, love. No one else is like to do it for you.”
Willy walked into the kitchen. “Hurry up, Margie, ‘tis time.” He shook a finger at Maeve. “And remember, the bout needs to last more than a minute. These girls haven't had much training, but the crowd is looking for entertainment.”
Maeve smiled at him. “Then find me someone better to fight.”
“Watch yourself or I may do just that. One day the Great Maeve needs to be knocked down from her pedestal.”
Maeve merely shook her head. Willy often teased that he would bring in Gentleman Jackson himself to show her what a real fight was like. Maeve had yet to fight a man, but she'd seen her father do it often enough to know how brutal such matches could be. It was at her father's prize fighting matches that she'd learned all she needed to know about the sport, while hauling water and towels and carefully washing off his cuts and bruises. Fighting was how he had brought in extra money for the family so long as he was able. But as he aged, the winnings had dwindled down to nothing and the injuries had become more pronounced. Many a young man had wanted to face the once-powerful O'Malley in the ring, and for a while he had parlayed that into payoffs to take a fall. Until it had become clear that there didn't need to be any money exchanged for him to lose. That was when Maeve had made her way to England for work. Although she knew how to cook and clean, it turned out that her knowledge of fighting was her most profitable skill. Here she wasn't disparaged for her Irish heritage, and Willy had seen fit to capitalize on it. But Margie had the right of it. Even if these fights were more show than substance, there would come a day when she was no longer capable of them. When injuries would add up, or her popularity would fade. She needed to think about her future.
THE ENCHANTED CAVE
CHAPTER FIVE
Galen saw that Finn had been correct, the fighters were markedly better with each match. Which, based on the crowd, was all for naught since they were now deep in their cups. That also meant that the men surrounding them were more open in their jealousy that the Mad Clan claimed the attentions of all the Irish Sisters. Knowing his friends the way he did, Galen knew that such jealousy was probably key to why they were so attached to the girls. Although different in personality, they were all competitive as sin.
Once Margie came over to settle on Bran's lap, Finn sat forward and Galen knew what would happen next. Maeve was paraded out, taller than the little peacock who strutted around with her in tow. The most impressive of the Slav Beauties was on the man's other side. Statuesque, with pale brown hair that fell to her hips in a wild tangle and eyes of an icy blue. Maeve O'Malley looked perfectly calm, while the Slav girl played to the crowd, tossing her hair and moving her hips in an exaggerated fashion. Finn's attention was riveted on them while the rest of the Mad Clan were bordering on being in flagrante with their amours. Galen turned his gaze back to the ring as the fight started.
Oddly, these girls did not strip as the others had. What the challenger lacked in skill and training, she made up for in ferocity. Galen expected the match to disintegrate into hair pulling and scratching at any moment, but Maeve O'Malley remained cool and calculated, dancing out of the way of vicious swipes and blocking brutal jabs as though they had been made by a child. Galen found himself sitting forward. He hadn't expected to be impressed by the girl's proficiency in the ring. At first he thought that her strategy was to let the more aggressive Beauty tire herself, but then as the time spun out even longer he realized that it was as though
O'Malley was waiting for something. His eyes searched out the annoying peacock at the edge of the ring. Now quiet, the man had a shrewd and beady gaze. He alternated between watching the crowd and his fighter. He finally made a hand signal and Maeve moved into the Beauty's space with a determination she hadn't displayed before. In seconds it was over, with the Slavic Beauty lain out in the ring like a fallen angel. Maeve O'Malley was barely breathing hard. The crowd cheered and Maeve held her fists up in victory before pushing through the crowd and back into the house.
Galen looked at Finn. “No victory kiss for you?”
Finn shook his head. “She's magnificent, though, isn't she?”
Galen wasn't quite sure what to make of his friend's obsession.
* * * *
Maeve set to her typical ablutions after a fight, wishing she could have a hot bath instead of a simple basin and cloth. Or perhaps a cool bath. Honestly, it was sweatier work leaving the other girls on their feet for a reasonable time. The girl tonight, Lola, had been feisty. She had the size and strength to make a reasonable fighter if she cared to, but having chatted with her before the fight, Maeve knew that the girl was more interested in gaining a man's interest than fighting. Perhaps Maeve should just push her in Galen's direction. Not that Maeve condoned such relationships at all, but it would serve a man right who wanted a woman for nothing other than his own pleasure to be used for his money.
Realizing that her thoughts had strayed to a harshness that the Good Lord would not want them to have, Maeve crossed herself and promised to do extra prayers before she slept. It was important to stay humble and in service to the Lord if she wanted her life to be blessed with His good graces.
Sometimes she regretted that she hadn't been able to join a convent. The simplicity of a nun's life appealed to her. But a nun did not make coins that could be sent home to her aging parents and needy siblings. Although prayer and faith in the Lord was important, she also knew that the Lord helped those who helped themselves. Even if she spent every hour at the church on her knees praying for delivery of her family from poverty, it wouldn't be enough if no one did anything. Thus why she was here, in this shabby room, trying to ignore that the larger part of business conducted at The Enchanted Cave was of the flesh. She avoided it as best she could by sleeping and rising early, but it wasn't something that could be entirely escaped.
She dropped to her knees beside the bed and focused on her prayers rather than the sounds in the rooms around her. With the extra prayers she spent better than an hour kneeling.
THE ENCHANTED CAVE
CHAPTER SIX
Galen knew that the Irish Sisters only fought on Saturday nights. All the better to draw the greatest crowds, he assumed. And he also knew that his friends visited their amours at the Cave other nights of the week. But he doubted very much that his friends would be in attendance on Sunday. Perfect, he thought, for him to continue his campaign. Even if the Enchanted Cave was ostensibly closed on this holy day, he was sure that they would open their doors to a baron with money in his pockets at loose ends at what to do. Calling around noon he was surprised to see a familiar figure on the sidewalk.
“Miss O'Malley,” he called out.
When she turned her gaze to him he thought he detected a flash of annoyance, but then her face was pleasantly passive again. “Lord Mornay,” she said, nodding briefly. No subservient curtsy from this miss, apparently.
“You've learned my name, I see.”
“Bridget couldn't wait to speak of it. I think she's set her cap for you.”
He stepped up close enough to suggest an intimacy between them. “I'm sorry to say I'll disappoint her.”
Miss O'Malley tipped her chin up to meet his gaze and refused to back away. “For the best, I suspect, as Margie is like as not to fight her for you.”
Galen gave her the wolfish grin that ladybirds always loved. “I'm sorry to say that I'll disappoint her as well.”
Her expression soured and he expected her to bite at him as she had last evening, but she held her tongue. He found that he was suddenly horridly curious to know what she wanted to say.
“What?” he prompted.
“Were I you, I'd be hesitant to brag about how disappointing I am.”
Galen couldn't stop the bark of laughter she caused. Lud, but this girl was entertaining! “I don't plan to disappoint you,” he teased.
Her expression shifted to mild disgust. “I'm not that sort of girl, my lord.”
“With the right man every girl is that sort of girl,” he promised.
“And I suppose you always think you're the right man?”
He shrugged. “I always have been so far.”
* * * *
Maeve had sudden sympathy with cats. This Baron Mornay, as Bridget had informed them he was named, made her fur stand on end and want to spit and hiss. He wasn't so much arrogant as confident, as though he had every reason to believe what he said.
“When you have gold, and surround yourself with women desperate for it, they will undoubtedly tell you all sorts of things.”
He inched closer to her, making her want to push him back. “Are you not desperate for gold, Miss O'Malley?”
Maeve almost laughed. She'd never seen gold a day in her life. She scrabbled for pence. “My gold is in the Kingdom of Heaven.”
That made him step back. “That's the sort of thing a king hopes his vassals will believe.”
“I suppose I'm a good little vassal then. If you'll excuse me?”
She desperately wanted to run away. Few people had such an effect on her. As she turned he captured her gloved hand.
“I was hoping you would walk with me?”
She looked at their joined hands with near incomprehension. The heat of his large hand was already seeping through to hers. “Why?”
“I wish to know you better, and a stroll in the park is a perfectly reputable activity.”
“I doubt you are a perfectly reputable man.”
“An even better reason to chat with me in the park rather than in the house.”
Drat the man, but his point made sense. If he insisted on seeking her out in the house she would be afraid to put him off too much, as upsetting a seated baron sounded even worse than a man who stood to inherit an earldom as Lord Cole would. It was at times like this that she wished her way of earning pence didn't make her popular among the men. “I suppose,” she finally conceded.
“There isn't a father I need to seek permission from to stroll with you first, is there?”
“Why don't you pop off to Doolin to get his say?”
He laughed as though she had been joking and drew her arm through his like a courting couple out to stroll. She had become rather used to fending off men who tried to be too familiar with her. One who tried to treat her like a lady seemed more difficult to rebuff, and therefore significantly more dangerous.
THE ENCHANTED CAVE
CHAPTER SEVEN
What strange hold did this miss have over his friend? He'd observed Finn last night, focused so intently on Miss O'Malley's bout and then, when she left, his attention split between his friends and casting glances up to the second floor windows where her room must be. Galen could see well enough that she was pretty and spirited, but nothing, to his way of thinking, that accounted for Finn being so fixated.
“Do you have any family in Town?” he asked, as she seemed disinclined to start the conversation.
“No, my lord. Do you?”
“In Town? Not at the moment. My mother and siblings are all home in Cumberland.”
“They don't care for London?”
He squinted into the weak sunlight peeking through the clouds. “It's possible my brother cares for it too much. I grew tired of fishing him out of gaming hells.”
“Hm. That we may be delivered from unreasonable and wicked men.”
He turned his gaze to her. Her tone had been pleasant but something about it made him think she was chiding. “Are you admonishing me or reminding me to b
e not weary in well doing?”
She smiled. “You know your bible.”
“I know my Greek and Roman myths, too. Don't mistake me for a religious man.” The idea that they might spend the rest of the walk trading bible quotes was irksome.
She raised her brows and kept her peace.
As she seemed reluctant to speak again, he continued the conversation. “How did you come to be in London?”
“A cousin said it would be a good place for work.” She smiled. “All those bobs and none of them knowing how to take care of themselves.”
Her amused but dry tone made him chuckle. “I'm not quite sure, but I think I've just been insulted.”
“Of course not,” she assured insincerely. “You can't be expected to do your own wash or clean your own floors.”
“Would you think better of me if I did?”
She thought on it more than he expected. “I think that a man who has never done a thing can have no sympathy for what it requires. But I think a man who does a thing he can afford not to is a fool.”
“A surprisingly well-reasoned point. And so you'd think me a fool if I did it myself, but as a consequence of not doing it myself, you think I'm an unsympathetic arse.”
“Your words, not mine,” she said sweetly.
Perhaps he could see how she might be enchanting. Perhaps.
* * * *
Drat the man, but he was surprisingly likeable. There was little that Maeve liked better than verbal sparring, but it wasn't something that others could often engage in without rancor. He had taken her jibe about his class with surprising equanimity, even seeming a bit entertained that she had trapped him between two equally disparaging options. It was, for just a moment, freeing. It had been ages since she had felt this way, as though the day held only good things. The baron almost immediately ruined it.
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