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“I can arrange that. Two well-timed punches will bash in yer skull.”

“You won’t have the chance.” Movement at one side of the ring caught his eye. Damn it! Lydia in her groomsman clothing had changed position apparently for a better view, concern etched on her face.

Do this for her , he reminded himself.

Unfortunately, in that small moment of distraction, a hard uppercut to his jaw had him staggering back several steps.

The crowd roared and as one entity they surged forward.

Pain exploded through his face and jawline, but he kept his feet and hoped his teeth weren’t broken from being smacked together.

With a roar, Alexander lunged toward MacIntosh.

He landed quick jabs to the bigger man’s stomach, cheek and chin.

The Scot reeled and retreated before gathering himself and charging at Alexander to exchange blows in close combat style.

Again and again, he drilled his fists into the bigger man’s body, and in some places on the hard form, his blows felt as if they glanced off his skin, and the boxer wouldn’t fall. There was simply no extra fat on the man.

What the hell do I do now?

MacIntosh got off a few good punches of his own, and the stubbornness that Alexander had always been known for kept him on his feet, though winded and aching. “Give up, Wexley. I tire of fighting inferior partners.”

“Too bad, because I’m only getting started,” he said in response, even though he wanted to curse from the pain in his head and abdomen.

Amusement lit the other man’s eyes. “Ye are an embarrassment to the sport.”

“Perhaps, yet I’m still standing.” And he delivered a swift right hook to the other man’s cheek that sent the other man spinning about. As the crowd cheered, MacIntosh stumbled but he didn’t fall.

Then the round was once again called without a clear victor.

Thank God.

Alexander stumbled back to his corner, dropping heavily onto Duncan’s bent knee, panting and trying his best not to cast up his accounts. Every point on his body hurt and throbbed with pain. “The man won’t go down. It’s like beating a brick wall.”

“You are going to need to do much better else he’ll drill you into the ground as your strength flags,” Duncan hissed, as Lydia plied him with water. “It doesn’t seem like you want this victory much.”

“That’s a lie.” Frankly, he was at a loss as to how to proceed.

“Then make quick work of him.”

“I’m trying, but he’s like a mountain.” He stood, glancing at Lydia and handing her back the ladle. “What the hell should I do?”

“Alexander, concentrate.” When their gazes connected, she offered a tremulous smile but worry clouded her green eyes.

“He will kill you if given half the chance. Incorporate jujitsu moves on him that keep him on the ground. If you have a chance, use the strength of your body, use your forearms around his neck to choke him, make him woozy, then put him down with a swift punch to the temple. That’s going to be your only chance. ”

“Right.” That might be the best option at this point.

While Duncan wrapped his busted knuckles with thin strips of cotton—Lewis wasn’t present so he must have gone off to give his wife an update—he shared a look with Lydia.

Heated sensation went through him, followed by a blossom of hope that lifted his flagging spirits.

They had a future together, he could feel it, and damn it all, he would ask for her hand at some point today.

He wanted her more than he wanted to win that prize purse.

“Get your head out of your arse and focus on besting that man,” Duncan demanded as he finished wrapping Alexander’s knuckles and palms. “You have to get back out there. Remember, Papa taught all of us to fight, and he never believed you were the worst of us. You just have a different skill set.” He gave him a push, which refocused his thoughts.

“Thank you for that.” Shoving a hand through his sweat dampened hair, Alexander made his way back to the middle of the ring while the crowd roared its approval.

The judge blew his whistle again. The next round was about to begin.

There was no time to ponder his next course of action, for MacIntosh barely waited for the whistle sound to fade before he took a swing at Alexander, catching him on the shoulder so hard that he spun about.

“Shit.” Pain ebbed down Alexander’s arm, but he couldn’t think about that right now.

All too soon, he was caught up in a whirlwind of blows that left him reeling and very much on the defensive.

When one of the bigger man’s fists drilled into his gut, pain swamped him, had him doubled up with it.

He returned the volley and was fortunate enough that his fist found purchase on MacIntosh’s nose.

The sickening crunch of cartilage was satisfying, as was the burst of blood down the bigger man’s face.

Scrapping ensued, and since there were no longer gentlemanly rules here, he welcomed the breakdown of decorum, for that meant he could fight the way Lydia had shown him.

Alexander breathed deeply in an effort to find calm and to ignore the agony his body was in. He executed a quick double uppercut, one with each fist to MacIntosh’s gut and chin, and in the precious seconds that followed, when the Scot teetered, he slammed a heel into the other man’s right ankle.

With a cry of anguish, MacIntosh finally hit the ground, and the crowd roared from either approval or denial.

“Damn you, Alex, this is your moment! Use it!” The cry of encouragement from Lydia was somehow heard over the crowd’s noise and the thunder of his pulse in his own head.

Before he could deliver another blow, the Scot reached out, clamped a beefy hand around his calf and then yanked. Alexander lost his balance, tumbling to the sweet meadow grass, and seconds later, the bigger man was on top of his body in an attempt to pin his shoulders.

“Concede the match, Wexley.” MacIntosh might have strength on his side and the current upper hand, but he hadn’t won yet. “Ye’re nearly gone.”

“Not yet.” Though his endurance wavered, he refused to give up, for he wanted Lydia proud of him, wanted also to show his brothers that he wasn’t useless in the boxing world.

Briefly, he closed his eyes as he fought with the other man to keep his shoulders from the ground. What had Lydia said about the two moves she’d shown him—the armbar submission?

Then he put that into action and hoped to God that he remembered.

He ignored the yells from the crowd, ignored his brother’s calls, ignored everything to concentrate on Lydia’s dulcet instructions in his mind.

Reaching up, he grabbed MacIntosh’s neck.

At the same time, he placed his right foot on the big man’s hip on that same side.

Before MacIntosh could do anything else, he pushed his knee against the man’s shoulder to prevent him from pulling his arm out of the hold. ”

“What the hell, Wexley? This isn’t boxing,” MacIntosh said as confusion shadowed his face.

“Ha!” He blew out a breath of pain as sweat rolled down his back and face. “We left boxing the moment you played dirty.”

Then, with a groan, he pushed off on the big man’s hips. It took a couple of tries, but he finally was able to bring his body perpendicular to the other boxer’s.

“Let me up!” MacIntosh’s growled demand had no effect on Alexander.

“No.” Lydia’s words and her instructions were so clear in his mind.

With a bit more confidence and ease, he clamped down on Colin’s shoulders to keep them from slipping out of his hold.

He panted, but the move was fairly easy, even when MacIntosh thrashed about in an effort to break it.

As he held onto the bigger man, his heel dug into the back of the Scot’s neck, and with a surge of his strength, he brought his other leg over Colin’s head.

Though his muscles screamed in protest, Alexander curled his leg down and effectively pinned the other man to the ground.

The crowd roared.

Emboldened and knowing MacIntosh was well and truly immobilized, Alexander grabbed the bigger man’s wrist, and with his hips, he continued to keep him pinned.

As his forearm landed against Colin’s throat, he locked onto his own wrist and squeezed.

“It’s time we end this bout, don’t you think?

” he managed to say around clenched teeth.

“Get… off… me,” the other man gasped out.

“Not a chance.” And he continued to hold onto the Scot as his opponent’s face turned red.

“Cheating.”

“Perhaps, but this is to my advantage, and no one has cried foul yet.” Exerting a bit more force, he tightened every muscle in his body. As his stamina waned, MacIntosh’s thrashing quieted. His gasps became thinner, and his eyelids fluttered.

“Go to sleep, MacIntosh.” When the other man went still in his hold, Alexander didn’t waste any time.

Though blood dripped down his face and onto his chest to mingle with sweat, he quickly scrambled to his feet.

He couldn’t remember how many wounds he’d sustained.

Pain screamed through his body, and he sucked in deep breaths.

But when the Scot stirred and tried to scramble to his feet, Alexander knew this was his final chance.

“I’m not retired just yet, you great oaf, and if you ever come near Miss Tetford again, I swear I will kill you.

” As wild yells came from the crowd, Alexander delivered a powerful punch to the side of Colin’s face, where his jaw joined his temple.

For the space of a few painful heartbeats, the other man waited on his knees. Confusion, then realization, clouded his eyes, and finally, seconds later, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell to the grass, face first. Best of all, he didn’t move again.

The crowd roared. His brothers whooped with victory. And Alexander bent at the waist with his hands at his knees. He cast up his accounts moments later.