'Daniel! What on earth?'
Bellamy lowered his fists and stepped away from Daniel, his stoic expression in place.
'Oh, hello, Auntie,' Daniel said with his usual brisk cheerfulness. 'Bellamy's giving me a few lessons in boxing. I need them, as you can see.'
'I do see. Bellamy didn't give you
Bellamy looked faintly alarmed, but Daniel laughed. 'Nae, not Bellamy. Lad down the pub. The barmaid's been me mate for years, but her new intended didn't see it that way.'
Barmaid. Beth's maid Katie had related the gossip about what had happened in the village since their last visit. 'Ah, yes. She's marrying the blacksmith's boy.'
'Aye, biggest lad in town. We went a round or two before he knocked me down. Best boxer I ever faced. I came home and asked Bellamy to show me what I did wrong.'
'And what did he do wrong?' Beth asked Bellamy.
'Didn't guard right.' Bellamy stepped forward, the servant disappearing, the fighter emerging. He held up his fists, arms slightly bent, knuckles loose. 'In fighting like that, if your hands are too close to your face, your opponent can shove your fist right back into your own eye, and then get under your reach while you're trying to decide what happened.'
He demonstrated by slowly thrusting his beefy fist at Daniel's upraised one, pushing Daniel's back at him. Then Bellamy followed with his other fist, underneath to Daniel's face, right where the bruise was.
Daniel sighed in resignation. 'Fair point. Thank you, Bellamy. Hello, Dad.'
Cameron came down the hall like an angry bear, the picture softened somewhat by his daughter riding on his shoulders. Gavina saw Daniel, squealed in delight, and held out her arms.
Daniel caught her as she tried to dive off the taller Cameron, then Daniel swung her around, making her squeal all the more.
'Brawling in the pub?' Cameron felt himself torn between exasperation and worry, and also the pang of realization that his son had grown up. Cameron had been brawling in pubs at sixteen, chasing barmaids, fighting for their favors. Danny had gone from babe in arms to tall university lad so quickly. Gavina would grow as quickly, gone before he knew it.
'Not in the pub,' Daniel was saying. 'In the yard behind. No one was hurt--only the pride of Daniel Mackenzie.'
'I heard,' Cameron said, retaining his fatherly growl. 'Blacksmith was worried I'd fetch a constable to arrest his son for pounding you. I told him it was no more than you deserved. You leave the local barmaid alone, Danny. Trouble only comes of that. Ye don't piss in your own nest. Beg pardon, Beth.'
Beth, used to Mackenzie men forgetting to mitigate their words around the ladies of the family, only nodded.
Daniel swung Gavina up on his shoulder. 'I'm mates with Kirsten, that's all. We've known each other from babyhood. I'll go shake hands and make peace, all right?'
Cameron had no doubt that Daniel could restore everyone into admiring him again. He had the knack for making people like him--his mother had had that charm, though hers had hidden a foul nature. Daniel's nature was sunny, thank God. 'Leave them alone for a bit. You can be a whirlwind.'
Daniel shrugged, not offended. 'Fair enough. After Christmas then.'
'And learn to fight better,' Cameron said. Daniel made friends, yes, but he also tended to defend those who couldn't defend themselves and sometimes got beaten for his troubles. 'Here, look.'
He faced Bellamy, fists raised. Boxing within the rules was all very well, but street fighting was another matter. At Daniel's age, Cameron had been a formidable bare-fist fighter.
Bellamy, always the professional, raised his hands and defended. 'You keep your fists up, not down,' Cameron said. 'That way when you punch, your arm twists with the forward thrust, giving it that much more momentum.'
He brought his fist forward in slow motion, straight at Bellamy's jaw. Bellamy blocked with his arm, swinging his own fist straight upward, under Cameron's reach.
'And that,' Cameron said, dancing back out of the way, 'is why defensive moves are sometimes better than offensive. You watch what your opponent does, find his weakness, and then strike.'
Cameron spun away from Bellamy's hit, came back, and jabbed his fist behind Bellamy's ear.
Bellamy, the experienced fighter, blocked that too, but only just.
Daniel watched, a grin on his face. 'I'll think on that, and have Bellamy give me more lessons. But I've had a spectacular idea just now.'
Daniel's spectacular ideas sometimes left them all breathless, or furniture broken. 'What?' Beth asked, sounding worried. Wise woman.
'A boxing match,' Daniel said. 'Between Dad and Bellamy. You know, for Boxing Day.'
Beth laughed. 'Danny, it's not called Boxing Day because of boxing.'
'I know that. But it would be a good pun. How about it, Bellamy? Everyone would be allowed to watch-- guests, servants, guests of servants. You and Dad could show how a match is really done.'
Color stained Bellamy's cheeks, but he didn't answer. He wanted to, Cameron could see that. Bellamy had once been celebrated throughout Britain then chucked out by his trainer when the trainer saw no more use for him. In his last fight, Bellamy was supposed to have taken a fall, thus gaining his trainer and cronies much money, but Bellamy had wanted to go out winning. He had won the bout, to the joy of Bellamy's followers.
The trainer, on the other hand, furious and in debt to dangerous men, had Bellamy followed home and beaten. They'd have beaten him to death had not Mac and Cameron, who'd been at the match, come upon the fight.
They had sent off the thugs, then Mac had taken Bellamy home and sent for a surgeon to patch him up.
Because Bellamy had nowhere to go, and no job any longer, Mac hired him. Bellamy had paid Mac back for that kindness with his loyalty ever since.
Ainsley would like it if Cameron let Bellamy, a reserved and somewhat shy man, shine in front of the others. Ainsley rewarded kindness with a smile, a delighted kiss, a nibble on the ear . . .
'Aye, it might be a treat for all,' Cameron said. Cameron could win still more praise from Ainsley if he let Bellamy triumph. Bellamy had become smitten, Curry had said, with the maid called Esme, who'd come to the door looking for charity, and had been hired on by Mrs. Desmond and Isabella to help with the frantic preparations for Christmas. Bellamy would welcome a chance to show off in front of her, and Ainsley would enjoy the fact that Cameron had played matchmaker.
And perhaps Ainsley would retreat from her terrible worry about Gavina, who was, at the moment, tugging Daniel's hair and laughing. Daniel, in spite of his tendency toward trouble, had turned out rather well. Between the three of them, Gavina should be all right.
'Your Uncle Hart might not approve, you know,' Beth was saying. 'It is his house after all, Danny.'
'Oh, that's no trouble.' Daniel grinned and waved away his formidable Uncle Hart. 'He's busy looking after Aunt Eleanor, and I wasn't going to bother mentioning it to him.'
*** *** *** 'You'd love it here, Maggie,' Sinclair McBride said under his breath. He gazed out of the vast, empty library to the vast, empty garden, dusted now with snow, glittering like diamonds under a brief visit from the sun. 'Such beauty. And quiet.'
Maggie, whom he'd called Daisy in intimate moments, had been gone from him five years now. And still the pain was as sharp as on the day she'd died.
Outwardly, the Scots Machine rolled on--Basher McBride--the criminals called him. Cool, sticking to facts, proving beyond a doubt that the man or woman in the dock had committed the abominable murder, rape, or battering and deserved to be punished. Juries warmed to him, the family man who wanted to protect his children and theirs from harm.
Not that Sinclair couldn't be kind. A first-time young thief who'd stolen an apple to feed his mother would win the Basher's compassion, and he'd argue for leniency. The juries liked that too, even if the judges did not.
Inwardly, Sinclair ached. His heart had stopped beating when Maggie's had, and he wasn't certain it had ever started again.
