Page 43 of Lady Controversial
‘Why the disguise?’ Lawson asked.
His question was answered by Barker, who reminded the crowd that the Gladiator’s identity would only be revealed if he lost the bout.
‘A clever way to build up interest,’ Ellery remarked, his gaze fixed speculatively upon the Gladiator. ‘Everyone wants to know who the man actually is and where he’s suddenly appeared from. You can rest assured that if he’s a local and if he’s as skilled as we’ve been led to believe, then someone would know him.’
‘It could all be a mighty deception, of course,’ Lawson pointed out. ‘The mask means that it could be a different person every time the Gladiator takes to the ring.’
‘A fool and his money are soon parted,’ Ellery replied, watching the runners struggling to accept wagers before the bout began.
The moment it did so, Ellery was mesmerised by the speed and agility of the Gladiator, who danced around his much larger opponent, encouraged by the guttural cheers of the crowd. He dodged, parried and swivelled with the light-footed grace of a gazelle, choosing his moments to lunge forward in attack with an accuracy that took Ellery’s breath away. Even so, the smaller man was clearly running out of energy.
‘Brooke’s here,’ Lawson said, an edge to his voice.
Ellery forced himself to look away and noticed his nemesis at the back of the crowd, staring intensely at the bout. It was unlikely that he would have noticed Ellery. There were far too many people between them, and for the time being at least Ellery preferred to keep it that way.
‘What the devil’s he doing here?’ Ellery asked. ‘Could he be behind this business, do you suppose?’
Lawson shook his head, implying that he had no idea, and Ellery returned his attention to the fight. The Gladiator was holding his own but was definitely flagging as his much stronger opponent gained ground, attacking more frequently and not backing up. The Gladiator glanced his way and held his gaze for too long.Concentrate!He willed the young man.
Ellery, along with everyone else, gasped when his moment of inattention cost him dear. The challenger’s sword slashed at the Gladiator’s arm, cutting his clothing and drawing blood. Ellery was standing close enough to the ring to hear the lad’s startled cry.
But it was not that which discomposed Ellery; he had seen it coming. Instead, he had been trying to decide why the youth looked so familiar, convinced that he’d seen recognition and then fear flit through the eyes behind the mask when their gazes had clashed. Equally convinced that he’d seen the lad somewhere before.
And recently too.
There was something familiar about the way he moved.
Then it came to him in a blinding flash of clarity and his blood ran cold. He knew now why he found that lithe movement so compelling. So familiar.
He had seen it hours ago in a clearing close to Rose Cottage.
‘What in the name of God…’ he muttered, watching blood seeping from Isolda Crawley’s arm.
Chapter Fourteen
Isolda cursed her fuzzy head and dull reactions. Everything felt like an almighty effort, and she had never been less prepared for a bout that could well cost her her life—or almost as disastrous, her anonymity. Her movements felt heavy and clumsy as she made her way into the arena, her ability to concentrate shattered by a cacophony of sound that she would ordinarily have managed to block out.
Her difficulty was that there was nothing ordinary about the contest she was about to embark upon. Barker had put her against a man twice her size and strength; a man who actually knew how to use a sword, as though he was attempting to prove a point at her expense. Even at her best she was unlikely ever to beat him.
And today she was most definitely not at her best.
She wondered why Barker had taken the risk. Isolda knew very well that her novelty value was the major attraction that caused people to flood to her fights in greater numbers, vastly increasing his share of the takings—and hers. If she was beaten then his bottom line would take a denting, and she had never been left in any doubt in her dealings with the man that money was his god.
‘Make it look good,’ Barker whispered in her ear, his low voice a rumbling threat.
She wanted to tell him to go to the devil, but they both knew she was his puppet. He alone knew her identity and one word in the wrong quarter would destroy Jane’s future forever. With that thought in mind, Isolda shook her head to shake off her disjointed thoughts, ignored the crowd’s increasingly raucous shouts of encouragement and concentrated upon…well, concentrating.
The bout was underway before she had time to prepare herself, and instinct overcame her fears. She danced around her opponent, conscious of the teasing little smile that she found terrifying playing about his cruel mouth. Everyone who fought against her looked upon it as a personal crusade to unmask the Gladiator, and this man clearly imagined that he would succeed where those before him had failed. Isolda was possessed of an uncomfortable feeling that on this occasion he could be in the right of it.
She had always known that her luck would not hold indefinitely, but Barker was aware of her reasons for doing what she did and the timescale involved, and had given her certain assurances. He was not a man of his word, but since their interests coalesced she had chosen to believe him. She glanced at the monster who continued to grin at her and began to wonder if she had miscalculated. Perhaps Barker, on the point of takeover, had changed his priorities.
She bit her lip as she narrowly evaded another vicious thrust and parried it with an attack of her own, which took her opponent by surprise. She drew blood when her epee sliced through his gloved hand but other than a snarl and a slight widening of his eyes he ignored the scratch. The crowd roared its approval, which clearly angered him. He was no longer smiling and appeared to be taking the bout more seriously.
With a speed that defied his bulk he danced around her, blood dripping from his hand. Isolda knew that concentration was now vital, but something in the periphery of her vision briefly distracted her at a vital moment. Her eyes widened behind her mask and she almost dropped her sword when she saw Lord Finchdean at the front of the crowd, watching her intently.
Their gazes clashed and she knew she had been recognised.
How? What had given her away? No one had even guessed at her gender before now. Somehow she wasn’t surprised that Ellery Finchdean was the exception that proved that particular rule. Would he give her away though? Isolda simply didn’t know him well enough to be able to draw a conclusion.
