Nessy's Locket

by A. W. Exley

  In stark contrast to Nate, Clarence wore white boots and breeches. While he gave the impression of being a soft, indolent noble, Cara suspected he hid something under his robe that had her, and everyone else in the room, on the edge of their seat. Brick would never have let the match go ahead if he didn’t think Clarence had a real chance of beating Nate. Which meant the dandified duke concealed a hard body under his shirt. Perhaps the rumours were true and he really was sculpted marble.

  Clarence stepped into the ring and bowed to his adoring audience.

  Each combatant had three attendants. Nate’s all clad in black, Clarence’s in silver.

  In each corner was a champagne bucket filled with water and ice. A physician sat with his black medical bag to one side of the ring.

  Loki called the men and their seconds to the middle of the ring, where he ran through the basic rules. The two nobles shook hands as best they could with wrapped wrists and hands, then they returned to their corners.

  Nate shrugged off his shirt and held out his hands, ready to don the boxing gloves. Gasps and whispers ran around the room at the sight of his bare torso and the variety of scars that marked his flesh.

  Brick took the collar of Clarence’s silk robe in his hands and slowly pulled it from his lover’s body.

  You could have heard a pin drop as the duke’s body was revealed. Even Cara gulped. The man was chiselled alabaster. His skin was the milky white that women used arsenic and lead-based powders to achieve. Tight abdominal muscles were outlined with a master sculptor’s touch. Not a single hair marred his torso. Even his nipples were a delicious shade of dusty pink.

  Clarence must have spent hours being waxed, coloured, and oiled to perfection. And Cara was sure he would spark a new trend among the bucks present. The reverent silence was broken by a crash and a squeal of laughter. One of the women had swooned and keeled over backwards in her chair.

  The crowd began to clap. Soon the entire ballroom was on their feet and applauding, and the man hadn’t done anything yet. In the event he won, would there be a riot as they all rushed the ring, or would the women succumb to collective hysteria and all faint?

  Nate met Cara’s gaze and arched a dark eyebrow. A challenge ran through their bond, daring her to rise and clap like the others did for his opponent. Silly man. She was seven months pregnant and had no intention of hauling herself upward just to stroke the duke’s ego.

  A footman holding a polished brass bell and a matching tiny hammer stepped into the ring. At a signal from Loki, the footman dinged the bell to start the first round.

  The first round was a warm up. The two men tested each other with jabs that were easily blocked. Clarence had a good stance and fast reflexes. Brick had schooled him well, but Cara was confident Nate was better. For starters, Clarence had never faced an armed opponent in a back alley intent on spilling his entrails over the dirty cobbles. Nate had a survival instinct that the duke lacked, and Cara was certain it would kick in as the fight progressed.

  “No disrespect to your husband, Lady Lyons, but the Duke of Clarence is sure to win. Good always triumphs over evil, does it not? Plus he is such a fine figure of a man. The Greeks must have had him in mind when they carved images of their gods.” The count practically needed to wipe his chin with his napkin as his hungry eyes feasted on Clarence’s naked torso.

  The second round saw the men fighting harder, and as the punches became more serious, the sheen of sweat covered their bodies.

  After weeks of careful planning, this was the moment Cara had orchestrated. Now to play out a little line and see if the fish would nibble her bait. She took a sip of water and considered her approach. “Care to make this evening more interesting?”

  “A wager?” His eyes lit up. “What do you propose?”

  “Naturally I back my husband to win the match, but how sure are you that the duke will win? Are you confident enough to wager a few sovereigns?” Cara glanced at the count and then turned her attention to the fighters. Clarence let loose a jab and followed with a fast punch that caught Nate in the ribs.

  The count stroked the pointed end of his goatee. “We both have plenty of coin. There is nothing to be gained for either of us in such a wager. You have an interest in antiquities, do you not? Perhaps we could both wager an item we possess.”

  Cara gave a delighted expression, but inwardly she hoped he didn’t ask for a dragon—they were off the table. “Why, yes! We have a warehouse full with numerous objects from a house we have just emptied. Perhaps there is an object d’art that would interest you?”

  The count took a long drink from his champagne while his gaze strayed to the play of muscles in Clarence’s back. “If I win, and since I cannot obtain a dragon from you, there is a flute I am seeking. It was last purchased by Csenger and I believe resides in your warehouse. It is a little thing, perhaps six inches long and rather plain.”

  Cara screwed up her face in a look of concentration. “I do not recollect it, but there are so many things in so many boxes. I will ask my husband’s men to search for it, should you win.”

  She knew of the flute all right. Her fingertips had tingled as she lifted it from its box and she had to fight the urge to raise it to her lips. Malachi had yet to dig up further information on who it had belonged to and what it might possibly do.

  “And what would have from me? A holiday in paradise, perhaps?” He dragged his attention back to Cara for a mere moment, before returning to the visual feast of the half-naked duke.

  Cara frowned and tapped her chin, as though she considered her options. In reality her heart beat faster. She was so close to securing what she needed to protect her family. “There is a curiosity that interests me. Csenger had some papers that mentioned a stone you possess. An old Chinese one, if my memory serves.”

  His head spun and his moustache twitched. “Indeed. I have a foundation stone from the Great Wall of China in my possession. Are you sure you want me to wager such an ugly and useless thing?”

  Cara smiled. They conducted their own boxing match with feints of ignorance about the powerful effects certain items wielded and uppercut counter offers. “I have a daughter who is fascinated by history. A stone that is thousands of years old would be quite the Christmas present for her. We could use it as a mounting block in the stables.”

  The count looked horrified at the idea of muddy feet using the ancient stone to get onto a pony. A gasp from the crowd came as Nate landed a blow on Clarence’s jaw, and the count returned to the boxing match before them. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with his napkin then waved it at Cara. “Very well then. Your flute against my stone.”

  They shook on the wager, to seal the fate of two artifacts and three dragons. Now Cara needed Nate to win. Which he would. Wouldn’t he?

  Clarence shot out with a driving right punch and caught Nate square in the gut. Cara sucked in a breath as the pain from the blow radiated through her torso.

  They were still learning how their bond impacted a heavily pregnant Cara. She placed a hand below her sternum. The blow bounced around inside her, and a new spot of pain bloomed everywhere it hit.

  Nate’s head shot up and he narrowed his gaze at her.

  Oh, bugger. If he became distracted by her reaction, the match was lost. Her chances of getting her hands on the stone from the Great Wall of China evaporated before her eyes.

  Clarence seized upon the momentary distraction, and a left hook slammed into Nate’s chin. His head snapped back and Cara screwed up her eyes as black spots danced before her vision. The crowd went crazy around her. Women leapt up from their seats and screeched in excitement.

  Cara drew a deep breath and let the blows flow through her body and carry on their way. She could do this. The baby was safe and would remain unharmed, and her husband was not going to lose this fight. She raised her hand and signalled for a footman to bring over his tray of champagne. A few sips would allow her to send calm along the bond to Nate and settle her growing fear for the child.<
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  She took a glass and held the fine crystal between her fingers. As she sipped the expensive beverage, the bubbles tickled her nose. The liquid flowed down her gullet, but then her stomach clenched. Cara placed the glass on the table and slid it to the middle. Champagne might have been a bad idea.

  Sweat prickled at her hairline and Cara snapped open her fan.

  “You do not look well.” Paniha placed a hand on Cara’s arm and worry pulled at her deep brown eyes.

  “Just a little warm. The baby seems to heat me up from the inside.” With two hundred excited people in the ballroom, the air became stuffy despite the number of doors left open to the private balconies and patios. The ladies at the tables around them were aglow and none of them were pregnant.

  Paniha refilled Cara’s water. “Perhaps you should go outside, where the air is cooler.”

  “I will, once the fight is over.” Cara brushed off Paniha’s concern. She couldn’t show weakness now. Instead she concentrated on narrowing her connection to Nate and let out a long, slow breath. At the same time she sent a narrow shaft of reassurance to him that all was fine with her and the baby.

  Another round ended and the men retreated to their corners. Nate took the mug of water that Jackson offered, tipped it over his head, and allowed droplets to run over his face and torso. The next one he drank in long, deep gulps.

  Clarence sat on his stool and sipped water from a crystal tumbler. Brick dabbed at his torso with a towel, cleaning off the excess sweat but leaving his angelic glow.

  “Ten pounds if I can do that!” one woman screeched from a nearby table.

  That opened the floodgates for a bidding war, negotiated by a grinning Loki. The count upped the total to fifty pounds before retiring. After five minutes, a price of a hundred pounds was settled upon and a large matron made her way to the middle to claim her prize.

  She beelined for Clarence, who had a startled and slightly cornered look on his face.

  Loki slipped in between. “Now, now, my lady. While we all appreciate your eagerness, remember this is a charity event for the less fortunate.”

  The pirate relieved the woman of a fat wad of bank notes and then handed her a towel.

  Clarence pushed himself deeper into the corner and reached up a hand for Brick. The towering bodyguard loomed over the ecstatic woman as she mopped Clarence’s torso. The woman’s companions hooted with laughter and called out encouraging words from the back of the room.

  Cara bit back her laughter. No one could say the crowd wasn’t being entertained, and the extra money would be funnelled into the new school.

  The woman made circles on Clarence’s upper chest. Cara wondered if the matron thought she rubbed a magic lantern and if she pressed hard enough, her wish would be granted.

  “I think that’s enough, don’t you?” Loki asked the enraptured audience. “We don’t want her wearing the duke out.”

  18

  The next round started with a far deadlier intent. Gentlemanly sparring had been slicked away with the sweat wiped off from the previous rounds. As soon as the bell sounded, Clarence strode across the ring and delivered a fast punch straight to Nate’s stomach that caught him as he stared at Cara. A gasp raced around the room as the viscount doubled over. No one expected gentle Clarence to begin the assault.

  The duke moved in for another jab, but Nate used his lower position to plough his shoulder into Clarence’s middle and drive him to the velvet rope. Once at the side, Nate pushed Clarence back and then swung his body behind a blow to the other man’s sternum. Society’s beautiful dandy became the avenging angel as he fought the dark demon.

  Each man landed punches about the other’s head that had Brick grasping at the rope. He would have jumped in to stand in front of Clarence, but Loki pushed him away. At times proceedings were more pantomime than boxing match, the crowd weighing in behind their favourite. They roared their appreciation with every jab and strike of Clarence’s that landed on Nate. Then they booed and hissed when Nate pressed an advantage and rained blows on the duke.

  “They do not like your husband, yet he is a fine warrior,” Paniha said from beside Cara.

  “He does not follow their silly rules and cannot be controlled by them. That makes them fear him.” He was a demon in the dark, which was exactly why Cara loved him.

  “Small people cling to rules. Warriors know what to do for their people.” The other woman’s eyes held a calm assurance as she dismissed all the rules and strictures society used to bind the people of London.

  In a few words, Paniha summed up Nate. He would do what was best for his people, rules be damned.

  “Hone does what he needs to for our tribe. Kahu does not follow rules, he follows his heart and pulls us along with him.” The Maori woman practically glowed as she stared at the pirate, watching him prowl beside the ring.

  Cara swallowed a snort. It was a recent discovery to learn that Loki had a heart. “I would love to visit your country where rules are set aside in favour of what is best for your people.” A land where everyone was equal and judged by their actions, not by their titles or fortunes. It sounded like a utopia, and the perfect place for the injured birds being suffocated by London society.

  “It is a marvellous place to raise tamariki. Land to run over, rivers to swim in, and forests to explore.” Her eyes sparkled, and the rich tone of her voice evoked ancient and mystical lands.

  “After the child is born, I will bring my family to stay with you for a while. We might have far more in common than you think,” Cara murmured as she stared at the carved jade dragon Paniha wore around her neck. Would Kirill and Calypso follow them to New Zealand?

  A stab shot through her torso. Little Pavlin couldn’t fly across the world with one wing, but if they sacrificed some of the cargo, she would fit in the hold of the long-range airship.

  A cheer erupted as Clarence made a lightning-fast jab and caught Nate on the side of his head. A split opened up and blood trickled down his face. Cara grabbed each blow as it travelled along their bond and diffused it through her body. She diverted the energy around the baby, but she didn’t know how much longer she could endure. Sweat trickled down her back and blood pounded in her ears, drowning out the noise of the crowd.

  Nate glanced in her direction from under heavy brows and renewed his assault on Clarence. He used his whole body, rotating his hips with each punch to throw more power and weight behind it. He feinted one way and waited for Clarence to extend in that direction. Then he ducked under the duke’s outstretched arm and shot upward to land a jab right on Clarence’s chin.

  The duke’s head snapped back and he staggered a step backwards. Both his hands went to his head, clutching at his ears. Then he went still. Brick shouted his name and ducked under the velvet rope just as the duke keeled over backwards. Clarence hit the blue mat with a thud. Someone in the crowd screamed, “NO!”

  Brick rushed to his side and knelt down. His hands hovered above Clarence’s body, unable to help him without forfeiting the bout. Loki stepped into the ring and in a clear tone counted to ten. People shouted for Clarence to stand, to battle on, to punch the evil bastard. Cara scanned the sea of faces to pinpoint who yelled that out.

  Loki held up a finger with each number announced until he reached ten.

  “He won,” Cara whispered in the silence that descended.

  The crowd was stunned. Their angelic hero had lost, and that wasn’t supposed to happen. Nate found Cara’s gaze as his men began cheering and clapping and the crowd, somewhat reluctantly, joined in.

  Loki grabbed Nate’s arm and raised it. “We have a winner, ladies and gentlemen, Viscount Lyons. On this rare occasion, dark has triumphed over light.”

  “Congratulations, my lady, the stone is yours.” The count inclined his head and raised his glass to her.

  They had done it. Her dragons would be safe. Cara rubbed a hand over her stomach. All her family would be safe. Cara leaned on the table as she stood, eager to congratulate her husb
and and get out of the stuffy ballroom. The close air reminded her of the damp heat in bathhouses, and each breath she drew into her lungs seemed to scorch her throat.

  “We won,” she whispered. She sought out Nate as his men surrounded him. Then dark spots eroded her vision until everything went black.

  Cara’s head pounded and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her throat was so parched she couldn’t swallow. Why was it so blasted hot, and what was pressing on her? She wondered if she had fallen asleep in the hay next to Pavlin and the dragon had rolled over on her.

  “Cara? Can you hear me, cara mia?” There was a rough edge to Nate’s words, and fear flowed through her limbs and sparked her brain into action.

  Had someone attacked their dragons again? Had she been hit in the crossfire and couldn’t remember it?

  “The dragons?” She cracked one eye open to find Nate staring at her, his brows drawn closely together in worry.

  “They are fine. It’s you and the baby we are all worried about.” He wiped her forehead with a blessedly cool flannel.

  Piece by piece, as though she put together a jigsaw, the scene behind Nate assembled itself. She was in the men’s smoking room off the ballroom. Someone had placed her on a chaise in front of an open window. A soft breeze kissed her skin.

  She drew a deep breath as her pounding heart relaxed. She raised a hand and touched the cut on the side of Nate’s head. It was swollen, and other bruises bloomed over his cheeks. “You look terrible.”

  He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingertips. “I would never have done this if I had known it would hurt you.”

  “Could I have some water, please?” She hauled herself to a sitting position with Nate’s help. “What happened?”

  Amy pressed a cold glass of water into her hand and then took her other wrist between her fingers.

  “You passed out. It quite stole my triumphant moment.” Nate tried to laugh, but it couldn’t erase his concern. “Paniha managed to catch you before you hit the floor.”