The Wedding Bargain

by Victoria Alexander

  Once again the tart leaned toward him, pushing her chest forward, and whispered something in his ear. Max's grin widened.

  “Oh, that's quite enough.” Pandora got to her feet.

  “Sit down,” Max said through clenched teeth.

  “No,” she snapped, and sat.

  “What's the lad's problem?” Muriel glanced at her over her ample shoulder.

  “He's too big for his britches.” Max shot her a warning look. “He probably needs a sound thrashing.”

  Pandora resisted the childish urge to stick out her tongue.

  Muriel got to her feet and turned to study Pandora.

  “‘E’s a fine lookin' lad. Maybe it's not a thrashin' 'e needs.” Muriel rested her hands on the table and leaned toward Pandora, the position allowing full view of her barely confined bosom and beyond, practically clear to her toes. Max lifted his tankard and directed a quick toast at her, then brought the drink to his lips, no doubt to hide his grin. The beast was obviously enjoying this. Pandora clenched her teeth.

  Muriel leered in a suggestive manner. “Maybe what the lad needs is a woman.”

  An odd sound exploded from Max and ale sprayed from his mouth. He started coughing and couldn't seem to catch his breath. It was the least he deserved.

  Muriel skirted around behind him and smacked him on the back.

  “Harder,” Pandora said, and smiled sweetly at Max.

  Max held up a hand. “No. Thank you. That's quite enough. I assure you, I'm fine.”

  “Oh, me poor lordship.” Muriel clutched him tight to her, wedging his head firmly between her enormous breasts like a close-fitting bonnet. Under other circumstances Pandora would have found it extremely amusing, but at the moment she was not about to allow the bosom of a tart to entrap the head of the man she might well marry.

  Pandora jumped to her feet. “He said he was fine.”

  She pushed Muriel's shoulders with all the force she could muster. Who knew how much suction was connected with that bosom?

  Muriel stumbled backward a good three feet, lost her balance, and sat with a loud smack and a flesh-muffled crash on a table, scattering tankards and plates and bottles in all directions. The two men who had been sitting there in relative peace only a moment before shot to their feet with a roar, spewing a string of foul curses that singed Pandora's ears even as she hoped to remember them for their creativity alone.

  A bench tumbled over in the process, tripping another serving woman who carried at least five tankards in each hand, a feat Pandora couldn't help but admire. Pity she couldn't hold onto them. The woman plunged forward, tankards flying as if shot from a cannon, flinging their contents over a remarkably wide area.

  The room exploded around her in a kaleidoscope of noise and movement. She sprang backward, smacked into a wall, and ducked in an effort to avoid the pungent wave of spirits that sprayed over her head and splashed against the barrier at her back.

  A bellow sounded above her and she snapped her head up. Her wall was a huge brute of a man, now glaring down with murderous intent in his eye. Her heart thudded hard in her chest and she tried to scramble out of his way. He yelled something she couldn't make out in the general chaos and the abrupt realization that she was in serious trouble.

  Where was Max?

  Frantically she scanned the room, searching the roiling sea of battling bodies. Panic surged through her, rising in her throat to propel a scream at the top of her lungs. “Max!”

  “Here!”

  She searched in the direction of his voice and spotted him in time to see him dodge a fist and throw one in return, the solid thunk of knuckle against flesh lost in the uproar engulfing the room. Max's gaze met hers, a deadly determination flashed in his eyes, and she knew he wouldn't let anything happen to her. He vaulted across the table toward her. Someone grabbed the fabric of her coat and yanked her back.

  She fought to keep her footing and threw a quick glance behind her. Good Lord, it was the brute of a wall! By the gods, if he pulled off her coat, or worse her hat, the revelation of her gender would surely heighten the frenzy about her. She struggled to escape. Without warning the hold on her broke. She pitched forward, momentum sliding her under a table. For an instant she lay stunned. What was she supposed to do now?

  She twisted around and peered from beneath the shelter. Max was embroiled in combat with the wall. He landed a well-placed punch, and without thinking, a cheer broke from her. Hercules himself could not have done it better. The next moment a fist seemed to come from nowhere and struck his jaw with a force that snapped his head back. She winced in sympathy.

  From her protected vantage point she had an excellent view of the brawl. Max was doing his best, but every time he laid low one ruffian, another would take his place. And he certainly was impressive, although she'd wager he'd have more than a few bruises tomorrow. The man did indeed have the spirit as well as the skills of a hero. Still--a blow struck him in the stomach and she sucked in a hard breath--perhaps he needed to work on his defensive strategies before they ventured into anyplace like this again.

  How were they going to get out of here? It was obvious she couldn't hide under a table until Max could rescue her. For one thing: he was seriously outnumbered, although it did appear the fracas was something of an everyman-for-himself affair with blows raining indiscriminately on friend and foe alike. She didn't relish the idea of leaving her sanctuary one bit, but at some point she'd be unable to avoid it. The only question was when.

  Max had barely recoiled from delivering a staggering punch to a nasty brute with few teeth when a blackguard leapt on him from behind. She gasped in indignation. Why, that wasn't at all fair! Not in the spirit of the fight! He needed help. Somebody should do something. And apparently, she was the only somebody available.

  She drew a deep breath for courage and slid out from under her hiding place. Perhaps if she kept low to the ground she could avoid attention. With a speed she never suspected she had, Pandora crawled on her hands and knees toward Max. She ducked back under a table once and dodged a falling body but at last reached him. She scrambled to her feet. The miscreant still clung to Max's back or perhaps it was a new one. How dare this nasty creature try to hurt Max!

  Anger overcame her fear and she looked for a weapon. Any weapon. She spied two bottles on one table and a third on another, all still miraculously whole, grabbed them, and climbed up on the table behind Max, keeping one and setting the others down beside her, to stand about two feet above the head of Max's attacker. She gripped the neck of the bottle, aimed, raised it high, and brought it down as hard as she could.

  Spirits splashed outward. Shards of glass stung her hands. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the man slid to the floor in a fluid move that would have been rather graceful under other circumstances.

  Max whirled around. His gaze dropped first to the man at his feet then up to her. “What in the name of all that's holy are you doing here?”

  “Helping you.” She tossed what was left of the bottle neck aside and smiled, amazed by the sense of calm that pervaded her. “I believe a show of gratitude is in order.”

  “Gratitude?” He had to yell to be heard but he certainly didn't have to use that tone. A ruffian loomed at his back. “Max! Behind you!”

  He turned and felled him with a single punch.

  Pride surged through her but she had no time to enjoy it. Yet another scoundrel approached Max on his blind side. Without thinking, Pandora grabbed a second bottle and smashed it over his head.

  Max pivoted fast and stared, shock on his face. “Good God, Hellion!”

  She grinned. “I daresay, Max, I didn't know what I was missing.”

  He groaned but wasn't there just a flash of pride in his eyes as well?

  “We're getting out of here.” He grabbed her by the legs, threw her over his shoulder, and started for the door.

  “Wait!” she yelled.

  He paused just long enough for her snatch up her remaining bottle then took off.
They made remarkable progress given his burden and the confusion around them. She tried to keep her head up to see what was happening, but it was damned awkward in this position. They reached the door and he yanked it open just as another reprobate lunged toward them and she used her last bottle to drop him in his tracks. At that moment she could have sworn Max's body heaved with laughter, but between the noise and his movement, she couldn't be sure. She certainly was enjoying it all.

  He strode into the alley and found the carriage at once, barely a few feet from the exit. Max jerked open the door, threw her inside, yelled at Jacobs to go, and leapt in after her. The vehicle lurched forward. The driver's commands to the horses were dimly audible amid the staccato of the animals' hooves hitting the street and the clanking of the carriage itself. They careened around the corner of the alley at a breakneck pace. For a moment he feared the carriage itself would fall apart leaving them sitting in the street on a pile of rubble with an angry crowd behind them. Within minutes, the carriage speed lessened and he breathed a sigh of relief. Old or not, Jacobs was smart enough not have slowed unless they were out of danger.

  Pandora's gasps for air beside him were the only sounds in the closed quarters. The euphoria that always seized him after a brawl like this vanished, replaced by remorse.

  Damnation he wished he could see her face. No doubt she was frightened and furious with him for putting her in such danger even if it had been her own stubborn inability to keep her mouth shut and listen to anyone but herself that had landed them in this mess.

  Still, the entire debacle was his fault. He never should have allowed her to talk him into entering that hellhole in the first place. But he'd been seduced by the idea of earning another point. He was a complete and total fool and he wouldn't blame her if she refused ever to see him again, let alone marry him, regardless of the outcome of the game. He deserved no less.

  Abruptly he wondered if that wasn't precisely what Laurie had hoped. His jaw tightened. Friend or not, he would make Laurie pay for this.

  A muffled noise sounded beside him. Blast it all, was she crying? No doubt she was terrified. Oh, certainly she had put up a brave front at the end and shown a great deal of courage, but now that the danger was past, she was obviously close to hysterics. Remorse and guilt gripped him. He truly was a rake, a rogue, a scoundrel, and a beast.

  “Pandora,” he said gently. “I am sorry. I was such a fool to allow you to go in there. I hope you can forgive me, but if not, well, I'll understand.”

  “Forgive you?” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard and fast. “What great fun that was, Max. What a wonderful adventure.” Her exuberant laughter filled the carriage. “I've never experienced anything so completely enthralling in my life. I want to do it again! And you, Max, you are indeed a hero! My hero.”

  “I am?” he said cautiously.

  “You saved my life. You were absolutely magnificent.”

  Relief flooded him. She wasn't angry at all. In fact, apparently she'd enjoyed it. Cautiously, he wrapped his arms around her.

  “And how was I? I think I did a bloody fine job of lending you assistance in there.”

  “You did a bloody fine job of starting the whole thing.” He tried to keep his voice firm but he couldn't hold back a chuckle. He'd been prepared to lecture her thoroughly but her excitement and his relief at their escape relatively unharmed, plus the fact that she was now in his arms, tempered any annoyance. “I suppose if the goal is to best the Lion of Nemea, you can't quite accomplish that without provoking the lion to anger. I gather, then, I have earned a point?”

  “Without a doubt.” She heaved a sigh of satisfaction. “I will never forget this evening.”

  “I'll give you that,” he said wryly.

  “I never dreamed it would be quite so enjoyable to bash a man over the head with a bottle. I daresay that opportunity doesn't come along too often.

  “I daresay.”

  “And you Max, you were so…so…” She brushed her lips across his.

  He pulled her tighter against him. “So?”

  “Brave and dashing and, oh I don't know what else but you were with your fists flying and men dropping right and left.”

  “Yes, well…” He had landed a few good punches. If he was with Laurie, they'd be slapping each other on the back and congratulating themselves on a job well done. He could have used Laurie tonight, although Pandora did manage to fell a few ruffians herself. Actually, upon further consideration, he did acquit himself rather well. “I suppose I did take care of a few of those rascals.”

  “Nine altogether.”

  “You counted?”

  “Of course. It was fascinating. I may have missed one or two.” She thought for a moment. “No, it was definitely nine.”

  “Pandora,” he said slowly, “according to my research, a hydra is a snake--”

  “A water snake, I believe.”

  “And Hercules defeated one with nine heads, did he not?”

  “Indeed. I don't quite remember which test--” She pushed out of his arms and disappointment stabbed him. Excitement rang in her voice. “Max, the name of that establishment was--”

  “The Lion and Serpent.”

  “Congratulations, Max.” She laughed with delight. “You've earned another point.”

  “I thought two at the same time would be against your rules?”

  “I thought you weren't following my rules. Besides, tonight's activity was not like buying a brooch or procuring a chemise; this was really quite difficult, and even a touch dangerous.”

  He snorted. “A touch?”

  “Perhaps more than a touch. Given that, I shall certainly allow this to count as besting the lion and defeating the hydra.”

  “That's surprisingly gracious of you.”

  “On one condition.”

  He groaned. “I should have known. What is it?”

  “That you take me there again.”

  Chapter 11

  Strategies Reconsidered

  “I cannot believe I could have been such a fool.” Pandora reclined on the chaise in her bedchamber holding a cool, damp cloth to her forehead. “I gave him the second point.”

  “From your description of the night's events, I'd say he more than earned it,” Cynthia said mildly.

  “Hah!” Pandora lifted the cloth from her head and glared. “He could not have done it without my help.”

  Once again, Pandora considered the events of last night. Max had taken her home at once in a ride filled with excited chatter and a great deal of laughter culminating in yet another rule-breaking kiss. The experience at the tavern, not to mention the pleasure she found in his arms, had left her with a delightful euphoria, not unlike the drinking of one glass of champagne too many. This morning, however, she'd returned to earth with a thud and the realization she was one step closer to becoming the Countess of Trent.

  “I don't know why you insist on being so stubborn about this. I have said it before and I shall say it again.” Cynthia perched on the edge of a chair and leaned forward. “You want him to win.”

  “I do not.” Pandora's voice was far sharper than she'd anticipated, and Cynthia smirked in response. More and more she wondered if Cynthia was right. Oh, not about winning. Pandora didn't doubt for a moment her desire to beat Max. It would not do to start a marriage with defeat.

  A marriage?

  Did she truly wish to marry him? She certainly found him exciting, and he did trigger the most remarkable feelings whenever he so much as gazed into her eyes. He was clever and kind, and regardless of whatever she might say aloud, Max was far and away the only man she'd ever met that she could even consider marrying. And she absolutely refused to dwell on what his touch did to her. Still, she would not marry without love.

  Did she love him?

  No, of course not. She dashed the silly thought from her mind. He intrigued her. Amused her. Nothing more than that. Besides, even if she did love him, which she didn't, but if she did, she was fairly
certain he could never love her. The Earl of Trent was not the type of man to fall in love. Love played little role in the life of a man like Max. She was a prize for him to win, a reward for his efforts, nothing more.

  She had given her word to marry him if she lost their game but how could she wed without love? The very thought lit a fire of fear deep within her.

  She had no choice. She could not allow him to win.

  “I simply do not understand you, Pandora.” Cynthia punctuated her words with a long-suffering sigh.

  “Precisely what don't you understand now?”

  “Lord Trent is handsome and wealthy. His breeding is impeccable, his title unblemished. In addition, any man willing to do what you have asked is either a saint--”

  Pandora snorted in disdain. “Saint Max? I hardly think so. Saints rarely frequent establishments such as the one we were at last night, unless they are looking for sinners to save. I daresay Max's previous visits to places like that have more to do with his sampling of the various ways to earn a place in hell rather than a desire to save others from that fate.”

  Cynthia cast her a pointed glance. “As I was saying, such a man is either a saint or a fool. And the earl is no fool.”

  “No.” In point of fact, the man was far cleverer than she'd anticipated. She wondered if she'd taken their game as seriously as she should have up to now. His victory was a very real possibility.

  “Or,” Cynthia paused dramatically, “he is indeed a wonderful man and you would be the fool to let him slip away.”

  “I believed we have already established that I am a fool,” she snapped. “I gave him two points.”

  “He earned two points.”

  “Nonetheless, he is doing extremely well, and he still has a great deal of time remaining. At least with Grandmother's party in the country this week, I will be rid of him for a while. And since he is insisting on my witnessing his attempts to pass my tests, my absence should slow him down and even out the playing field a bit.”

  “Pandora.” Admonishment colored Cynthia's voice. “That's not at all fair.”