by K. Young
A Viking's Destiny Novel
K.D. Young
This is a work of fiction and should not be construed as real. All characters and events appearing in this work are fictional and the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental
Copyright © 2013 by K.D. Young Cover Design by Corwin Urbach
All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by U.S. Copyright Law.
Chapter 1
England 1816
Derrick Shane, Viscount of Eddings was slumming at a small boxing club near the docks. Not many people there knew he was nobility, but then, he didn't mean for them to know. This was where he went when he needed more than the boxing halls of his acquaintance could provide. The gentlemen clubs he frequented had all sorts of rules for the protection of its members, but what Derrick needed just now was to mop the floor with someone's face.
Meanwhile, his friend Jack was sure they'd be banned from the club after today. Derrick had shown up to the docks in a mood he couldn't be talked out of, and that was always dangerous. So, Jack suggested they visit the club to let Derrick work through whatever was on his mind. If Jack were a betting man, he would put his money on Derrick arguing with his oldest brother, the Duke of Hollingsworth, again. Those conversations never went well, especially since Scott had been after Derrick to marry lately.
"Now, see 'ere Derrick. Don yous be gettin' us kicked outta here again, ye savvy?" Jack said sternly. "I rather like coming down 'ere an' las time they wouldna let us back for a month."
"It was your idea to come here in the first place, Jack. I won't make any promises."
"Bloody 'ell. Don kill the bastard or we be 'ere all day answerin' questions." Jack crossed his arms and grouched. He was beginning to think bringing Derrick there wasn't the best idea after all.
But, Derrick needed to let off some steam. His meddling brother was annoying him with the constant pressure to marry and settle down. It's not as if he had to have heirs right away. Derrick wasn't the one in the ducal position, and his own estates weren't significant enough to require him to have children in the first place. Not that Derrick didn't want children at some point, mind you, but his brother was pestering him so much that Derrick honestly considered marrying someone just to shut his brother up. And that consideration caused a lot of anger and resentment because if Derrick did marry, he wanted the marriage to be based on mutual affection, which wasn't likely to happen given the nature of his family. And that was why he now found himself in a run-down, dockside club ready to fight.
He went up to the manager of the fight for inspection. The guy looked Derrick over as he would a common criminal, but then, they weren't in the best part of town, and he had no idea who Derrick really was. The men standing around waiting their turn were the kind known to cheat. Jack had seen plenty thrown out because they had slipped some broken glass in between their wraps. The manager had been checking fighters out ever since.
Cleared to fight, Derrick climbed into the ring and bounced around to get his blood pumping and his muscles warmed up. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. All signs of pent up male testosterone and the crowd loved it. Jack sighed. There was something about Derrick that attracted the crowd. He could be dangerous when he was of a mind to be, like now, but he was mostly charismatic and charming. It was hard not to watch him. Jack suddenly felt terribly sorry for all the women of London who wanted him, but just couldn't have him.
Derrick's opponent climbed into the ring. He was a beefy mass of muscles and tendons that seemed altogether unnatural. Looking at Derrick though, you would think a small bugger with no fighting skills had just bounced into the ring. It's not that Derrick couldn't handle his own; it's just that he was aristocratic enough not to be concerned about things he ought to be concerned with. But, Derrick simply thumbed his nose at the newcomer and went back to his warm up. The man growled at the dismissal, but stayed in his corner. His eyes promised bloody retribution when that bell sounded, though.
The manager climbed in the ring and ushered the fighters to the center. Derrick bounced forward with enough zeal to make the challenger look a little worried. Anyone that confident must be good enough to take care of himself; which Derrick was, of course. But, Jack was still concerned about the other man's sheer size, and that was saying a lot since Derrick towered over Jack at least two head lengths. The manager signaled for the fighters to bump fists and they both gave it a half-hearted effort.
"I wanna nice clean fight, gentleman. No funny business or I'll have my guys take care o'ye. Understand?" The manager looked pointedly at Derrick.
Derrick nodded, his eyes giving the manager a cursory glance before returning to his opponent. The burly man grunted his acknowledgment; then the manager signaled the fight to begin and hastily climbed out of the ring. Derrick's opponent immediately went in for a strike.
Derrick wasn't concerned about going up against bigger opponents. It amazed him how they thought their sheer size was all that was necessary to be good at something. As his opponent came in for the strike, Derrick parried and stepped around for a vicious upper cut. He hit the man in the ribs and managed to get him a good two inches off the ground. The crowd quieted down for a shocked moment and then new whispers went flying around the room. Obviously, some of them were reconsidering their previous bets.
Derrick backed away from his opponent to give him a chance to catch his breath, mostly because he was sporting that way, but he also wanted the fight to last a little longer. His opponent stood up from the blow and bulled his way toward him, so Derrick swung a roundhouse kick to the man's ribs, and sent him tumbling into the ropes. Growling, the man barreled across the ring and slammed into Derrick. When Derrick landed on his back, he exhaled so he wouldn't lose his breath, then shoved the man off him as he quickly got to his feet. The massive opponent cracked his knuckles and grinned, obviously feeling as if he had gained some ground. But, when he lunged for Derrick again, he was quickly disabused of that notion with a solid jab to the nose. That was followed with a sharp cross and two more jabs. The beefy man fell to the floor of the ring and tried to cover his face, but Derrick swiftly landed several more punches before the manager blew the whistle.
Derrick walked back to his corner disgusted. He had hoped this man would be a better fighter, but it was turning out to be the same as always. These men were more focused on showing off rather than fighting, and it left openings that Derrick could exploit. Still, the crowd was stunned. They watched Derrick drink the water handed to him like he hadn't just destroyed a formidable opponent. Of all the blood in the ring, not a drop of it was his.
Derrick watched the manager in the challenging corner as he asked the fighter if he wanted to continue the fight. Derrick rolled his eyes at the arrogant insistence that the larger man was fit to continue. He had felt the cartilage break when he hit the man, so he knew his opponent was not in a position to continue fighting. But, Derrick wouldn't argue. After several moments of vehemently reassuring the manager, the large man stood on his feet and approached the center of the ring. Derrick, who hadn't even been winded in the previous round, took his time getting to the center. His boredom was becoming evident, and it only made his opponent that much more eager to begin.
When the manager waved his hand for the fight to begin again, Derrick slammed his fist into the man's temple, and when he landed his knees, Derrick threw an uppercut to the chin that sent his opponent flying backward. When the man's head slammed on the floor, the manager ran over and checked his pulse, then opened an eye. He looked at Derrick in shock.
/> "He's unconscious."
"Then I win." Derrick climbed out of the ring and made his way to Jack.
There were some angry patrons who had just lost money on that fight, and they were giving Derrick a look of hatred. Derrick sighed and looked at Jack.
"I didn't get us banned, you're welcome for that, but I suspect we'll have some trouble out in the alley. Best make it quick." He said in bored tones as he shrugged into his jacket and fastened his belt.
Jack looked around and thought "some trouble" was rather optimistic. Derrick was quite good, but he fought fairly. These men didn't.
"Derrick, perhaps it would be best if we left by the front door and avoided the alleys altogether." Jack suggested, not even bothering to dirty his speech.
"Do you know, I believe that is the first time in six years you've used proper English. I'll not go out the front door just because some thugs are a mite upset they lost money."
"I really think - "
"Jack, you worry too much." Derrick clapped him on the shoulder and made his way toward the back door that led out to the alley.
Jack sighed and followed, praying that whatever they were getting themselves into wasn't nearly as awful as Jack thought it was going to be.
***
Despite Derrick's seemingly bored tone, he was perfectly alert and ready for whatever might be waiting in the alley. As he and Jack made their way down the steps from the club, several rough looking characters followed them out. Derrick noted it, but as they didn't try to stop him, he merely kept an eye on their movements. When they were out of ear shot of the club, the two thugs began talking.
"Wah' you s'pose we 'ave 'ere? Think he's a nabob wif sum trainin' Ned?"
"Could be. Least ways, he owes us sum money fer that fight. I reckon since he didn't take his winnin's he can afford it and don't need no money."
"Hey nabob, 'ear that? Ned says you owes us sum money."
Derrick chuckled, and turned to face the thugs. "Well, then you friend Ned is an idiot. There's a reason it's called gambling gents. I suggest you don't do it if you can't afford to lose the money. G'day." Derrick saluted the thugs and then turned to continue walking.
Jack stared at Derrick as if he had lost his bloody mind. Derrick lifted a haughty brow. "What?"
"So much for getting outta here without a fight."
"Come now. As if I'd let a prime opportunity like this pass us by."
"You need to visit Tristan in a right hurry, you do. Let the lad knock some sense into you."
Derrick chuckled, his humor returning with Jack so uncomfortable. But, he stopped when he noticed that he didn't hear the thugs following them anymore. He looked around, but kept his feet moving. Jack noticed the change in Derrick and groaned. They were dealing with professional thugs, not just your average dockside drunks who were easy to handle. And, Derrick had just single-handedly managed to piss them off.
"Next time you feel the need to relieve your anger, I think you should go it alone, mate."
"Never bothered you before."
"Yes, but I wasn't about to be robbed before."
"You won't be robbed this time."
"Bloody everlasting hell."
Derrick chuckled softly as he scanned the street for signs of the thugs. He could smell them, so they weren't far away. Just hiding, waiting for the right moment to sneak up and demand Derrick's purse. He didn't have to wait long. The bigger of the two thugs snuck up behind Jack and took him round the throat, a gun to his temple. Derrick gave him marks for thinking that one through. If they had gone for Derrick, as he thought they would, this would be over before it began. But, Derrick wouldn't risk Jack's life.
"Now then, nabob. Ye was sayin'?" Ned asked happily, certain he had the upper hand.
And, grudgingly, Derrick had to admit that he did have the upper hand. Jack was good at many things, but fighting was not one of them. He could hold his own in a fair fight, one man against another, though he wasn't as strong as Derrick would like him to be. But, this situation wasn't to Jack's benefit. And Derrick, while he was many things, was not the sort to leave his friend in trouble.
He sighed and took his purse from his belt, then tossed it on the ground between him and the thug. The smaller of the two laughed greedily and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
"Anyfing else you wish to hand over?" Ned asked.
Derrick lifted a brow. "No."
Ned pushed the revolver harder into Jack's temple and pulled the hammer back in warning. "I 'ave no problem spillin' his brains out 'ere on the concrete, mate."
Jack inhaled sharply but made no other reply. Derrick grimaced and pulled another purse from his belt and tossed it on the ground. He had been a fool to carry that much coin on him, but he had meant to put it on the fight. Then he just forgot about it when the important thing became relieving his anger. Damn his brother Scott and his meddling!
The thugs grinned and bared their yellowing, rotting teeth. Derrick wrinkled his nose in disgust.
"Gentleman, I believe we've all gotten what we came for today, so let's just let him go before it gets out of hand." Derrick warned.
Ned narrowed his eyes. "Yer not in a position ter be tellin' me nofing, nabob. Ye oughta remember that, ye should." He kicked Jack's knees out from behind him, and Jack fell to the ground. He landed hard and groaned in pain.
Derrick took a threatening step forward, but the thug reminded him of his position.
"Ah, ah, ah. I 'ave yer friend at the end of me pistol, savvy?"
Derrick snarled. "What do you want?"
"I think an apology ought ter cover it, ain't that right Nigel?"
Nigle snorted as he laughed. "Thas right, Ned."
"Fine. I'm sorry. Happy now?"
"Not rightly, nabob. Say it like ye mean it." Ned cocked his brow menacingly.
In the distance, Kristen was annoyed. She thought the haughty lord deserved to be knocked down a peg or two, but he didn't deserve to have his friend threatened. Nor did the friend deserve to be a part of it. Kristen stepped out of the shadows and slipped behind the smaller of the thugs. She pulled her knife and caught him round the throat, then kicked his knees so he fell the same as the lord's friend. All the men turned their attention to her, and she smiled brightly.
"Now that I have your attention, I think it time this farce came to an end, don't you?"
Ned looked at the lady, mouth agape. Derrick didn't waste time wondering what a lady was doing in that part of town. He jumped forward and slammed his fist into Ned's nose. Jack dodged out of the way just as the gun went off.
Nigel tried to get out of Kristen's grasp, but she knocked him upside the head and vanished into the shadows as he fell forward, unconscious from her blow. She hadn't meant to be seen by Derrick Shane at all, but there was no hope for it now. He needed her help, and she was obliged to offer it.
Ned backed away from a decidedly angry looking Derrick. In fact, the much taller lord suddenly seemed like the devil himself with eyes that lit up like the flames of hell. The street thug was quite certain the wench had just saved his and Nigel's lives. He found his feet, and then hefted his friend over his shoulder and took off. Derrick picked up his coins and reattached them, then rounded on Jack.
"Are you hurt?"
Jack looked up from his vantage point on the ground. He winced a little at the look on Derrick's face. It's hard to describe to someone who has never seen Derrick, but he's been likened to the devil because of his glowing eyes. Their normal amber color looks exotic with his dark hair and tanned skin, but when he's in an extreme mood, they glow from within like the very fires of hell are inside them. Jack knew when his eyes lit up as they were just now it was not a good idea to cross him. Derrick's foul mood had just escalated to an exceedingly dangerous situation.
"I'm fine. Calm down, your eyes are glowing."
"I'm of a mind to go after those two and end their miserable lives."
"In all fairness, you did goad them." Jack stood up and dusted him
self off.
Derrick looked at him with sharp eyes. He inspected his friend for any sign of injury Jack might have thought to keep from him. In an effort to distract him, Jack thought he would mention their rescuer.
"Who was the girl? Did you recognize her?
Derrick shook his head. "No. I don't think she was a lady of my acquaintance, though a lady she was. I admit a certain curiosity to her presence in these parts, but I suspect it can't be good."
"Always so quick to judge a woman negatively." Jack chastised.
"What other reason could she have to be down here if not looking to take a lover?"
"Perhaps she was following you?"
"Bite your tongue!" Derrick said, appalled. "That any woman should follow me anywhere, particularly without my knowledge, is absurd. I've made myself a most undesirable catch for a reason."
Jack chuckled. The Shane family was a formidable one, and just about every mother in London wanted to be attached them. But, the Shane's had their fair share of pain and secrets, just like any other. The problem was that Derrick felt his family secrets were too formidable to overcome. He believed that no woman of worth would want him when they found out, so it was just better to avoid it altogether. Derrick kept a mistress to relieve his basic needs, but beyond that, he didn't spend much time with the fairer sex.
"Derrick, I think you underestimate yourself, mate." Jack clapped him on the back as the two headed away from the docks.
Chapter 2
Derrick trotted up the front steps of his London town home, and his butler had the door open before he reached the top. Derrick lifted a questioning brow at the butler's agitated manner as he handed his things over.
"Is everything alright, Williams?" Derrick asked.
Williams' nose twitched and he cleared his throat, a stalling tactic Derrick was quite familiar with as it was usually preceded by news Derrick wasn't likely to enjoy. Since he had already had one hell of a morning, he couldn't imagine it getting any worse.
"M'lord, I do beg your pardon, but there is a young lady in your study who was rather pushy at the door this morning. She arrived shortly before you did." Williams bowed.