Wild Conquest. Hannah Howell

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