He was a slight man with a permanent smirk on his sharp face. Alexander sized him up.
I can take him.
Doyle spat to the side. “Ready to get flattened, Your Grace?”
Alexander chuckled. “The only flattening happening tonight is that of your ego, Doyle.”
The referee stepped between them. “Keep it clean, lads. No elbows, no headbutts and hitting a man while he is down is forbidden.”
CLANG!The bell rang and the crowd erupted.
Alexander moved first, hitting Doyle with some quick jabs, and circling him like a predator. His footwork was quick and he stayed light on his feet. Doyle swung wide and grunted but Alexander ducked under his heavy hook with ease.
“Good!” Rowan shouted from the ropes.
Alexander landed a clean shot to Doyle’s ribs.
“You hit like a bloody mosquito,” Doyle taunted but winced.
Alexander hit him again. He swung and uppercut the Irishman’s chin. Doyle fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
The crowd screamed and chanted, “Scarlet Duke! Scarlet Duke!”
Alexander felt the familiar rush of energy as he won the first round.
Focus, breathe, impact, and repeat.
He felt another win coming his way as he studied his opponent’s steps. Alexander almost had him when Doyle changed direction and slammed a fist into his injured side. Pain exploded through him and he staggered backwards.
Doyle grinned maniacally. “Found the weak spot, have I?”
“Fight, damn ye!” Rowan barked.
Alexander managed to steady himself when Doyle landed another punch on his injured ribs causing him to fall against the rope of the ring.
I must get up!
Alexander groaned and pushed himself off the rope, but when he heard the gasp of a woman he stopped suddenly. The sound was soft and he realized that whether it was a sigh, a whisper, or a scream, he would recognize her voice over the roar of a thousand men.
Theodora.
His head snapped towards the crowd.
In the midst of the bustle, she stood, half-hidden beneath a hood, and tucked between two burly spectators. She was disguised and cloaked, but he knew the color of her hair and the shape of her mouth even half-covered. She lifted her head slightly and he noticed that she looked upset.
His chest tightened.
She came. She actually?—
CRACK.
Doyle’s fist collided with Alexander’s jaw.
His vision burst white.
“Eyes on me, Your Grace!” Doyle barked, slamming another punch into him.
Alexander stumbled to his knees. The referee shouted but his voice was drowned beneath the roar of the crowd. Alexander tilted his head towards Theodora; she was still staring at him. He hit the ground hard and the floor was cold against his back.
