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T hat bastard. Martin’s hand flew to the pommel of his sword. “I’d like to see him try to take me down.”

“Don’t, Martin. He’ll crush you like a fly.”

He knew she was only saying it because she loved him and didn’t want to lose him, but it hurt a bit that she had so little faith in his fighting skill. Lord James was a big, lumbering bear, and Martin knew how to get beneath his guard. He’d done it before.

“No, he won’t. He may be bigger and stronger than me, but I’m twice as cunning. I’ll make him pay for this.” He strode to the door.

Isabella caught his arm. “Please don’t. Stay. We’ll find another way out of this. You don’t have to confront him.”

Except that he did. He had to prove to the woman he loved that she hadn’t married a coward. And he had to put that stinking midden heap of a man in his place.

“What of Adelaide and me? Do we mean nothing to you? Will you risk our futures on your thirst for revenge?” Her eyes were wide, and her voice shook as she said it.

It was so easy to think her fearless as she faced down challenges that would make a grown man blanch, but this had brought her low.

He couldn’t storm out and leave her fearing for her and Adelaide’s futures.

“What do you have in mind?” He planned to separate the man’s head from his neck at the earliest opportunity, but he needed to at least hear her out.

“He’s a gambler.”

He narrowed his eyes. “A cheating gambler.”

“What of a wager? We offer to comply and annul our marriage if he wins, and if he loses, he leaves us in peace and lets us leave freely.”

Did he dare gamble on their future? The urge to seal the other man’s fate by running him through was almost overwhelming.

Though, he supposed, he could always do that after trying Isabella’s plan.

“And what form of wager would you propose? We know he cheats at dice. I wouldn’t trust him at cards.”

“Then we pick something he can’t cheat at. Something where you have the advantage.”

The first thing that came to mind was combat. It was what everything in him desired at that moment, but she clearly wanted a more peaceful option. “What do you propose?”

“An archery contest, a game of chess, a mast climbing competition… Anything but combat. Please. I’m begging you.”

A game of chess. That could work. Martin was certain he could outsmart that oversized cretin.

“Very well. I’ll propose chess. There’s no cheating in chess. It’s just his skill against my own. I’d crush him like a fly. But he’ll probably refuse. He knows he’s no match for me.”

He didn’t want her to get her hopes up for a peaceful resolution. Frankly, he hoped Lord James would turn down the chess game. Fury still simmered beneath the surface, though for the moment, Martin was keeping it in check for Isabella’s sake. He longed to unleash it on the object of his ire.

“Stay here. I want to know you’re safe in case this plan of yours fails. I’ll be back as soon as it’s over,” he said, kissing Isabella swiftly before striding out of the room.

All his life, people had underestimated him, especially in comparison to his not-so-little brother. Lord James was no different. He would show that prick the error of his ways if it was the last thing he did.

Storming into the great hall, he found Lord James deep in conversation with Lord Christopher. At his arrival, both men looked up, Lord Christopher with surprise and Lord James with a smug smile, the bastard.

“Lord James, I have a wager for you.”

There was no point in prevaricating. He wanted to finish this and return to Isabella as quickly as possible.

“A wager?” Lord James raised an eyebrow. “Why would I gamble with you? You have nothing that I want.”

“Ah, but I do, and we both know it.” Martin held the earl’s hostile gaze for a long moment. “Don’t bother to deny it. I have a proposal to settle this once and for all.”

Lord Christopher looked back and forth between the two of them. “What is going on here? I don’t understand.”

“What do you propose?” Lord James leaned forward, ignoring his vassal. “I do like a good wager, and the thought of humiliating you is too tempting to pass up.”

“I propose a game of chess.” Now to see if the earl would take the bait.

Lord James laughed. “I’m not playing chess with you, you little piglet. Go squeal somewhere else. I have business with Lord Christopher.”

He turned away and started talking of tax collection. It was a clear dismissal. The man couldn’t even be bothered to engage.

Blood thundered in Martin’s ears. He’d tried a peaceful route. Isabella couldn’t say he didn’t try. Now it was time to take matters into his own hands.

“Very well, then. If you won’t play chess, then you leave me no choice. I challenge you to single combat.”

“Good God, man, what are you thinking?” Lord Christopher asked, rushing to stand between him and Lord James.

All remaining patience drained out of Martin as he watched the earl rise slowly, grinning from ear to ear.

“He’s trying to steal my wife from me, and he’s threatened my life. I demand satisfaction.” Fury roiled within Martin as he looked at the man he detested. That blackguard wouldn’t get away with it. Martin was going to bring the earl down or die trying.

“There must be some mistake,” Lord Christopher said, placatingly. “Why would Lord James try to steal your wife?”

“I can’t help it that she prefers me to you,” Lord James said, rising and casting a long shadow in the torchlight.

By God, the man was tall. He was like a walking castle turret.

But Martin refused to be cowed. Isabella loved him, and nothing else mattered.

He would face Goliath himself for her sake.

Lord Christopher blanched. “Don’t tell me it’s true. Lord James, why would you—?”

“I appreciate your concern, Christopher, but this is none of your affair.” The earl swept his vassal aside and drew his sword. It glinted in a shaft of daylight pouring in through one of the slender windows at the side of the hall.

“At least have the decency to take this outside, my lords,” Lord Christopher pleaded.

The earl stared down at Martin with utter disdain, and Martin’s sword hand twitched with the urge to teach the smug coxcomb a lesson he would never forget.

After a long moment, Lord James jerked his head toward the door, and Martin nodded.

Following his nemesis, they headed outdoors.

Together they stalked onto the pounded dirt, Lord James dispersing a few soldiers that had gathered to practice with a mere look.

“Wait! Stop!” Isabella ran out into the yard between them.

No! She shouldn’t be here. It was too dangerous. And the last thing Martin wanted was to have her be forced to watch them butcher each other. “Go back inside, Isabella. Please. This is going to get ugly.”

“You think I’m going to stand by and let my fate be decided by you two fools as you try to tear out each other’s throats like dogs in a pit?”

Before Martin could prevent it, the earl grabbed Isabella by the shoulder and dragged her out of the ring, shoving her toward the castle. “Listen to your husband, my lady. This is men’s business. I’ll call for you when I’ve dispatched him and it’s time for us to wed. Expect me within the hour.”

Blood pounded in Martin’s ears as he launched himself at Lord James in a blind rage. “Don’t you ever touch my wife again. I will tear you to pieces like a wild boar.”

Steel clashed as the earl blocked Martin’s blow as if he were swatting a fly. “You won’t be her husband much longer. It’s a shame you never went through with the wedding night. I assure you I don’t plan to deprive myself of the pleasure.”

No. That rutting beast could never be allowed near her. The mere thought of him—

Martin blundered toward his nemesis again, this time to be met with a bone-shattering counterblow that he just barely deflected, though he felt it all the way up his arm.

“Does that bother you? The thought of me tupping your wife? I promise to make her scream my name over and over as I take her hard and fast. I can hardly wait to make her bleed for me.”

Thank God Martin’s body remembered what to do because his mind was lost in a haze of pulsing red. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he struck again and again, only to be blocked at every turn.

“Don’t let him goad you,” a voice cried out that made his heart clench. Isabella was still here, watching this, hearing this. “Please, Martin, keep your wits about you. If you keep fighting like this, we’ll all lose.”

She was right. He was reacting on instinct alone, letting Lord James get the better of him and goad him into rage.

He wished she would go back inside. She shouldn’t be subjected to this.

But there was no arguing with her advice.

He would surely lose if he didn’t clear his head, and there was far too much at stake for him to allow that.

Drawing in a deep breath, Martin steadied himself and studied his enemy as he circled. He’d beaten this man once before, and he could do it again. All he needed to do was use his head.

The dust of the yard filled his nostrils as his feet scuffed the ground and he tried to remember how he had won victory against Lord James the last time they fought.

But all he could see was the image seared in his brain of the earl manhandling Isabella and shoving her toward the castle.

If he didn’t clear his head soon, he was going to be in serious trouble.