Page 79 of Bite at First Sight

He ran a hand through his hair. “I am not nervous. I am impatient to try my skills against such a renowned pugilist.”

“I cannot imagine why. I’ve seen you box. Even with one arm, no human is a match for your speed and strength. Now with two…”

“When and where did you see me box?” Rafe interrupted, already suspecting the dreaded answer.

“I snuck into Scallywag John’s last year. You were magnificent.”

He growled at the thought of her in the presence of the ruffians who frequented that squalid place. “Do you have any notion how dangerous that was? You could have been—”

Before he could continue his tirade, Anthony announced Wakley’s arrival.

Cassandra greeted the surgeon warmly and began asking questions about an article in the latest issue of The Lancet. Rafe cleared his throat when it became apparent that they’d prattle all night if he didn’t intervene.

“Are you ready, Mr. Wakley?”

The surgeon nodded, though he frowned doubtfully. “Are you certain you wish to do this, Don Villar? I do not want you to damage your newly healed ligaments.”

Rafe smirked. “I wager I could defeat you with one arm.”

Wakley cracked his knuckles and grinned. “We shall see about that.”

“I have gloves in the ballroom. I lack a ring, unfortunately, but I’m sure we can manage.”

They went into the vacant ballroom, their footsteps echoing in the vast, empty chamber. Rafe lit the gas lanterns and unbuttoned his shirt.

As the surgeon stripped to the waist, Rafe regarded him with a touch of envy at his athletic, unblemished physique. The man looked like an Adonis, the sort of man Cassandra should be with.

His thoughts broke as Lydia entered the ballroom. “I see we’re on time—” She froze in the doorway, eyes wide and openly assessing the shirtless men. “Oh my.”

Vincent came in behind her and frowned. “I think we should leave them to it.”

“No, we won’t. You and Ian thwarted my last attempt to see Rafe box.” Lydia crossed her arms stubbornly. “I will not be denied this time.”

As the Lord of Cornwall continued to look disapproving, his bride laughed and locked her arms about his waist. “Perhaps you should remove your shirt as well, my lord?”

His countenance softened. “Later.”

Rafe couldn’t resist teasing him. “Thank you for sparing me the sight of your pallid, gangly form.”

“Oh hush, you brute.” Lydia nuzzled her cheek against her husband’s chest. “I like my gentlemen long and lean.”

“Gentlemen?” Vincent growled.

“Only you. Forever.”

Cassandra cleared her throat and held up the boxing gloves. “Shall the match begin?”

Wakley nodded and took one of the proffered pairs. Rafe took the other pair and donned the gloves easily, no longer having to struggle with his left hand. But could he box with it? He gritted his teeth. Soon he would find out.

They circled each other, taking measure. Raising their gloves, they counted to three. Wakley threw the first punch, which Rafe deflected with his right glove. He attempted to counter with an uppercut with his left, but it was clumsy and Wakley easily dodged out of the way.

The entire match continued that way. Rafe landed several good blows with his right fist, but his left refused to obey his intent and always flew too slowly and at the wrong angle.

Wakley was a formidable opponent, landing plenty of blows to Rafe’s face and head, blows that stung despite the cushion of the gloves. The man was impressively quick for a mortal, making it difficult for Rafe to balance his own pace and not reveal his inhuman speed. Wakley dodged every blow from Rafe’s left and even a few from his right.

After they had sparred for a while, Wakley dropped to one knee, bowing out. “I cede the match to you. I confess that I do not feel inclined to take a tumble without ropes to catch me, which is inevitable with your prowess. And we must not overtax your healed limb.”

Rafe inclined his head. “It was a very good match. You are a worthy opponent.”

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