Catherine had elected to spend the day in seclusion. She knew that the marks Tavington had left on her body would be impossible to completely hide from her servants and any neighbors that might stop by. She had instructed Judith to tell everyone that she was suffering from a slight headache and required quiet and solitude. As she continued soaking her sore body in her bath she decided that by now the entire household would have realized the nature of her relationship with Colonel Tavington. The fact that the house was still standing and no one had a bullet in their chest was evidence enough that their mistress had found a way to appease the notorious wrath of "the Butcher." She had traded in her body for their safety. She had traded in her honor for their lives.

Catherine tried to force these melancholy musings from her mind, but she could not forget the scene with her maid just a few moments earlier. She had been rinsing out her long hair when she heard a strangled, horrified gasp. Quickly wrapping herself in her robe, Catherine ran to Judith to see what had startled her.

"Jude, what on earth is wrong with you?" Catherine demanded as she rushed to her maid's side. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

But the maid did not reply. Judith was just standing at the side of the bed, hand clasped over her open mouth, eyes burning with tears. Catherine followed Judith's gaze and saw the source of her horror.

Judith had pulled back the coverlet on Catherine's bed and found the white sheets spattered with bloodstains.

"My God, what did he do to you?" Judith finally asked in hushed and horrified awe.

Catherine stared at the stains. She remembered the Colonel's first brutal thrust, his contemptuous sneer as he used the sheet to wipe her off his body, the blood-tinged fluid that had trickled out of her long after the Colonel had drifted off to sleep.

"Judith, I promise you, it isn't as bad as it looks."

Judith turned to Catherine who was taken aback by the hard glint of fury in her usually meek maid's eyes.

"Don't lie to me, Miss! That man tore you to pieces!" Catherine had never seen her so furious.

"Judith, listen to me. . ." Catherine said softly trying to appease her maid.

"No, Miss, I will not. You said you'd worked something out with him but I never imagined it'd be like this! I'd rather he kill us all then lay in my bed safe and tight knowing he's up here raping you!"

Judith wrenched herself away from Catherine and stormed toward the door.

Catherine sighed heavily weighed down with the anger and the shame of her hopeless situation. But she had to stop Judith before her maid did something foolish.

"Judith, it wasn't rape," Catherine called after her. She was relieved to see her enraged maid stop short in her tracks.

Judith turned around to face Catherine, her brown eyes still brimming with outrage and tears. "What?" she asked in an appalled whisper.

"It wasn't rape, Jude," Catherine repeated as she walked gingerly to her maid.

"I know it looks bad. I do. But before you try to poison his dinner, you should know the truth."

"I've seen the truth, Miss. It's on those sheets over there."

"That's only part of it, Jude." Catherine closed her eyes feeling a real headache threatening her. "He was going to have it anyway. The house. Our lives. Me. I thought it would be better just to consent to him, to give him whatever he wanted . . ."

"Before he could take it from you," Judith finished recalling her late master's oft-repeated words.

"Yes. I offered him the house. I offered him and his officers our hospitality. And when he let me know he wanted me too, I offered him myself."

"I can't believe it, Miss. I can't believe you would just let him. . ."

"Judith, my grandfather's knife is still in that drawer over there," Catherine said exasperated, pointing at her desk. "I could have easily killed the Colonel in his sleep last night. You know I'm capable of it" she protested with a meaningful gleam in her eye. She was careful, however, not to mention that Tavington had warned her about trying to harm him while he slept.

"This isn't right, Miss. Its better to die then to live in sin."

"Maybe, Jude, but it isn't just my life." Catherine sighed hoping Judith would understand.

"This just isn't right," Judith repeated to herself. Catherine closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. When she opened her eyes again, she saw Judith was still looking at her, waiting.

"Judith," she whispered afraid to say the words out loud, "I liked it."

"What? You can't be serious . . ." the maid breathed, her voice filled with disgust.

"Yes, I am." Catherine replied firmly. "I was terrified the whole time but it would be a lie to say I didn't relish every moment of it."

"I won't hear this, Miss. Your poor father . . ."

"My father's dead and I thought I was too. Colonel Tavington brought me back to life." Catherine's face warmed as visions of Tavington's body rushed back into her mind.

"I thought he had scared you into this, Miss, or forced you. I never dreamed he seduced you . . .How could you?" Judith waved her hands trying to brush off Catherine's words.

"Easily, actually. The bruises, the brutal kisses, even the blood on the sheets, Judith. I loved it all." Catherine stared at Judith, suddenly defiant. She was torn with guilt over the pain she knew her words caused her maid but she could not take them back. Everything she had said was true. Even the part about the blood.

Catherine watched as the stunned _expression on Judith's face quietly faded to be replaced by a look of cold rage.

"I wish you hadn't told me that, Miss. I'd rather work for a martyr than a whore."

Catherine stood a moment in stony silence.

"That distinction hardly matters if you're dead. Just remember that, Judith, when you're lying safe in your bed tonight," she answered calmly with the faintest hint of menace in her voice. Catherine turned sharply on her heel and headed toward her abandoned bath.

"Finish making the bed, Judith," she ordered curtly. "And please tell the servants I have a headache and won't be coming down today. I'm not to be disturbed"

"Yes, Miss, as you wish," Judith answered quietly, subdued by her mistress's icy tone.

Catherine had eased back into the bath's still warm waters when she finally heard her maid leave. She glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the fireplace mantle and briefly wondered how long it would be until the Colonel and his men returned.

It wasn't until late that evening that Catherine heard the boisterous sounds of returning men and horses. After spending the day alone in her room with only her anger and anxieties for company, Catherine welcomed the flurry of activity outside her window--until she recalled that Colonel Tavington was one of those returning. She had told Judith the truth. It was no lie that she enjoyed what the Colonel had done to her the night before. But now that she was faced with seeing him again, she felt only a hard knot of fear in her stomach. She heard footsteps on the stairs leading up to her room and quickly checked her appearance in her vanity mirror before throwing herself into the armchair by the fireplace. She clasped her hands tightly to stop their uncontrollable shaking.

Catherine sighed with relief when she saw that it was only Molly, one of the kitchen staff carrying a large, covered silver dinner tray

"Good evening, Miss," Molly said stiffly, a fierce blush on her checks confirming Catherine's suspicions about the staff. The poor girl was too embarrassed to even make eye contact with her mistress.

"Good evening, Molly," Catherine answered kindly hoping to put the girl at ease. "I didn't ring for any dinner."

"I know, Miss," Molly answered as she furtively placed the tray on the center of the desk. "The Colonel told me to bring something up. He's to dine up here, I suppose."

Catherine almost laughed at the girl's discomfort. But then she remembered her own shaking hands and racing heart. Apparently Colonel Tavington had a similar effect on all women.

As Molly moved toward the door to leave, Catherine called after her.

"Molly?"

"Yes, Miss?" the girl answered her eyes still staring resolutely at the floor.

"None of the Colonel's men have bothered you, have they? Or any of the others?" Catherine asked hoping that her arrangement with the Colonel was having its desired effect.

"No, Ma'am. They've been perfect gentlemen. I overheard that Captain Bourdan tell a couple of his men that he'd hang them if they so much as looked at any of us the wrong way."

"That's good, Molly. I'm glad to hear that," Catherine answered profoundly relieved.

"Shall I turn down your covers, Miss?" Molly asked before blushing again in furious chagrin at her mention of the bed.

Remembering the scene with Judith, Catherine quickly answered, "No, I'll do it, Molly. Thank you anyway."

"Yes, Miss," Molly said but did not turn to leave.

"Yes, Molly? Is there something else?" Catherine asked puzzled by the girl's curious behavior. Just a moment before and the girl couldn't leave fast enough.

"No, Miss, its just . . ." Molly stammered. The girl finally looked up into Catherine's eyes and then to the red marks still slightly visible on her face.

"You're welcome, Molly," Catherine said to Molly's unspoken gratitude. Molly was only sixteen but she understood as well as any of them what it meant when Tavington's Dragoons showed up at your door. "Better go now before the Colonel comes up."

Molly nodded and fled from the room leaving Catherine alone again.

She went to the bed and turned down the coverlet lingering unnecessarily at the task before returning to repose again by the fire.

Catherine had barely settled into her armchair when she heard the now all too familiar sound of riding boots stomping arrogantly up the wooden stairs to her room. She resolved to act as composed as possible but knowing how the Colonel could get under her skin. . .She shivered at the memories.

"Hello Catherine," came the unmistakable sensual tones of Colonel Tavington, "I hear we're not feeling well. Did we eat something that disagreed with us?"

Catherine turned to see the Colonel shed his sword and pistol before pouring himself a drink from her crystal decanter. His dismissive, imperious posture was more than she could take after her miserable day.

"No, I did not eat something disagreeable although for some reason my stomach has been turning all day," she said coming out of her seat to confront him, "but I do seem to have gotten a terrible sort of rash."

She stood at his side and tilted her head baring for him her still reddened cheek and neck.

The Colonel examined the crimson marks twisting his face into mock concern.

"Well, now," he drawled as he ran a gentle finger over her skin, "that does look nasty. I hope I don't catch it."

Catherine jerked away from his hand and stormed back to her chair.

"I hope you do catch it and die from it," she retorted as she collapsed onto the plush cushions.

"I can see that you can still walk well enough," Tavington commented as he strolled toward her glass in hand. "I must be losing my touch."

"You bastard," Catherine breathed astonished that she had actually defended this brute earlier that day.

"My, we are in a foul mood, aren't we? Just be glad you aren't a man or I would call you out for that," Tavington said with a sardonic grin as he settled into the armchair across from her. Catherine wordlessly glared at him for a moment. His uniform was slightly grimy from his long day's ride through the dry countryside but he still managed to seem smart and tidy. She studied him as he lounged in his armchair, toying sensually with the delicate glass as it cast geometric patterns of red light over his browned skin. He was undoubtedly the most maddeningly beautiful man she had ever seen. She loathed him for it.

"Staring daggers at me, Catherine, doesn't have quite the same effect as throwing them," he teased her softly.

"Don't tempt me, Colonel," she replied coldly.

"Oh Catherine, I think we both know its too late for that."

Catherine finally wrenched her eyes away from his face and stared sullenly into the fireplace.

"Finally," Tavington sighed closing his eyes. "Something you don't have an answer for."

Catherine turned her head to look at the Colonel again, now unexpectedly quiet. His eyes were closed and his head rested back against the chair. She felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. He was clearly exhausted from his duties. But the sentiment quickly fled when she saw that familiar wicked grin spread across his face. He slowly opened his eyes and turned toward her.

"Boots," he said smiling.

Sighing heavily, Catherine heaved herself petulantly out of her chair and sank down onto the soft rug at Tavington's feet. She tried in vain not to notice the curve of his powerful leg muscles as she pulled off his boots before tossing them unceremoniously to the side of the chair.

"This game again, Colonel?" she said with venom. "I'm so disappointed."

"Don't worry, Catherine," he said as he leisurely unbuttoned his jacket and untied his cravat, "this isn't the game. I just like seeing you on your knees."

"Bastard," she repeated softly. She could think of no name vile enough to call him.

"Come here, Catherine," the Colonel instructed tapping lightly on his lap.

She rolled her eyes and groaned irritably as she positioned herself on his lap while the Colonel sat his glass on the table by his chair. Catherine's self-indulgent hostility suddenly fled when the Colonel grabbed her viciously by her face forcing her to look directly into his eyes.

"Catherine," he said, his voice full of cold menace, "if you do not dispense with this nasty temper of yours right now, I'll be forced to do it for you in ways that you will find most disagreeable. Do you understand?"

Her eyes quickly filled with tears at the fierce grip of the Colonel's hand and the cruel threat in his voice, but she nodded her assent and his hand dropped to her knee.

"Now tell me," he said suddenly affable again, "what has put you into this unpleasant humor? Surely it has nothing to do with last night. As I recall, you seemed most amenable yesterday. Quite amenable, actually." He smiled mischievously as if remembering her surprisingly spirited response to his lovemaking.

He smirked, obviously pleased, as Catherine's face reddened at his suggestive remarks.

"A maidenly blush, Catherine?" he teased as he brushed his hand over her cheek into her hair. "How fetching, and yet, how completely inappropriate."

Catherine turned her face away from him trying to ignore the heat from his other hand as it seeped through her nightgown into the flesh of her thigh.

"You haven't answered my question, Catherine," Tavington reminded her gently massaging her leg. "Why the foul mood?"

"I had an argument with one of my servants," she answered hoping he would drop the subject.

"Really?" he continued. "It is hardly appropriate for a servant to be arguing with her mistress. Clearly, you need to take a firmer hand with the staff. Or a rod, perhaps. That's what I would do."

"I don't doubt that, Colonel," she retorted.

"Who won?" he asked continuing his relentless questioning seeing how it so thoroughly irritated her.

"What?"

"The argument, Catherine. Who won the argument?" Tavington asked peevishly as he lightly threaded his fingers through her loose curls.

"It wasn't that kind of argument, Colonel," she answered distracted by the dark, churning tempest his hands were inciting in her.

"Really?" he whispered intimately as he lifted her hair off her neck before kissing the delicate hollow behind her ear.

"If you must know, Sir, she called me a whore," she replied frostily.

"But that's nonsense, Catherine," Tavington murmured softly into her skin. "A whore is the last thing you are."

"Thank you," she said suddenly moved by this unlikely defense.

He leaned back into the chair and flashed a cruel grin at her. "A whore would at least get paid for this."

Catherine turned on him, eyes burning with fury. She tried to flee from his lap but his hands quickly restrained her. Despite his iron grasp, she continued to writhe and struggle.

"You monster," she fumed, still fighting against him, his hands clamped painfully down on her already bruised arms. "I can't believe I defended you."

He suddenly loosened his grasp on her.

"Defended me?" he asked intrigued. "Why on earth would you do that?"

"God only knows," she said finally settling down again.

"Catherine?" Tavington prompted with an ominous arch of his eyebrow.

"My maid saw the bed sheets and nearly fainted. She thought you had practically murdered me in my own bed. I just told her that things looked much worse than they really were," Catherine answered furious at herself for confessing her defense of him to Judith. She was still humiliated that she had told her maid so much.

"Oh, is that all?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir, that is all."

"Well, I must say I am touched," he said smiling again as he resumed his persistent kissing of her neck and shoulder.

"Don't be," Catherine said coolly trying to ignore his warm mouth on her sensitive skin. "I was just trying to stop her from doing anything foolish."

"That is very wise of you, Catherine," Tavington drawled as he dragged his hand up the side of her body to her face. He cupped her cheek in his hand and turned her mouth toward him. "I am so enjoying my stay here. I would hate for it to have to come to a premature end."

Catherine felt her breathe catch in her throat as Tavington pressed a soft kiss on her lips. With delicate precision, he slowly assaulted her mouth pulling her deeper and deeper into him. She nearly gasped when she felt his tongue softly slither between her parted lips.

"Did you tell her how much you liked it?" Tavington whispered into her mouth.

She subtly tilted her head so that he could better kiss her chin and her neck.

"Who?" she asked her mind slightly muddled from his intoxicating kisses.

"That bitch of a maid. Did you tell her how much you liked what happened last night?"

"Yes," she confessed.

"Tell me," he demanded softly.

"What?" she said suddenly clear-headed again.

"Tell me how much you enjoyed last night, Catherine." His voice was still soft but insistent. "I want to hear you talk about it."

"How arrogant are you?" she asked incredulous at the man's unabashed self-importance.

"Oh extremely," he answered smiling, "but my arrogance has nothing to do with this. I just so enjoy making you squirm."

"There are other ways of making me squirm, Colonel," Catherine said turning toward him with a wry smile. "Or have you forgotten?"

Catherine was gratified to see had finally managed to astonish the Colonel again. She could not believe it was only yesterday that in a rash moment of bravado she had instructed him on how to best burn her house down. Now here she was teasing him like a whore, the whore Judith had accused her of being. But the Colonel had admitted how much pleasure he took in making her uncomfortable. I'm just denying him that pleasure, she told herself.

But instead of disappointment, Catherine saw only dark amusement in his face.

"Oh, Catherine," he said wickedly grinning, "you devil."

Her face fell as she realized that her audacious words had managed to only stoke his desire. She now knew that no matter what she did, she could not win against this man.

"Catherine, Catherine. . ." Tavington sighed still smiling that infuriating smile. "So haughty. So superior. . .This will never do."

"So sorry to disappoint you, Colonel," Catherine answered brashly. "I shall endeavor to be more meek and decorous in the future."

"Really?" he scoffed as a sinister gleam filled his eyes. "Forgive me if I don't quite believe you, Catherine. You have shown an astonishing lack of deference to me this evening."

"I am sorry, Colonel," Catherine answered softly, suddenly subdued. She knew that somewhere she had crossed the line with Tavington. She had allowed herself to forget how truly dangerous a man she was dealing with.

"Do you know, Catherine, what the punishment is in the Dragoons for insolence to a superior officer?" Tavington asked quietly, his features hard and inscrutable.

Catherine shook her head wordlessly.

"The punishment is a vicious, sustained, thorough horse-whipping," Tavington explained slowly. Catherine shivered at the pleasure she heard in his voice as it lingered over each word.

"Do you know how many times I've ordered this punishment to be administered, Catherine?"

"No, Sir," she whispered.

"Once," he replied holding up a single finger. "After that, insolence ceased to be an option for that soldier or any other."

"Are you threatening me, Colonel?" Catherine asked fearfully.

"I never threaten, Catherine. I just do," he said gently twisting her body to face him. "Now, answer my question."

Catherine sagged with momentary relief. She realized that the Colonel was just toying with her again. But she had seen the cold pleasure in his eyes as he described the punishment. She knew he was telling the truth. It had been no idle threat.

"You want me to tell you what I liked about last night?" she asked nervously, utterly devoid of her previous swagger.

"Yes, Catherine, what was your favorite part?" Tavington said taking her wrist in his and pressing it lightly into his crotch, "Other than this part, of course."

She blushed feverishly as her hand encountered Tavington's fierce erection straining against his breeches.

"Tell me, Catherine," he urged softly releasing her wrist, "don't pretend you didn't like it."

Catherine closed her eyes and allowed herself to remember.

"Your hands in my hair," she whispered.

"Liar. Try again."

She sighed heavily. He was going to give her no peace.

"I liked it. . .I liked touching your chest," she said quietly as her face turned more scarlet with each humiliating confession.

"And what else?" he insisted his voice growing heavy with desire.

"I liked how you kissed me," she sighed.

"How I kissed you? Or where I kissed you?" Tavington said softly as he lifted his hand to the neck of her nightgown trailing his fingers along the edge of the lace. He deftly untied the drawstring, slowly loosening the gathered fabric. Catherine bit her lip as the Colonel slid the gown off her shoulder until he had uncovered her breast.

He looked up into her eyes and smiled. "Did you like it when I kissed you here?" he asked taking her nipple into his mouth.

"Yes," she exhaled breathlessly as his tongue worked languorous circles on her skin. She shivered as the heat from his mouth spread over her whole body.

"And?" he prompted her. "What else?"

"I liked it when. . ." she could barely think straight now. "I liked when you let me take your hair down."

"Isn't that sweet?" the Colonel said sardonically as he leaned back again in the chair. "Your hair, my hair, a kiss, a touch. . .you make it sound like it was a peasant girl's wedding night."

"I'm sorry, Colonel," Catherine retorted with equal sarcasm as she pulled her nightgown up to cover her naked skin. "I was just answering your question."

"No, you were trying to not answer it," he said coldly. "Catherine, you agreed to consent to me and whatever I demanded of you," he reminded her, "and yet you insist on this chaste charade. Do I need to remind you what it was you truly enjoyed about last night?"

Catherine turned cold at the razor sharp warning in Tavington's voice. His hands that had just a moment again caressed her skin so gentle now held her forearms in a bruising grasp. His features that had been softened by desire now hardened visibly. His eyes were blue-black with savage menace.

"No, Colonel," Catherine submissively hoping to curb his anger.

"No?" he asked her with an ironic arch of his eyebrow. "I think I disagree. Not only do you need to be reminded of our agreement, I believe you need to be reminded of your place."

Catherine gasped aloud as the Colonel suddenly stood to his feet. She felt herself falling but Tavington's vice grip on her arms held her up. Tears welled in her eyes as he pulled her viciously toward the bed. She shivered with foreboding as he suddenly stopped in the middle of the room. A dark smile formed at the corner of his mouth and Catherine trembled at the sight of it. She followed his eyes to the desk where the silver platter still sat.

"You didn't eat your dinner," Tavington said looking her in the eyes. "Were you not hungry?"

Catherine shook her head stunned by this strange and abrupt change of subject.

"No, Colonel, I wasn't hungry tonight. I thought that was for you," she said nervously glancing at the tray on the desk.

"No, I ate with my officers. I had it sent up for you. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, don't you think?" he said still grinning.

"Um, yes," she replied, her voice tremulous with apprehension. She could see from the sinister spark in his eyes that he was playing another game with her. "It was very thoughtful, Colonel."

"Yes," he said smiling. "It was rather. But since you aren't hungry . . ."

"Yes?" she asked fearfully.

"And since we may want to use the desk tonight. . ." Tavington said leaving the sentence unfinished. Catherine felt her stomach drop.

"Ring for one of the servants, Catherine," he ordered quietly.

"What?" she asked astonished. Tavington was barefoot, his jacket unbuttoned, his cravat long discarded. Her own nightgown was barely on. She was horrified at the thought of one of her servants seeing her and Tavington in such an intimate, revealing posture. It would be mortifying. She realized suddenly that that was his intent.

"Ring for one of the servants, Catherine," he repeated coldly. "And ask her to remove the tray because we will be needing the desk tonight."

Catherine was aghast.

"You can't be serious . . ." she breathed unwilling to believe that he would humiliate her so completely in such a degrading fashion.

"Catherine, you seem bothered," Tavington said, his voice flush with mock concern. "It is just a simple request. Just ring for the servant and when she arrives tell her to take the tray away because we would like to use the desk."

Catherine stood a moment in horrified silence at these instructions. She knew she had no choice but to obey him. She had pledged her consent, even to this.

Her hand was still trembling when she reached the servants' bell and pulled tentatively at the cord. She couldn't even look at Tavington as she waited for one of the servants to answer the summons.

After a tense moment of nearly unbearable silence, Catherine heard the familiar soft patter of Judith's footsteps on the stairs. The maid rapped shortly on the door before entering with downcast eyes.

"Yes, Miss? Sir?" Judith asked staring unblinking at the floor.

"Judith, isn't it?" Tavington asked as he walked toward his armchair to retrieve his abandoned glass.

"Yes, Sir, that's right," Judith said giving a brief curtsey. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, I didn't ring for you. Catherine did," he said smiling innocently at her. He turned toward Catherine who was standing in shamed silence by the desk and asked, "What did you want Judith for, Catherine? It is awfully late."

Catherine wanted to crawl into the floor. She had never been so embarrassed. And Tavington was clearly relishing every second of her humiliation. He was merciless.

"Please take the dinner tray away. I won't be needing it," Catherine said softly unable to meet her maid's eyes.

Catherine's stomach churned as Tavington strolled toward her and wrapped a possessive arm around her waist.

"Is that all Catherine?" he asked pressing his hand into her side in a silent warning.

". . .since we need to use the desk," she whispered inaudibly turning scarlet with shame.

"I don't think Judith heard you, Catherine. What did you say?" he asked before casually taking a sip from his glass.

"I said that we will need the desk," Catherine said forcing the words out.

"We will?" the Colonel asked turning toward Catherine in feigned shock. "That's hardly an appropriate thing to tell a servant, Catherine," Tavington chided.

Catherine wanted to claw his eyes out. He was enjoying this beyond words-displaying their relationship to the servants, humiliating her, degrading her. It wasn't enough that he used her privately. Now he wanted an audience for his sadism.

"Quite all right, Sir," Judith said quickly as she rushed to the desk and hefted the large serving tray. "No bother at all."

"Thank you, Judith," Tavington called out amiably as the maid bustled quickly from the room. As soon as she was gone he crossed over to the door to shut it behind her. When he turned around, Catherine saw that his face was alight with wicked pleasure.

"How could you do that to me?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, grow up, Catherine," Tavington said shrugging as he came toward her again.

"To force me to play a part in that humiliating charade . . ." Catherine said still horrified.

"It wasn't a charade, Catherine," Tavington said as the smile faded from his face. "That was punishment for your impertinence."

"Punishment? That's all?" she asked flabbergasted at the depths of his cruelty.

"No," he said softly as he closed the distance between them. "We really do need the desk."

With a dramatic flourish, Tavington swept the entire contents of the desktop onto the floor. He locked his eyes onto Catherine's as he deliberately positioned his glass on the empty desk precariously close to the edge.

"Catherine, here are the rules," Tavington instructed softly. "Actually . . . just one rule."

Catherine shivered at the cold command of his voice but said nothing.

"I am going to take you on this desk. If you fight me, you will knock the wine glass off. And if you do not fight me, it will remain on the desk. Now . . ." he said his voice dropping to an intimate whisper as he stepped closer to Catherine, "whether or not you can still walk tomorrow will be determined by whether or not I can still drink from that glass when I am done with you. Do you understand? Catherine?"

She looked full into his face. His blue-green eyes blazed forth from his tanned skin with the restrained fury of his desire. In the dim, flickering candlelight of the room, Tavington seemed to her as he did when she first saw him standing in the doorway of her home-angelic, demonic, and inhuman. Trembling with her own fears and desires, Catherine nodded her assent.

He did not even bother to kiss her this time. At the moment of her consent, Tavington grasped Catherine by her shoulders and shoved her brusquely onto the desk. He roughly pulled the loose fabric of her nightgown over her shoulders baring her breasts to him. With brutal precision he slid his hands under her nightgown until the fabric was bunched at her waist and she lay open and exposed before him.

Catherine turned her head and saw that she was a scant few inches away from the Colonel's wine glass. She realized that Tavington had spoken truly. If she fought him at all, the glass would spill. She stared transfixed at the amber liquid.

"Catherine," Tavington commanded softly. "Look at me."

She turned to look in his eyes again now strangely gentle.

"Just look at me, Catherine. Not the glass," he spoke in a warm whisper. "Only me."

She nodded again unnerved and discomfited by the tender tone of this instruction. Her eyes followed the path of his hands as they raked across her legs gently roving from the length of her ankles until reaching her naked hips. She raised her eyes to his only to see that he too was following the progress of his hands, his tanned fingers standing out against the pale flesh of her thighs.

Despite her fears, she could not help but study him again. His eyes were half-closed so utterly absorbed was he in his relentless exploration of her body. She discerned that he was undoubtedly an aristocrat. Every line of his face, his chin, his nose was noble and proud. With his hair still pulled back in its tight queue and the soft light throwing his features into stark relief, Catherine was struck again by how astonishingly imposing the Colonel was.

Her reverie evaporated the moment the Colonel slid his thumb to the apex of her thighs and into her moist opening. She inhaled sharply at this sudden invasion.

"Shh . . .Catherine," Tavington ordered softly. "Just enjoy this."

She turned her eyes to the ceiling and stared resolutely at the light playing off the chandelier. She whimpered anxiously as she felt the Colonel's hand turn inside her as he slipped his forefinger in. Her body strained at the presence of the two fingers but as Tavington began making slow, languid circles she felt herself open up to him. He pressed his thumb hard up against her pubic bone until she felt her hips lifting slightly off the desk. Her hands searched for something to grasp on the desk but found nothing. The heat and pressure was building deep within her again and she bit her bottom lip as the sensation threatened to overwhelm her.

Catherine groaned with displeasure as she felt the Colonel withdraw his hand from her, his fingers leaving a wet trail as they traveled to her knees.

"Don't worry, Catherine," Tavington drawled laughing softly to himself. "I'm not finished with you yet."

She looked up the see him take a small step back from her. He locked his eyes on hers as his fingers deftly unbuttoned his breeches, releasing his erection from the restraining fabric.

"Catherine," he said quietly as he moved to stand between her thighs, his body poised to enter hers, "if you do not want to upset the glass, and I assure you that you do not, you will do everything I tell you to do."

She watched as his hands found her knees again and pressed them wide open. He slid his hands down her thighs until they gripped her petite hips.

"Now, put your hands on my wrists and hold on to them tightly."

Saying nothing, Catherine reached out and obediently slid her hands under the fabric of his jacket and took Tavington's wrists in her hands. She felt his fierce pulse beat against the warm skin of her fingers.

"Very good," he said approvingly. "Now. . .don't let go."

With those words he stepped forward. His length penetrated her wet passage easily. Catherine arched her back as she felt herself momentarily balk at the stunning speed of his entrance.

"Catherine," she heard Tavington's strained voice call her name over her mounting panic. "Wrap your legs around me and lock your ankles."

He leaned over her pressing himself completely into her. She did as he instructed even twining her feet and ankles around each other.

She heard Tavington take a deep breathe as he pulled himself out of her, and she braced herself for the first, fierce thrust. With a taut jerk of his hips, Tavington began slowly driving into her, pulling back intently before plunging forward again. Catherine tightened her grip on his wrists desperate to prevent herself from thrashing against the wine glass. He moved with deliberate, measured slowness using the immense power of his legs to control each precise thrust.

He seemed to drive into her endlessly. Catherine closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax into the rhythm of his body in hers and found herself urging him on with the insistent pressure of her legs.

"Tell me how much you like this, Catherine," Tavington demanded as he continued his relentless thrusting.

"So much. . ." she confessed shamelessly as the heat intensified within her.

He laughed softly but immediately increased his meticulous pace. Catherine gasped, arching against him as her climax descended on her sweeping through her whole shuddering body as her hips bucked furiously upward in uncontrollable need. As her core muscles began contracting frantically around Tavington's still thrusting length, she felt his own climax grip him. With brutal, bruising strength, he tightened his grip on her hips and impaled himself completely within her. She shivered as she felt the heat from his seed pour into her.

He lingered inside her a long moment allowing both of them to regain their breath. Catherine turned her head to the side and saw the wine glass standing where Tavington had placed it. She turned up to him with a self-satisfied smile and was surprised to see he was smiling back.

"Good girl," he said smugly.

Catherine released Tavington's wrists and collapsed in spent relief against the desk. She watched as he lifted his wine glass and took a drained it languidly before setting it down beside her again.

"Excellent vintage, Catherine," he commented dryly as he lifted the glass in a mock toast. "My compliments."

He rocked back on his heels allowing his length to slide gently out of her. Leaning forward again he slid his hands along the slick wood of the desk next to Catherine's body and gathered her into his arms. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and with the other behind her knees he lifted her off the desk and carried her to the bed laying her down gently before walking toward the fireplace.

She stared at him, wholly entranced as he began undressing himself. He slid his clothes off with casual languor, tossing first his jacket, then his shirt and his breeches over the back of the armchair. She studied his nude form as he slowly unbound his hair until it fell loose around his perfectly sculpted shoulders. He crossed the room snuffing the candles as he made leisurely progress back to the bed. Even without his uniform she would have still known him for what he was-a ruthless, fearless commander of all he surveyed.

As shadowy darkness enveloped the room, Catherine closed her eyes and waited to feel the bed shift as the Colonel climbed in beside her. When it did not come she opened her eyes again to see the Tavington standing still at the side of the bed studying her moonlit silhouette.

"Catherine," he said softly.

"Yes, Colonel," she replied suddenly nervous again.

"Sit up and take your nightgown off," he instructed her.

She pulled herself to her knees and tugged her nightgown off over her head before tossing it unceremoniously onto the floor.

Tavington slid onto the bed and faced her on his knees. He took her face in his hands and pressed a drugging kiss into her mouth that she found herself ardently returning. He released her lips and placed his arm around her dragging her down to the bed with him as he lay on his side. She trembled with pleasure as his arm remained draped over her even as he positioned himself for sleep.

"Catherine," Tavington said quietly into her ear.

She braced herself for his next words fearing he would threaten her again as he had the night before.

Instead, he whispered haughtily pressing her body closer to his, "You see, obedience does have its rewards."

She heard him chuckle softly at his own patronizing words. Yet she couldn't help but feel gratified at this intimate attention as she settled herself into his arms.

"Go to sleep, Catherine," Tavington ordered softly.

"Yes, Colonel," Catherine answered, smiling innocently into the indifferent dark.

End of "Night Two"

Continue to Night Three...