Page 11 of Just About a Rake (Ladies Who Dare #5)

T he warehouse was thick with swirling tendrils of gray smoke, hanging heavy like a dense fog that softened the harsh lines over the scene ahead. Leonora usually didn’t mind the smell, or men enjoying a cheroot, but the fumes of burning tobacco and stale ale fused with the sounds of loud laughter, creating a rather stuffy atmosphere.

Yet the excitement was palpable. And intoxicating.

Thankfully, she’d adjusted her attire a bit. No lady would be found here . She still didn’t quite fit in. It was evident in the quality of her clothes measured against her fellow female attendants’ attire. She didn’t want to stand out either.

Leonora observed in fascination as her fellow sex cheered and—saints preserve her!— swore just as loudly as the men in the room, sights and sounds she’d never experienced before.

“Stay close.” Dare’s shoulder brushed hers, and she caught the two heated pools of his eyes on her. “Close.”

“Close,” she mimicked. Her shoulder nudged him back. “Close.”

He scoffed, but the corner of his lips inched upward.

Leonora’s attention shifted to where their shoulders just touched and held back a retort, heart beating furiously. “I thought there would be more people.”

“It’s a private match.” He paused. “More private than most.”

Dare led her through the raucous crowd, keeping very close, protecting her against any jostling, eventually coming to a stop at the fringes of a circle formed around the boxers by the people gathered. In the center, one man was dancing from foot to foot while the other lazily stretched out his arms.

Leonora blinked. “I somehow pictured this all differently in my mind.”

“This is not your normal match.”

“So, I gathered.” However, that was not what she meant. She somehow thought it would be more official. Though why she thought that, she couldn’t say.

Suddenly, the man who’d been stretching out his muscles glanced their way. His gaze flicked over Dare before he looked straight at her, dark eyes burning into her. Leonora swallowed back a gasp.

Lord, oh Lord, oh Lord.

A deep scar ran down the length of his face. It gave the man an intimidating and rather menacing appearance. Did he get the scar from boxing? Surely not. Only a dagger or sword could inflict such damage. Which made him seem all the more intriguing.

Her lips stretched up in a grin.

She couldn’t help it. He was looking at her as though he couldn’t quite fathom her presence, so quite naturally the urge to tease, even provoke, bubbled to the surface.

“What are you doing?” Dare demanded from beside her.

“Mmm?” Leonora hummed without taking her eyes off the boxer.

“Stop grinning at him like that.”

The man’s eyes turned to Dare again before narrowing. Interesting. Her gaze tilted up to him as well. “Do you know him? He looked at me as if he knows who I am.”

“If he knows who you are it’s because he knows who I am, and I’ve spoken of you.”

He did know the man? Wait—“You spoke about me to him?”

Dare nodded.

That set her heart into another furious flutter. He’d talked about her. To someone else. “Then are you friends?”

“You could say he is family.”

You could say? “What sort of answer is that? Either he is family or he is not.”

“He’s my cousin, Drake Fury.”

Her jaw went slack, before glancing back at the behemoth readying himself for a match. Dare had such a scary yet dangerously handsome cousin? Who would have known?

She tracked over that bold scar again. “You look nothing alike.”

“Your mouth is hanging open.” A big, gloved hand obscured her view. “I’m quite embarrassed for you.”

“Whose mouth is hanging open?” She swatted his hand away. “I’m merely amazed you have such a handsome cousin.”

“Handsome? There must be something wrong with your eyesight.” A grumble. “He is not handsome.”

She shot a glance back at the scarred man, who’d now turned his attention to his opponent. “Handsome.”

The hand returned. “He doesn’t like people looking at him.”

Leonora turned to Dare with an I-can’t-believe-you-just-said-that look. “Then he shouldn’t be boxing in front of a crowd, should he?”

“He doesn’t like pretty women staring at him.”

She snatched his hand and yanked down. “Now you’re just spouting nonsense.”

He grinned at her, although his grin only lasted until both men discarded their shirts, putting their bare, hulking chests on full display.

Leonora’s eyes widened in delight. Such a treat!

Beside her, Dare cursed.

The match started and Leonora had to admit, every punch—whether it missed or connected with flesh—brought a shock to her heartbeat. Cheers and cries filled the spacious room, and foul curses whipped through the air every time Dare’s cousin effectively blocked his opponent. It seemed he wasn’t the favorite today.

She clutched at her chest, watching in fascination as the two men sparred.

They danced on the balls of their feet with mesmerizing lightness, yet when an arm snaked out, the punches that landed were hard and heavy. Then the scarred man landed a blow to the other man’s head, and he hit the ground almost instantly. Blood trickled down the side of his face.

Her hand flew to her mouth. This was... Just as quickly, the man leaped back to his feet and the match continued with a roar of cheers. She didn’t know where to focus. The bloody punches, the dancing feet, the rippling muscles.

“No wonder these matches are frowned upon.”

“Why is that?” Dare’s breath tickled against her ear.

Her spine exploded with a sharp, electric jolt. “With one look you can tell these men are dangerous.” The way they moved, it was like watching predators. Strengh combined with grace. The tension, the raw power, it could rob a lady of her breath!

Beside her, Dare shifted closer. “Not for you.”

“For any woman, I’d imagine.”

His eyes burned into her. Leonora pretended not to notice but she couldn’t help the corner of her mouth inching upward. Was Dare jealous? It couldn’t be. Yet she could practically taste the sourness exuding from the man.

“Jealousy doesn’t become you, Lord Dare.”

His stormy blue gaze burrowed deeper into her. “I’m not jealous.”

Leonora shrugged. “Believe what you will.”

“Believe what you will.”

Was the man a child? Goodness. His petulance didn’t feel all that bad, though. However, Leonora ignored his “what you will” and directed her focus and keeping her mouth in place when all it wanted to do was split into a huge grin. “Then I will believe it to be true.”

Another grueling punch made her attention jerk back to the reality of the match where her gaze was immediately arrested again by the expanse of rippling muscles.

Just enjoy the sight.

There was something primal about two men, shirtless, fighting with bare knuckles, and blood dripping from their wounds. And there was probably something wrong with her for enjoying it this much!

Too soon, the match ended with the scarred man—Drake Fury—standing over his opponent. The winner.

“What a fight,” Leonora murmured. So, so, so handsome.

A loud, exaggerated snort. “Hold this.”

Leonora blinked and looked down at the cravat and waistcoat that had suddenly appeared in her hand. She blinked again before her gaze slowly turned to Dare. When had he removed these items? “What are you doing?”

“Boxing.”

Her lips parted and shut. Well, this certainly was a different dance to a different tune!

And then he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it into her arms and walked out into the arena.

Leonora’s jaw dropped.

Her eyes raked over the muscles that rippled across his chest with each step.

Holy heaven.

She would never have imagined that such a body hid beneath his fine gentleman’s clothes. Her imagination hadn’t even come close to matching the sight! But she couldn’t admire him for long. Her gaze caught on someone in the crowd just beyond him.

Her.

The Duchess of Crane.

*

Dare strode up to his cousin, rolling his shoulders and flexing the muscles in his arms. Though his body wasn’t as imposing as Drake’s, he wasn’t without his own strength. He could hold his own. Boxing was all about footwork, after all, and that was where he excelled. While his cousin had the raw power and brute force, he possessed a level of elegance in his stance that his cousin lacked.

He could match Drake step for step.

It was the question of why he thought to do so that he’d rather not dwell on. If he pulled on that thread, it might unravel his confidence stepping into this spontaneous fight.

“What are you doing?” Drake asked, sizing him up from head to toe.

Dare flashed him a smile. Good question. “A friendly sparring match.”

“Stop standing about and fight!” Someone shouted from the crowd, the echo bouncing off the walls of the warehouse. A chorus of agreement followed.

“What’s the matter, Drake,” another man shouted. “Scared? Just knock him out already. One punch is all it’ll take!”

Laughter erupted from all sides, followed by a few whistles. A voice in the back shouted, “Come on, show ’im, Drake!” another added, “Give ’im a good thrashing!”

His cousin grinned. “Does this look or sound friendly to you?”

Dare cracked his neck left to right. “It sounds like your arse is getting a whipping,” he said tauntingly, dancing lightly from one foot to the other.

Laughter erupted, some men cheering so wildly it bordered on madness. A man from the back bellowed, “Bet you a guinea on Drake. I’ve seen him knock out men bigger than a mountain!”

Dare sneered. A mountain, heh? He continued to roll his shoulders, unbothered by the taunts, and certainly not dwelling overmuch on his own madness. He still couldn’t think what had possessed him to enter the ring without even warming up his muscles properly—whereas Drake was on fire.

Or maybe he did know what sparked it, though he refused admit it to himself. He couldn’t fault Leonora for ogling his cousin, but damn, he didn’t like it. And he’d never lost to Drake yet. Nor had Drake lost to him, for that matter. They’d been equally matched in the past, and Dare was exceedingly good at avoiding his cousin’s punches—and avoiding throwing any punches that would scar his hands. But he wasn’t fond of pain, so they didn’t spar much.

You’ve lost your mind, Dare.

No doubt, no doubt.

“Sounds like you’re about to humiliate yourself in front of your little bird, cousin. Brazen of you to bring her to such a bloody event.”

“Why? I’m here. It’s just a spot of fun,” Dare responded lightly. And Lady Leonora was anything but a fragile flower. In fact, she might be the exact opposite of one.

Drake’s eyes gleamed with something almost too sharp. “You know it’s more than that.”

“Not willing to spar with me?” Dare challenged, choosing to ignore the meaning beneath that suggestive statement.

Drake rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet, taking his stance. “This is extremely unlike you, cousin, but I can’t say I hate it.”

“It’s extremely unlike you to care, anyway.”

“You’re right. I don’t care.” A foxlike smile formed on his face. “Much.”

Dare chuckled. “I’m astonished by the warmth of your heart.”

“As am I by yours.” His eyes flicked beyond him and back. “Exceedingly so.” Drake’s smile turned even more crooked, tapping his knuckles together. “I’ve looked into the connection like you asked.”

Dare faltered, stopping himself from glancing at Leonora—though he could feel her gaze on them. “I don’t think now is the time to discuss such matters.”

A smirk. “Not curious?”

“Not enough, you arse.” Was he curious? Yes. Could he do without the information, especially just now? Also yes. But when it came to that little temptress, he couldn’t help himself most of the time. Very well, all of the time. He was like a bookworm starved for knowledge—always wanting more.

Drake motioned for him to come at him. “So fickle.”

“One of the benefits of breeding.”

Drake rolled his eyes. “Are we sparring or not?”

Bloody hell, yes.

They circled each other until the crowd grew impatient with their dancing. The spectators wanted blood. But Drake wasn’t the sort of boxer who wasted a punch, and Dare was vigilant when it came to his cousin’s fists. This was probably why they were always equally matched and rarely ever challenged each other, even to a friendly match. Every movement was calculated, every step precise, every muscle in Dare’s body tense and ready to defend against his opponent.

The air crackled with anticipation.

“The devoted followers are growing restless,” Dare taunted.

“They are not my problem,” Drake shot back. But he didn’t disappoint. In a blur of movement, a fist flew out with lightning speed.

Dare dodged but not fast enough. Just half a second too slow. Pain exploded at the side of his head. Another half second later, before he could recover, his arse hit the floor. A curse flew off his tongue at the same time as the impact.

A deafening roar of cheers filled the warehouse.

Damn it. That hurt like the devil.

More curses sprang into his mind. One damn second. One damn second was all it took the destroy the fantasy that he and Drake were always equally matched.

Drake smirked. “Are you getting up or are we done with our little sparring match?”

Only to be knocked down again? No, thank you. Once was humiliating enough. “You could have at least saved me some damn face.”

“Not in my nature, cousin. Do you need help up or do you plan to marry the floor?”

Dare leaped to his feet and dusted off his hands.

Hell and damnation. He must look like a fool to Leonora. A flush of heat rushed to his cheeks, the blaze bleeding into his neckline. He’d never felt this embarrassed in front of a woman a woman he liked.

Because you’ve never liked a... The thought trailed off into a devastating, deep chasm that formed in his mind. Dear God. Did he like Lady Leonora Heart?

That could not be.

Oh, he fancied flirting with the little temptress. Laughing with her. Being in her company. But that...

That didn’t . . .

An even fouler curse rolled off his tongue. He liked Lady Leonora Heart. But what exactly did that mean? Like. Such an innocuous little word, one easy tossed about by fools and fops. But for him? It was a dangerous thing to feel.

He wanted to look over at her, but he also didn’t dare. Would she be laughing at his misfortune? Would she be shocked? Would she have even the tiniest smidgeon of pity for him?

You are a mess, Dare.

“Don’t worry,” Drake said. “I did you a favor.”

How the hell was that a favor? “What are you talking about?”

“Your little bird didn’t see your fall, and I figured it would be a good time to end the match for you.”

Dare sneered at him. Bloody arrogant ars—

“Her eyes weren’t on you,” Drake explained, interrupting the curse in his head.

Dare scowled. Her eyes weren’t on him? Then where were they? On Drake? The thought brought a deeper furrow between his brows.

“They also weren’t on me, either, if that is what you are thinking.”

“Then explain, why don’t you?” The fact that the man could see right through him annoyed the hell out of Dare.

His cousin shrugged and nodded to a spot beyond him. “Your little bird is leaving.”

Dare’s head finally snapped to where Leonora had been standing, only to find her gone from the spot.

Lady Leonora Heart!

He had brought her here. She was under his protection. Where the devil had she gone? Would she truly leave? His gaze moved in the direction his cousin had nodded, toward the doors of the warehouse, and he caught the back of her long hair flowing down his jacket just as she slipped through.

Dare snatched up an unattended shirt and took off at a run.