Wild Conquest. Hannah Howell

keeping her slender form beneath him, he searched her cloak and was not surprised to find the letters Letitia had written to him. “These are mine as well,” he said.

      Since she could not deny that, Pleasance just glared at him. She had no defense so she struggled to maintain an air of righteous indignation, prepared even to attack him if it proved necessary. She sincerely doubted that the big dark man pressing her into the coverlet would give her the time to come up with something truly clever, however.

      “You were also asked to return those letters to their rightful owner,” she snapped. “I but came here to retrieve them.”

      There was such mockery and sneering in his smoky gray eyes that she wanted to scream. “Did ye.” He almost smiled at her. “Weel, I dinnae wish them to be retrieved. They are mine.”

      “Nay, they belong to Letitia.”

      “Ah me, it seems we will ne’er agree.” He stood up, but with one large calloused hand wrapped around her delicate wrists he kept a firm grip upon her as he tugged her to her feet. “I think a neutral third party is required.” He began dragging her out of the room. “Dinnae let my tankard slip from your wee fingers,” he drawled. “I should hate to see it dented.”

      Pleasance was sorely tempted to dent it on his head, but the way he held her prevented her from fulfilling that wish. “Where are you taking me?” she demanded.

      “To see Corbin Matthias. Ye are in luck, Miss Dunstan. He awaits me in the taproom.”

      The very last person she wished to face was the magistrate. Did Tearlach O’Duine plan to openly cry her a thief?

      She tried to pull free, but his hold was firm. When she dug in her heels, he just yanked her along the hall. At the top of the narrow stairs leading down to the taproom, she hooked her arm around the stair post. Tearlach gave her a scowl of disgust, pried her arm free, and continued on. To keep from falling she was forced to stop struggling. The moment they reached the bottom she again tried to use the stair post to halt their progress, but he gave a sharp tug on her arm, causing her to slam into his body and putting the stair post out of reach. The door to the noisy taproom was now only steps away.

      Pleasance inwardly cringed as Tearlach pulled her into the large room. Despite the dim light from the tallow candles, she recognized every man in the place. Far worse, they recognized her. Tearlach kept doggedly marching toward a table set before the front window. Corbin Matthias slowly stood up, his thin face revealing his surprise as Tearlach dragged her forward. Pleasance cursed softly when he shoved her toward Corbin and she barely stopped herself from careening into the young magistrate.

      “Tearlach, what goes on here?” Corbin demanded.

      “Miss Dunstan and I seem to differ in our opinion of ownership. The tankard she holds and these letters are the items in question. I say they are all mine. She says otherwise.”

      Corbin nervously cleared his throat and studied both items. “The letters are addressed to you, Tearlach, so they are indisputedly yours. That is true of the tankard as well, I believe, for I know you have had this tankard for a while and to give a gift is to imply a transfer of ownership. You showed it to me when you first received it.”

      “That settles that then,” Tearlach said before Pleasance could attempt a defense.

      “Is that all you wished of me?” Corbin asked.

      “Nay, Corbin. I demand that ye do your sworn duty. This lass is a thief. Arrest her.”

      One look at Corbin’s face told Pleasance that the man would reluctantly do as Tearlach O’Duine demanded; one look at Tearlach O’Duine’s smug countenance and she felt the bite of rage. Before either man could stop her, before she could fully think through the consequences of her actions, she swung at Tearlach with the heavy tankard. Her aim was true and she hit him—hard—on the side of the head. He crumpled to the floor at her feet.

      Numbly, Pleasance stared at Tearlach, blindly watching a trickle of blood run over his beard-shadowed cheek as Corbin grabbed hold of her. She had certainly solved Letitia’s problems, she thought ruefully. Even if the town crier read each of Letitia’s sordid love letters in the common at high noon, townspeople would be far more interested in the fact that Letitia’s spinster sister was about to be hanged for murder.

      Pleasance winced as the heavy iron cell door was locked behind her. She kept her back to Corbin, maintaining the cold silence she had adopted since the scene at the inn. The only good thing was that Tearlach had not ridden in the carriage with them as they had traveled to Corbin’s house on the eastern outskirts of town. He had stayed behind to have his cut head bandaged by the doctor. The look of fury on his face as Corbin had led her away was not something she would soon forget. There would be no mercy from him.

      “I will send word to your family,” Corbin said, nervously jingling his keys.

      “Why trouble yourself?” She sighed as she finally turned to face him, knowing that he did not really deserve her anger. Besides, her brother Nathan would be sure to help her once he returned from his business trip to Philadelphia.

      “Your family needs to know. They can help you. I know there is more to this matter than it appears.” He looked at her expectantly.

      She had no intention of satisfying his curiosity. At first she had not wanted her family to be told, but she knew they must be. They might well be able to think of a way to free her without revealing the full truth. She felt a flicker of doubt and firmly suppressed it. After all, she had risked everything for Letitia. Her family could do no less for her.

      “Mistress Dunstan?”

      “Aye, you had better tell them, although they will not be pleased.”

      “As matters stand now, aye. Howsomever, I think it would help if you would speak to me. I simply cannot believe I have been told the whole truth. While ’tis true that I saw you strike Tearlach, I do not believe you are a thief.”

      “I suggest you talk to your friend Tearlach then. This is his doing.”

      Corbin Matthias sighed and shook his head. “As you wish. I hope your stay here will be a short one.”

      “So do I.”

      As soon as he was gone, disappearing up the stairs to the upper part of the house, Pleasance sat down on the narrow rope-slung cot and surveyed her quarters. It was a small cell, the middle of three, and was separated from the others by sturdy iron bars. She was glad she was Corbin’s only prisoner, for her quarters provided no privacy. There was a small battered table in the middle and an unsteady chair. Her cot was placed beneath a tiny slit of a window with thick bars between her and the glass.

      She gingerly pressed down on the mattress and grimaced. It was straw. The blanket folded at the end of the cot was made of scratchy homespun. She would find little comfort on this bed. She touched her fingers to the solid stone wall, which was cold from the seeping damp. She could not move the bed away from the wall, for it was chained in place. The coolness of the cellars was a welcome respite from the heat outside, but she knew the combination of the chill and damp could easily give her the ague.

      She retrieved her lockpick from an inside pocket of her cloak. Tearlach had not searched her once he found the letters, and Corbin had been too polite to paw through her pockets. She went to the cell door and studied the lock closely. Nodding as she recognized her good chances for success, she slipped the lockpick into the mechanism, and an instant later heard the click of success. After briefly cracking the door open and shutting it again, she kept her gaze fixed upon the stairs as she practiced locking and unlocking the door again. She returned to the cot feeling in somewhat better spirits. If worse came to worst, she could always run away.

      “Mistress Dunstan?”

      Pleasance slowly sat up from her huddled position on the cot and looked out at Corbin. She had not seen him since he had first put her in the cell three days ago. Neither had she seen any of her family. When the first day had passed without sight of or word from them, she had kept up her spirits