I

Catherine awoke in a panic the next morning. Sitting up in the bed the instant her eyes opened, she brought her hands to her head and ran her fingers frantically through her hair.

"It's all there, Catherine, I assure you." Catherine turned her head to see Tavington sitting in the desk chair in his green vest and shirtsleeves as he strapped his boots on. His voice had been light and composed when he spoke, strangely devoid of its usual sarcasm.

"I was afraid you were going to cut all my hair off in the night." Catherine pulled her hair over her shoulder and twisted it nervously in her hands.

"That would be. . . What did you call it?. . .childish, I think." Tavington sat back in the chair with a casual smile and crossed his ankle over his knee. "Besides, such beautiful hair as yours--I would never presume to cut any of it off."

"Thank you," Catherine replied cautiously. She watched as the Colonel stood and pulled on his uniform jacket and riding gloves. She had anticipated that Tavington would enact some sort of revenge in the night, but it had passed peacefully, if fitfully, enough. Yet he seemed so calm this morning, disturbingly calm.

Tavington crossed over and sat on the bed next to Catherine. He brought his gloved hand up to her head and twisted a curl around his finger. Catherine gazed at him silently as he studied her halo of tousled hair before smiling at her enigmatically. "That would be a travesty, wouldn't you say?"

Catherine inwardly cringed at his choice of words wondering if it was deliberate. Was it possible he had already spoken to Captain Bordon this morning? Why on earth did I tell him Tavington was spectacular in bed? Catherine asked herself. But surely Captain Bordon wouldn't have related that conversation to him. Or would he?

"I'm sorry about what I did," Catherine said hastily looking away from his quiet blue eyes. "I was just--"

Tavington slid his finger over her lips. "It's quite alright, Catherine. I forgive you."

Catherine was staggered. This was the opposite of what she had been anticipating. But after four days, she knew better than to trust this seeming benevolence. Although she desperately wanted him to forgive her, she held little hope that he would. She was sick of living with a knot of fear in the pit of her stomach terrified that one wrong move would mean the end of everything. But she no more trusted this forgiveness than she trusted Tavington himself. She followed him with her eyes as he stood again and began buckling on his sword and pistol.

"You do?" she asked warily searching his face for a denial. She saw nothing but absolute cold calm. Catherine shivered with apprehension.

"Of course, Catherine." Tavington said as he bent over the bed and kissed her gently on her forehead pausing to stroke her cheek one last time.

He turned on his heel and strode toward the door. Catherine watched as he offhandedly reached out and tapped the candlestick on the desk. The unlit candle fell onto a stack of papers with a muted thud.

"Wasn't that clumsy of me?" Tavington asked turning to face Catherine with a sinister smile. "Good thing that wasn't lit. I might have burned the whole house down."

Catherine felt the color drain from her face. Suddenly, she was incapable of speech.

"Go back to sleep, Catherine," Tavington ordered opening the door. "You have a long night ahead of you."

Catherine listened to Tavington's boots as they echoed down the stairs. When she could hear them no longer she collapsed back into bed.

"Oh God, he's going to kill me," she said to herself as she brought her hand up to her racing heart. Thousands of possibilities ran through her head. This time she knew she had gone too far. She looked at the fallen candle lying like a threat on her desk.

II

Sleep was impossible. Catherine tossed and turned in her bed for another hour before finally giving up. Part of her was almost amused by her fruitless efforts. I'm only trying to go back to sleep because he ordered me to, she thought sitting up in bed with a frustrated groan.

Catherine thought back to two days earlier when she had so rashly provoked Tavington. Her skin warmed at the memory of her hands tied above her head, his hands viciously gripping her hair, the force of her penance. . .Admit it Catherine, she told herself, you even liked it when he slapped you.

Catherine shook off these disturbing revelations as she crawled out of bed and into her robe. Opening the curtains, she flinched at the sudden infiltration of mid-morning sunlight into the room. Blinking, she surveyed the room and saw Tavington's wine glass sitting empty and still by the fireplace next to the white blanket she had laid down. Catherine rang for Judith and hurriedly refolded the blanket before returning it to the linen closet. When she heard her maid on the staircase, Catherine rushed to replace the fallen candle in its holder. No reason to terrify everyone, she thought.

She smiled faintly at Judith when her maid entered the room.

"You look terrible, Miss." Judith said without preamble. She came up to Catherine and studied the dark circles under her eyes.

"It was a difficult night," Catherine replied stepping away from her maid's scrutiny. She sat down at the desk and laid her head wearily on her crossed arms. Shutting her eyes, she heaved a somber sigh.

"I guessed as much." Catherine could hear Judith begin to make the bed. Her maid's voice sounded even more tired than usual. "Apparently, your colonel is quite resilient."

"You have no idea. . ." Catherine laughed coldly at her words. His words, she realized. Even his voice had gotten inside her.

She dragged her head off the desk and leaned back in the chair as she pressed her hands over her tired eyes. "Miss?" she heard her maid approach her, "What are we going to do?"

"I don t know, Jude." Catherine felt Judith's comforting presence behind her. She tilted her head back and looked up into her worried eyes. "You know I'll take care of all of you."

"Of course, Miss," Judith said as she putting a loving hand into Catherine's hair. "I'm not talking about money. We all know that you'll take care of us that way. I just want to know if you thought about what you're going to do."

"If I'm pregnant, do you mean?" Catherine immediately regretted the coldness in her voice. This was too much to think about today.

"Yes. It will be a miracle if you aren't. But even if you're not. So far I haven't heard anything but it's only a matter of time before this. . ."

"Situation, Judith?" Catherine said with an icy smile.

"Yes, this situation becomes public knowledge. You're reputation will be destroyed."

"Don't you think I already know that, Jude." Catherine pulled away from her maid's reassuring touch and strode to the bed. She sat cross-legged on it before grabbing Tavington's pillow and clutching it to her chest. "I suppose we'll go north if we have to. Far North."

"Canada?" Judith asked wide-eyed with disbelief.

"That is where many of the other Loyalists are going," Catherine said shrugging. "I suppose we can start over there. I'll play the grieving war widow. I'm sure I won't be the first who's had to."

"That's what I thought." Judith came toward Catherine and sat next to her on the bed. She reached into her apron and pulled a ring out of the pocket. "Your mother's," she explained softly laying the ring into the palm of Catherine's hand. "Your father had me keep it for you."

"Wouldn't she be proud to see me like this?" Catherine looked at the exquisite diamond in her hand. It seemed strange to be holding something of her mother's. She almost never even thought of her anymore.

"She would be proud that you're still alive. That you've kept us all alive. I heard the Colonel ordered two more plantations fired yesterday. Burnt to the ground. They were hiding supplies for the colonial army."

"Belligerent ruffians." Catherine snorted grimly as she remembered her conversation with Captain Bordon. So the Colonel had earned his scar after all.

"What, Miss?"

Oh nothing, Jude." Catherine dropped the ring back into Judith's palm. "Keep it for now. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Catherine laid the pillow back in its place on the bed and curled up on it.

"Don't you want to get a bath and some breakfast, Miss?" Judith stood up and placed a gentle hand on Catherine's arm.

"Later," Catherine said pulling her knees up to her chest. "I think I'll try to get some more sleep. Sorry to bother you."

"Are you sure that you're well, Miss?" Judith asked as she closed the curtains plunging the room back into shadows.

"I'm fine, really. I promise. Just exhausted." Catherine looked up at her maid staring down at her with anxious eyes. "I'm fine, Jude." She closed her eyes and settled into the pillow feeling the need for sleep come upon her at last. Catherine opened her eyes again when she felt Judith lay a blanket on her. It was the one she had taken Tavington on last night. She pulled it around her and shut her aching eyes.

"Just ring for me when you're ready." Catherine heard Judith's retreating footsteps.

"Jude?" Catherine called out as she heard the door open.

"Yes, Miss?"

"Last night was bad. Just so you know--tonight will be worse."

"Yes, Miss." Catherine heard her maid pause for a long time in the doorway before finally withdrawing without another word.

III

Catherine was sitting with her back to the fireplace letting the heat dry her hair and seep into her chilled skin. Although the weather had improved slightly overnight, Catherine couldn't quite get warm enough. She scanned the room that had once been so safe and familiar to her. Now everything in it seemed drenched with danger and meaning. Her desk, her bath, her bed, everything that had once been so innocuous and inert had come alive to her.

Catherine lay back onto the floor and allowed herself to recall the feeling of Tavington's body on hers last night. She wondered a moment whether it was the fear that gave her so much pleasure, or the pleasure that caused her so much fear. Turning her head, she saw that her wine glass was only a few inches from her face. For the first time that day, she smiled. Catherine let her hand trail down her body as she remembered Tavington's touch inside her. She drew the fabric of her gown up over her hips. Despite her fear, or perhaps because of it, she was almost looking forward to the night.

IV

Ensconced in her favorite chair in her father's library with her well-worn copy of Paradise Lost, Catherine barely heard the raucous clatter of the Colonel's regiment as they returned. She was slightly more relaxed now. Her fear had faded into determined resignation. She had survived the Colonel's wrath before. She imagined she would live to see tomorrow. It wasn't until the officers began spilling into the library that she looked nervously up from her book.

"Miss Hamilton? Forgive us for the intrusion." Catherine brought her eyes up to meet Captain Bordon's. She noticed that today his eyes were empty of the compassion they wore last night. "We usually use the library for our evening conferences."

"I'm sorry, Captain," Catherine replied briskly closing her book and standing to her feet. "I'll leave you to it then."

Catherine moved to replace her book on the shelf. She felt a sudden chill as the room went deathly silent. Turning around, Catherine was unsurprised to see Tavington now standing in the middle of the room with his arm resting casually on the back of another chair. She watched apprehensively as he brought his gloved hand up and methodically removed his helmet while he gazed quietly at her petrified form.

"She can stay, Captain." Tavington spoke without taking his eyes from hers. "Everyone else can wait in the hall."

Catherine watched in mute horror as the officers rapidly exited the library. She noticed many of them giving her surreptitious glances of sympathy as they left. Tavington thrust his helmet into the hands of one of the officers as he passed. Still, he did not take his eyes from hers.

"Bordon?" Tavington said as the Captain was leaving.

"Sir?"

"Shut the doors."

Catherine flinched as the captain closed the doors behind him with a sickening click. So this is how it's going to be, Catherine thought. It was worse than she had anticipated. She was too scared to even blush at this humiliation. She was too scared to speak.

"Come here, Catherine." Tavington lifted his head imperiously. But she found she was unable to move.

"Catherine, this doesn't look like consent to me."

Although she couldn't quite feel her feet, Catherine made a tentative step forward. Tavington smiled cruelly at her hesitant progress as she made her way across the room to him. When she finally stood in front of him, she cringed as she heard the sound of hushed voices just outside the room. Tavington was going to take her here in the library with all of his officers standing right outside the door. Even as she writhed in her mortification, she felt her body begin to betray her.

"Say something, Catherine," Tavington ordered looking down at her with his ice-blue eyes.

"I hate you," Catherine hissed vehemently through her clenched teeth.

Tavington smiled at her words as he brought his hands up to her neck. "You don't hate me," he said as he leaned over letting his mouth hover at her ear evoking the memory of their first day together. "You only hate how much you like it."

Catherine tried to pull away from him but he held her viciously by her neck.

"Don't fight me, Catherine, or I'll let them watch," he whispered the threat into her hair. She stopped struggling against him, and she felt him loosen his grip on her.

She closed her eyes as he brought his fingers up to her face letting them wander unhurriedly over her eyes and her cheeks. Catherine shivered at the strange sensation of his leather-clad hands as they stroked her lips.

"This morning, you said you d forgiven me." Catherine knew she couldn't dissuade him, but she had to try.

"Oh, I have, Catherine," Tavington said as he allowed his hands to slide over her breasts, down her stomach, until he stepped forward to take her bottom in his hands.

"Then why are you doing this?" she asked frantically, choking back her tears.

"Because I want to." Catherine gasped as Tavington unexpectedly grabbed her skirts and pulled them up to her hips. He took her leg and hitched her knee over the back of the armchair. "Because I can."

Catherine struggled against the uncomfortable position. She tried to pull her gown down over exposed body, but Tavington brought his hands up to hers and forced them behind her back as he pressed his mouth onto her neck and bit lightly at the vulnerable skin. She winced as she felt his hands release her wrists and slither up to her thighs as he pressed her legs open even further.

When Catherine saw Tavington slip his hands between her legs, she thought he was unbuttoning his breeches until she felt his finger rest at the entrance of her body. He was still wearing his riding gloves.

"Colonel," she begged, "please don't."

"But you'd be so disappointed if I didn't." Tavington smiled down at her before covering her mouth with his own. Catherine reached up and gripped his arms for balance. With a fierce thrust, he plunged his leather-clad finger deep inside her.

Catherine balked at the invasion as the abrasive leather dug into her body. She pulled away from Tavington's face gasping from the assault. It was glorious agony. She cried out into Tavington's shoulder as she felt herself tremble as he rotated his hand inside her. She could even feel the seams in the leather.

"See?" Tavington whispered, his lips lingering at hers. "I knew you d like it."

Catherine felt hot tears of shame well up in her eyes. She blinked them away as Tavington shoved in another finger and began making spiraling circles inside her. When she began panting against Tavington, he roughly wrenched his hand out of her. "Not yet," he ordered her as he gripped her leg and pulled it off the back of the chair.

Catherine recoiled as he seized her by the forearm and dragged her around to the side of the chair. She trembled as he crushed the front of her legs into the plush chair arm. She could feel his straining arousal pressing fiercely into the small of her back. Tavington forced his gloved hands down the front of her gown and grasped her breasts kneading her nipples between the rough leather of his fingers. He released her breasts and slid his hands down to her hips taking them in his bruising grip.

"Bend over," Tavington commanded. Catherine complied immediately wincing as she felt Tavington yank up the back of her gown. She leaned over the chair and held on fiercely to the soft upholstery of the opposite arm. She heard a rustle of fabric just before she felt Tavington sink himself into her wet but aching body. Catherine bit her lip to keep from crying out. In the back of her mind, she knew the officers were still waiting just outside the door. Even Tavington was quieter than usual, his slow, ferocious thrusts accompanied only by the sound of his ragged breathing.

She felt him dig into her hips as he drove into her one last time spending himself inside her as she shuddered around him. He remained there only a moment before withdrawing his length from her. Catherine moved to face him but Tavington stopped her with a word.

She couldn't see what he was doing but she felt him grasp the bottom of her underskirt and wipe himself off before he finally released her. She turned around just as he finished fastening his breeches.

"You bastard--" she breathed.

"You can send in my officers now, Catherine." Tavington said dismissively ignoring her impotent wrath. "Wait for me upstairs. It should only be an hour or so."

Catherine didn't even bother trying to straighten her clothes. It would have been futile. She mustered the last shreds of her tattered dignity and strode toward the door. Her hand was trembling as she opened the door, but she managed to speak with a moderately steady voice.

"The Colonel will see you now," she said to the assembled Dragoons, as they looked at her in stunned silence. Catherine walked through the crowd of officers forcing herself to neither blush nor cry despite the overwhelming disgrace of the situation. She turned back one last time to see Tavington leaning apathetically against the back of the chair as he leisurely removed his gloves.

V

The moment Catherine entered her room she rang for Judith. She was pacing wildly across the floor in her shame and frustrated rage. By the time her maid entered her room, Catherine had already stripped off her clothes and was wearing only her bathrobe.

"Miss?" Judith asked coming toward her with distraught eyes.

"Don't, Jude, please." Catherine turned away from her maid and began pacing the floor again. "I just would really like a bath."

"You've already had one today, Miss."

"I don't care. Please, Jude." Catherine faced Judith and gave her a feeble, imploring smile. "Please, Jude," she repeated.

"Of course, Miss. Anything you want." Judith bent to pick up Catherine's discarded clothes but flashed a questioning look at her when her hand came in contact with the wet underskirt.

"Don't ask, Jude. Please. . ." Catherine turned away from Judith in shame. "I don't care. Just burn them all," she instructed.

"Very well, Miss." Judith quickly left apparently realizing that Catherine was in no state to be comforted.

Catherine collapsed in her fireside armchair and waited wordlessly until the servants were finished preparing her bath. She was sick with the feeling of betrayal--betrayed by Tavington, betrayed by her own body. She couldn't decide who she hated more.

After the servants had left, Catherine rushed to her bath and sank into the steaming water. She grabbed a washcloth and quickly lathered it up with soap before scrubbing at her skin. Bringing her knees up to her chest, she felt the hot water stinging between her legs. Catherine ignored the throbbing as she pressed the cloth into her and tried desperately to wash the last traces of Tavington out of her.

Too distressed to even cry, Catherine stared blankly at the wall as she finally let the heat ease her fraught and frazzled nerves. You only hate how much you like it, she told herself repeating Tavington's words as she splashed warm water on her face. Catherine tried to disregard that she was careful, even in her anger, to not mess up her hair.

VI

Catherine was back in her armchair dressed in her most modest nightgown when she finally heard Tavington's arrogant footsteps on her stairs. She had promised herself that she would confront him calmly, not allow him to see how he affected her, but as soon as she heard her door open, Catherine was on her feet storming toward him.

"How could you do that to me?" Catherine brought her small fists up beat against his chest. Tavington grabbed her by the wrists and held her firmly as she fought against his grip. "You bastard--how could you do that--"

"Calm down, Catherine." Still in Tavington's grasp, Catherine nearly fell as he spun her around and pressed her back into his chest with her wrists crossed in front of her. She struggled against him despite the pointlessness of her resistance. "Shh. . .Catherine," Tavington whispered soothingly into her ear. "Calm down now."

"Why did you do that to me?" she asked in quiet anguish. Catherine shuddered but did not flee when she felt Tavington release one of her wrists and slide his hand slowly down her body.

"Did I hurt you?" Tavington laid his hand meaningfully against the base of her stomach. The tender concern in his voice broke Catherine's rage and she found herself softly weeping.

"Please don't," she pleaded. "Don't be kind to me."

Tavington released her other wrist and wrapped both of his arms around her. He leaned his chin into her neck and rocked her against him.

"Why not, Catherine?" he asked as he raised his hand to brush a tear off her cheek.

"Because I want to hate you and you do this and I can't--"

"Shh, Catherine," he whispered again running his hands over her arms. "You're too good for hate."

Catherine let herself be comforted at last. She knew she would eventually forgive him again anyway. That was the reality of her final betrayal. She relaxed into Tavington's body and breathed deeply until her racing heart calmed.

"Did I hurt you?" Tavington asked again as he released her from his arms. She turned around and laid her head against his chest, her arms still clenched in front of her, and exhaled heavily as he pulled her close to him.

"A little," she replied too embarrassed to look up at him. "I'm fine now."

"Good." Catherine yelped as Tavington suddenly lifted her up into his arms. She thought he was carrying her to the bed and was surprised when he sat down in the fireside chair that she had begun to think of as his and held her gently across his lap. She sagged against him exhausted by her now spent wrath.

"Catherine," Tavington said as ran his fingers slowly up and down the length of her back.

"Yes, Colonel?" She tried to sit up so she could face him but felt Tavington's hand holding her insistently to him.

"Let's call a truce, shall we?"

Catherine tilted her head up suspiciously. "A truce? You're offering me a truce? I thought you were winning."

"I am winning, Catherine." Tavington replied as he raised his hand to lightly caress the back of Catherine's neck. "But I'm also tired of fighting you. And you are obviously tired of fighting me."

"Obviously," she said resignedly. She felt his hands drop away from her so she leaned back to face him. He face was composed and his eyes were a placid blue. She didn't trust him for one minute. But the offer was tempting. Even one night off from their incessant, humiliating clashes would be a relief. "Fine. I give up."

Tavington smiled at her acquiescence as he took her face in his hands. He pulled her to him and kissed her. Catherine was tentative at first, still wary from his earlier cruelties. But he slipped his tongue into her mouth and grazed her lips softly with his and she allowed herself to ease into the rhythm of the kiss until she felt herself growing warm again with desire. Catherine shifted her body on his lap trying to move closer to him but froze when she felt him flinch.

"Colonel, I'm sorry," she said hastily as she tried to raise off his lap. "I forgot--"

"It's fine, Catherine." Tavington pulled her down on his lap again and Catherine smiled inwardly at his male pride. Very well, she thought, if doesn't mind the pain, I certainly won't. Yet, she was careful to not move abruptly again.

She rested her head against his chest again as she played mindlessly with one of his gold jacket buttons. He sighed and was silent for a long time.

"So, I'm spectacular in bed, am I?"

Catherine groaned against Tavington's chest as she felt herself turn scarlet. She slapped her hand against his shoulder when she heard him chuckling.

"Don't laugh at me."

Tavington grabbed her hand and pressed his lips into her palm before twining his fingers into hers.

"Truce, Catherine. Remember?" She leaned back to face him wearing her fiercest scowl.

"This is not a good way to begin a truce, Colonel."

"You said it," he reminded her with an ironic tilt of his head.

"Only because Captain Bordon was being so. . .patronizing. And why on earth would he tell you any of this?" Catherine was flabbergasted.

She watched as Tavington's customary sneer spread across his face.

"You had him do that on purpose, didn't you?" Catherine asked wide-eyed with astonishment. The unbelievable, unmitigated gall of the man.

"I simply wanted to see how you were handling this little arrangement of ours." Tavington released her hand and began unbuttoning his jacket.

"You wanted to know if I was planning on slashing your throat. Or poisoning your dinner. Or stabbing you through the heart. . ." Catherine swatted Tavington's hands away and finished unbuttoning the jacket and untying his cravat even as she continued to glower at him.

"I can see you've given this some thought. But I know you won't kill me. If you wanted to you, you would have already tried." Tavington pulled off his cravat and dropped it carelessly on the floor.

Catherine rolled her eyes at his incredible self-importance as she crossed her arms petulantly in front of her. "I only said it because his pity was irritating me. I cannot stand condescending men," she said with a meaningful arch of her eyebrow at Tavington.

"Unless they're spectacular in bed, of course," Tavington said leaning forward to pull off his jacket before throwing it across her empty armchair.

Catherine opened her mouth to deliver a stinging retort when Tavington brought his finger over her lips.

"My truce, Catherine. I get the last word." Tavington lowered his hand to her knee as Catherine exhaled noisily in defeat.

"You realize you look very juvenile when you pout, Catherine, don t you?"

"I am not pouting," Catherine said pouting. She caught herself in the lie and laughed despite herself.

She leaned back against Tavington and rested her forehead into the crook of his neck. "I really do hate you, you know," she whispered softly, slipping her hand in between the buttons of his vest.

"I know," Tavington replied quietly as placed his hand over hers on his chest. "Do you hate me too much to play for me?"

Catherine sat up in surprise. She was instantly flooded with memories of their first night together. He had made her play for him then. Would this night end the same terrible way?

"No, I suppose not." Catherine steadied herself as she rose off his lap careful not to bump his wounded leg.

"Bach tonight, I think. I assume you savage colonials have heard of him." Tavington stood up slowly and strolled to the decanter as Catherine seated herself at her piano.

"Yes, Colonel, I think I may know some Bach," Catherine replied with mock affront. "Would you like to hear Johann Sebastian? Or perhaps Wilhelm or Carl? Of course there's also Johann Christoph Bach and Johann Christian Bach? Do you have a preference?"

"Touch‚, Catherine. But I'll leave that to you," Tavington said smugly as he came to lean indifferently against the piano.

"I would have never imagined you were a Bach aficionado." Catherine laid her hands lightly on the keys allowing her fingers to recall the notes.

"There's quite a bit you don't know about me, Catherine." Tavington smiled as he took a drink from his wine.

Catherine flashed Tavington a quick smirk before bringing her hands hard down on the keys. She was less nervous tonight and played without fumbling. Even her disconcerting audience failed to intimidate her, and she felt the tension dissipate as she lost herself in the comforting music.

Catherine was keenly aware that Tavington had sat his wine glass down on top of the piano and moved to stand behind her. Yet she continued playing even when he brought his hands up and placed them on the edge of the piano at each side of her body. When she failed to react to him, Tavington slid a finger seductively down her spine. Catherine resolutely continued playing though she grinned at his efforts to disrupt her. But she stopped when she felt Tavington lean over and bite her gently on her earlobe.

"Colonel," she said letting her fingers crash to a halt. "Why do you even bother making me play when you interrupt me every time?"

Tavington flashed her a mysterious smile as he seated himself next to her on the bench. He leaned back against the keyboard and propped his elbows noisily on the keys. "I'm sorry if I hurt you earlier."

Catherine's heart leapt uncomfortably into her throat and she turned away from his searching eyes. "No you aren't," she said faintly.

"No," he admitted. "But I would like to make it up to you anyway."

"And so you needed me to play Bach for you?" Catherine faced him with a cold _expression.

"Not at all." Catherine started as Tavington stood up unexpectedly and put his hand on the back of her shoulder. With elegant speed, he slipped his other arm under her knees and lifted her off the piano bench. She gasped as he kicked the bench away from them as he deposited her on top of the piano. "The piano just happens to be at a very convenient height."

"For what?" she asked nervously as Tavington slid his hands under her gown bringing them to her knees.

"You'll see." Tavington grinned at her enigmatically as he pushed her legs wide apart.

Catherine was shaking as she felt Tavington slide his hands up her legs to her hips. Her feet were on the piano keys and she laughed nervously as they made dissonant chords every time she moved. He looked up at her with an amorous smirk before pulling her hips roughly right to the very edge of the piano.

Tavington released her knees and raked his hands up her thighs dragging her gown up with him. He drew the fabric to her waist before leaning over and biting her hip.

"Colonel!" Catherine chided him shocked by the sudden prick of his teeth.

"You started it." Tavington pressed his mouth to the top of her thigh. Catherine found herself slightly breathless as Tavington looked up into her eyes and ordered, "Lie back, Catherine, unless you want to watch."

She complied cautiously still uncertain about Tavington's intentions. But she sighed with pleasure as he skimmed his hands leisurely up her inner thighs until she felt them laying flat across her hips with his thumbs poised at the entrance of her body. With delicate precision, he eased his fingers into the folds of her flesh and opened her up to him.

Catherine reflexively tried to press her legs together but Tavington barred her with his powerful arms. She relaxed only a little when he began massaging her skin until she felt his mouth trailing down the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs toward his fingers.

"Colonel, please. . ." she begged him not knowing if she was begging him to stop or to hurry.

"Only because you said please,'" Tavington drawled. Catherine gasped and nearly sat up when she felt his tongue flick over her exposed opening. Tavington raised his head and laughed at her shock before lowering it again and taking her in earnest.

Catherine arched with languorous pleasure as Tavington worked on her with his mouth, slipping his tongue into her and sucking lightly on the knot of tender flesh at the apex of her wet passage.

When she sensed her release building within her, Catherine reached down and slid her hands under her legs trying to grip the edge of the piano. Instead she felt Tavington take her hands in his. As he bore down onto her, she gripped his fingers like a vice and writhed until she came with shuddering force. Panting for breath, Catherine felt Tavington's mouth draw away from body. He stood between her legs and pulled her nightgown down over her with a sardonic tug.

She turned smiling at him as he walked around the piano and lifted his wine glass to his lips.

"That was . . ." Catherine began before she realized she had no idea what she meant to say.

"Spectacular, Catherine?" Tavington asked with a wry arch of his eyebrow.

Catherine giggled, spent and light-headed.

"Are you planning on staying on the piano all night, Catherine?"

"I might have to. I believe my legs are no longer working properly. Just hand me a pillow. I'll be fine."

Tavington rolled his eyes at her giddy ramblings but walked back to the piano. He held out his hand to her and when she took it he yanked her up to a sitting position. She laughed as he pulled her over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around the back of her knees before lifting her off the piano. He carried her dangling over his back to the bed where he dropped her unceremoniously on the coverlet. She sighed luxuriously and wrapped her arms around his neck as he bent to kiss her.

Her blissful reverie was immediately shattered when she saw Tavington wince slightly when his thigh hit the edge of the bed. She scooted away from him and sat up with a stern _expression.

"You hurt yourself again, didn't you?"

"No, Catherine. I think it just reopened earlier today." Tavington was apparently disgusted by his slight show of weakness.

"Well, take your clothes off so I can look at it." Catherine scrambled to her feet to collect the rolled bandages. When she turned back around, she saw Tavington still standing fully dressed and making no effort to remove his clothes.

"Colonel, you are usually more than willing to take your uniform off in front of me." Catherine glared at him with her hand on her hip.

"Usually, I have a far more compelling reason to undress other than having my wound examined." Tavington returned her glare with amusement. "Care to give me one?"

Catherine laid the bandage rolls down on the desk and strolled toward Tavington. She laid her hands on the rich velvety fabric of his vest and ran her fingers down over his chest.

"I must say, Colonel," she said with a seductive grin, "I do rather like the vest without the jacket or cravat. Very dashing."

Catherine rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeply.

"Is this your best attempt at persuasion, Catherine?" Tavington asked smiling into her lips.

"Well," she said lightly stepping away from him, "you're usually so contrary that I thought if I told you I liked your clothes, you would shed them immediately. I suppose I was wrong again."

Catherine spun on her heel with a haughty toss of her head and began to gather up the bandage rolls. She gasped when she felt something soft hit her squarely in the middle of her back. Whirling around, she saw the green vest lying at her feet and Tavington standing in his shirtsleeves smirking.

"And you said I was being juvenile?" Catherine laughed as she dropped the bandages back onto the desk and moved to retrieve the basin of water. She changed her mind in mid-step and instead bent down and opened the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a small bottle of Irish whiskey.

"Trying to get me drunk again, Catherine? You saw how well that worked the first night." Catherine looked up at a now very naked Tavington standing behind her. He had left his hair braided in its queue and she was disturbed by the potent combination of naked flesh and professional soldier.

"I am not," she replied testily coming to her feet. She hoped she wasn't blushing again.

Tavington hovered behind Catherine as she busied herself clearing off the desk.

"Catherine, aren't we sentimental tonight . . ." he drawled in her ear as he brought his arms around her waist.

"Colonel," Catherine said stepping away from his embrace, "please sit."

She pointed at the desk as she attempted to stare him down.

Tavington sat on top of the desk with an illicit smile. She knew he was remembering their previous activities involving her grandfather's beloved old English desk. Catherine forced herself to push the memory away as she strode to the bath to collect a small towel. She watched as Tavington propped his feet up on the arms of her desk chair and leaned back onto his hands.

Catherine was utterly arrested by the sight of the perfect slope of his body as he lounged with such aristocratic superiority on her desk. She fanned her heated face briefly before straightening her back and returning to the Colonel.

"I saw that, Catherine," Tavington said grinning at her telling blush.

"It happens to be very warm in here tonight, Colonel. It has nothing to do with you," she lied as she gestured for him to move his leg so she could stand in front of him.

"I'm quite comfortable, actually." Tavington made no move to oblige her so Catherine ducked quickly under his leg with an exasperated sigh.

"Well, you are also completely naked, Colonel," Catherine reminded him as she began unwinding the bandage.

"So you did notice? I thought so."

Catherine flashed him a disapproving glower before turning back to her task. She winced in involuntary sympathy when she uncovered a layer of cloth that was soaked in blood.

"You did reopen it, Colonel," Catherine said as she gingerly peeled the rest of the bandage off his thigh. "What were you doing? Raping a dangerous rebel ten-year-old?"

Tavington laid his hand on the side of her face and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"I was thinking of you the whole time."

"I'm flattered, Colonel," Catherine replied coldly.

"Don't be," Tavington retorted. "She was quite a wicked little girl."

Catherine grabbed the whiskey and quickly removed the top. She slapped the towel under his thigh and poured the alcohol liberally over his wound.

She was gratified to see Tavington recoil at the sudden vicious stinging. She had been on the receiving end of this treatment more than once, and she remembered quite clearly how terribly it burned.

"Very wicked," Catherine said wearing a Tavington smirk.

"You are trying to kill me, aren't you?" Tavington asked as he exhaled through the pain.

"It has crossed my mind a time or two." Catherine wiped carefully at Tavington's wound and decided again not to stitch it.

"What stopped you?" Catherine looked up at Tavington baffled by his suddenly sober tone.

She sighed and shrugged unsure of the answer herself. "I don't know. I suppose I knew it would be futile. I wouldn't kill you in your sleep. That would be cowardly. And I know I would have no chance while you were awake."

"That's hardly the whole truth, Catherine." Tavington took her chin in his hand and tilted her head up to face him.

"Well, you tell me then, Colonel. Why haven't I tried to kill you?"

"I think," Tavington said softly as he pulled her to him and quickly kissed her, "that before I came here you were the most bored woman in the colonies."

"I was hardly bored, Colonel," Catherine replied drawing back from him and picking up the bandage roll.

"Yes you were. Trapped in this gilded cage of yours with only servants for company and too much time on your hands. I think you like having me here. At least I keep things . . .interesting."

"Interesting, definitely," she admitted. She thought about the Colonel's theory as she continued bandaging his leg. Catherine didn't want to admit that there was some truth to his words. Although her father had always lavished love and attention on her, he was possessive of her time and company. "But interesting isn't always a good thing. You're presence in my home--"

"--And your bed."

"--Has wholly destroyed my life. If this arrangement, excuse me, when our arrangement becomes public knowledge, and I'm sure its only a matter of time, I'll either be run out of town by the rebels as a Tory whore or snubbed completely by the Loyalists." Catherine turned her incensed eyes on Tavington. "Do you have any idea that damage you've done to me?"

"You're only upset because I'm leaving tomorrow."

Catherine stood up immediately in shock. "What? I thought--"

When she saw a fiendish grin spread across Tavington's face she lifted her fist to punch him in the shoulder. He caught it easily laughing at her vain efforts.

"You bastard," Catherine fumed. Tavington released her wrist and took her face in his hands and pressed a fiery kiss on her mouth. She tried to pull away from him but he held her too tightly. She was humiliated that he had so easily manipulated her into showing her feelings.

"Truce, Catherine. You consented to a truce." Tavington reminded her with a haughty sneer.

"I'm seriously reconsidering my consent to that truce among other things," she said yanking her hand from his grasp. She quickly finished tying his bandage.

"No you aren't." She looked up at Tavington staring down at her with his ice-blue eyes. Again Catherine was furious at herself for succumbing so easily to his incredible allure. She had never been so intensely aware of another person in her life.

"No, I'm not," she conceded as Tavington slid his hands into her hair and combed his fingers through it shaking it lose from its confining pins.

"Much better," he said approvingly as he released Catherine' hair down her back. "Not quite." Tavington reached out and slipped his hand behind Catherine's neck and pulled her down gently to his stomach allowing her hair to drape torpidly across his naked flesh. She shook her head slightly, tickling his stomach with her long curls. Catherine inhaled his warm, masculine scent and quickly found herself pressing her mouth into the rigid muscles of his stomach, leisurely pouring kisses over his skin.

"No biting tonight, Catherine," Tavington warned.

Catherine glanced up at Tavington with a mischievous glint. "If you insist," she said just before bringing her mouth down on his hard length.

She was gratified to hear him gasp at her sudden descent on him. Within the haven of her hair, she ran her tongue up and down him, massaging his straining shaft with her lips.

"I see we were paying attention tonight, Catherine," Tavington said condescendingly as she sucked lightly on him pulling him deeper into her mouth.

Catherine felt Tavington's stomach muscles contract as he leaned back on his hands with a barely suppressed groan. Catherine made slow, torturous circles with her tongue and lips gripping his hips to steady herself.

Tavington was apparently caught off-guard by Catherine's unexpected generosity. He climaxed quickly with one last, throaty breath. Catherine smiled at him as she dropped back into the chair swallowing hard the taste of him.

She watched as Tavington lifted his wine glass and took a slow sip before handing it to her with a roguish grin. She accepted it gratefully letting the warm wine trickle down her throat.

"That was a pleasant surprise, Catherine." Tavington leaned forward and took the empty glass from her sitting it on the desk. He reached for her hands and pulled her to her feet again.

Catherine shivered with pleasure as Tavington took her arms in his hands and raised them over her head before reaching down and drawing her nightgown up, pulling it off of her and throwing it on the floor. She stood naked before him and self-consciously crossed her arms over her breasts. Tavington slid forward on the desk and came to his feet.

"You're going to miss me when I'm gone, Catherine." Tavington strolled toward the bed and leaned back against the bedpost waiting for Catherine to follow.

"I'm not sure about that," Catherine replied as she walked over and pulled the bed covers down. "Why don't you leave and then I'll know."

She slipped into bed and jerked the covers over her. She watched as Tavington doused all the candles except for the ones on the bedside table causing steep shadows to cast over the bed.

"And don't deny that you'll miss me a little too." Catherine chided him laying back into the soft silk.

Tavington crawled over to her and slid his hand under the sheets running up and down the length of her body. "There is one thing I know I'll miss."

"Really?" Catherine asked curiously.

"Oh yes," Tavington said turning to sit with his back to her. "The desk."

Catherine slapped him playfully on his back before sitting up behind him. She began untying the leather strap from his queue and unbraiding his hair.

"It is a rather nice desk, isn't it? My grandfather brought it over from England with him. It was the only piece of furniture he bothered to bring."

"Your grandfather came from England?" Tavington asked as Catherine lingered over his hair.

"Yes. He brought my father with him too. You know, you never even asked me what my loyalties are, Colonel." Catherine finally stopped playing with his hair and laid back into bed.

"Only because I don't care." Tavington turned around and laid next to her smiling when he pulled her to him. "I'm not an evil man, Catherine. I'm just very good at my job."

"Is this part of you job?" Catherine asked lifting her hands to point at herself.

"Of course," he replied with a haughty smirk. "Subduing the rebellious population." Tavington rose up on one elbow and began running his fingers delicately over Catherine's bare shoulder and arm.

"I was not rebelling," she retorted even as she shivered with pleasure.

"Call it a preemptive strike." Tavington rolled away from her and doused the last candles plunging the room into near complete darkness. Only the dying light from the fireplace illuminated Tavington's sinewy form.

Catherine watched him as he lay contentedly back on the pillows and drew her across his chest. They were silent for a long time as Tavington lightly ran his fingers over her naked back. She moved her head a few inches and found she could hear the slow, steady beating of his heart.

"What will happen to me if I'm carrying your child?" Catherine finally asked.

"Oh, you'll probably lose you looks and your figure." Catherine rose up and shot him a dagger-laden glare. "What? Were you planning on hunting me down and forcing me to marry you?" he asked with a sneer.

Catherine laid her head back down on his chest and smiled. "No, I would never marry you."

"That's right. You don't like condescending libertines."

"Really, I have no problem with libertines. You're just too old for me."

Catherine was rewarded for her impertinence with a sharp slap to her bottom. She flashed him a look of mock outrage before settling back down onto his chest.

"A young libertine, then . . ." Tavington said musing over the idea. "I do have a nephew. Looks just like me too when I was his age."

"Are you sure he's your nephew?" Catherine asked lifting up her head to smile at him meaningfully.

"Actually, no." Catherine shook her head at him in wonder as he smiled at some distant, obviously pleasant memory. She placed her hand on his chest and rested her head on it so she could look at him in the eyes.

"My Lord, is there any sin you haven't committed?"

Tavington considered the question. "Incest, I believe. But that's only because my useless brothers keep having sons. What are you grinning at, Catherine?"

"You," she said tilting her head at him. "It seems so strange to hear you talk about your family."

"Did you presume I had none? I had a mother and a father too. Unfortunately." Catherine saw his _expression darken.

"Why unfortunately?" she asked him, suddenly intrigued by his bleak tone.

"You have my late father to thank for my presence here in your bed, Catherine."

"Really? How so? Not that I would thank him."

He ignored her retort. "My late-honored father gambled and whored away my inheritance leaving me with no choice but either the army or the church. And, as you can imagine, I would as soon burn a church as step into one."

"Yes, I can believe that. So why--"

"Enough, Catherine," Tavington interrupted her abruptly. "Tell me something. How old are you?"

Catherine looked up at him warily, surprised by the sudden change of subject. "Twenty-three. Why do you ask?"

"Why aren't you already married?" he asked as he drew her hair to the side and idly stroked her neck.

"I suppose I could have been if I really wanted to. My mother died giving birth to me so my father was in no hurry to marry me off."

"He adored you, didn't he? It's obvious he spoiled you."

Catherine laughed hollowly. "Yes. And you ruined me."

"I won't ask which you enjoyed more. So you never wanted to get married? I'm sure you had suitors."

"A few. But none caught my interest." Catherine grasped Tavington's arm as he rolled her onto her back. He lay next to her again propped on his elbow. "I had little doubt," she continued, "that is was only my father's wealth that they desired."

"Oh, I don't know," Tavington drawled with a wicked smirk. "You have two very desirable qualities apart from you money." He dipped his head to kiss the swell of her breasts.

"I'm going to pretend you're referring to my charm and ready wit, Colonel."

"Oh yes, Catherine," Tavington drawled pulling the sheets down to uncover her breasts. "Very witty. . ."

Catherine threaded her fingers through Tavington's long hair as he bent to kiss her breasts. She sighed languorously as he slid his hand down her body and slipped a finger into her.

"Who was better?" she asked with a brazen smile. "Me or the rebel ten-year-old?"

"Just so you know, Catherine, the penalty for rape in the British army is hanging," Tavington said pressing hard into her as he ran his mouth along the length of her neck.

"Should I be flattered that you were willing to hang to have me?" Catherine bent her leg to open further to him.

"Do you honestly believe that someone as ambitious as I am would take that chance?" Catherine drew away from him as his words penetrated her sensual stupor. She sat up quickly and pulled the covers over her body.

"Colonel, are you saying that you wouldn't have--"

Tavington sat up too and stared at her through the dark. "Since you were so obliging to consent, Catherine, I suppose we'll never know. Or, at least," he said with a smug leer, "you will never know."

Catherine stared at him, her eyes vacant of _expression. She couldn't believe that it was possible she had given up her life for nothing. Surely, Tavington was toying with her again. It was a horrific possibility. If she had said no to him. . .

"You--" she breathed.

"It was your choice, Catherine." Tavington reached out and took the covers in his fist and yanked them off her. He grabbed her thighs and pulled her toward him throwing her on her back. She did not struggle as he slid his hands under her knees and forced her bent legs down to her chest. He was still on his knees when he entered her, his hands on her legs pressing them open as he thrust roughly into her.

"Don't deny it, Catherine." He lowered his head to her ear and whispered even as he continued his relentless thrusting. "It was always your choice."

Although she could not deny it, she did not confirm it either. She merely clung to him, writhing silently until she came in wordless release. Catherine didn't speak to him anymore that night. When he finished with her, Tavington pulled her against him and threw his leg possessively over her pinning her to the bed with the weight of his body before falling asleep.

Catherine studied his sleeping features in the fading light. Tomorrow, she thought, this truce is over. Tomorrow, I make you writhe.

End of Night Five

Continue to Night Six...