Читать книгу Wild Conquest - Hannah Howell - Страница 9

Pleasance grimaced and glanced around to be sure that Tearlach was not watching her. With an inner sigh of relief, she rubbed her aching backside. Her petticoats did not provide as much padding as she had hoped. She suspected that the road they were traveling on was the only usable route to the far western settlements of the colony, but it had to be the worst road in all of the northern colonies. Just traveling on it should be considered punishment enough for the crimes she had been accused of. The only thing she had to be thankful for was that the September heat was eased.

The lack of any good inn did not help matters. Either Tearlach was avoiding the places or there were not any. After all, until the recent war’s end, the Indians and the French had kept the western lands in utter turmoil and the roads had remained little traveled. A man would not set up an inn unless he felt assured of some commerce.

So, instead of finding herself at a warm, welcoming inn at the end of the long, exhausting day, she arrived at a small, one-story log outpost around which lounged a few slothful soldiers. Peace had made them lazy, she mused. She would not be surprised to find that a posting to one of these remote fortified waysides was now considered a form of punishment. The way the soldiers eyed her made her begin to think that the last thing she would find here was safety.

When Tearlach returned from unhitching the horses and securing them for the night, she almost shared her concerns with him. She quickly shook that urge away. Just because the soldiers were slovenly, sullen, and eyed her lecherously did not mean that they were actually dangerous. They might be merely ill-mannered and badly trained. The very last thing she wished to do was appear to be a timid female who saw threats and peril lurking all around her. She would not have Tearlach thinking she was a burden or that she looked to him for her protection. Straightening her spine, she faced the soldiers with a bravado she did not feel, an attitude that was hard to maintain beneath the soldiers’ sneering contempt. They clearly considered her beneath them, which might make them dangerous indeed.

Inside the tiny blockhouse she found little to allay her concerns. The only amenity the damp, badly lit place offered was possible safety from attack. Tearlach picked out what appeared to be the cleanest corner in the ill-kept place and started to lay out bedding for himself. Her thoughts were diverted from the sullen soldiers and the dirty shelter when she saw that no bedding was being prepared for her.

“And where am I to sleep?” she demanded.

Sitting on his pallet of blankets, Tearlach began to open the sack he had brought with them. “Between me and the wall.”

“You mean to force me to share your pallet?” She was not sure whether she was shocked or angry or both as she snatched the johnnycake and pemmican he handed her.

He poured some cider into a tin cup and leaned close as he handed it to her. He wanted to speak without the soldiers’ overhearing them. Despite the dusty ride, she smelled of fresh clean skin scented with lavender. He struggled to ignore the lure of her wide eyes sparkling with anger. It was a look he found dangerously alluring, but they had been together for barely one full day. It would be folly to push his attentions on her so soon.

“Listen to me, woman,” he hissed. “Do ye see those Sassanach soldiers?”

“Of course I do.” Her anger began to ease as she realized that he had also sensed the threat they presented, and she idly wondered if Sassanach was a curse word. “Sassanach?” she finally asked, driven by curiosity.

“English soldiers, and these are the verra dregs of the kings army. That is all that can be spared for these rotting outposts now, outposts the authorities are beginning to consider useless. The good soldiers are kept busy hunting the customs runners, smugglers, and agitators. These men arenae to be trusted. Look at how they watch us yet offer us no hospitality. They think we are no better than the dirt beneath their boots. As long as we must seek shelter here, ye are to stay close by me.”

“And your bulk will be all that is required to save me, hmm?”

“My bulk and one eye opened all night—aye. Eat and then get some rest. Oh, and dinnae even loosen one button on that pretty blue gown of yours. We dinnae want to tempt the buggers. We will leave this cursed place at first light.”

She shut her mouth and obeyed him. He was right. And his words were proof enough that she had good reason to be afraid. There was also the fact that he was the best protection she had against the threat she read in the soldiers’ eyes.

Handing him back the tin cup after she finished eating the thin toasted cake of Indian meal and the strip of dried meat, she curled up on the rough pallet he had spread out for them. Not even bothering to be subtle about it, she pressed as close to the wall as she could get without completely forfeiting her own comfort. It was a long time before she felt Tearlach lie down at her side and spread a thin blanket over them. She thought it a little strange that his presence was what allowed her to finally smother the last of her nervousness and fall asleep.

Tearlach curled up on his side, his back to Pleasance and his eyes on the soldiers. Subtly he slipped a knife beneath the folded sack that formed their meager pillow. As he breathed deeply of Pleasance’s gently alluring scent, he knew that the need to keep a close watch on their sullen, narrow-eyed hosts was not the only reason it was going to be a long, long night.

Pleasance murmured crossly, not eager to relinquish her sleep, but something nudged her awake. Even as she stretched out her hand, she realized what it was. Tearlach was gone. It was another moment before she recalled why that should trouble her, before she remembered the threat of the soldiers. She quickly opened her eyes, but was too late to elude the hand that clamped over her mouth or the ones that pinned her to the blankets.

A soft, triumphant chuckle sent the chill of terror through her. She began to struggle, but that only amused her captors and did little to slow the rough loosening of her clothes. The man on top of her halted the thrashing of her legs, using his own legs to pin hers down. He then began to tug up her skirts. Despite an occasional grunt or soft curse, the soldiers were coldly, horrifyingly silent.

Even her attempt to bite the hand covering her mouth proved fruitless, for the soldier wore thick deerskin gauntlets. By the time Pleasance managed to get a grip, he yanked his hand away. She opened her mouth to scream and a dirty linen rag was stuffed in it, gagging her. Her desperate call for help was forced back in her throat, becoming a low moan of fright. All she could do was twist her body and buck uselessly as the assault continued unhindered. Nausea stung the back of her throat. She frantically wondered what had happened to Tearlach, the man who was supposed to protect her.

After a final check on the team and the wagon, Tearlach looked around and cursed. He had let his attention wander for only a moment, but that had been a moment too long. The soldiers were no longer outside, save for two stationed on either side of the doorway, and those two were peering inside the small stockaded cabin. Tearlach immediately knew what must interest them so much. He cursed again, silently and viciously, as he grabbed his musket, stuffed his pistol into the waistband of his breeches, and made sure his knife could be quickly withdrawn from the sheath on his belt.

Fury and fear tore through him, but he fought to keep them under control. He understood his fury. These men were the dregs of the army, little better than criminals. They also shared a common arrogance, a contempt for “Colonials.” He had seen it in their sneering glances from the very first. It was an attitude too many Englishmen held, an attitude he knew was contributing to the growing rift between England and her colonies. It was an attitude that allowed those men to think they could brutally rape Pleasance with impunity, without fear or reprimand and certainly without fear of intervention from him. He smiled grimly as he thought how he would prove them wrong.

Tearlach cracked the first guard at the entrance over the head with his musket butt and the man went down with barely a grunt. The second guard had only enough time to register his surprise at this unexpected attack before Tearlach slammed his gun butt into the man’s jaw, sending him catapulting backward, unconscious before he could cry out a warning. As Tearlach stepped over one guard’s body, he wished he had time to tie the men up, but he felt confident it would be a goodly while before either would again be a real threat. If he was lucky and could move fast enough, he and a hopefully unscathed Pleasance would be well on their way before either man stirred.

No one saw him as he stepped inside. The sight that greeted him filled him with such rage he nearly shot the man crouched over a silently, frantically struggling Pleasance. Her bodice was open and her full skirts were pushed up to her thighs. The man on top of her was already unlacing his breeches as his friends held Pleasance captive. Tearlach heard her moans as she arched her body in a fruitless attempt to throw off her attackers.

It took him a moment to still the searing fury ripping through him, to silence the instinct to kill. He needed loaded guns to threaten the men. If he shot now, at best he could kill two men, and those left standing would kill him long before he could reload.

His only choice was to bluff. “Let her go. Now.”

Pleasance almost fainted with relief when that icy but already familiar voice broke the silence. Her attackers stiffened, then slowly edged away from her. Although she felt weak and was shaking badly, she managed to yank the gag from her mouth and haphazardly pull her clothes together. The need to run, far and fast, gave her the strength to move.

“Take the blankets and get in the wagon.” Tearlach saw that the man who had been crouched over her had his breeches undone. “Did he succeed?”

“Nay,” she rasped as she scooped up the blankets.

“You cannot shoot all of us,” one of the soldiers growled, a tentative bravado replacing his surprise.

“Nay, only two. Do ye wish to be one of those two?” When Pleasance stumbled up to him, he nudged her toward the door. “Get in the wagon. Can ye manage a team?”

“Aye, but not expertly.”

“No matter. Get in the wagon, take the reins, and be ready. Hold, I need a moment’s assistance.” Slowly he backed closer to the door. “Throw your weapons toward me,” he told the soldiers. “Carefully.”

After a moment’s hesitation the soldiers obeyed. Keeping an eye on them, Tearlach ordered Pleasance to put the weapons in a sack. He was relieved to see that, though she was trembling badly and looked ready to faint, she set down the blankets and obeyed his command with admirable haste. The moment she set the filled sack at his side, he ordered her to grab the muskets and put them into the wagon. The weight of the weapons forced her to make two trips. Tearlach was beginning to worry that the guards outside would rouse before they could leave when he heard two soft but ominous thuds. When Pleasance returned to his side he chanced a fleeting glance her way.

“The guards were stirring. They are still again,” she said, hurriedly collecting the blankets.

“Good lass. To the wagon.” He heard her soft retreating footsteps and picked up the sack holding the soldiers’ small arms.

“That there’s the property of the Crown. It be agin the law to steal it,” cried one of the soldiers.

Backing out of the door, Tearlach smiled coldly. “Oh, I dinnae intend to steal it. I will toss it out along the road somewheres. Ye whoresons can look for it.” Even as he bolted for the wagon, Tearlach yelled, “Move, Pleasance.”

She snapped the reins. The team was just leaping forward when Tearlach hurled himself into the back of the wagon. She chanced one quick look over her shoulder. Tearlach kept his musket aimed at the soldiers, now stumbling over the unconscious guards at the door. She then concentrated on keeping the wagon team moving as fast as possible without risking a spill.

When they had gone a few miles Tearlach began to toss out the soldiers’ weapons one by one. They would have to halt to collect them. Once they had gotten all of them back, he hoped they would decide not to continue the chase. If nothing else, they would waste so much time picking up the scattered weapons they would begin to worry about having deserted their post.

To Pleasance, it seemed like hours before Tearlach ordered her to slow the team and climbed forward to take the reins from her stiff fingers. She bit back a groan as she released the reins to him, all too painfully aware of just how great a strain it had been—not something she wished to reveal to Tearlach.

Trying to ignore the ache now ripping through her arms, shoulders, and back, she turned her attention to tidying her disordered clothing.

Nausea welled up inside of her, but she fought it down. There was no time to indulge in weakness. Somehow she would have to put the assault out of her mind, would have to cling to the knowledge that the attack upon her had ultimately failed.

The sun had nearly set by the time Tearlach drew the wagon to a halt and pulled it off the road as far as the thickening trees of the surrounding forest would allow. They had made only the briefest of stops at midday, mostly for the benefit of the horses. Pleasance watched as he worked to erase the tracks of the wagon back to the road and several yards down it with some brush.

They worked silently to set up camp. Tearlach doubted the soldiers were following them, but decided against a fire just in case. Their meal was a simple one of johnnycake and pemmican again.

As he laid out the blankets that constituted their pallet he covertly watched Pleasance. Her silence was troubling. Although she had said that the soldiers had not accomplished the rape, they had nearly done so. Too nearly. He had seen the scars left on a woman’s heart, mind, and soul by the brutal taking of her body. He had seen it in his own mother. He did not wish to see it in Pleasance.

The depth of concern he felt for her made him frown. The wench was arousing far too much emotion in him, he thought crossly with a sigh.

“Come, Pleasance, ye need to rest.”

Even as she moved to curl up on the makeshift pallet, she murmured, “As do you.”

He covered her with a blanket. “I will get some. Enough to last me until we reach a safer place.”

When he crawled in beside her she tensed, then immediately felt guilty. He had done her no physical harm. He did not deserve her fear. She moved to get more comfortable and could not suppress a groan at the wrenching ache in her shoulders.

Tearlach immediately reached for her. “They did hurt ye.”

The touch of his hand, the concern in his rich voice, seriously undermined her efforts to be strong. She did not want to give in to weakness. Neither did she want to seek comfort from him. He touched her feelings in a way that could only prove dangerous in the year to come. Keeping some distance from him would be essential.

“Nay, not truly. A few bruises, ’tis all. I fear it was driving the team that brought a real pain or two.”

“Ah, of course.”

She frowned as he suddenly left her side. Peering through the darkness, she tried to see what he was doing, but could only make out his shape by the wagon. She tried to hide her interest by quickly turning her back to him when he returned to their pallet.

“Loosen your bodice.”

“What?”

“I have a salve that will help that ache, but I need to rub it into your shoulders and back.”

“Not a horse liniment? They are the foulest-smelling things. I think I would prefer to endure the pain.”

“Fear not. No unbearable stench shall touch your pampered skin. Aye, ’tis horse liniment in a manner, but ’tis gently scented. A wife of a friend of mine prepared the salve, and I purchase a pot or two whenever I can. Come, loosen your bodice.”

Her embarrassment eased by the cover of darkness, slowly she obeyed him. As she did so she puzzled over his reference to her “pampered skin” and the tone he had used to speak those words. She was no Letitia, given to milk baths and other such nonsense, yet he apparently thought she was. How he could have come to such a conclusion puzzled her.

“Turn onto your stomach.”

When she did as he asked, he brushed aside her hair and began to massage the liniment into her back. He fought to ignore how it felt to touch her slim back, the faint light of a half-moon making it glow a soft ivory. Although he still had every intention of feeding the hungers she instilled in him, he knew this night was not the time to begin his seduction. He did not want her thinking him one of a kind with the soldiers they had fled.

“I should have thought of this. Should have realized such honest hard work was not something ye would be accustomed to. Weel, that shall soon change. Ere the year is out ye will come to understand that there is more required of a woman than kenning how to pour tea or play callous, flirtatious games with some poor fool.” He bit his tongue and silently cursed his blunder, hoping she did not guess that he considered himself one of those poor fools.

At first his words stirred Pleasance’s anger, but his final words brought realization. He did think her of the same ilk as Letitia. Despite the month he had spent courting Letitia, the fact that she, Pleasance, had rejected him obviously still pinched. Clearly his pride had been badly stung. She quickly told herself not to be fooled into thinking there was anything more than his pride involved.

The words required to forcefully defend herself were on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. He was clearly still angry and in no state of mind to listen to reason. She was also not sure what she could say to ease that anger. How could she explain that she had hurt him because her parents had told her to, because they had ordered her to cast him aside so that Letitia could have him? That would make her look like a fool, and she did not want Tearlach to know how spinelessly she had acted. She would have to show him the error of his assumptions about her through her actions. In fact, it would be a pleasure to prove him wrong.

Her thoughts were disrupted by a growing warmth spreading from his hands throughout her body. It felt good—warm, soothing, yet enticing—to have those strong, calloused hands moving slowly over her skin. He pulled from her feelings she had thought herself incapable of having, feelings so strong and tempting she knew they would be hard to fight. Even now, although she felt soiled by the mauling of the soldiers, she had to fight the urge to turn toward him, to throw herself into his arms.

“The ache is gone. The salve has done its work,” she said.

Tearlach blinked, her hoarse, clipped words drawing him back as if from a dream. Reluctantly he withdrew his hands and watched her hastily do up her bodice as he wiped his hands on his handkerchief. Another moment and he knew he would have been trying to touch far more than her slim, silken back. When she had spoken up, he had been staring at the nape of her slender neck, thinking how it would feel beneath his lips.

“Ye may find ye need more on the morrow.”

Curling up at the very edge of their rough bed, she murmured, “I may. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He set down the pot of salve and slipped beneath the blanket “Any other aches I might doctor?”

She was glad of the dark, for the answer that popped into her head was so wanton it made her blush furiously. “None that salve can heal. No amount of doctoring can rid me of the feel of their filthy, grabbing hands.”

Turning onto his side, he gently smoothed his hand over her hair, enjoying the feel of it. “Ye said they didnae accomplish what they had intended.”

Although she did not wish to discuss what she had endured at the outpost, she hoped talk would keep her from thinking of his disturbing nearness, of how stirred she was by the simple touch of his hand on her hair. “Nay, and that is what I must try to remember.”

“Aye. Ye must remember that, despite all, ye werenae raped.”

“Yet I feel as if I have been.” She tensed slightly when he slipped his arm around her waist and tucked her up against him. Her errant desire immediately stirred to life, and she dreaded that he would discover that she still wanted him.

“I dinnae intend to hurt ye, Pleasance. Merely comfort ye. The distaste of an unwanted touch can fade; the brutal invasion of your body would never have left your thoughts. ’Tis hard for a mon to say the words needed at such a time.

“Have you heard what happened to my mother?”

“Aye, Letitia told me.”

“I had no words to ease my mother’s horror, and eleven years of living since then hasnae given them to me. Ye were mauled, your body insulted by their rough, unwanted touch. Just now it seems the worst of all crimes, but, believe me, if they had gained what they sought, ye would have wounds that might never heal.”

That he could insult her so easily one moment and try so hard to comfort her the next puzzled her. “I do understand that. It but takes a while for such knowledge to be set firm in mind and heart.”

“Mayhaps if my mother had lived longer she too would have healed, at least in some ways. She couldnae fully bear even my affectionate embrace after she was raped.”

“But you had naught to do with it.” She sensed that he found it hard to speak of the crime done to his mother, and she was moved that he did so in an attempt to help her overcome her own horror.

“I was a mon. Seventeen only, but still considered a mon. She hurt herself as much as I was hurt when she flinched at my touch, but her tortured mind made her see all men as a threat, made her tense warily at even the gentlest of caresses. She wanted death, though she denied it. Though she was nearly past childbearing age, Moira’s birth didnae harm her that much. She simply refused to fight for her life when she got a fever. And that fever was brought on because she wouldnae eat, wouldnae do anything to regain her strength. Those are the scars, the hurts, that rape inflicts upon a woman.” He sighed. “I cannae begin to understand how ye feel.”

“Dirty, soiled, violated.”

“Can ye not feel anger and outrage instead?”

“What?”

“They had no right, no right at all. Only fools think otherwise and try to blame the woman for their own crimes. Only animals have a blind need to rut. A mon should be beyond that no matter what the provocation.”

“I gave them no provocation. I was asleep when they sprang.” She discovered that she did feel anger, even outrage, at what had occurred. “I barely even glanced their way since arriving at that outpost.”

Hearing the anger in her voice, he smiled faintly. “That is the truth. It was their crime only. Their fault. Not yours. That is where the healing will come from. Now, best to get some sleep. We leave at daybreak.”

After a moment of silence, she whispered, “Thank you for telling me of your mother. It helps.”

“Ye had become too quiet. I feared ye had slipped into a darkness of the mind. Now I can see ye werenae afflicted as I had thought. Ye dinnae flinch from my touch.” He moved his hand in a small circular motion over her stomach.

For a moment the feel of that subtle caress held her still. Heat flared in her abdomen and spread quickly throughout her body. The man was truly dangerous, she thought with a touch of exasperation. She grasped his hand and moved it aside, noting idly that he made no effort to resist her abrupt rebuff.

“Since you know that I can abide your touch already, there is no need to further test me.”

Chuckling softly, he sprawled on his back, crossing his arms beneath his head. He had felt the softest of ripples beneath his hand, had heard the hint of huskiness in her voice. She was not averse to his touch. The fact that he could draw a response from her despite her recent ordeal suggested to him that she still felt as strongly drawn to him as he did to her. He did not intend to wait long to test out his theory.

“Just making sure.”

“Fine. Now that you are sure, you may keep your hands to yourself.”

“I may, may I?”

“Aye, you may. In fact, you had better.”

“Mayhaps.”

“Master O’Duine, I am an indentured servant, not a leman.”

“As ye wish. Leman, eh? There is a fine old word.”

“Oh, hush. I need my sleep.”

She heard him laugh softly again and almost struck him. He knew what she felt when he touched her. She was sure of it. Worse, she had the distinct impression that he meant to take advantage of her weakness. She did not feel confident she could fight the feelings he stirred if he intended to tug at them constantly.

Mentally cursing him, Letitia, and everything that had led to her being there, Pleasance closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep. She would need all the rest she could get.

Pleasance cautiously sat down before the fire Tearlach had built. She did not think her backside would ever stop hurting. After six long days on the hard wagon seat she suspected she had bruises that would never heal.

“We will reach my cabin by day’s end tomorrow,” Tearlach said as he handed over her share of their food. “Soon we will be able to eat something besides pemmican.”

“And sit on something besides that cursed wagon seat,” Pleasance muttered as she chewed the strip of dried meat and washed away its taste with cider.

“Sore, are ye? I have a salve for that.” He laughed at the disgusted look she gave him.

The moment she had finished her meager meal, Pleasance decided to go to sleep. Using a little of their water, she rinsed out her cup and then lightly washed up. She stepped over to the bedding Tearlach had spread out near the wagon and silently cursed. One bed, one blanket—again. The man was incorrigible, she grumbled to herself as she laid down.

She was groggy with approaching sleep by the time Tearlach joined her. Although she muttered a curse as he curled his arm around her waist, she was too tired to fight him. He touched his warm lips to the hollow near her ear and she shivered, desire seeping through her body. She struggled to grasp at the resistance she needed to push him away, but exhaustion made that impossible. A flicker of that resistance finally appeared when he gently turned her to face him, but it quickly vanished when he placed his mouth on hers.

A soft moan escaped her as she slid her arms around his neck and gave herself over to his kiss. She parted her lips to welcome the invasion of his tongue, pressing close to him as he slowly stroked the inner regions of her mouth. Her passion flared to life, banishing her weariness and making her forget all her aches and pains. The heat of her desire made her feel renewed, strong, and vibrant.

“Ah, lass,” Tearlach murmured as he kissed the pulse point in her throat. “We shall have some verra warm nights while ye are in the Berkshires with me.”

His soft words were like a splash of icy water in her face. Pleasance cursed and pushed herself out of his arms. She clenched her hands into tight fists as she fought the urge to slap him.

“So you think to use me to warm up your nights, do you?” she snapped.

“I didnae notice any great resistance from ye. Nay, none at all, in fact.”

“’Twas a brief error in judgment on my part. I seem to be having a lot of them lately. May I remind you that I am to be your servant, not your whore.” She flipped onto her side, showing him her back.

Tearlach turned onto his own back and crossed his arms beneath his head. “I didnae hear myself ask ye to be my whore.”

“Oh, you asked it clearly enough.”

“Nay, I thought we were becoming lovers.”

“Well, whatever your twisted mind thought, ’tis not to be. I may be reduced to servitude in your home, Master Tearlach, but I will never be reduced to servitude in your bed.”

“Good, because servitude isnae what I was seeking. Nay, I want that passion ye just revealed in my arms.”

“You imagine things. And your arms will remain empty.”

“We shall see.”

Pleasance silently cursed. The man had a right to his cockiness. She found resistance a difficult thing to muster when he held her in his arms. She closed her eyes and cursed again. It definitely looked to be a long year ahead.