They came to a halt facing Simmons. He waved a band at his men, who fell back into a silent circle as the Londoner growled, "You're not getting away this time. The wench is going back to her uncle, and you, my pretty lad, are going to be taught a lesson for attacking me from behind."
"You should be glad I fought as I did-it gave you an excuse for losing." Calmly Robin handed his knapsack to Maxie.
Appalled, she hissed, "For God's sake, Robin, surely you're not going to fight him. He's twice your size."
He smiled and peeled off his coat. "One can refuse a man's invitation to dine, or to play a game of cards, but if he wants to fight, one must oblige him."
Overhearing, the Londoner said explosively, "You're damned right you'll oblige. And I don't care how good you are-a good big man will beat a good little man every time."
"That depends on how good the little man is, doesn't it?" Under cover of a sunny smile, Robin whispered to Maxie, "Simmons's men will be absorbed in watching the fight. Take advantage of that to escape." Seeing her about to protest, he said sharply, "No arguments. Don't worry, he's not going to kill me-it would get him into more trouble than it's worth."
Before he could say more, Simmons came up and began searching his opponent, his large hands patting pockets and around the tops of Robin's boots. Robin said pleasantly, "Are you looking for concealed weapons, or is it just that you can't keep your hands off me?"
Revolted, Simmons spat, "Filthy pervert!" and swung a wild fist at the other man's jaw.
Robin sidestepped neatly and caught his opponent's arm. Then he twisted it, at the same time rapidly pivoting. The larger man spun and crashed to the road with numbing force.
For a moment Simmons lay stunned. Then he rose to his feet, eyes narrowed and anger tempered by caution. "You didn't learn that in Jackson's salon."
"No, I didn't." Robin looked slight and elegant, a David to Simmons's Goliath. But his stance was that of a fighter as he balanced on the balls of his feet, knees bent, arms relaxed and ready. "I never claimed to be a student of Jackson's. I learned in a harder school, where the stakes were higher."
"So did I, laddie boy." The Londoner fell into the same stance. "If that's the way you want it, you've got it."
Maxie surreptitiously slid her hand into the pocket of Robin's coat and locked her hand around the striking stick. Then there was nothing to do but watch, half suffocated with tension. In spite of what Robin had said, she had no intention of abandoning him. Perhaps Simmons didn't intend murder, but there was a horrible chance that he might kill without meaning to. That was less likely if Maxie was a witness.
The two men slowly circled each other, their taut wariness sporadically interrupted by brief, violent clashes. Robin kept his distance as much as possible, moving in for a lightning hit, then darting out of range again. He had the edge in speed, but the other man had the lethal advantages of reach and weight.
To Maxie's disgust, she realized that Simmons was enjoying himself. After a particularly clever sally on his opponent's part, the big man said approvingly, "You're damned good, 'specially for a gentry cove."
He accompanied his words with a series of murderous punches to the head and shoulders. Robin skipped back, but was unable to block the barrage entirely. Several blows landed, leaving him gasping and off balance.
Simmons followed up his advantage with a fist in Robin's midriff that sent the smaller man to the ground. Crowing with triumph, the Londoner moved in to finish the fight
A good deal less defeated than he looked, Robin knocked Simmons from his feet with a scythelike sweep of his leg. Even as the larger man was falling, Robin exploded into a blur of movement too swift for Maxie to follow. It ended with the Londoner face down on the ground and Robin's knee in his back.
His hands applying a wrestling hold that could break the neck of a man too foolish to surrender, Robin snapped, "Yield!"
Even furious, Simmons was not a fool. He reluctantly raised one hand in submission.
Unfortunately, his cohorts were unwilling to accept the result. With snarls and no thoughts for sportsmanship, two of them went after the man who had defeated their employer.
Maxie screamed, "Robin!" She dropped his coat and scooped a handful of dust and gravel from the road with her empty hand, then flung it in the faces of the bruisers. The men howled.
Robin used the moment's warning to leap to his feet. A perfectly aimed kick knocked one man down. Without losing a second, he whirled and caught the second man's arm, then flung him to the ground. Though his lightningquick moves had a dancer's grace, they left both opponents sprawling, one with his arm bent at an unnatural angle.
As Robin disposed of his two attackers, the third man grabbed a rock and swung it at Robin's skull with lethal force. Maxie dived at him and clutched his arm, using her whole weight in an attempt to deflect the blow. As he staggered, she smashed her fist and the striking stick into his breast bone.
When her blow rammed home, he gave a strangled squawk, but her assault was only partially successful. The stone struck Robin just above the ear with a sickening thud. Though she had managed to reduce the force, the impact was enough to send Robin crumpling to the cobblestones.
Furious and terrified for Robin, she slashed at the third man's face with clawed fingers. As he tried to protect his eyes, she kneed him viciously in the groin. Then she jabbed him in the throat with the striking stick. He made an indescribable sound and folded over on himself like a suit of empty clothes.
The least damaged man present, Simmons lunged to his feet and grabbed Maxie in a bear hug, trapping her arms and legs. Thrash as she might, she couldn't free herself, though she managed a few good butts and bites.
"Stop that, you little hellion!" Simmons gasped, locking her hands behind her back in one meaty fist. With the other, he wrenched the stick from her hand and tossed it away. "My lads shouldn't've interfered in a fair fight, but by God, if you don't behave, you'll regret it."
Recognizing the need for a strategic truce, she stopped struggling. Her terrified gaze went to Robin. He lay senseless in the dust, his blond hair stained by the slow seep of blood.
Keeping a firm grip on her, Simmons scowled at the two men who were stumbling to their feet. '"You fought like a bunch of girls," he said contemptuously. "Worse-this little wench has more skill and spirit than the three of you put together."
His expression vicious, one of the bruisers drew back his foot to kick Robin.
Simmons snapped, "Touch 'im and I'll break your arm myself. You get over to the livery stable and bring the carriage 'round."
In a cloud of surly muttering, the two men left. The third bruiser still lay in the road, sublimely unaware.
Maxie wondered angrily where the citizens of Market Harborough were, but this was a drab backstreet, more warehouses than homes, and no one came. "Let me go so I can see to Robin," she said tightly. "He may be badly hurt."
"He'll survive, though it might 'a gone hard with 'im if you hadn't grabbed Wilby's arm." Simmons shook his head. "Wilby really shouldn't 'a done that. It's hard to get reliable help."
Maxie's sympathy was nil, but for the moment discretion was the better part of valor. Trying to sound resigned she asked, "What are you going to do with us?"
"You're going to Durham, trussed like a Christmas goose if necessary. Now, as for your friend, that's a question, and no mistake." Simmons frowned. "I could' just leave 'im here, but 'e might come after me. 'E seems the stubborn sort. Mebbe I'll give 'im to the local constable, say 'e stole my horse."