by Danni Roan
The two thugs returned, still brandishing their clubs, and unchained him from the wall. They smirked as they led him from the small room and into a ring surrounded by solid wooden barriers.
A large crowd hummed and buzzed, turning the air thick with raucous laughter from behind the barrier.
Carl felt the old familiar rush of adrenaline as he was led into the ring, his length of chain securely fastened to a sturdy post.
The noise of the crowd was deafening, the smell of pipe and cigar smoke hanging in the air like a fog. Graters, hawkers, and bookies could be heard calling out to the crowd as a bell struck a hearty note.
From the other side of the enclosure, a man approached from the darkness. He was tall and broad, his thick shoulders and torso rippled with bulging muscles. The big man grinned a wide, gapped smile as his eyes passed over Carl and he spat to the side as if in insult.
Carl sized the man up, mentally estimating his height, his weight. He was a good forty pound heavier than Carl and the scars across his face and knuckles proved he knew his trade. He was also taller by nearly three inches, which meant his reach would be longer.
Carl McHain pulled into himself, drawing his arms tight to his sides, dropping his chin and curling his raised fists as the other man lumbered toward him. Judging by the man’s heavy steps, he was a toe to toe fighter, used to holding his ground and depending on his greater weight, stamina, and strength to wear his opponent down.
The big man lunged, pouring his weight into a round house that Carl dodged, ducking under it to strike a one-two blow to the man’s middle, hearing a satisfying ugh. But as he dove the other direction the big man’s fist clipped his shoulder, sending shocks to his fingertips.
Carl danced on the balls of his feet, favoring his left arm, waiting for the numbness to subside.
The big man lunged, striking for the face, but Carl rolled backwards, teetering on tip-toe and spiraling away, only to come up with a right to the other man’s jaw.
The man reeled back, staggering on his feet, raising a swirl of dust as the crowd booed, rattling the rafters with their screams.
Shaking his head, the backstreet brawler ducked and charged with a round-house aimed for Carl’s ribs.
Carl bent low, elbows tight against his rib cage, then sprang up, one arm going wide to block the impact of the blow as his other fist jabbed into the man’s solar plexus, raising him off of his feet.
Carl moved in with an uppercut to the jaw and a cross to the ribs, but the other man pulled away and as Carl moved in to continue his attack, the chain on his ankle drew tight, pulling him off-balance. The big man swung, his massive fist connecting with Carl’s jaw and shaking him to his toes.
Sheer instinct had Carl dancing back along the wall, his ears ringing as his vision blurred. He snorted, shaking the hair from his eyes and pulling his arms in tight.
The big man was warming up now, but was more cautious than before. He stepped up then leaned back as Carl reached for him, over-extended, leaving his body unprotected.
The other man swung, sweat flying from his shoulders, as his fist connected with Carl’s middle.
Seeing his mistake, Carl bounced on his toes, jerking backwards as he curled his back, only taking part of the staggering blow, but not fast enough to also miss the haymaker that hit him above the eye where blood fountained, running down his cheek in a red haze.
The room spun, but Carl kept his feet, feigned, and waited.
Seeing his opponent weaken, the big man smiled and stepped in for the finishing blow. Raising his thick arms high he swung a right but lightning-quick, Carl smacked it away, stepping under the man’s arm and pounding his ribs with both fists, forcing the man to twist.
Carl followed through with a kidney punch and the big man’s knees buckled. Twisting forward and planting his feet, Carl’s fist impacted with the man’s jaw with the sound of splintering wood and the man fell to his knees.
Carl swayed, trying to catch his breath as his ears rang, hot blood pooling at his eyes as the world went mad.
Melissa raced across the ring toward him, a stout stick in her hand as she hit first one and then the other of the thugs over the head as they grabbed for him. Amidst the buzzing in his head, muffled shouts and curses echoed, followed by the shrill sound of a whistle splitting the air.
He couldn’t focus, a gray haze was settling over him, and his breath hitched in his ribs, sending pain radiating from his side to his swimming head.
Melissa Middleton moved toward her quarry, her blood boiling in her veins, her heart galloping in her chest.
The stick in her hand landed with a satisfying thunk as she hit the man moving toward Carl and he fell with a heavy thump. His partner turned, his eyes going wide with shock and she stepped up, delivering a furious blow to his head, turning him half around and dropping him to the floor.
“Carl!” she called, dropping the stick and reaching for the man. “Carl, can you hear me?” She grasped his head in her hands turning his blue eyes to focus on her.
“Niamh?” he choked out, slumping as the room went black.
Melissa slipped her shoulder under his arm, holding him up.
“She’s safe. She’s safe, they didn’t take her.” Her words were rushed, hoping he would hear them before he passed out.
His arm tightened around her as his knees gave out and together they slumped to the floor. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. Lifting his head, blood oozed from a gash above his eye, covering the side of his face.
“Mel,” he whispered, slipping from her grasp to the cold earth.
The noise and chaos faded around her as Melissa knelt, pulled his head onto her lap and brushed the hair from his eyes. Gently she leaned down, placing a kiss on his brow as tears welled in her eyes.
“Mellie!” her father’s voice broke through the silence blocking her ears and she lifted her eyes.
“Papa,” she sniffed.
“Come on sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Mr. Middle crooned as his arm encircled her shoulders.
“He needs a doctor,” Mel said through her tears.
“He’s on his way.”
Two men lifted Carl onto a wooden plank, while another unlocked his chain, and began carrying him away. Melissa lunged, trying to stay with him.
Still holding her tight, her father helped her to her feet and together they followed
Chapter 10
“Young lady, you shouldn’t be here.” The doctor’s voice had risen in volume with each pronouncement and still Melissa stayed.
“Can’t you do something about her?” the doctor turned, appealing to her father, who only shrugged and smiled.
“Crazy folks everywhere I go,” the doctor mumbled under his breath as he returned to wrapping the ribs of the young man stretched out cold on the table before him. He’d already cleaned and stitched the gash above his eye and examined him for any broken bones.
“This young fella got off easy, if you ask me,” he spoke as if to himself. “That big brute they brung in with him was in far worse shape.”
Melissa glanced at her father, worry etching her pretty face. “Will he be alright?” she asked, afraid of the answer.
“Which one?” the cantankerous physician barked. “Oh, you mean this one.” He tied off the bandages. “Yes, but he’s had a nasty knock on the head and combined with this confounded hullabaloo, he’s pretty well concussed.”
Melissa sidled up to the table again, causing the doctor to shake his head.
“You young people today. You’ll take no tellin’.” Again he shook his head, but his eyes were kind. “He needs rest and no sudden surprises.” The old man snapped his black bag closed and turned to go.
“I’m headed over to the jail to check on that other fella. Seem’s he’s been arrested for illegal fighting, gambling, and a whole slew of other things. I’d best be present when he wakes up and they tell him.”
As the door closed behind him, Melissa placed a hand on Carl’s forehead. Even battered and bl
oodied, he was stunning. Gently she took his hand.
“I’ll just step outside and talk to the constable,” Mr. Middleton said, his words soft and understanding. He knew now why his daughter had been avoiding the office.
Melissa smoothed an unruly hank of hair away from Carl’s face and his eyes fluttered open.
“Mel?” Her name on his lips was like a prayer.
“I’m here,” she said, squeezing his hand.
“Is everyone alright?” His voice sounded raspy.
“Everyone’s fine.” She released his hand to pick up a glass of water. “Here,” she said, helping him lift his head to drink. “Don’t try to talk.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, ignoring her words. “I never meant to bring your family any trouble.” He turned his head and the room spun as Melissa’s form doubled, shook, then settled back to normal.
Melissa lifted his hand again. “Carl,” she spoke softly and he closed his eyes, drinking in the sound. “Don’t fret, you did nothing wrong. This wasn’t your fault.”
“You should have left me that day. I’m no good for you.” His words were cold, empty. “You’ll be better off with Paul.”
Melissa’s short bark of laughter made him open his eyes again. “What did I say that was so funny?” he asked, bewildered.
“Paul?” Mel snorted, a very unlady-like sound that caused him to focus on her face.
Carl’s heart quivered and his hand shook in hers. “Niamh and I will go as soon as I’m well enough to travel,” he said, wishing things could have been different.
“I don’t think so,” Mel offered brightly.
The door behind them opened and Carl pushed himself to his elbows as Mr. Middleton stepped inside.
“I was just telling Ms. Middleton that Niamh and I will go as soon a I’m able, sir.” His voice shook with the effort to stay upright. “I know I’ll be dismissed immediately since you stipulated clearly that no brawling would be tolerated. If I can just have….”
“Leave?” Mr. Middleton practically shouted, “Leave? Why would you leave when I’m promoting you to partner?” The older man stepped up to glare at the young man, pushing him back to the table with only a finger.
“That old doctor is right, you young people have a lot to learn.” He shook his head but smiled. “Son, this wasn’t your fault. It was the work of an evil man, a man who’d had his own way for far too long.” He smiled, pausing to look at his daughter. “You might not have planned it, but you stopped that man for good and I’d like to shake your hand for it.”
Gently the older man took Carl’s hand and gave it a soft shake. “When you’re all better, we’ll get things settled. I need a young man like you if this business is going to continue to thrive.” Running a hand through his graying hair, Mr. Middleton turned to go, but stopped.
“Oh, and one more thing,” he said, turning to look at Carl again. “Stop arguing with my daughter. She’s got more sense than the two of us combined.”
Melissa Middleton smiled, hearing the words her father hadn’t said, feeling the blessing he’d bestowed. He’d recognized her value not only as his daughter but to the business. He’d also acknowledged in his own way her right to love Cathal Oisin McHain.
Carl gazed after the man who had taken him in and given him a chance at a new life. He’d heard the words but how could they be true?
“Ca’hal,” Melissa whispered. Her lips were close to his ear and he shivered as her breath brushed his neck.
“Mel?” he asked, his brain fuzzy and confused.
“I’m here, I’ll always be here,” she said, her hair brushing his bare chest as she leaned toward him, kissing him gently on the lips.
Carl’s head spun. Mel wasn’t supposed to kiss him, she had to marry Paul or someone like him.
“What was that for?” he questioned, his head starting to hurt.
“Didn’t you like it?” She sounded hurt.
“It has nothing to do with what I like,” he croaked, closing his eyes against the pain in his head. “You’re a lady and ladies don’t kiss the likes of me.”
Melissa stiffened, her grip tightening on his hand. “Is that what this has all been about?” her voice sounded incredulous. “All this time…” he could hear the tears in her voice and tried to raise his hand.
“It’s true Melissa, I’m a nobody. A simple Irishman you picked up on the street.”
A hot tear splashed onto his hand and he forced his eyes open. Her pained expression did something to his heart and an ache filled his chest.
“Cathal, O-Sheen, McHain.” Mel snapped, stamping a booted heel, dragging his name out in syllables. “All this time, that’s what this has been about?”
He was feeling befuddled again, and drowsy as well. “But what about Paul?”
“Heavens, you’re really are an oaf if you think I’m interested in Paul. Besides, everyone knows his father is a terrible wastrel and he needs Paul to marry money. I have no intentions of marrying Paul.”
“I thought…” his voice trailed off as his eyes drifted shut.
“All this time you thought you weren’t good enough for me?” Another hot tear splashed on his hand where she lifted it to her cheek. “You don’t get to decide who is good enough for me, you great lummox. My heart decided that long ago.”
With a great effort Carl wrenched his eyes open again and looked into her beautiful face.
“Ah, me darlin’, you’ve had my heart from the start.”
Melissa leaned over and kissed him, still holding his hand to her cheek. He stretched, pulling her to him, lifting his head for better access to her lips. They were soft and warm on his, as he sunk once more into nothingness.
***
The next time Carl woke, he was in a warm bed and sunlight was streaming through the windows. A rustle to his left made him turn his head, which only swam slightly at the movement.
“You’re awake.” Niamh’s voice was a balm to his soul. “We were worried.”
She walked to his side and he raised up to kiss her softly on the cheek. “Ah A stór, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“Mel’s gone down to get some breakfast, would you like some?” she smiled. She loved when he called her his treasure.
Carl’s stomach rumbled at the mere mention of food, answering for him.
“I’ll be right back,” his little sister said, then was gone.
Carl looked around him. He must have been taken to the Middleton home after the fight. He squirmed in the bed, pushing himself upright, and flinched as a sharp pain twisted his ribs.
“They’re cracked.” Melissa walked into the room followed by a maid with a tray. “Your ribs,” Mel pointed, “three of them are cracked.”
She directed the maid to place the tray over his lap, then sat down with him. “Niamh told me you were awake.” Her green eyes sparkled in the early morning sun. “I thought I’d have breakfast with you.”
Carl studied her lovely face, recalling the dream he’d had of her kissing him. He could still feel her warm lips on his as if the kiss had been real. He must have taken quiet a blow to the head in that ring.
“How are you feeling?” Mel seemed in good spirits; perhaps she was meeting Paul later in the day.
“Hungry,” he answered honestly. “How long have I been here?” he asked, lifting his fork.
“One day, two nights.” Mel took a piece of toast from his tray and nibbled it delicately.
Carl glanced at her and she smiled.
“You don’t remember, do you?”
“Remember what?”
“What happened the other night.”
“I remember the fight, but everything else is hazy.”
“Do you remember speaking to my father?”
Carl squinted, trying to dredge up a memory shrouded in fog and shook his head. The mattress dipped beside him and he turned startled blue eyes to see Mel sitting next to him. Her eyes were bright with laughter and something more.
“Do you remember this?
” she asked softly, taking his face in her hands and kissing him.
Carl felt dizzy again, the whole room spinning, as her warm lips pressed into his. He could feel her giggle into the kiss.
When Melissa pulled back, it felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room.
“It wasn’t a dream?” Carl whispered.
“No,” Mel shook her head, making her blonde curls bounce as she smiled. He reached for her again.
This time it was Mel who felt dizzy when Carl released her. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears and her breath was coming in short gasps.
“I love you,” Carl spoke, leaning his forehead against hers. He seemed as out of breath as she was. Her heart fluttered.
“I thought you two would never get that sorted.” Her mother’s voice behind them made Melissa jump to her feet, flushing bright red.
“Mother?” she said, dropping her eyes.
“Pish-posh,” her mother chided, waving a hand. “I’ve been waiting for two long years for you young people to figure this out.”
Carl’s eyes grew wide. “Don’t look at me that way, Carl. You don’t get to be my age and not learn to see things that are right under your nose.” Mrs. Middleton walked up next to the bed and patted his cheek. “I’m glad you’re awake.”
Carl shifted the tray across his lap to disguise exactly how awake he was. “I think a spring wedding,” the older woman continued, gazing around the room. “Perhaps March.”
“Mother!” Melissa exclaimed again. “He hasn’t even asked me to marry him yet.” Her face felt like it was on fire.
Mrs. Middleton shook his head, “Well by the way he was kissing you a minute ago, I’d say he doesn’t need to ask, but if you’d like something formal I’ll step outside.” She bustled through the door, making a show of leaving it partially open on her way out.
Carl lifted a hand toward the girl of his dreams and she came to him. “I don’t have much to offer you, but if you’ll have me, Melissa Middleton, I’ll do my best to make you happy.”
Melissa’s smile outshone the sun as she leaned forward. “Yes,” she whispered, “a thousand times yes.”
