Читать книгу Wild Conquest - Hannah Howell - Страница 8

A shiver went through Pleasance as she washed her face. The hot water Corbin had brought her had quickly lost its warmth in the cool cell. She hurriedly dried off and redonned her clothes, grimacing over their sad condition. A week in the cell had ruined her dress, and she had been given no other clothes. She would present a rather pathetic sight when she stood trial.

She still found it hard to believe she was in this situation. Her family was sacrificing her to save themselves and their precious Letitia. Pleasance’s hurt had changed to fury days ago. That emotion flickered through the deep chill that had invaded her body, and she would try to keep it to the fore. It would help her endure the ordeal ahead of her.

When Corbin arrived to take her to the courthouse, she slipped on her cloak. As he led her out of the cellar to the rear drive where a carriage waited, she covertly eased her hand into the pocket where she had hidden her lockpick. Her fingers curled around the cool iron pick, and she felt some of her fears ease. She was not completely without hope. As Corbin helped her into the carriage, she told herself that the option of escape and flight would help her remain strong in the face of her family’s indifference.

It took every ounce of strength she possessed, but Pleasance forced her weary, cold body to remain upright as she was brought before the magistrates. Her confidence had left her the moment she had faced the huge crowd in the meetinghouse. Now she only felt the numbness that a week in the chill, dank cellars of Corbin Matthias’s home had left her with.

Pleasance slowly lifted her gaze to her family. Her father, mother, Letitia, and Lawrence sat in the front pews of the large meetinghouse next to John Martin and his parents. All of them blatantly ignored her. Despite her desperate situation, she felt a flicker of hope. Her brother Nathan was not among them, which meant he had not yet returned from his journey to Philadelphia and possibly knew nothing of her plight. She could continue to hope that at least Nathan might still care. That was enough to help her regain a little calm and an air of dignity.

She stood perfectly erect in a small enclosed area just to the right of the long table at which the four magistrates sat. The meetinghouse was full, every seat on the hard wooden pews taken. There were even a few people standing at the far back near the doors. Many people idly fanned themselves, for this first week of September was proving to be uncomfortably hot.

Pleasance suspected it was the Dunstan name that had brought so many people to her trial. Everyone except her own family was studying her carefully. She knew they wondered—as she did—why she was not having a trial by jury and why there was no one to defend her, as was usual for the wealthy. No doubt it surprised more than a few citizens to learn that she was being treated like an indigent criminal. Her family was not expending any effort or coin on her behalf.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she covertly glanced at Tearlach O’Duine, who sat tall and expressionless in front of the fascinated crowd. She knew she ought to be glad she had not killed him when she hit him on the side of the head, but at the moment she was not.

Her anger at him was nearly as great as her fury at her family. True, she had treated him poorly, but she did not deserve this humiliation. Nothing her family had done to him warranted such revenge. At best he had suffered stung pride, perhaps a little heartbreak. His accusations and this trial were going to ruin her entire life. He could go home and soon everyone would forget his part in it all, if they had not done so already. But she would be a pariah, a leper, cast out by even her closest relations.

Tearlach suddenly turned and their gazes met. He held her look and she briefly softened. There was regret, even sympathy, in his expression. Then she sternly reminded herself that he was the one who had had her arrested. She sent him one cold, hate-filled glare and turned away, thinking bitterly that facing him as her accuser before the magistrates was a drastic way to be cured of her infatuation with him.

Inwardly, Tearlach winced when he caught her glare before she presented a very stiff back to him. He had never intended to take his accusations so far. He had expected her family to extract her from this brangle, yet they acted as if she were a stranger to them. They had inquired after her only once, immediately following her arrest, and that had simply been to ask what her story was. Told that she had yet to explain herself, they had urged Letitia forward and the girl had spun a tale that had left him gaping.

Tremulously, with an admirable show of regret, Letitia had libeled Pleasance. She had insinuated that Pleasance was no better than a common slut who had stolen the tankard to give to Tearlach to win his affection. From that point on, there had been no way to stop what Tearlach had started. His little game had become tangled up in a far more complex one being played out by the Dunstan family.

Once the Dunstans and the Martins put their power and prestige behind condemning Pleasance, he could do nothing. No one would listen to him now and he did not have the time to get the help he would need to fight such high standing Worcester citizens.

He did have one plan, but he was loath to use it. Pleasance would hate him even more. It would, however, save her from public humiliation or corporal punishment. She might not think so at first, but it would be far better than any of the alternatives if her family continued to ignore her.

She looked wan and tired. The dark gray gown she had worn the night of her arrest was now wrinkled and stained. Her ivory skin had lost the healthy warm glow he had always admired. All the color was washed from her bright blue-green eyes, and her rich chestnut hair was dull. There was a bruised look to her eyes, dark shadows encircling them. The sight renewed his anger at himself for even starting the game. It also increased his fury with her family. He found their behavior not only hard to comprehend but also deeply distasteful.

His fury at the Dunstans grew when John Martin, the epitome of a fine respectable gentleman from the top of his crisp white wig to the tip of his silver-buckled shoes, stepped forward. The man’s claim that he would speak for his fiancée, Letitia, because she was far too delicate to endure the questioning, and much too distraught over her sister’s actions, nearly made Tearlach gag. He wondered if John truly believed the lies he was telling or had joined willingly in the Dunstans’ conspiracy to ruin Pleasance in order to save Letitia from scandal. And he wondered how Pleasance felt about it all.

Pleasance nearly gasped aloud as John began to speak. Her attempt to rescue Letitia from the mire was to be rewarded by her being tossed into it so deeply she would never be clean. This was a betrayal beyond her comprehension, beyond her ability to forgive.

“This tankard is yours then, Master Martin? You are certain?” Corbin Matthias pressed.

“Aye, very certain. My fiancée reported it missing a fortnight past.”

“At that time did she explain how it had come to leave her keeping?”

“Nay. She wished to protect her sister.”

With such protection, Pleasance mused bitterly to herself, I will have a very short life.

“You are saying Mistress Pleasance Dunstan had taken the tankard?”

“Aye. She gave it to Master O’Duine, calling it a gift.”

Dully, Pleasance listened as John accused her of being a thief—and worse, a woman of no morals—implying that her chastity had been discarded years ago. He made her sound like a whore, a burden her family had endured for years. He described her rash action as a desperate need to impress Tearlach O’Duine since, at one and twenty, she was still lacking any marriage prospects. Pleasance found that being portrayed as a spinster so desperate for a man that she would stoop to stealing from her own family was almost as painful to bear as being called a thief. It hurt to see so many people nod in agreement.

She suffered yet another devastating blow when other people rose to testify against her; they also depicted her as loose of morals. Various patrons from the inn testified that she had been carrying on a torrid affair with Tearlach. In her trysts with him, Letitia had made everyone believe that it was actually Pleasance Dunstan creeping into Tearlach’s room at the inn. Pleasance was stunned to realize that her sister had protected her own name by thoroughly blackening hers.

The trial was halted so everyone could eat their midday meal. Pleasance was escorted to a small room at the rear of the meetinghouse. Young Luther Cranston was left to stand guard over her as she ate. Although the cold pigeon pie and cider tasted like ashes in her mouth and her bound wrists made it difficult to eat she forced the plain but hearty fare down her throat. It would give her the strength that she would need.

When the trial resumed she was confronted with more lies. Several of Letitia’s friends dutifully repeated the lies Letitia had told them. It was all hearsay, but Pleasance could see in the faces of the listeners that they believed this libel. These witnesses were followed by the people who had been in the tavern the night she had been arrested, who luridly related how they had seen her viciously attack Tearlach O’Duine. She numbly wondered why they were bothering with the ceremony of a trial, since she had been caught red-handed. They could have declared her guilty without all the damning speeches and hurtful lies. It seemed an added cruelty to make her endure it all.

Throughout the trial Tearlach remained silent. She knew he could dispute every lie being uttered, but he made no effort to do so. He had obviously decided to let her family destroy her. Since her own family had decided to let her take full blame, he was not going to dispute it. The letters Letitia had written could probably have saved her, but they had disappeared. Despite the way her family had turned against her, she began to worry that Tearlach O’Duine planned even more trouble for them. Perhaps he considered her ruin as but one step toward the ruin of her entire family.

The time for her to say something in her own defense finally came. She lifted her eyes toward her family. For the first time since the trial had begun they were all looking at her, as were the Martins. Pleasance fixed her gaze upon her parents.

“Do you intend to completely desert me then?” she asked them.

“You must face the punishment you deserve,” her father replied.

“I deserve? Yes, perhaps I do deserve some punishment. Stupidity might not be a crime, but I begin to think it should be.” She looked at Letitia. “And you? Is this how you mean to play this game?”

Letitia’s expression was one of deep sorrow. “How can you call this a game? I fear that reveals your contempt for the law. We cannot protect you any more. Just know that I forgive you.”

“How kind.”

“Mistress Dunstan?” called Corbin, bringing her attention back to him. “Do you have anything to say in your own defense?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to spit out the whole truth, but she did not. She doubted that anyone would believe her anyway. The Martins and the Dunstans had spoken out against her, and their words would be the ones taken as the truth. Since the plan she had devised with her sister was known only to her and Letitia, there were no witnesses she could call in her own defense. For one brief moment she thought to demand that Tearlach tell the truth, then decided against it. People would not heed the word of a poor trapper and fur trader over that of Worcester’s more prominent citizens. Despite what they had done to her, she could not bring herself to speak the words that would free her. Although her family had shown little loyalty toward her, there was her brother Nathan to consider. He had not turned against her, and, although she felt sure he would urge her to tell the truth if he were there, he did not deserve to be dragged down with the others.

As Corbin Matthias questioned her, she replied evasively, further convicting herself. As a clearly uncomfortable Corbin began to pronounce sentence upon her, Tearlach O’Duine finally stepped forward, and she wondered sadly what further blow he might strike against her.

“What fine do ye mean to levy?” Tearlach demanded of Corbin.

“I hesitate to levy a fine, for the girl has no funds. Unless”—Corbin looked toward the Dunstans—“you are willing to pay any penalties, Master Dunstan?”

“Nay, sir, I am not willing,” her father replied.

Corbin sighed. “Do you possess any funds, Mistress Dunstan?”

“Not a farthing.”

“Then it seems a useless gesture to impose a fine,” Corbin began.

“I will pay whatever fine ye levy,” Tearlach offered.

Pleasance’s astonishment was followed by a swift flare of anger. “I wish no charity from you. You have done more than enough for me, thank ye kindly.”

“I dinnae speak of charity, Miss Dunstan.”

“Neither do I possess the means to repay a loan.”

“Neither is it a loan I speak of. Not exactly.” He turned to Corbin. “Set your price and I will pay it. I will then collect my due through Mistress Dunstan’s labor.”

Nearly gaping, Corbin took a full moment to regain his composure. “I am not sure we can do that.”

“’Tis the law. The person wronged may pay the fines levied upon the guilty, then take recompense in labor.”

“I know the law, but”—Corbin again looked to Pleasance’s father—“surely you cannot condone such an arrangement, sir?”

Standing and signaling his family to do likewise, Thomas Dunstan said coldly, “Do as you please. I renounce all claim and responsibility for the girl.” He then walked out, his family and the Martins hurrying after him.

Pleasance prayed her ordeal would reach a speedy end. She had never felt such hurt, such utter betrayal. The effort it took to keep from crumbling to the floor and weeping was growing to be too much for her. She dreaded the thought of breaking down before all the people staring at her, and so she prayed Corbin would hurry.

“The fine, Corbin,” pressed Tearlach.

“I am not certain,” Corbin faltered.

Tearlach moved closer to his friend and the pair began a low, murmured discussion. Pleasance watched them as they discussed her future. At any other time she would have pushed her way into the very midst of such a conference. Now she only wished it finished. When Tearlach stepped away from Corbin, she tensed slightly.

“Pleasance Dunstan, you are found guilty of the crimes of theft and assault. For the period of one year you are to be placed in service to Master Tearlach O’Duine, who has seen fit to pay your fines. One year from this date you and Master O’Duine shall come before me once again, whence we shall determine whether or not you have dutifully made all recompense for your crimes against him.” Corbin stood up and looked at Tearlach. “Until you depart, Master O’-Duine, Miss Dunstan will remain secured in her cell.”

Left alone in her small dark cell, Pleasance sank into a black depression. It was many long hours before she began to pull free of it. She thought of all that had happened to her but could make no sense of it. The sound of someone approaching pulled her further out of her gloom. She realized it was time to eat, but doubted she would be able to take a single bite of food. When she saw that Corbin Matthias himself had brought her meal, surprise and curiosity made her rise to her feet. Silently she watched as he entered the cell, set the tray down upon the battered small table at which she sat, and took a seat on the three-legged stool opposite her.

“Eat, Mistress Dunstan,” Corbin politely ordered. “You will need a full stomach to fight the chill and damp. I have tried to rid the place of it but without success.”

“All cellars suffer from it, sir. For what it is, this place is most comfortable.” She forced herself to eat the rich venison stew and wondered why he stayed.

“I am sorry for all of this—the trial, the sentencing, and the humiliation you must feel.”

“You did only as the law required of you.” She found that she honestly felt no anger toward him.

“Well, I believe you shall be my last case. I but wish it could have been a more pleasant one.”

“You have found a better position?”

“Nay, but I shall leave this one.”

“Why? ’Tis a good one.”

“Aye, but there blows an ill wind over this land. Many set themselves against the king and his laws. The trouble began with the Stamp Act of ’65. It was further aggravated by the Townshend Acts of ’67. Lord help us, the king’s agents even halt and inspect chickens being ferried over a river by a farmer. Tempers in the Colonies are high. There is rebellion in the air.”

“I have heard the murmurs. Well, some murmur rather loudly.”

He smiled briefly and shook his head. “I am torn. Each side sounds right. I do not wish to be in the position to have to pass judgment, a judgment of traitor and treason no less, upon friends and neighbors. Today showed me most clearly that even when I act rightly I can be wrong—very, very wrong.”

His serious hazel gaze fixed upon her made Pleasance nervous. He was a clever man. Although she did not know him well, she was sure of it. He also knew a great deal about everyone in town. She felt certain he had, more or less, guessed the truth. While it was comforting to know that someone did not believe her accusers, at least not wholly, she could not tell him the truth. She was not sure it would do her any good anyway.

“You were there when I was caught. You saw me strike Master O’Duine. How could you think yourself in error?”

“I have no doubt that you hit the man. Howbeit, I am certain you did not give that tankard to Tearlach.”

Of course, she thought, and inwardly sighed. If Tearlach had showed him the tankard, then he undoubtedly had also told him where it came from. “You doubt the tale John Martin and the others told in court?”

“I doubt it indeed. I heard naught but lies, those spoken and those bred of silence. You said nothing in your own defense. Tearlach said nothing. Yet I know that each of you could have proven it all lies.”

Although she would not agree to his surprisingly accurate assessment, neither could she bring herself to deny it. She had decided not to defend herself, but she could not speak lies to condemn herself. Corbin might simply be curious; then again, he might feel honorbound to correct the miscarriage of justice. She had decided to remain silent, to evade any further scandal for the sake of her already questionable future and to protect her brother Nathan. Despite the hurt and bitterness that was a hard knot inside of her, she would hold fast to that decision. Her family might have sacrificed her to protect themselves, but she would not add to that crime by returning that slap in kind.

“And mark my entire family as liars, perjurers? Ones who would cast their own flesh and blood to the wolves? If I did as you are suggesting, I would reveal that the oaths my parents, Letitia, and Lawrence spoke upon the Bible itself were just empty things. I could never do such a thing to my own kin.”

“You do by them far more honorably than they did by you.”

She said nothing, then, “Master O’Duine had no such reason to remain silent.” Petty revenge tied his tongue, she thought sourly, then fought to convince herself that his lack of defense had been for the best.

“He never expected his accusations to result in a trial.”

“Is that so? Once I was arrested where else was it to go, may I ask?”

“Your family could have extricated you. O’Duine only intended to frighten you, perhaps sting your pride.” He shook his head. “When your family did absolutely nothing, we were all stuck firm in a trap of our own making. There was no turning back.”

It sounded reasonable, yet she was reluctant to believe it If Tearlach O’Duine had not intended her to be tried and sentenced, then he should not have had her arrested, especially so publicly. It had been an unnecessarily cruel game to play. The revenge had far outweighed the crime even at the beginning. There was also the fact that he now demanded a full year of servitude from her. If he had intended little more than a slap on the wrist, he would have paid the fine and released her. The law did not say he had to make her work off the fine, only that he had the right to do so.

“I can see by your face that you doubt my words. Do not let bitterness and anger cloud your mind,” advised Corbin. “Tearlach O’Duine is a good man. I have known him since he arrived in this land.”

“So you wish me to smile as I slave for him for one full year.”

Corbin sighed. “He sought to save you from harsher punishment, from greater public humiliation.”

“We will wait and see if he succeeded.” She pushed her plate aside, indicating that she was finished.

Nodding sadly, Corbin stood and collected her plate and cup. “Try not to let your anger, an anger you have every right to feel, make the situation more difficult. Tearlach is a fair man. He needs a woman to help raise his sister. I may not agree with the manner in which he has gained a teacher for her, but I can understand what motivates the man. If you cannot still your anger at Tearlach, I but ask that you keep it aimed at him alone and do not prick the child with it.”

She could agree to that without qualm, and she nodded. When he was gone she immediately wished him back. Talking with Corbin had diverted her, had kept her mind from preying upon all the hurts she had been dealt.

She retrieved her lockpick from the hidden pocket in her cloak and stared at it. It was still possible for her to escape. The question was—to where? Nathan had said he was going to Philadelphia, but she knew that once he met up with his customs-running friends he could have gone anywhere. There was also the fact that she had no coin, no clothes, no food, and no horse. Neither did she know anyone who might be willing to help her escape.

With a heavy sigh, she put the lockpick back in her pocket and sat down. The best thing to do was to stay where she was. The thought of escape had helped her survive the ordeal of imprisonment and trial, but she now accepted that it had been a foolish idea. When she thought of what the people of Worcester now believed about her, escaping into the wilderness was almost an attractive prospect. And eventually Nathan would find her and help her. The minutes dragged by and she found herself hoping that Tearlach O’Duine would not take too long to carry her off into servitude.

Two days after the trial, Tearlach eased his long frame into a heavy oaken chair in Corbin Matthias’s parlor and smiled crookedly at his friend. “I am here for my servant.”

Corbin served them each some wine before sitting opposite Tearlach. “Do not taunt her by calling her servant, Tearlach. She has some pride. Neither does she deserve such humiliation. She was wrong, even though her reasons for doing all she did were most admirable, but this punishment is harsh.”

“She made no attempt to elude it.”

“Aye, I know. That tiny woman has more honor and loyalty in her heart than her whole family plus John Martin combined. Well, save for her slightly younger brother, Nathan. He has yet to hear what has befallen his sister. I do not believe he will turn his back on her. You would be wise to keep that in mind.”

“Ye mean I might have some outraged pup pounding upon my door?”

“It is possible. Tearlach, can I not dissuade you from placing her in servitude for a year?”

“Nay.”

“But you have enough coin to hire a dozen servants.”

“No one here kens that. Ye swore ye would tell no one.”

“And I kept my word,” Corbin assured him, “although you never explained the need for such secrecy.”

“The first time I had a full purse I thought of marriage and sought out a bride. The jingle of coin in my pocket made me very popular, but I was fool enough to think that I alone drew the admiration. One woman soon showed me what a vain idiot I was. I made a complete ass of myself for her, love and lust blinding me to her true nature—that of a mercenary tart. The awakening she forced upon me was cruel, but I learned from it. Without coin I draw little interest. With it I gain the sort of attention I am better without.”

“You should not allow one bad experience to sour you.”

“One bad one and a dozen lesser ones.”

“Fine. Keep your wealth a secret, but it does not require any great wealth to hire a woman to care for your sister, one who is willing to go with you, and leave Pleasance behind.”

Tearlach leaned forward. “What if I let her stay here? What would she face? Her family has cast her aside. The whole town believes her a thief. After she spends a year away, folks’ memories mightnae be so strong. The truth could yet come out.” He leaned back, relaxing again, and sipped his wine. “She willnae come to any harm.”

“Nay? Can you swear that you will not approach her in a lustful manner? The winters can be long and cold in the Berkshires, and she is a fair little thing.”

“I dinnae consider that sharing my bed would be doing her harm, Corbin. Neither have I indentured her to me for that purpose.”

“Neither have you sworn that you will leave her be.”

“As ye say, the winters in the Berkshires can be verra long and cold.”

“Curse it, Tearlach! I ought to declare the girl innocent and set her free.”

“Ye cannae for the same reason I sat silent at the trial. Once her family decided to let her take all the blame, it became a matter between them and her, and no longer our business. She set the course for all of us when she didnae defend herself. If she chooses to protect those ungrateful fools who are her family, who are we to say nay? To allow her to go free ye must paint the others black. She doesnae want that, ’tis clear. She chooses to take it all upon her own slim shoulders, so let her. She willnae appreciate ye exposing all she has fought to hide. I kenned that. ’Tis why I said nothing.”

“How could they do that to her?” Corbin shook his head. “She will not admit it, but she stays silent about the truth to protect that ungrateful lot. You have said little as well, yet I cannot think you mean to protect that blond wench Letitia.”

“Nay, not I. I told you, once Pleasance did not dispute her family’s tale, I chose to follow her lead. And with so many witnesses confirming the tale the Martins and the Dunstans told, how could either of us dispute it and be believed? I may have the power and wealth to fight them, but by the time I mustered them, Pleasance would have been imprisoned for weeks. As for Letitia, she can go to hell in a hand-basket for all I care. Letitia is spoiled and vain. ’Tis clear she is the favored child, but I fail to see her charm. She pursued me so vehemently simply because I chose to cast my eye toward the elder first.”

Corbin was surprised and made no effort to hide it. “You never spoke of this before.”

“After courting Pleasance for a fortnight, I was coldly pushed aside.” Tearlach found that the admission still stung him. “Rudely pushed aside, in truth.”

“Nay. Pleasance has been known to have a sharp tongue, but she is never cruel or rude without good reason or strong provocation.”

“The reason is plain. The Dunstans want little to do with a poor Scotsman, a mere farmer and one they think is poorly funded and settled far from civilization.”

“I still cannot believe Pleasance felt that way. Nay, do not take offense. I do not cry you a liar. I but say that you guess her reasons wrong. Pleasance Dunstan does not have such vanity or airs. Try to find out why she treated you so. Do not sit back and assume you know. I may not know the young woman well, but I believe she is neither shallow nor as simple to decipher as that. She is much like her brother Nathan, and him I do know well. Nathan treats each man as an equal, be he in rags or fine lace. Nay, I will not believe that Pleasance turned you away because she thought you too common.”

Tearlach wanted to believe that, but he remained distrustful. For the first time in his life he had honestly been interested in a woman for more than what lay beneath her skirts. Although he had been interested in that as well, and still was, he thought with an inner smile. He had sought after Pleasance for more honorable and lasting reasons, however, and had been surprised at himself even as he had done so. Her initial elusiveness he had attributed to shyness, but she had soon ended that misconception. His pride, which he knew could be too strong, had been badly stung. He was also angry at her for not being what he had thought her to be and angry at himself for being so mistaken about her.

He had grown even more angry when he had discovered, in an embarrassing way, that she had somehow made captive his lusts. To ease his stung pride, he had tried to bed one of the tavern wenches, only to have his body refuse to cooperate. Pleasance Dunstan had captured his passions in a way that made it impossible for him to satisfy them elsewhere.

So, he thought with a sly glance at Corbin, I will satisfy them with her. It was one of the real reasons he had paid her fine and so indentured her to him. A part of him had wished to see her rescued from the heartless disloyalty of her family—in fact, a large part of him, which troubled him a little. But he had also been quick to see the advantages of the arrangement for himself.

He and Pleasance would be together for a full year. In that time he felt sure that he could get a clear picture of her character. She would not be able to maintain any airs and elegance in the hills. He had a good life, far better than she probably suspected, but it was a hard one, and the place where he had chosen to live was still sparsely settled. He could not even be certain that the recent peace with the French had truly ended all the Indian troubles.

“You have become very quiet, Tearlach,” Corbin observed.

“Merely pondering all ye have said. I will keep it in mind. I dinnae wish to let the sin of pride blind me. Did ye gather up all of her belongings?”

“Aye, but with some difficulty. I cannot think what the Dunstans meant to do with her clothing, since she is so much smaller than her sister and mother. Howbeit, at first they refused to turn her belongings over to me.”

“Thomas Dunstan is a merchant to the verra marrow of his fat bones. He probably thought to sell her clothes.”

“Well, I exerted what meager power I have and forced him to pack up her things. That allowed me to offer her the luxury of a bath and some clean clothes. You will find her looking much improved.”

Finishing off his wine, Tearlach stood up. “I will set her belongings in the wagon and then collect her.”

Pleasance tensed when she heard two sets of footsteps approaching. Corbin had told her that she would be leaving with Tearlach O’Duine this morning, but she had hoped that some intervention of Providence would prevent it. It was clear that Providence was not on her side at the moment.

When Tearlach came into view she felt a resurgence of her anger. He might not have intended to bring her to this pass, but he had. What truly fed her anger, however, was that, despite all he had done to her, she still found him attractive. Tall, dark, and with strongly hewn features, he twisted her insides with wanting. She hated him for that even as she savored the feelings he aroused, feelings that, before she met him, she had begun to believe herself incapable of.

He wore tight buckskin breeches that revealed long, well-shaped legs. His loose buckskin shirt was not fully laced and revealed some of his smooth, dark chest.

Pleasance felt a flicker of desire and firmly repressed it.

“’Tis time to leave, Mistress Dunstan,” Tearlach said as Corbin unlocked the door to her cell. “I am a little surprised to find ye still here. Ye have shown a true skill at slipping in and out of securely locked places.”

She donned her cloak as she looked at him. “I would never be so inconsiderate as to deny you your full victory, sir.”

“A few days of hard work, away from all the luxuries ye are accustomed to, and ye might regret that decision.”

“Quite probably, but I should not worry yourself over that. I am becoming accustomed to making decisions I regret.”

“Shall we go?” urged Corbin.

“Aye,” Pleasance replied. “There is no reason to stay here.”

As she, Corbin, and Tearlach ascended the cellar stairs and stepped out into the drive that curled around to the back of Corbin’s house from the main road, Tearlach took her by the arm. She almost yanked free of his hold. His touch, light and impersonal though it was, caused the heat of desire to flicker through her veins. That frightened her. One long year of living close together stretched ahead of them. Such wild feelings could easily bring about the completion of her downfall. She knew she had to fight them, yet she was not sure how.

Tearlach’s large freight wagon and its double team of horses loomed up in front of her. Before she could succumb to a flash of panic and try to flee, Tearlach grasped her firmly by the waist and lifted her up on the high wagon seat. As if he sensed her urge to run, he kept a gentle but firm grip upon her wrist as he stood beside the wagon and took his final farewell of Corbin.

By the time she and Tearlach started on their way, Pleasance had calmed herself somewhat. She sat stiffly, her gaze fixed on the horses’ ears as they drove through town. It was not until the houses began to grow farther apart as they neared the western edge of town that she began to relax. As the stiffness began to leave her body, she suddenly realized where they were and tensed again. Her house loomed up ahead of them.

Despite her best efforts not to, she glanced toward her home as they drove past it. There was no one outside of the two-story gray-shingled garrison house to watch her leave or answer her faint hope that her family might still step forward to help her. There did not even appear to be anyone watching for her from inside the house. Not one face appeared in the multipaned windows. Staring down at her tightly clenched hands, Pleasance fought back her tears and swore to herself that she would never let her family’s betrayal break her spirit.

Tearlach watched her covertly. He saw the hurt she struggled to hide, and he felt a strong urge to stop the wagon, march inside the Dunstan home, and beat Thomas Dunstan soundly. John Martin and the spoiled Letitia were deserving of a good thrashing as well. This strong surge of anger and outrage on Pleasance’s behalf troubled him. He recalled her ability to stir a lot of puzzling emotions in him. Tearlach began to wonder if he was making a very big mistake, if perhaps he should have released Pleasance after he paid her fine.

He quickly shook his doubts aside. In several ways, some righteous and some not, he needed her. She stirred a desire within him—one that possessed him to the point of denying all others—that demanded satisfaction. Society might frown upon his fulfilling that desire outside of the bonds of marriage, but the society of Puritan-born Massachusetts still frowned darkly on a great many things. He was past caring. In the wilderness one played by different rules. He also needed Pleasance Dunstan to help care for Moira, his rebellious half sister. Moira needed the guiding, gentling touch of a woman.

The girl would turn thirteen soon, and full womanhood was not far away. Moira was too wild, too rough, and now that she was getting older she must be tamed. Tearlach grimaced as he recalled the incident that had brought him to Worcester looking for a wife. Even in the wilderness there were things a young woman could not do without stirring up a scandal, and beating a young boy with her fists was one of them.

Yes, Pleasance Dunstan would fulfill his needs for the year to come, in his bed and in helping Moira. But he would make certain that she never had the chance to use those needs against him.