Page 44 of Lady Controversial
The momentary distraction was her undoing and she gasped when she felt a sharp stab in her forearm. Glancing down, she could see by the blood pouring from the wound that the strike had been deep. Added to her already muddled head, the blood loss would prevent her from lasting for much longer. Her opponent appeared to realise it and his grin was firmly back in place. The noise had grown to fever pitch. Clearly the crowd believed that she was about finally to be unmasked.
‘Not if I have any say in the matter,’ she muttered, finding a last burst of mental energy from deep within her core.
She ignored Ellery, who had stepped forward when she was injured, looking angry and yet gratifyingly concerned for her wellbeing. She ignored everything else going on around her too and was finally able to retreat to the mental fugue that had seen her triumph in other situations than this one, albeit against less formidable opponents. She feigned weakness that was not entirely…well, feigned, lulling the big man into a false sense of security. He leered at her, briefly dropping his guard.
It was the moment she had been waiting for and she leapt forward, lunging at his shoulder, piercing the skin and drawing a fountain of blood. The man yelled and dropped his sword in order to stem the flow with his hands, cursing like the sailor he may once have been, turning the air blue with his language.
It was over.
The crowd roared its approval. Isolda bowed and scurried off, running straight into a brick wall.
A brick wall that had warm hands and strong arms which circled her before she collapsed. Ellery, since she knew it was he, scooped her into his arms and before she could protest she felt herself being deposited into a carriage.
‘I say, you can’t…’
Ellery turned on Barker when he tried to protest. ‘I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, exploiting this young woman’s talent, but if I were you, I’d make myself scarce before I remember all the reasons why you ought to be thrashed to within an inch of your life.’
‘That ain’t no lady. That’s…well, she knowed what she was doing and I’ll take care of her.’
‘I’m sure you know who I am.’ Barker dropped his gaze and muttered something. ‘Then take my advice and make yourself scarce before I have you arrested!’
Isolda wanted to protest. Ellery had no business taking up the cudgels on her behalf. She needed this work, and Barker still held the purse she had been promised for the fight. But the blood continued to flow from her cut arm and she turned her attention to it. Ellery was ahead of her. The moment Barker scurried off, still muttering execrable oaths beneath his breath, Ellery glanced at her forearm and tutted at the state of it. He then set about binding it tightly but with surprising gentleness with a kerchief. Isolda reached up her free hand to unmask herself. He knew who she was so it seemed pointless keeping up the pretence.
‘Keep it on until we’re out of here.’
His words were clipped, in complete variance to the gentle manner in which he had dressed her wound, and she realised that he was containing his anger by the sheer force of his considerable will. The precise source of his anger was less clear, but Isolda was too weary to reason the matter through, or indeed to say anything to him at all. Instead, she simply closed her eyes and allowed him to take charge. It was so long since anyone had put her welfare first that her head now span for reasons that had nothing to do with her recent fight and she gave herself over to the moment.
She heard him giving muffled orders to someone; she was absolutely sure that she heard Rose Cottage mentioned but was too befuddled to make sense of anything. Presumably he had told his coachman to drive her there and for that at least she was grateful. The thought of her cold, lonely bed had never been more appealing.
The next thing she knew, the carriage moved off with just herself and Ellery in occupation of it. He really didn’t need to go with her. She had already inconvenienced him quite enough. Well, that wasn’t strictly true, she reasoned. He had taken it upon himself to interfere in her affairs. She had not needed him. Mr Barker would have attended to her wound and what’s more would have given her the money she was due. She chose to ignore the fact that she had never been so badly injured before and wondered how she would explain it away to Jane. Always supposing she noticed, of course. Jane was so self-obsessed that it was far from certain.
‘Where…where are we going?’ she asked, her voice sounding weak and most unlike her own when she became convinced that the carriage had turned in the wrong direction to take her to Rose Cottage.
He leaned forward and unfastened her mask. Her cap had slipped and her hair tumbled down, appearing to take him by surprise. He looked at her for a prolonged period before finally shaking his head and then allowing himself what was clearly a reluctant smile.
‘What am I to do with you?’ he asked.
‘I am not your responsibility, but since you appear to have taken charge in a most dictatorial manner, you could start by taking me home. I shall do very well there and I am perfectly sure this is not the way.’
‘You cannot go back to Rose Cottage.’
Isolda mustered sufficient strength to scowl at him. ‘I most certainly can. I live there, in case you had forgotten.’
His response sounded as though it was coming from under water, and she was unable to make out the words. The next thing she recalled was being cradled against his chest once more as he carried her from the conveyance. She was unsure how much time had elapsed or how far they had travelled. Everything was a blur but she did know that her surroundings were unfamiliar. As good as his word, he had not taken her home.
Of course he had not!
‘Where…what…’
Isolda blinked, trying hard to think what it was that she wanted to ask him. She knew it was important, vitally so, but it kept slipping from within her grasp. A little moan of protest escaped her lips when Ellery lowered her onto some sort of bed and covered her with a warm rug. The room was equally warm, she realised, as she listened to the crackling of logs in a grate that were responsible for creating the warmth in question. Her head sank into a soft pillow and she sighed as she gave in to the desire to sleep.
Or tried to.
Voices, low and urgent, kept her awake. There was talk of a doctor.
‘No doctor,’ she muttered, but it was obvious that no one was taking any notice of her and the voices continued unabated; Ellery’s low yet commanding, the responding one urgent and excited.
Isolda was too weary to raise further objections. Ellery would do as he thought best, regardless of her protests. She already knew that he was accustomed to being obeyed, never having his word questioned. Ha! Little did he know it but he had now met his match. Well, he would have done just as soon as she’d had a little sleep. She was so very tired; too tired to fight with him and stand any chance of gaining the upper hand. It would take all of her energy and she had none to spare.
