Minerva's Match Read online

  But it was her clothing that truly made her different. Now she looked like a country girl, though one from some man’s fantasy. Her shift was lowered so he could see the tops of her breasts. Women of the ton showed far more, depending on the fashion of the day, but they didn’t look as delicious as Minerva. Her waist was laced tight into a sort of half corset so that he could see her true shape.

  Dear God, he had the unreasonable urge to throw his coat around her to block other men looking at her. That she was his to protect was a mere technicality. Still, someone had to!

  “What in the blazes are you doing dressed like that?”

  “I’d have thought you’d want something to eat after leaving me to wait here for hours!” she sniped back at him. She was about to turn away when he grabbed her. That his arm went naturally around her waist and he pulled her into him was of no consequence.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve had a miserable day. Yes, I’d appreciate the stew. Can I have an answer to my question while I eat?”

  “I don’t have much time. The place is filling up, and I have to go get ready.”

  “Ready for what? What have you done? I need to find us a place to sleep tonight with what little money I have left.”

  “Oh, I have a room here for the night, and if things go well, for tomorrow too.”

  “How? With what coin?” His blood ran cold. She wouldn’t have… “Minerva, what have you done?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about. I’ll need your help later though, so eat up quickly. Here is the key to the room, but don’t go until after.”

  With that, she danced away to disappear behind a door he’d never noticed. He drank down the stew and was about to go after her when the innkeeper mounted a platform that served as some kind of stage. The audience knew what to expect and started hooting and clapping.

  The man looked at a slip of paper in his hand, reading out loud. “All the way from London for a sep-special engagement.” The man tripped over the unfamiliar words, but the audience was held rapt in anticipation. “I bring you Minerva, Queen of Wonders.”

  James choked on his own breath. What in all hell had she done? She fairly shook at being asked to show herself to the audience in the hall. And now she was going to perform in front of a crowd?

  Whatever questions he had disappeared like fog in the sun when she stepped onto the stage. She still wore the country-girl clothes, but she’d added a cloth around her waist and a belt of some kind that jingled when she walked. The additions brought to mind a tamer version of a gypsy.

  The light seemed to cloak her so that he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Without thinking, he pushed his way to the front of the room. She seemed to nod to him and smile, though the men next to him nearly swooned when she did. She delicately cleared her throat. Was she going to lecture them on soil composition, perhaps discourse on some feminist diatribe?

  She did neither.

  She opened her mouth, and the voice of an angel stunned the crowd silent. She sang some old folk song with such sweetness, James’ chest felt tight with emotion. The men around him all wiped tears from their eyes when she finally stopped. She accepted the applause and the money that the crowd tossed at her feet. A young boy ran out and collected it in a basket before she started the next song. Again, her voice rose to the rafters with such strength and composure, if he hadn’t known her, he would have thought she was a professional singer.

  Perhaps she’d missed her calling. A voice like that deserved to be heard. Again, when she finished, she was hailed and showered with coins. After the boy did his part, she tucked the cloth around her waist back, revealing her arsenal of knives stuck into the belt.

  The crowd now murmured among themselves until she pulled three knives from their place with all the skill of a showman. She held up each knife and let the candlelight flash on the shiny blades, then slammed each one point first into the wooden table that had been placed beside her. The act left no doubt as to just how dangerous those blades could be. In due course, she pulled each one up and tossed it into the air until they were all spinning as she caught and released each in turn.

  He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even blink, for fear that she would catch the wrong end and slice her hand open, or misthrow and stab herself. The rest of the audience was no more relaxed. Finally, she caught the handles one by one and stuck the blades into the table with a yell. The crowd roared in approval, crying for more.

  “For my next act, I need a volunteer!” she yelled as they tossed money at her and the boy darted about like an animal, trying to catch it all. Everyone stilled as she plucked a knife from her belt and pointed it at the crowd, as if daring any to take her up on her challenge.

  James’ blood ran hot. What on earth was this insane woman doing to him? When she stopped in front of him and smiled, the people crowded around him all took a step back. “You’ll do.”

  “What?” The word sounded as if it had come from some green youth in that pitch. When she reached for his hand, he tried to pull it back to no avail. When he tried to step back, the crowd pushed him forward and up onto the stage, with one and all nearly choking in laughter. All except him, and Minerva. Oh, she wasn’t laughing. No, the look on her face was one of revenge. Dear God.

  “You.” She pointed the knife at his chest. “Go stand over there.” She flicked the blade at the back wall.

  “I won’t.”

  She leaned toward him, close enough that her lips brushed his earlobe, and an electric charge raced over his skin. “Play along.”

  He pulled away, catching a glimpse of that conspiratorial grin, before she nudged him in the direction she wanted him to go. When he reached the wall, he turned to face her, ready to call a halt to this nonsense. He put his arms out to either side of him in appeal to her better nature and sucked in a gasp as she loosed two knives in rapid succession. He hadn’t even had time to react before they speared the wall on either side of his head.

  “Don’t move,” she said loudly enough for the audience closest to the stage to hear.

  As if he bloody well needed the warning now!

  More coins hit the stage; the boy would soon start groaning under the weight of the basket he carried. In short order, she pulled a strip of cloth from her belt and waved it with a flourish. He had a moment’s relief because at least it looked less dangerous. She looped and tied it in a slip knot and made to put it over his head. He shook her off, and she grinned that devious smile at him, yet he found himself smiling back. Had she drugged the stew?

  “I don’t want that.” He said to her in his most domineering voice. Surely it was time someone put an end to this lunacy.

  “You’re right. No fun in you being blindfolded,” she said for the benefit of the assemblage. The crowd crowed with laughter. His head bowed in relief. She took several quick steps away from him until she stopped at the front of the stage. He looked up when the room fell silent to see she had slid the cloth over her own eyes.

  “God, no.” It was a whisper, a prayer, and an entreaty. It was useless.

  “Don’t move!”

  As if he could. He did manage to close his eyes just as the first knife landed below one arm. Still blissfully whole, all he could think about was who in the hell she had practiced this on? In quick succession, knives sunk into the wall around him. When he opened his eyes after a delay, she was pulling her blindfold off, and the crowd erupted in shouts and laughter. He was just so damn happy to still be alive.

  Then he heard the first grumbling. “S’all a cheat!”

  “Are you bloody mad?” he roared. “I was afraid for my life! Come up here and let her throw knives at you.”

  Some backed down, but others joined the argument.

  “You’re a plant. She doesn’t really throw them.”

  “She bloody well does, you dolt!” He wasn’t even sure who he was yelling at, but some in the crowd had started pushing and shoving at those who thought differently. In another few moments, this was going to turn into a mele
e.

  An ear-piercing whistle stopped the crowd. Everyone turned to stare at Minerva. She stood with the basket of coins on her hip. “Now that I have your attention! I will wager that this man”—she pointed toward James—“can take on your best fighter to defend my honor.”

  He stared openmouthed. She had gone mad. Completely, irrevocably insane. He hadn’t boxed since Eton, though he’d been damned good at it then. How did she know he’d even be up to the task?

  “Minerva,” he growled as he stalked toward her. She put the basket at her feet and started removing his neckcloth, then his jacket. He was entranced by the feel of her hands undressing him. By the time she started on his waistcoat, he was nearly panting. Dammit, he wanted her to be doing this somewhere private, just the two of them, which was as absurd a thought as this situation.

  He slapped her hands away and finished the rest himself. After turning to face the crowd, he started rolling up his sleeves. His blood pumping, he danced on his toes a little, feeling surprisingly light. Alive in a way he hadn’t in years. He was thinking his chances were good, that there wouldn’t even be a fight, when the crowd parted, leaving only a behemoth of a man in their wake.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Oh dear! Oh James,” Minerva whispered. “I’ll distract them so you can run.”

  Her lack of confidence in him stung, but as he looked the man up and down, he couldn’t half blame her. He handed her his waistcoat. With her hands full, she was defenseless for perhaps the first time he’d ever known her. That and his no-doubt impending doom pushed him to the limit. It was the only excuse for what he did next.

  Cradling her face in both hands, he kissed her hard, backing off slightly when their teeth clicked together. This was not a soft melting kiss but an expression of the fire that was burning through him. A fire that he’d always had to keep banked for fear of it racing out of control. His teeth tugged gently at her lower lip. At her feminine sigh, his tongue slid into her mouth, tasting her.

  Of course she was sweet, but she also tasted of ale and warmth. Minerva was no uptight miss, no woman bred to make small talk and mince words. She was a Valkyrie, a goddess of might, and a woman who would have sliced him to ribbons if she hadn’t wanted this.

  The crowd roared at the kiss, and finally he left her lips, enjoying the half shocked look on her face as he turned to meet his combatant.

  “Outside!” James shouted.

  James watched the man turn with a lumbering gait. Yes, he was huge, but as he moved, James noticed plenty of weaknesses. The slight limp on his left side, bad knee if he had to guess, the way his right arm didn’t extend as far as his left when he stretched them out to the sides. He was vulnerable there. James saw him spit out the stump of a cigar and knew his lungs would be weak. Yes, the man was much larger, but he moved slowly and with little grace. James knew he stood a better chance than anyone would guess.

  People had started betting, with the innkeeper acting as the bookmaker. They surged outside after the two of them, forming a rough circle that only he and the other man stood in the center of. The brute removed his rough vest and handed it to someone. As he rolled his sleeves, he flexed his muscles to the cheers of some in the crowd. They were in for a shock.

  James searched for moment to find Minerva, but the crowd had absorbed her. The innkeeper stepped into the ring.

  “We’re simple folk here, so I won’t burden you with rules. Our Robbie is going to take on this Englishman here. First one to get knocked down and stay down is the loser. No biting!”

  James waited for more and was only a little shocked when the innkeeper pushed back out of the ring. With a grimace, the giant stalked toward him, and James danced away. Getting the man to move had the beast using up energy but also showed any weaknesses James might have missed earlier.

  Robbie swung in a wide arc, perhaps hoping to hit the side of James’s head, but a neat deflection with the back of his forearm took care of that. As he suspected, the right arm didn’t have the same reach, and the man used it strictly to guard with.

  What the brute hadn’t counted on was James’ speed, and as soon as he blocked the wide swing, James dove in close to land a strike at the man’s ribs. At the hit to his diaphragm, the stench of too much drink and rotted teeth belched out of the man. The blow doubled Robbie over but didn’t drop him to the ground.

  The crowd that had been cheering on the big man now quieted, making it easier to think. Gentleman John frowned on using anything except fists, but then he didn’t fight in contests where the only rule seemed to be no biting either. James needed to tap the weakness in the man’s legs if he wanted the man to go down, and stay down.

  Before James could make another move, Robbie surged up with a roar and tried to bear-hug him. James ducked but caught a giant fist to the back of his head. He heard several women scream. He was certain one of them had to be Minerva.

  How could he pick her out of a crowd already?

  He needed to keep her out of his head if he wanted to survive this! The two of them danced around the ring, with the bigger man lunging at him and James fading away, waiting for his chance for a knockout blow.

  Finally, his moment came. A sharp jab to the man’s chin left him reeling, but not before James slammed his heel down sideways on the man’s left knee. The crowd yelled as Robbie screamed. His knee gave way, and he ended up in a heap on the cobblestones.

  The innkeeper dashed forward and thrust fistfuls of money at James, which he quickly shoved in his pockets. “Get your girl upstairs before there’s a riot!” he yelled over the din.

  James turned frantically, searching for Minerva. Each time he moved toward the edge of the circle, the crowd drew back, except for the few women who suddenly seemed to find him irresistible. They tried to hang on his arms and grabbed at his hands.

  He didn’t want them. He wanted just one particularly difficult woman. Then he spotted her blonde head above the others.

  he bellowed like a wounded animal.

  The people around her pulled back as if she were poison. He didn’t wait for a better chance but stalked to her, finally tossing her over his shoulder. He needed to get them out of there quickly. He fairly ran up the narrow stairs to the rooms, and then realized he didn’t know which one she’d been given.

  “End of the hall,” came a soft voice at his back. If the situation were different, he might have laughed at how odd she sounded. He raced to their room and slammed the door behind them, making sure to lock it before he tossed her on the bed. Then he really surprised himself by pinning her to it.

  “You. Almost. Killed. Me.” He was panting in anger, exertion, and if he were honest, arousal.

  “Oh!” Then she was kissing him as if her life depended on sharing the air he breathed. He was so shocked that he nearly forgot he needed that air too. Her hands roamed his body, pulling at his shirt to release it from his trousers.

  Then her fingers were on his bare skin. He’d never felt anything so divine as the way she sought out any possible hurt or damage that might have been done to him. He broke the kiss and looked down to see tears in her eyes.

  Whatever anger he might have felt at her perfidy disappeared the moment he saw her tears. Kissing them away, he murmured over and over that he was well until he landed back at her mouth, and kissing her then made everything wrong in the world right. He no longer cared that she’d duped him into collaborating with him, that he’d had to spend all the money he’d had to keep her safe, that she’d thrown knives at him— blindfolded—for God’s sake!

  He didn’t care that he’d had to fight to defend her, didn’t care that they hadn’t declared a winner yet for the conference prize. Nothing mattered but the taste of her, the softness of her mouth, her lips. He could stay here, like this, forever. And if not for the inconvenient need to breathe, he would.

  When they broke apart, they both started laughing. He didn’t want to move. Having her body tucked beneath his seemed the only safe place for her. They fit together l
ike two halves of a cleaved rock. His erection ached with how sensitive it was to the throbbing pulse between her legs, yet when he would have moved to a less-intimate position, she clung to him again. Finding new places on his skin to kiss and caress. A man only had so much willpower, and his was fading fast.

  “Minerva. I’m fine, truly.” Except for his aching manhood. “I need to get up.” God, if he were any more up, the damned thing’d break off. She clung to him, refusing to let him move. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

  “No. Please, you feel good like this.”

  He groaned at the girl’s innocence.

  “You don’t know what you are saying.” He shifted to get away, and she moaned in response. Not in pain but in want. And looking down at her in that country dress with her hair splayed on the bed and her breasts plumped between them, he wanted to moan also. But it wasn’t right.

  “No. It is bad enough that I am sharing a room with you. I won’t ruin you in fact.”

  “I’m already ruined.” The words were said in a whisper. Had he misunderstood?

  “Come again?”

  “I’m already ruined. You can’t take something I don’t have.” He stared at her for a bit. If she seemed coy or even defiant, it would have been different, but the girl he was crushing into the mattress was as pragmatic as ever.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh good God, James, must I spell it out? I lost my chastity when I was but thirteen.”

  “Who would do such a thing? You were still a child.”

  “One of my father’s pupils, and I wasn’t a child. It was my own fault really.”

  He took her chin in his hand and made her look at him. “I will never believe that. The man was a rogue of the worst sort. I’m sure your mother hadn’t explained the way of things to you yet.”