Chapter 12
Rory learned that there was no such thing as a quick goodbye when it came to Malcolm’s friends Tommy and Gloria. They’d sent a messenger ahead to Lord Bennington to let him know that they intended to return his carriage by lunch and were still saying their goodbyes when a return message came summoning them to another meeting at the King’s Book Club.
“Remember what I said,” Tommy clapped Malcolm on the back once more as he climbed into the carriage. Rory took the basket of sandwiches from Gloria and thanked her again for her hospitality, then followed Malcolm inside. Last time they’d been in this carriage together, only yesterday, Rory had been overwhelmed by the hopelessness of his situation, and now nothing had really changed except everything had changed. All he’d needed to do was show people the reality of his situation and talk about his problems with people who understood him.
“I’m glad we did this. It’s been illuminating,” Rory reached out for Malcolm’s hands, but he drew them away with a shake of his head.
“We can’t see each other again.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yesterday wasn’t real. It was temporary. A moment that can’t happen again.”
Rory’s stomach sank, a leaden feeling that stole all the relief of the morning, wiping it away like the trainer’s cloth removing blood from an eyebrow cut. But instead of leaving him clean, he was left empty.
“Why not?”
“I have a life that isn’t boxing. That...” Malcolm waved his hand in the air, the shakes noticeable even though he tried to hide them in movement. “Isn’t this.”
Rory swallowed down his hurt and instead of pleading with Malcolm, it came out in a bitter ball that left a sour taste on his tongue. “Are you a coward?”
Malcolm’s eyes narrowed and his skin darkened across his cheeks. “No. I have a peaceful life. I can’t change that on the whims of some ... Scotsman with a taste for revenge.”
Rory’s breath whistled through his teeth. “Well, if that isn’t misrepresenting everything I said.” He’d taken a risk and reluctantly told his story and now this? All the reasons why he’d not wanted to speak came flooding back. He folded his arms and closed his eyes, unable to deal with whatever it was Malcolm thought he was doing. How could he go from being so protective and, Rory bit back a sigh, so fucking wonderful to this cold monster? No, Malcolm wasn’t a monster. It merely felt that way because deep down in the clutches of his heart, Rory had started to care for him and now it hurt to be pushed away so easily.
“Do I at least get an explanation for the sudden change of heart?” Rory shouldn’t ask. It was probably pointless, but damn it, he deserved to know why Malcolm had switched his opinion so quickly.
“No.” Malcolm crossed his arms, leaning back on the chair. It was a little absurd given the lack of space in Bennington's carriage, their knees were almost touching, but the inch between them could’ve been a mile given how obvious Malcolm’s animosity was.
“I suppose you learned that from your Duke. The art of never explaining yourself?”
Malcolm’s eyes flashed open for the briefest of moments, then he closed them again, but he didn’t speak. After a long silence with only the clatter of the carriage wheels over the macadam, Rory tried to reset his expectations. He was back where he started, really. That was the likely reality of Malcolm’s change of heart. It was just him, trying to save his estate. Alone. He breathed in deep, as he realised that this meant one thing. It was up to him to talk to Bennington and stop this nonsense of a boxing match. If nothing else, he could give Malcolm that as a parting gift and protect Malcolm from any future head knocks that might make his shakes worse.
When the carriage finally pulled up, he pushed past Malcolm to get out first, then turned and spoke over his shoulder. “I will deal with Bennington. Don’t worry yourself about it. I’ll stop the fight.” He marched towards the club entrance and nodded at the grinning butler as he climbed the stairs. He banged on the office manager’s door with his fist.
“Settle down.” The door swung open and Rory, once again, was subjected to Mr Mardin buttoning up his trousers with no shame at all, while Bennington’s hair was decidedly messy. Had these two no shame? The ire built in his chest to a red hot fury, but it was jealousy not anger.
“I’m here to say that neither myself nor The Colossus will fight.”
Bennington glanced at Mardell then grinned. “Don’t want to ruin your perfect records, I imagine.”
“Yes, that.” Rory latched onto the excuse, grasping it with both fists, so to speak.
“I did wonder when you’d both come to your senses. Did it take all night to pull together the courage to tell me? And did your friend leave you to the task? Why is that?”
“Oscar darling, leave the man alone.” Lord Bennington grinned.
“Bennington.”
“Ah, now you see what you’ve done? He only calls me Bennington when he’s annoyed, and we can’t have my Mr Mardin annoyed at me, can we?” This conversation seemed to be a private one that didn’t concern Rory and he wanted to spin on his heels and leave them to it.
“Well, if that’s all, I’ll be going now.”
“Wait.”
Rory waited.
“Why agree if you were only going to refuse me later?”
“I didn’t have the full information earlier.”
“And now you do? What changed your mind?”
Rory shrugged. “It’s not my story to tell. I was willing to attempt to face my fears for the good of my land.”
“Your land? I thought this was about a girl?” Lord Bennington frowned.
“Where on earth would you get such an absurd idea? A girl?” Malcolm laughed. Malcolm? Rory spun around, almost colliding with The Colossus. He stared. When had he arrived? How long had he been here, listening?
Mr Mardin laughed, a booming jovial laugh. “Oh, How Delightful.” Somehow he managed to speak in capital letters. “The Colossus has been a long-time member of the King’s Book Club, but somehow I feel The Long Laird should be offered a membership too.”
“I see. I have been slow on the uptake,” Bennington sent a fond glance in Mr Mardell’s direction. “Oscar, how did I not know this?”
“To be fair, I’m not sure they knew it either. What a fabulous coincidence. Of course, you can’t fight each other. We must have two unbeaten Champions on our membership listing. It’ll bring in an entirely new crowd of members.” Mr Mardin winked.
“What about the charity match?” Bennington asked.
Rory cleared his throat, readying himself to admit that he didn’t have the answers.
“We will coach a boxer each,” Malcolm stated in a tone that took no prisoners.
“Team Colossus vs Team Long Laird.” Mr Mardin’s grin broadened. No wonder Bennington was dazzled by the man, while Rory was so messed up by the last day’s events that he couldn’t decide if Malcolm’s idea was genius or just another way to cause division between them.
“Best of three,” said Bennington. “And The Long Laird, let’s have dinner and talk about this land of yours.”
Could it truly be that simple? He swallowed then nodded. “Yes, my Lord.”
“Good. I think we are done here. You two sort out the details and inform Heider. He will send out the necessary flyers.” Bennington turned back to Mr Mardin and Rory supposed that he’d been dismissed. He turned around, brushing past Malcolm’s shoulder on his way out the door. He was half-way down the stairs when a heavy hand rested on his shoulder.
“Wait.”
He turned around and stared directly into Malcolm’s eyes. Their height difference was negated by the staircase with Rory standing a couple of steps lower than Malcolm and it put their faces level with each other.
“I’ve ...”
“Changed your mind again? What was that in there?”
“It was selfish of me to walk away when you needed this so much, and then something Tommy said about helping him coach, inspiring his younger lads, helped me figure out a solution. I—”
“You do realise that we’ll have to spend more time together now?” Rory’s heart was pounding, just like it used to before a match.
“I thought you wanted that.”
“Yes, but you don’t. Stop being confusing.”
Malcolm frowned. “Uncertainty on my part isn’t a reflection on you. Not all of us have a defined outcome for life.”
What was that supposed to mean? Rory just shook his head. “When you figure it out, let me know.” He nearly leaned in to kiss Malcolm goodbye, an instinct that would do neither of them any good, so he spun on the stair and trotted away with his head held up high.
By the time he’d returned to his rooms, his heart had stopped racing—damned thing betrayed him—and he could sit down and go over his proposals so he knew exactly what he wanted to say to Bennington. Should he be completely open about Bennington’s father ruining his father? Musing on it was a great way to avoid thinking about Malcolm. Malcolm. Rory closed his eyes and rested his head on the wall.
The man was a gift, almost too perfect in that he understood Rory’s problem on a level almost no one else did because he’d been there too. A champion. They’d both known the adoring crowds, the overwhelming interest from people, the fame and accolades. And they’d both walked away. Of course, there was also the sex which both complicated everything and made it all so much clearer. Rory had always struggled to find people who’d listen to him in bedsports and give him what he needed. People wanted him to push them around, for him to be the dominating Champion, but Malcolm was his equal in that way, and he’d provided exactly what Rory had needed. It should be simple. They should be able to have what Bennington and Mardin had.
All of Rory’s breath exhaled in a long sigh. How was he supposed to impress Bennington and save his farm when he was jealous of the man? Bennington had everything Rory wanted, money to indulge his whims, of course, but most especially he had a lover who he adored and quite obviously adored him. What did Rory have? A one time fling, made from desperation and despair, with a complicated Champion.