Chapter Eighteen
Brody was back fighting again tonight.
The only good thing about coming to the Ludus Caledonia two nights in a row was the fact that Lilia got to see Brody again.
Clearly, the wound on his torso from the previous night wasn’t a factor that hindered him because as she sat in the front row of the arena yet again with Lady Currie, Brody was in the very first bout and he looked strong and healthy.
Even so, Lilia was so wracked with nerves that she was trembling and beside her, Lady Currie was breathing heavily at the sight of the warrior she was beginning to obsess on.
The woman hadn’t worn the Roman gown this time.
She’d dressed in a wine-red silk that Lilia had made for her some time ago, one that was cut low so that her bosom would show.
It wasn’t very warm in this icy weather so she wore a heavy fur wrap with it.
She’d dressed carefully that afternoon, primping and powdering, putting perfume on her breasts and on her thighs.
Lilia had been in the chamber when she’d dressed, watching Lady Currie as she prepared herself for what she hoped would be a night with the warrior they called the Highland Protector. That’s what she’d told Colly, who frowned but wisely kept her mouth shut.
The main reason Colly wasn’t allowed to go to the Ludus Caledonia was because she was old and frumpy, and Lady Currie didn’t want to hear her judgment.
She wanted companionship that wouldn’t dispute her wants, and she also surrounded herself with pretty young women so the warriors would have more incentive to look in her direction.
That was why Lilia and, at times, Amy was permitted to go.
They were bait.
Therefore, as Lilia sat next to Lady Currie and watched Brody stretch out his shoulders, she knew that Lady Currie was focused on Brody and she hated the woman for it.
She’d never felt such anger or jealousy in her life and it was difficult to suppress it, but exposing her feelings would open Pandora’s box.
She knew that.
Therefore, she bit her lip when Lady Currie stood up and waved to Brody as the man stretched himself out.
“Look at him,” Lady Currie said, waving her hand like an idiot. “He is not looking over here. Why is he not looking over here?”
Lilia was watching Brody as the man twisted his torso, somewhat gingerly. “He seems focused on the fight, m’lady,” she said. “Mayhap ye shouldna distract him. If he is wounded again, ye’ll not have the chance tae see him tonight.”
Lady Currie immediately sat down. “Good thinking,” she said. “I do intend to see him tonight. Sir Clegg cannot tell me that the man is wounded again for, clearly, he is not.”
“He’s also not fought yet tonight.”
Lady Currie appeared worried. “You are right again,” she said. “God, I hope the man does not get hurt again.”
Lilia dared to glance at the woman, but she was focused on her prey across the arena floor.
Lilia prayed for strength to get through the evening without throttling her.
It was true, however, that Brody hadn’t looked in her direction, for which she was grateful.
He seemed focused on what he was doing, stretching out his muscles and preparing for the coming bout, which turned out to be against a very big and barbaric-looking opponent they called The Thistle, presumably because he was hairy-looking.
But that wasn’t the case.
Once the fight started, Lilia realized it was because the man had a prickly temperament.
There was no rhyme or reason to his actions; he simply came at Brody with a roar and swinging a club.
Everything about him was edgy and abrupt.
As the crowd screamed in excitement, Brody simply stayed out of the man’s way until he exhausted himself.
It didn’t take long.
When The Thistle was winded, Brody swung into action.
With his wooden shield, he used the broadside of it to hit the man in the jaw so hard that the force literally lifted The Thistle up and sent him flying backwards onto his arse.
The crowd roared in approval as Brody pounced, using his shield to press against the man’s face when he was down, effectively smothering him.
The Thistle fought and kicked, trying to move away from the shield in his face, but Brody was merciless.
He was in for the kill.
But the rules stated that once a man was down and clearly disabled, the battle would be over. The Thistle wasn’t getting up on his feet anytime soon, so the field marshals called the fight.
Still, Brody remained on top of The Thistle.
The big Saxon who officiated the fights was forced to come out onto the field to break up the brawl, followed by a muscular blond man who was quite handsome. Lilia watched with great concern as the pair went to Brody and his opponent, literally pulling Brody off the man.
But Brody had bloodlust in him. He was the victor and he fed off the thrill. He threw his arms up to the crowd, who screamed their adoration for him. They cheered their champion and Lady Currie was on her feet, waving her white kerchief like a flag.
Lilia, thinking that Lady Currie might be displeased if she sat there and did nothing, also rose to her feet and clapped hesitantly as Brody soaked up the adulation of the spectators.
He was walking by the front row of the stands, from one end of the arena to the other, being congratulated as he went.
Men shook his hand and patted him on the shoulder.
Some even slipped him coinage. Lilia watched with wide eyes as he moved in front of her and Lady Currie.
He didn’t even look at them.
Lady Currie was thrilled that he was so close and she reached out, tucking her kerchief into the neckline of his tunic as he came near. But Brody ripped it out and tossed it onto the ground as he walked past, causing Lady Currie to shriek in outrage.
“Did you see what he did?” she demanded. “How rude! I will have him whipped for that!”
Lilia was standing alongside Lady Currie, looking after Brody with a worried expression on her face. “Mayhap he dinna want it tae get wet, m’lady,” she said. “He’s sweaty… it would soil yer kerchief.”
Lady Currie was furious. “He threw it on the ground,” she said, jabbing a finger at it. “It is filthy now. I shall see Clegg about this right away. I will not stand for this insult!”
Brody was just leaving the arena floor as Lady Currie bolted from her seat and practically ran up the stairs that led out of the arena. Only Lilia had come with her tonight, so it was only Lilia following the woman as she marched over to the gate that guarded the entrance to Clegg’s viewing box.
The guard at the gate greeted her by name but told her that Sir Clegg was busy with someone else inside his private box.
That didn’t sit well with Lady Currie. She demanded to be announced and when the guard wouldn’t comply, she shoved him out of the way and yanked the gate open.
The guard, who was not permitted to put hands upon any woman, and especially not a steady customer like Lady Currie, simply stood back in surprise as Lady Currie marched down the tiled walkway and into Sir Clegg’s private box.
In fact, Lady Currie didn’t care that Clegg was occupied with business.
It never occurred to her that she wasn’t the most important person at the Ludus Caledonia.
She barged into the viewing box as Clegg and another man stood in one of the archways with a clear view of the field.
When Clegg looked up and saw her, his brow furrowed in displeasure.
“Lady Currie,” he greeted. “I am occupied at the moment. Would you please excuse…?”
Lady Currie cut him off rudely. “I will not be put off,” she said. “Do you know what just happened? Your insolent and arrogant Highland Protector insulted me deeply and I demand satisfaction.”
Clegg’s irritation turned to concern. “What did he do?”
Lady Currie was so angry that her forehead was peppered with sweat. “He won his bout and being a gracious lady, I gave him my favor,” she said. “He tossed it onto the ground and stomped on it. What right does that man have to show me such disrespect?”
Clegg, who had watched the astonishingly good match with Brody and The Thistle hadn’t seen that part of it. Lady Currie had offered for Brody last night but had been denied, and now she was back again, now demanding satisfaction for an insult dealt by the man.
Clegg had seen women like Lady Currie all of his life – demanding, spoiled, used to having their way in everything.
Lady Currie was used to men falling at her feet and Brody hadn’t done that.
Now, she was furious and embarrassed. Unless Clegg wanted trouble on his hands, or worse – losing a high-paying customer – he knew he needed to placate the woman.
As much as he really didn’t like her.
“Sometimes, men in the heat of battle do things they would not normally do,” he said evenly. “Did he say anything to you?”
Lady Currie fumed. “Nay.”
“Did he look at you?”
“Nay.”
Clegg smiled. “Then, clearly, he did not know you gave it to him,” he said.
“You must understand that men have a sort of blood madness when they are victorious over another man. There is something that temporarily drives them to do things they would not normally do. In this case, Brody did not see that it was you. He did not know it was you who had given him the favor. If he had, I am certain he would not have removed it.”
Lady Currie was cooling down at his logical explanation. “I suppose,” she said. “I guess… I would agree that he did not know it was me.”
Clegg was quite comforting. “You see? There is nothing to be angry over. In fact, I shall summon him immediately and he can apologize to you personally. Would you like that?”
Now, Lady Currie was completely cooled off and, in fact, enticed by the thought of finally meeting the mysterious Highland Protector. “You called him Brody?”
Clegg nodded. “His name is Brody McKay,” he said. Then, he indicated the nearest cushioned couch. “Please, sit. I will have him brought to you.”