Review #20 came in at 12:17am on Saturday morning. But I figured it was so close, I might as well throw you a bone. AND…you get it a day earlier than I promised. Aren't I nice? It's not as long as a full chapter, but hopefully I make up for the length with content. Several slightly important details will be revealed…but not all. =)

Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing, you guys are awesome!

"I had hoped you were bursting into my room for a slightly more enjoyable reason." He finally responded before drying off his face on a small hand towel.

"You're a thief." I could not move from against the door and my voice was drained of energy and fight.

"We both know it's not the first time that I've been accused of that."

"You led me to believe that the first time, you were wrongly persecuted."

"I was accused of attempting to steal a man's entire fortune, along with his wife; which was not true. However, I have stolen other things."

"Like a letter," I accused. He smiled at the hostility in my voice that time.

"I find it interesting that of all of the things I've relieved of their ownership, it is the one of least value that would expose me to you."

"Oh, I highly doubt that anything could expose you as much as you do yourself. And if the letter has no value, why steal it?"

"Oh it has value, just not the monetary kind. I just find it hard to believe you're upset about it."

"Well why don't you tell me what else you've stolen so I can decided if the letter really is worth my anger."

"I stole you book," he said. He turned and lifted it from the table, tossing it to the end of the bed where it laid lifelessly between us.

"I assumed you were only borrowing it." I was quiet, my eyes on the pages that stood straight up from the open spine.

"I've borrowed a lot of things. Usually money, small purses; nothing that would get noticed too quickly. And never from someone who will miss it too terribly."

"Have you killed people for their purses?" Tears were starting to spring to my eyes. I had heard so many stories of highway robbers that had killed whole families for their luggage, ripping the jewelry off of the dead bodies. I did not want to think that Eric was capable of it.

"I have killed people, yes," he said. I shut my eyes to try and hold in the tears. "but never for money. You know that I was in the war, after all."

"You could have killed Mr. Bellefleur." I yelled at him, the anger finally flowing over at the thought of the terrified man at the pub. Eric only looked at me with confusion. "The postman you robbed, yesterday!"

"I never shot at him. I never even laid a hand on the man," he stated, as if it was the most ridiculous accusation of the day.

"He is not in his right mind! He was not the same when he came back from the war! Even the sight of a gun can toss him right back into those memories and you pointed one at his face!" I had finally left my position by the door and was now leaning against Eric's footboard.

"If he is not capable, then he should not occupy such a dangerous post. Post boys are robbed every day. It's quite common." I stared in shock of his calm words, trying to grasp what sheer size of the ego this man had.

"I…I cannot believe you are defending your actions."

"I will not pretend to be anything other than what I am!" He was angry now, striding towards me and looming over my small frame. "I do what I must to survive. I cannot protect the delicate natures of every blubbering post boy. There are far worse dangers out there than me! He is lucky that it was I who came upon him that night. Another would have taken his life without a thought!"

I was crying now. I did not want to know that this man was cruel. That he was capable of harming others so freely. I could not even look up at him. I stared at his bare feet on the wooden floor. His toes wobbled and they took a tiny step closer to me. Through the fingers that covered my face, I could see his arm lift in my direction, before pausing and falling back to his side.

"Don't…please don't cry." His voice was tiny. Not even a hint of the man who had just yelled at me.

"I will cry if I wish!" I snapped my eyes back to his face, angry that he could so easily switch from threatening to tender. It was unnatural.

"Why would you do that!" I pushed at his chest and he stumbled back a bit. "What would you kiss me!"

"What?" He seemed completely dumbfounded.

"You kissed me. You knew who you were and you kissed me!"

"You're not making any sense…" He actually seemed worried for my mental health as he stared at my hysterical display.

"You tricked me. You knew you were a thief. You must have known how I would feel about something like that, but you kissed my anyway."

"You're making this sound like some great plot against you. I kissed you because I wanted to, and for no reason other than that." He spoke as if it was obvious that he was innocent on at least this charge. I hated everything about him in that moment. At least I wanted to. But I had the tiniest feeling that even if I wanted to, I could never truly hate him.

"Get out," I said without realizing what words were leaving my mouth.

"This is my room." He looked around nervously, confused about where he should be going.

"No. I mean get out. Get out of the inn. Leave."

"I've paid ahead for another week."

"I'll get you your money back. I just don't want you here." I was calm now. I just couldn't bear to have him across the hall, listening to my dreams and breathing my air. I wanted him away from me.

"I'm not going anywhere." I recognized the look that he gave me. It was cold and angry, like the night I had stitched his side. He was resolute. "You can have me arrested if you wish, but I am not leaving this Inn willingly until my business here is done."

I looked at him with as much ice as he was casting at me, but neither of us was going to budge. It seemed we were equally stubborn.

I turned and left the room without another word. I walked at an even pace across the hall and calmly opened the door and entered my room. Once inside, I lifted my chair and moved it to just in front of the door, facing it. Slipping off my shoes, I sat down. For several hours, I examined the paneled wood of the door in front of me. But I was not focused on the door. I was listening. I could hear movements in the room across the hall. A slight creaking of the floor, the groan of the bed, or the splash of water. I listened, without moving, until I heard what I was waiting for. It was time for dinner; I could hear plates being set down and the door between the dining room and kitchen swing. Eric heard it too. He left his room quietly, and walked down the hall, descending the stairs without stopping.

I smiled and rose from my position. Slowly, oh so slowly opening my door, praying for the hinges not to squeak. My bare feet found purchase on quiet boards as I crossed the hall and pressed gently into the door, until it began to silently open. I left it open, if he came back upstairs, there was nowhere to hide in his room anyway. Quickly I began to search. Under his pillow and the mattress, in the drawers of the cabinet, in the pages of the book that still lay on the foot of the bed. Finally, digging through his bag, my hand brushed parchment. I pulled it out slowly, careful not to catch and tear it. The letter in my hand was folded tightly and had once born an elaborate seal, though it was now broken. Not bothering to hide my find, I slowly made my journey back across the hall.

After lighting my lamp, I sat on my bed and read that brief letter.

Quinn,

Expect the final delivery on the 11th, evening; permitting good weather. Sail ahead with the cargo. I may be detained and will arrange a second sailing.

Lord Jean-Batiste Dubois Henri Andre Le Clerq, Marquis

Besides the pretention of the signer, there didn't seem to be anything extraordinary about the letter. Though it undoubtedly was quite valuable to Eric. Today was the seventh, so whatever was being delivered, it was going to be there in four days. It was being delivered to a boat, and the letter was addressed to Quinn at an inn in Truro. Obviously, that is where the delivery was expected. But none of this would be of use to me until I found out what was being transported. For all knew, it could be a shipment of ladies' hats or some kind of produce. Though both of those ideas seemed fairly unlikely.

I must have sat on my bed another hour, contemplating what the letter could mean, and why Eric would want this letter so much. I knew I would eventually get an answer, and I wasn't surprised when I heard my door open and close quickly. I didn't look up at my guest.

I had spent a lot of time thinking about Eric's profession…if you could even call it that. He had told me that he had never killed anyone for money, and I believed him. I did not believe he would lie about something like that. Though it bothered me that he made his way through the loss of others, I realized that there were worse men out there. Though I did not forgive him, or approve of his actions, I would not turn him in. And I would listen to him if he tried to speak to me. It should be any man's right to defend himself.

"Why did you take it?" He asked. He had quietly walked over to my desk and sat at the chair. I stayed on the bed, my legs tucked under me as I leaned against the headboard. The letter lay on my lap, I did not try to conceal it.

"I feared that you would lie to me about its contents if I had simply asked." I looked at him, daring him to challenge me. Though it occurred to me that he would be more likely to remain silent about the letter than to blatantly lie about it.

"You didn't even give me a chance. You simply assumed the worst. That's hardly fair," he chastised.

"What's in the letter, Eric?" Here, Eric, here is your chance.

"Oh, it just a correspondence between friends. Talk of the weather and upcoming travel. It's all very trivial, actually." He smirked at me and I rolled my eyes.

"Who is this Marquis? Le Clerq?" Since Eric had chosen the letter based on the address, I figured it was the players, rather than the game, that was most important. Eric looked at me silently for a few moments, deciding if he wanted to answer or not.

"He is the man who sold me into military service. He had me arrested by officials he had paid off for crimes I had not committed."

"And Quinn?"

"Ah, you actually know something of him already." He chuckled at my curious expression and pointed to his side. "The cut was his handiwork."

"You said that was an old friend." I challenged.

"He was, until he chose to support Le Clerq. Obviously, we're not as close as we used to be."

"If he cut you then you must have seen him only days before arriving here. Where did you come from?"

"Ah, well this is actually the first time I've been back to England since the war. It was a complete coincidence that I ran into him at the port I sailed into. I believe you already know where he's stationed." I nodded my head at that.

"What has Le Clerq shipped to him?" I asked. Eric laughed and came over to the bed, smiling down at me.

"You have a lot of questions," he said, plucking the letter off my lap. "Perhaps I'll answer them tomorrow."

He continued smirking at me as he left the room and headed for his own. He had given me a lot to think about tonight. But one thought particularly plagued me. Eric was a highwayman; and I had the strongest suspicion that the letter would not be the only thing he stole while at the inn.

Hmm.. Do I smell another 20 reviews heading my way?