"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.