“Unhand me!” and began to protest, but her words were met with a sudden jolt.
It almost made her cry out to be allowed back inside the abbey, but he spun her around to face him and one word stilled her. “Silence!”
She glared at him and was about to rebuke him further for manhandling her, but he shook his head slowly at her.
“Say one word, Miss Munro, and I will call in the local militia; their billet is not far away and you are a common thief! Or I could find out where the local magistrate resides and simply take you direct to him.” He glared down at her and she bit her lip, knowing he had right on his side.
Thena felt shame like she had never before and tilted her head down so that her bonnet would shield the high colour in her cheeks. They burned as the guilty feelings that swept through her soul scorched their path into her heart.
Without lifting her head to meet his accusing face, she spoke quietly in her defence, “I can explain. I promised to pay you back. I…”
“You will say and do nothing until we are in a place where prying eyes are not watching us and you can then tell me your whole story, and though I have no reason to and little understanding of why I am prepared to, I will listen and judge you accordingly.”
“Who are you to judge me?” she responded instantly, lifting her chin, and realised how foolish she was, for he had the law on his side and she none of it.
“I am a barrister, woman! You thieved from a man who has spent years studying the law of the land before he went to fight for it, and I am repaid by being the victim of a common cut-purse.”
“I am not common, nor am I a cut-purse. I think that is why you are prepared to listen to me. You know there is more to this, to me, than that. You see it and sense it. I merely borrowed the money because the alternative was far worse and I wanted to… I intended to repay it…” She sniffed and held back the tirade of words that she wanted to pour out, realising now how dangerous this man was, or could be; she understood that she was at his whim.
He walked her over to the side of the abbey wall where a chestnut mare was tethered to the rail. They stood beside his horse. It was then she had her first clear look at his generous mouth framed by a strong jaw. His handsome features held strikingly deep, yet sad eyes. His looks were not grand in a Romanesque way, but in strength of character, a man who had seen many things, worldly and still in his prime. He dropped her bag to the ground and placed a hand firmly at either side of her waist gripping her through her pelisse, and lifted her bodily to place her sideways onto the saddle. She let out a gasp. The horse stood still, ignoring her squeal as she grabbed the saddle to keep her balance. He said nothing and picked up her bag. Without word he placed it against her lap. She had to hold on to it with one hand and the horse with the other. Thena could not wait for him to climb up behind her and hold her and the horse steady.
“Tell me, in your desperation and generosity, how much did I give to the abbey for your night’s board?” he asked.
“Half a crown,” she replied in a quiet voice.
“My… how generous I am for one night’s stay in what will have been a cold cell, no doubt!”
She sat with her back straight and looked at the road ahead of them. Thena was biting her bottom lip to stop herself from saying anything that would anger this man further. Mr Jerome Fender was a man of law. Could she have chosen a worse person to steal from? How could she? She stared at the sky from under the rim of her bonnet and prayed that he was truly a just man. For she needed one to dig her out of the mess her cousin had thrown her into.
“Where will you take me?” she said, swallowing so hard that her mouth had gone quite dry. She thought of the prison cell she could be thrown in with goodness knows who: men and women together, possibly. Did they keep them separate by rank or by crime?