Shanna Read Online Free

chill. As the candle’s glow presented him, he stirred and covered his eyes as if they hurt. Where the sleeve was torn from his arm, Shanna saw an ugly bruise. His wrists were chafed raw where manacles had been. Straggly black hair and a dark beard hid most of his features, and staring at him Shanna could not help but think of some fiendish creature which had crawled up from the bowels of the earth. A shudder ran through her as the worst of her fears seemed realized.
    The prisoner pushed himself up against the wall until he sat and shaded his eyes.
    â€œDamn it, Hicks,” he growled. “Can you not even let me enjoy my sleep?”
    â€œOn yer feet, ye bloody cur!”
    Hicks reached out to prod him with the hardwood staff he carried, but when the prisoner obeyed, the turnkey hurriedly stepped back several paces.
    Shanna’s breath caught in her throat, for the lean frame unfolded until the man stood a full head taller than Mister Hicks. She could now see the wide shoulders and, beneath the open shirt, the lightly furred chest which tapered to a flat belly and narrow hips.
    â€œâ€™Ere’s a liedy to see ye.” Hicks’s voice was noticeably less demanding than before. “And if ye has it to harm her, let me warn ye—”
    The prisoner strained to see into the blackness beyond the lantern. “A lady? What madness do you practice, Hicks? Or perhaps some more subtle torture?”
    His voice came smooth and deep, pleasant to Shanna’s ears and bore no hint of a slur. It was easy flowing and less clipped than what she was accustomed to hearing in England. A man from the colonies, Hicks had said. That was, no doubt, the reason for the subtle qualities in his speech. Yet there was something else as well, an amused mockery that seemed to scorn everything about the gaol.
    Shanna held to the shadows for a moment longer as she carefully studied this Ruark Beauchamp. His garments were as ragged as the blanket, and she became acutely aware that they were gathered in places with string in an attempt to cover his slender torso. His breeches were torn nearly to the waist on one side, and the rough mending concealed little of the lithe line of his flank. A linen blouse, perhaps once white, was now mottled with filth and barely recognizable. It hung in tattered shreds from his shoulders and showed thinly fleshed ribs that were still well muscled despite his deprivation. His hair was uneven and wildly tossed, yet his eyes filled with alert awareness as he attempted to make out her form. Failing that, he drew himself up and bowed formally to the blackness that shrouded her. A satirical tone was in his voice.
    â€œI beg your pardon, milady. My quarters have little to recommend them. Had I foreknowledge of your visit, I would have tidied up a bit. Of course,” he smiled and indicated his surroundings, “there’s not much to tidy up.”
    â€œHold yer bloomin’ tongue!” Hicks interrupted officiously. “The liedy’s here on business, she is, and ye’ll show her all respect—or else.” He slapped his open palm suggestively with the club and chuckled at his cleverness.
    The convicted man arched a dark brow toward Hicks and stared at him until the fat gaoler began to squirm uneasily.
    Having encountered no obstacles to her plan thus far, Shanna was greatly heartened. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, as if she had planned for it all her life when in truth it was not much of her doing at all. Confidence and courage had rekindled within her, and with a graceful, flowing movement, she swept forward into the full light of the lantern.
    â€œNo need to bully the man, Mister Hicks,” she gently rebuked.
    The sound of her voice, low and honey smooth, assured that the prisoner’s attention was fully upon her. Shanna walked slowly, completely, deliberately around him, evaluating him as she would a prize animal. His eyes, an unusual amber hue flecked