by Jade Lee
But what of Evelyn? How would he protect her?
He froze in indecision. That gave his opponent time to recover his breath. The bastard surged forward, murderous intent in his eyes.
Don't fight, he told himself. For Evelyn, take the blows, lose the fight. For Evelyn.
The force of will it took to restrain himself was more intense than he had ever imagined. From moment to moment, he thought he would break. With every breath, every blow, he saw ways to escape, ways to break the man's attack. But he couldn't. For Evelyn, he couldn't.
He didn't.
He lost consciousness.
He woke to the sound of Zhi Min praying over him. He heard the familiar Chinese sounds and felt his whole body relax. How many times had he woken just like this after losing a bout on the temple grounds? The familiar Chinese prayer reassured him that he was safe. But then other noises intruded. English gloating, laughter, and a few jeers. He was still in England. He must have lost a fight, but to whom? And why?
The memory rushed back with a vague kind of horror. He had lost on purpose? Evelyn! Her image popped into his mind, and his eyes flew open.
"You are alive then," Zhi Min said.
"My bride-to-be," he said in Chinese. He could not risk saying her name aloud in English. "She was here, watching."
"I should have known you lost your mind over a woman," Zhi Min said, his voice tight with disapproval. "Before or after he hit you in the face a thousand and one times?"
"Before," he groused. "And during. And after. But where is she?" His face was swelling, probably to the point of being unrecognizable. But he still had eyes enough to see. There! She was moving against the crowd toward him. It reassured him a bit that her face was tight with anxiety. Good. She ought to feel worried. Unfortunately, her concern was obviously misplaced. She set it on him rather than on the fact that anyone with eyes would know who she was.
"Over there!" he said, gesturing vaguely to Zhi Min. He didn't dare risk pointing directly.
Then Jie Ke looked in the opposite direction. He had to know if anyone was staring and pointing at Evelyn. Even knowing her less than a week, Jie Ke knew how devastating it would be if the scandal were revealed. He didn't much mind the scandal in and of itself, assuming she was not in any danger, but he knew she would feel hurt by it. So he searched anxiously for signs that she'd been recognized.
No one was looking at Evelyn. Everyone was crowding around Mei Li, gathering their winnings. Damn. He'd lost all of Mei Li's money now too. She was the one who'd kept enough coinage to stake him at the fight. Zhi Min had insisted that they give up all their money to the Reverend Smythe-Jones since monks did not carry money. Well, Zhi Min got his wish. Now all three of them had nothing. He had no money to pay back his grandmother or even to leave this wretched country. Bloody hell.
His gaze traveled back to Evelyn. Why had he done something so stupid for her? Was Mei Li's survival less important than Evelyn's? Was his grandmother's money less important than Evelyn's reputation? And was it all for naught if she didn't leave? Didn't she see that the crowd was thinning? She was risking more and more exposure! He murmured instructions to Zhi Min. His friend immediately understood.
"You there! Boy!" Zhi Min cried, pointing at Evelyn.
Her eyes widened in shock at being selected. Good! Let her be frightened by the risk she took.
"Do you have a horse?" Zhi Min demanded.
Evelyn didn't speak. Smart girl. She simply nodded and pointed behind her.
"Get it!" ordered Zhi Min. "He cannot move by himself." A lie, but a good one. Then Zhi Min paused as if reconsidering. "Better yet, we will walk to it with you. I think we can manage."
Damn right he could manage. Jie Ke pushed to his feet— or he tried to. Bloody hell, his ribs were on fire! Were they broken? Zhi Min gathered his arm on the other side. Jie Ke gratefully took the support and then he glanced behind them.
"You cannot leave Mei Li," he said in Chinese. Zhi Min had to stay and protect his sister.
His friend shrugged and answered, "You cannot defend this white woman by yourself. And you are certainly in no condition to fight if someone decides to punch you in revenge."
Jie Ke straightened, though it produced an eon of searing agony. When he could breathe, he pushed Zhi Min away. "I am stronger than you think," he lied. "I can certainly protect one stupid bride-to-be."
Zhi Min snorted in disbelief, but Jie Ke did not give him a chance to voice any more objections.
"Besides, they have all our money. They are happy and couldn't care less about me."
"Not the ones who left early. Not the ones who already lost everything."
Jie Ke started to shrug but then thought better of it. "Then they have already left." Zhi Min began to argue, but Jie Ke held up his hand. "Peace, Zhi Min. Go watch over your sister." Then, before he fell over from the pain caused by the gesture, Evelyn arrived and slipped a shoulder under his arm.
Zhi Min hesitated, but family loyalty won out. With a curt nod, he went to stand by his sister.
"You are an idiot," Evelyn hissed into Jie Ke's ear.
"So are you," he hissed back. He gasped as she wrapped an arm around his chest. "Don't squeeze too hard."
"It would serve you right if I did," she answered. "Come on. It isn't far."
But it was far. With a thousand and one people looking at them the entire way. Most of them jeered, though good-naturedly, their attention thankfully centered on him and not her. "There you go, Chinaman. Ye fought well, but we got ye in the end!" Or "Not looking so proud now, are ye, foreigner?" He didn't answer except to wave them off.
Only one man—older, and relatively poor—was truly angry. He'd lost his coins early but stayed around to watch. And now, as Zhi Min had predicted, he was furious.
"Ought to have a go at ye meself," he groused. "Damn unfair, with that chopping and throwing." It was a he. There were no rules in this English fighting ring. Any blow was allowed, whether with foot, fist, or open hand. But the man wasn't in a mood to listen to reason.
Jie Ke tensed, quickly assessing his options. The man was older but still powerful. A field laborer, by the looks of him. Jie Ke could easily avoid any of the man's punches, but he wasn't so sure he could keep Evelyn out of it. Especially as she straightened to defend him. Did the woman have no sense at all?
Jie Ke spoke up before she could. "Cain't beat an Essex man, can I?" he said loudly. "Been winning all across England, but can't beat a man from Essex."
"That's right!"
"And don't cha forget it!" called a few of the straggling revelers.
Then a Good Samaritan clapped the angry, pinch-faced man on the shoulder. "Aw, don't be that way, Marty! Come on. I'll buy you a pint with me winnings. It's only fair, since it might be your coin I got in the first place!"
Laughter erupted, and then the group wandered off. Jie Ke released a sigh of relief as he slumped back down. He did not want to fight anymore. Ever. In his life.
Except, of course, he knew that was a he. He would be at peace now—for a few days even—but then the anger would come back. The need to feel powerful and in control would resurface. It always did. It always had since his first day at the temple. Even beaten and bruised, sometimes with broken bones, Jie Ke always wanted to leap up and get back into fighting. He had trained for days on end to fight. He had breathed, slept, and eaten fighting. It was the only way to keep the questions at bay and to keep the anger from consuming him from within.
The only reason he was crippled now was because of Evelyn, because he had stopped to save her reputation. How ridiculous was that? He wasn't even married to her yet, and she was already causing him agony.
"How could you be so completely stupid?" he hissed to her as they once again started moving forward.
"I? I was not the one who was too stupid to leave the ring before I got myself killed."
Did she not understand what he had done for her? That he could have fought his way back, tha
t he had done so dozens of times? Of course not. She did not understand such sports. "The only way out of the ring is to lose," he snapped. "Or to beat all comers. That would have taken many more hours."
She turned slightly, having to double-step as she adjusted to the uneven grass. "So you lost? Just because you were tired?"
Was there ever a stupider woman? "I lost because you did not belong here! Do you know what happens when the crowd loses everything? When every groat is in our pockets?"
"But—"
"We throw coins into the air and run, Evelyn. Some pursue us, yes, and others are hurt as they dive for the coins we have thrown behind."
She blinked at him, only now beginning to understand. "But you cannot possibly—"
"If we are not fast enough or if there are too many, we have to fight. It is brutal and ugly. People come at us with picks or clubs."
"No," she whispered.
"Yes. That is why Zhi Min does not fight. So he can fight at the end of the day when I am too tired or too slow. But mostly, we run."
She abruptly straightened. "You would have gone straight back to my house? You would have brought an angry mob down on us!"
He shook his head. "We usually run to the nearest pub and buy drinks for everyone. Mei Li hides half our winnings. The rest goes into getting all as drunk as possible. Then, when they are too drunk to fight, we run fast and far." He sighed. "I had planned to keep enough to pay for my clothing."
"And now you don't even have that, do you? You don't have a single groat!" She reached out to touch his face and winced. "And you are a mess. Lord, we'll never hide what you've done. All of London will know of the fighting Chinaman earl!"
"The Dragon Earl," he murmured. "Fighters from the Xi Lin temple are called dragons."
"I doubt the gossips in London care," she said with a sniff.
Nor did he. He didn't care if his name was printed in the London broadsides. But she obviously did, and that made things complicated as well as difficult. "Let us get home first. As I recall, a man can get into all sorts of difficulties without anyone thinking less of him. A woman, however. . ."
Her Lips flattened into a long straight line, and he knew he needn't finish his sentence. Just as well, because he thought he saw her horse ahead. He would play the gallant and allow her to sit on the beast. She would likely insist he take it. Given the state of his ribs, he wasn't sure if that would be a blessing or a curse.
They were almost at the horse. The field had emptied rapidly. Behind them, the stands were already being replaced back against the smithy. Very soon no sign of the day's activity would remain. And here they were alone as, blessedly, they made it to the horse and tree. He turned and leaned back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes as he tried to steady his breath.
"How bad is it?" she whispered.
He allowed pain to wash through him and held back his whimper. "I can breathe. I can walk. If someone sees you, I can fight." He hoped that last part wasn't a he.
"No one has noticed me at all," she returned. "Did you truly do this because . . . because . . ."
"Of you?" Should he lie to spare her feelings? He wasn't that chivalrous. "Yes, I did."
"Well, that was stupid," she snapped. "No one noticed me at all."
"That isn't quite true, Miss Stanton," came a low voice from behind them. "Not quite true at all."
Chapter Thirteen
Evelyn spun, her heart in her throat. There, blocking her escape, stood Christopher and his friend, the pug-faced man. This was the man who had spoken, but her gaze was held by Christopher's, and by his tight, dark expression.
Her fiancé's fury was not the explosive kind that his father displayed. Chris held himself tightly reined, his mind working furiously on God only knew what to remedy the situation. He was nothing if not brilliant in social situations. Even as he glared at her, he shifted his body to block her from others' view.
"Chris—" she began, not knowing exactly what she could say that would explain things.
"I had not thought you so utterly stupid," he snapped.
She bristled, spine straightening. "I told you I would come. You are only angry because I am not the person you thought I was."
"Truer words have never been spoken." He folded his arms across his chest. "You will come with me now. I will escort you home. And we will pray that no one else figures out your foolishness."
She frowned at him. "I have a horse and a way home. You are doing nothing but bringing attention to me." Then she lifted her chin and turned her back on him, her eyes going to Jie Ke as he watched their byplay with hooded eyes. "Are you well enough to mount?"
"Actually," interrupted the pug-faced man, "I have a carriage nearby. Perhaps that would be the better conveyance." When she paused, he bowed politely. "Mr. Marcus Osborne, at your service."
She smiled and barely restrained herself from a curtsy.
"Excellent idea, Marcus," Christopher interrupted. Then he glared hard at Jie Ke. "Can you walk?"
"I can walk. I can do much more than walk." Jie Ke's smile was slow in coming, and it barely concealed a wealth of unspoken menace as he pushed away from the tree.
"Er, yes, well," said Osborne. "It is this way." He gestured, his expression warming as he began to speak. "I have to say that I have never seen anyone fight as you do. That was incredible. I heard about you, you know. Have a valet who writes to his brother out in Dover. Heard tell of a fighting Chinese monk that stole everyone's money. I didn't believe him, of course, but he swore his brother wouldn't he."
Their little group began to walk. In truth, it was the most awkward situation imaginable. Evelyn wanted to lead her horse, since it was the easiest way to put distance between herself and Christopher. If she walked behind the men she could also watch for any signs of weakness or injury from Jie Ke. Also it made everything appear just as it ought, with the "boy" relegated to minding the horse while the men talked.
But Christopher would have none of it. He grabbed the reins from her and pressed them into Marcus's reluctant grip. It wasn't as nice for the poor mare, because Marcus kept talking the whole time, speaking about fighting techniques and the like while making big gestures that jerked the horse's mouth to and fro.
Then Christopher tried to trap her between himself and the horse. It was the most protected position, of course, but she had come all this way by herself, and really didn't feel the need for him to shield her in such a way. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do to force him away.
She had just resigned herself to this unwanted protection when Jie Ke glanced back at her. "Perhaps you would prefer to ride home alone," he said softly. "You should be safe enough."
"And what would you know of a woman's safety?" Christopher shot back. "Anything could happen to her!"
"While riding a good horse over lands I've known since I was a child?" Evelyn shot back. "Don't be ridiculous."
"You are dressed—"
"As I often dress when I wish to be anonymous."
"Do not for one moment think that this is an adequate disguise!"
Evelyn huffed, growing more furious by the second. It didn't help that she knew Christopher was right. Her disguise was hardly foolproof. But in all truth, there had been little real danger. Just social danger, and that perhaps was the root of the problem. "You believe my reputation is ruined," she said softly.
"Damn right, woman!" Christopher practically bellowed.
"Hush!" inserted Marcus, glancing around. "Really, old chap, such bickering does us no good at all."
Evelyn turned to the man, considering him for the first time. He was the man brought to expose Jie Ke for a fraud, but. . . "You have never seen anyone fight like that before, have you? You said so just a moment ago."
"Never!" he returned, slipping right back into his earlier exuberance, and turned to Jie Ke. "Except for that last fight, I thought you were unbeatable. Thought it too easy at the end, I must say. There were a few things you might have done t
here that could have broken the attack. Thought you would have, but you just seemed too dazed."
Jie Ke gave a wan smile. "I was too tired. I got myself caught and was just too—"
"He saw me," Evelyn said.
"Eh?" returned Marcus.
Christopher didn't comment, but his gaze turned diamond sharp.
"He saw me," Evelyn repeated. "Then, he purposely lost."
"You don't say!" Marcus breathed, his gaze narrowing on Jie Ke. "How peculiar."
The silence stretched awkwardly as they continued to make their way to where a row of carriages were lined up on the nearby road. One by one they were pulling off, so only a few remained. They pushed toward one of the most lavish.
"Lost all your money, then, didn't you?" inserted Marcus. "Did you have any reserve? Or did you bet it all?"
"Everything," Evelyn said while guilt ate at her. He had lost everything just to protect her.
"Will take you a while to build up betting capital, I'd expect," Marcus continued. "Unless of course you were looking for a backer, someone to sponsor you into the larger fights. That's where the real money waits."
Jie Ke lifted his chin, his voice excruciatingly dry. "I am Jacob Cato, Earl of Warhaven. I hardly think I need a backer. And I believe my parents would be appalled if they knew I was fighting in a major event."
Christopher snorted. "Didn't stop you from cutting a swath through England on your way here."
Jie Ke shrugged. "I cannot spend every moment pleasing the ancestors. Some things must be done for myself, and some for simple necessity." His gaze caught Evelyn's and held. He was trying to deliver a message to her, some unspoken meaning behind his words. But she didn't understand, and a moment later Marcus inserted himself between them.
"Right here, old chap. Do you need help to climb in?"
Jie Ke didn't answer Marcus. Instead, his gaze found hers again. "Do you join us?" he asked. "Or do you ride?"
She glanced sideways at Christopher, whose countenance appeared thunderous at the suggestion. Then she frowned. "Will you be all right?" She doubted Christopher would harm Jie Ke. He might be furious, but he certainly wasn't murderous. She hoped.