I

By morning, Catherine's wrath had not diminished, only her courage. Her resolution to afflict Tavington with some measure of the suffering he had inflicted on her was still firm, although she found herself reluctant to open her eyes to even look at her antagonist. Just imagining him naked and sleeping, Catherine could feel her determination already begin to falter. Before she fell asleep the previous night, she had formulated a loose plan concerning what form her vengeance was to take. It would be woefully inadequate, but it was the only path he had left open to her. She decided that she had made his stay far too easy for him. Her consent had spoiled him. She knew she couldn't really hurt him. That was beyond her reach. But she could at least make his last two days with her... uncomfortable. But first she wanted to toy with him the way he so reveled in toying with her. She wanted to confuse him a little, catch him off guard. And she knew of one very good way to do it.

Catherine felt her heart lurch into her throat when she finally opened her eyes. Dawn light had trickled into the room under the curtains and she could see all too clearly the object of her wrath. Tavington was asleep on his side facing away from her. Sometime in the night after she had fallen asleep, he had released her from the prison of his body. Now the white sheet was draped low over his back and Catherine could only gaze at the long line of his spine as it lay like the horizon before her. Her fingers trembled as she lifted her hand to his neck, brushing his long hair lightly to the side, and, placing the flat of her hand to his warm skin, Catherine trailed her fingers down the canyon of his back.

She had never before taken him of her own accord. Not really, anyway. Even on the desk last night, Tavington had started it by pulling her head to his stomach. There had been no doubt then what he wanted from her. And certainly there had been no question of his arousal. This morning was different. He was sound asleep now. Never before had Catherine touched him first.

Catherine moved her hand with tremulous slowness, barely touching his lightly tanned skin. When her hand met the sheet, she slid one finger under it and carried it down the length of his body gliding it lightly over his thigh before letting her hand wander back across his hip. She smiled when she felt him quiver as her fingertips skimmed the sensitive skin at his side, but she froze momentarily when she heard Tavington sigh her name.

"Yes, Colonel?" she whispered but he said nothing in reply. He had spoken her name in his sleep.

Now it wasn't her resolve that wavered, but her anger. She closed her eyes again and forced herself to remember what he had done to her in the library. He wallowed in her humiliation, gloating over how she enjoyed it despite herself. He displayed her in front of his officers, in front of her servants like some kind of prized possession and then used her in private like a slave. No amount of apparent benevolence could make up for that, she reminded herself. His kindnesses only made him that much more cruel, that much more dangerously manipulative. Don't be deceived, Catherine . . .

Opening her eyes again, Catherine concentrated on her objective. He used her desire to manipulate her. She would use his in kind.

Catherine leaned in and rested her lips on the back of his shoulder. Open-mouthed, she pressed her tongue into his skin and began making circling kisses over his flesh. She meandered over his shoulders, across his back, and down his body coming up on her hands and knees to better reach every uncovered inch of his skin.

"I know you're awake now, Colonel." Catherine laid her hand on his thigh and bent her head to kiss his hip before brushing her lips delicately over his taut and too-perfect backside. Catherine struggled a moment to remember what her motivation for this morning maneuver was.

"I am an early riser, Catherine," Tavington said as he shifted slightly forward to give her better access to his body. Catherine glanced over his hip and chuckled at how apt a description that was.

"Yes, I can see that," she replied smiling as she continued her assault on the sloping curve at the small of his back. Despite her lingering wrath, she had to admit to herself that her motives might not be entirely pure in this particular phase of her plan. When Tavington started to roll onto his back, Catherine stopped him with her hand.

"I'm not finished here yet, Colonel," Catherine said sternly as she dragged her tongue up the center of his back.

"As you wish, Catherine," Tavington replied sleepily as he leaned forward again, drawing his knee up to prevent himself from lying entirely on his stomach. "Apparently, you don't actually need me for this."

"Do you object, Colonel?" Catherine asked as she began kissing the back of his neck.

"Not at all. I'm simply wondering what has put you in such a lascivious mood this morning." His voice was even but Catherine detected a faint note of suspicion nonetheless.

"Other than the obvious?" Catherine asked as she ran her hand meaningfully down the length of his exquisite flesh.

"Yes." Tavington gave his pillow a haughty fluff before laying his head down on it again.

Catherine laughed at his arrogance. She knew he didn't need her to tell him how desirable she found him. He just took pleasure in the embarrassment it caused her to admit it. But Catherine was not going to be embarrassed this morning. At least, in this respect, she had no reason to dissemble.

"Oh ...just the obvious," Catherine replied before reaching down and smacking him brazenly on his backside just as he had smacked her the night before.

"We are in a mood, aren't we?" Catherine saw him smile into his pillow before she dipped her head again to his skin. "If I remember correctly, you weren't in such an agreeable temper last night."

"I've forgiven you." Catherine was careful to keep her tone light and provocative so as not to betray her intentions. "After that interlude on the pianoforte, I think I could forgive you anything."

"It is good to know that I haven't lost my ability to corrupt the innocent."

"I'm hardly corrupt, Colonel." Catherine lifted her chin in feigned outrage.

"You're hardly innocent either, Catherine." Tavington was smiling but his tone was serious. She ignored his implication as she slipped her hand over his stomach and laid it precariously close to his erection. Catherine nibbled lightly at his earlobe as she scratched her fingernails delicately over the base of his stomach. She was perversely gratified to hear Tavington inhale sharply as his stomach muscles suddenly contracted under her touch. So this was what he felt when he had her writhing beneath him. The power was intoxicating. "Not that I'm complaining," he added after catching his breath.

Catherine continued her languorous exploration of Tavington's back. But she was brought up short when she saw another scar etched long and low across his ribcage. It looked even older than the one on his chest and it appeared to be the remnants of an ancient burn instead of any kind of knife or sword wound. She traced her fingers over the smooth, narrow surface, but felt Tavington tense under her touch.

"Colonel?" she began suddenly curious, her wrath notwithstanding.

"Don't ask." Tavington said abruptly, rolling onto his back despite Catherine's earlier objection. He took her in his arms and pulled her across his chest. Catherine hated how much she liked that he could toss her around like a rag doll.

"Colonel," Catherine protested, "I'm trying to ravish you. This isn't helping."

"I am supposed to help you ravish me?" he asked arching his eyebrow at her. "I think I recall you refusing my help two nights ago."

"Well, that was then. Now I would appreciate some assistance here." Catherine was momentarily disappointed that her plan to enact sensual vengeance was fizzling. But then she realized that playing innocent might work to her advantage. Tavington never refused an opportunity to reinforce his superiority over her.

Catherine propped herself up on her hands and leaned in to whisper into Tavington's ear. "Teach me, Colonel." She heard Tavington sigh as he brushed her hair back over her shoulder.

Catherine pulled back to look in Tavington's eyes. He simply stared at her for a while as if trying to discern her. It took all of Catherine's pent-up rage to not wilt under the heat of that look. But when he smiled at her finally, she knew she had him. The corners of his eyes crinkled just slightly. It was rare that his smile ever reached his cold eyes.

Tavington released Catherine's arm and brought his hands, loosely clenched, in front of her face. He twisted his arms just slightly and thrust his wrists out. Catherine recognized the gesture immediately for what it was. This was an act of submission.

Catherine reached up and wrapped her hands around his wrists and pressed them back into the pillow over Tavington's head. She knew he had only to flick his wrists and she would be on the other side of the room. But he was submitting to her voluntarily. She knew this game, and surrender was the rule.

"Now what?" she asked when she had him pinned beneath her.

"Whatever you want, Catherine. That's how it works." Catherine shuddered when she felt his hot breath at her neck. What was she supposed to be doing again? It took her a moment to remember.

"Whatever I want? That's all?"

"That's all. Don't ask questions. And don't ask permission," Tavington instructed imperiously.

"You are the expert," Catherine said tightening her grip on him as she pushed his hands deeper into the pillow.

"Yes. I am."

Catherine released Tavington's wrists and dug her hands into his hair at the back of his head and pressed her mouth into his neck. She lowered her body down to lie on him, relishing the sudden infusion of warmth into her skin. With a surge of desire, she began devouring his flesh with kisses, drinking in the taste of his skin, inhaling his heat and leather scent. She rose up again and sat next to his hip. She dug her fingernails lightly into his flesh, grazing them down the length of his chest and stomach reveling in the sight of Tavington arching beneath her in pleasure. Catherine started to throw her leg over his stomach but changed her mind when she remembered how extraordinary it felt when Tavington took her from behind. Catherine flashed Tavington an impish grin before sliding her opposite leg over him until she sat on his stomach with her back to him. She took his length in her hands and positioned him at the entrance of her body. She glanced back over her shoulder just once to throw Tavington a cocky smile before turning back around. With the courage of her passion, Catherine sank carefully onto Tavington's length with a luxurious sigh of pleasure. She leaned forward and put her hands on the bed between Tavington's legs and began raising and lowering her hips again and again in slow, measured waves. Whatever she wanted...Catherine closed her eyes as she continued her relentless undulating and paused just long enough to contract her inner muscles around him with a fierce flutter. Catherine beamed triumphantly when she felt Tavington groan and writhe underneath her, digging his feet into the sheets at the unexpected sensation. She gasped when she felt him grasp her hips suddenly and pull her down on him spending himself inside her as she made tight circles against his grip until she climaxed with a hoarse cry.

Catherine rested a moment on her hands trying to catch her breath before rolling back to lie on top of Tavington. He wrapped his arms over her breasts and rolled them onto their sides.

"Teach you, Catherine?" he panted softly into her ear. "I think you may be a natural."

"Thank you, Colonel," Catherine replied feeling suddenly uncomfortable when Tavington placed his hand over hers interlocking their fingers together against her chest. "My teacher was an expert in the field."

It felt strange to Catherine--this sexual manipulation. On one level, their banter was genuine. On another level, she was trying to confound him. She needed information, and he was always more talkative after she had pleased him in some way. But she was grateful for the position he had left them in. At least she wouldn't have to meet his eyes.

"Excellent work, my dear. And a beautiful view too. Just ravishing," Tavington said as he pressed his hip meaningfully into hers. Catherine blushed to her roots when she imagined the view he was referring to. In the moment, it hadn't even crossed her mind.

"Thank you," she replied laughing at herself. She was silent as she tried again to summon her anger. "Tell me--"

"Not more questions," Tavington complained playfully as he lightly kissed the top of her shoulder.

"I'm a naturally curious person, Colonel," Catherine objected raising her other hand to pinch his arm.

"Very well," he acquiesced. "Carry on."

"I was just going to ask how the work was proceeding. Is everything on schedule?" she asked infusing her words with a light, chatty tone.

"Are you trying to find out if I'll be extending my stay here?"

"Just making conversation," Catherine said letting her voice sound guilty. If that's why he thought she was asking, she was quite happy to let him believe that..

"Unfortunately for you, Catherine, all has proceeded quite smoothly."

"I'm sure Lord Cornwallis is satisfied." Catherine hoped that comment sounded natural.

"Quite satisfied," Tavington answered sarcastically. "So much so that he's forcing all of the officers to attend another one of his self-congratulatory balls."

"Oh, is Lord Cornwallis in town?" she asked keeping her tone neutral. That would be just too convenient. Catherine could barely suppress her shiver of delight at this news.

"Yes. And this ghastly ball is tomorrow night so I suggest you sleep late tomorrow morning since I won't be getting back until quite late."

"Shall I give you an excuse to not attend?" Catherine asked turning to face him.

"What did you have in mind, Catherine?" Tavington asked with a shameless smirk.

"I could take a bayonet to your other leg. I wouldn't mind doing that for you." Catherine batted her eyelashes innocently at him.

"Aren't we solicitous this morning? Regrettably, I could take a bullet and Cornwallis would expect my presence."

"Pity," Catherine said with a decadent yawn. "But my offer still stands. Anytime, Colonel."

Catherine yelped as Tavington reached behind her and pinched her on her bottom. She gave him her best pout and was pleased to see him laugh at her. "I know," she conceded. "I started it."

"Go back to sleep, Catherine," Tavington commanded dragging himself out of bed.

"Do you have to leave already?" Catherine asked as she slid onto the space just abandoned by Tavington's body. Tavington turned around and glanced at her with suspicious eyes. Catherine was afraid her charade had gone too far. But she wagered his arrogance would win against his distrust. No doubt he imagined she was madly in love with him already.

"Duty calls," he said shrugging as he began drawing on his breeches. He walked to the servant's bell and pulled the cord before opening the curtains and flooding the room with light. Catherine groaned at the sudden invasion of sun and buried her face into Tavington's pillow. She peeked her eyes out when she sensed Tavington looming over her. Looking up, she saw him untie the bed-sashes and pull the curtains closed around her plunging her again into darkness.

"Thank you," she called out from inside her cocoon.

"Go back to sleep, Catherine," Tavington ordered again. Catherine turned over and settled into the sheets thinking Tavington was being strangely accommodating to her this morning.

Oh no, she thought, sitting up in bed with a start. He knows I'm up to something. Stop it, Catherine, she chided herself. He knows nothing of the sort. Catherine lay down again into the bed letting her heart slow as she went through the particulars of her plan.

As she drifted off to sleep, spent by her morning's exertions, Catherine caught herself smiling. At least, she thought smirking, I did manage to make him writhe.

II

When Catherine woke up over an hour later, Tavington had long since departed. She scrambled out of bed and threw on her nightgown before ringing for Judith. Dropping into the desk chair, Catherine began pulling out her ink and quill. Judith found her thoughtfully composing a letter when she entered the room a few minutes later.

"Good morning, Jude," Catherine said brightly when her maid opened the door. Catherine flashed her a radiant smile before returning to her letter.

"I won't ask what's put you in such a state this morning," Judith said with a disapproving glare.

"Come now, Jude, you wouldn't want me to be miserable during every second of it, would you?" Catherine turned a roguish grin to her maid. This was the first time since the morning after Tavington had taken her virginity that Catherine let herself talk about her relationship with him.

"Actually, I think I would. It makes me very nervous when you act like this." Judith shook her head in consternation as she pulled the bed curtains back into place and retied the sashes.

"Nervous? He's the one who should be nervous," Catherine said merrily as she reread her letter. She didn't have to specify who "he" was.

"Oh Lord, Miss. What are you planning?" Judith turned around to glare fiercely at her mistress. "You try to hurt him and you know he'll--"

"Jude, I'm not stupid. Haven't you ever heard of repaying evil with good?" Catherine turned conspiratorial eyes to her maid.

"Yes, I think I recall hearing that somewhere."

"Well, that's all I'm doing. I am going to send Lord Cornwallis a very polite little note. He's in the neighborhood now, you know? Isn't that nice?" Catherine asked with a mischievous grin.

"Very nice indeed. And you're sending him a note?" Judith asked suspiciously. "Just a note?"

"Yes. Just a little note," Catherine said briskly as she folded her letter and prepared to seal it with wax. "And a big gift."

III

Shortly after lunchtime, Catherine found herself in the stables working off her nervous energy as she brushed down her horse and polished the tackle. She was grateful that the weather had warmed again allowing her to leave the confines of her house. Her stable boy, Luke, had yet to return from town with more silver polish so she was free to engage in these unladylike activities for a short while without his disapproving presence.

Catherine sighed, disheartened, when she heard the soft, thudding sound of boots on the stable floor. She began putting away her projects knowing that Luke would insist that she let him finish the job. She picked up the horse brush and started working on her horse again trying to untangle a nasty knot in her mane.

"Good afternoon, Catherine. Why am I not surprised to find you out here?." Catherine turned to see that it was Tavington and not Luke who was standing outside the stall door. "Inspecting the empty stalls, are we?" Catherine repressed a fearful shudder. Tavington's eyes had turned green with his barely restrained fury.

"Not at all, Colonel," Catherine said turning back to her task. "This isn't where we kept those horses anyway. Father kept another stable on an adjacent property. Better pasture there."

"Of course." Catherine was trying to remain calm but when Tavington strode into the stall she nearly dropped the brush from her shaking hand.

"Certainly our Lord Cornwallis was pleased with his gift. And he must have been very pleased with you," she said hoping that her voice sounded ingenuous.

"Two dozen of the finest horses in the Colonies? Yes, Catherine, he was quite pleased. He even chose one for himself." Tavington reached up to her horse's bridle and began mindlessly stroking her velvet nose.

"Were you not pleased too, Colonel? After all, I did specify that they should go to your Dragoons."

"Yes, that was so thoughtful of you."

"Well, they were my father's pets really. I was going to sell them eventually anyway. It was no sacrifice to give them to a worthy cause. You should take that magnificent brown one with the white star on his forehead. But do be careful. He's a biter too." Catherine smiled at Tavington as she replaced her brush among the tackle and turned to pick up a comb. Tavington took one stride forward and grabbed her by the neck. Catherine gasped and dropped the comb as Tavington pressed her into the rough wood of the stable wall. In the back of her mind, Catherine could hear her horse whinnying in fright.

"What are you playing at, Catherine?" Tavington asked as he pushed his knee in-between Catherine's legs and pressed his body into hers threatening her with the force of his nearness.

Catherine struggled to remain calm. Tavington's grip was tight on her neck but she could still easily breathe. She needed to be calm to have this exchange.

"I wouldn't leave too many marks if I were you, Colonel. Your handprint on my neck might raise some very important eyebrows."

"What are you talking about?" Tavington demanded bearing down on her with his unflinching eyes.

Catherine slipped her hand into her sleeve and pulled out a note. She lifted it up to Tavington's eye level and waited for him to take it. He held her another moment before abruptly releasing her and snatching the note from her hand.

"It's a thank you note from Lord Cornwallis himself." Catherine lifted her hand to rub at her neck. "And a personal invitation to that ghastly ball tomorrow night. It seems he wants to thank me in person. Isn't that kind of him? How very gentlemanly."

Tavington crumpled the note in his hand and dropped it on the ground.

"This doesn't mean anything, Catherine," he sneered contemptuously at her.

"It means Cornwallis knows my name now. It means he knows that I'm a generous Loyalist. And it means that I need to be in perfect health tomorrow night. After all, I've already sent a servant with my acceptance. Lord Cornwallis will be expecting me."

Catherine, emboldened by her plan, took an audacious step toward Tavington turning unblinking eyes on him.

"There is just something about having such an illustrious and legendary general in the neighborhood that makes one feel so...what is the word I'm looking for, Colonel?...safe. Thank you for letting me know he was nearby."

"You're playing a very dangerous game, Catherine." Tavington raised his hands to her neck again. This time his touch was terrifyingly gentle.

"Tell me something, Colonel." Catherine tried to ignore the riot of desire his hands were inciting. "Why is it that none of my servants have heard a hint of scandal about us? Not even a whisper. Surely you haven't been protecting my reputation out of the goodness of your heart. Maybe it's simply because you want one more thing to hold over my head. But perhaps you know that this arrangement of ours might reflect as poorly on you as it does on me."

"You know perfectly well, Catherine, that when it becomes known that you were my willing lover, you will be the only one to suffer. It was your choice."

"If it becomes known that you destroyed the property of a Loyalist supporter of General Cornwallis, then you will suffer too, Colonel."

"Treason is an easy charge to make, Catherine, and a very difficult charge to refute."

Catherine balked slightly at his threat. She knew she was taking a risk by raising the stakes. But she hadn't counted on him raising them that much higher.

"I'm not reneging on our arrangement, Colonel." Catherine raised her hands to his chest. "I said I would consent and I meant it. But I warned you I would do anything to protect myself and my people."

If she thought her words were stoking the Colonel's rage only, she was shocked to see a cruel grin spread across his face.

"Catherine, you should know by now that you aren't the only one who is willing to do anything," Tavington drawled in her ear as he slid his hands from her neck over her back to her waist. Catherine closed her eyes and gripped the lapels of his uniform in her trembling hands. She gasped as Tavington shoved her unexpectedly against the wall of the stable.

"You'll be alive tomorrow night, Catherine," Tavington said as he jerked her skirts up to her waist. "Whether or not you'll still be able to walk remains to be seen."

Catherine lifted her leg and braced it against the ledge of the stall door as Tavington unfastened his breeches before entering her with breath-taking force. She was vaguely surprised by how ready she was for him. Their confrontations apparently had the same effect on her as they did on him. Catherine wrapped her arms around Tavington's neck as he lifted her other leg around him while he continued driving into her with bruising strength. They both came rapidly, Tavington clenching her thigh so tightly that Catherine cried out in both pleasure and pain.

They panted together, still entwined, before Tavington released his hold on her and stepped away to refasten his breeches. Catherine straightened her dress with quivering fingers as she started walking toward her agitated horse. She froze in mid-step when she heard Tavington draw his sword. Catherine dropped fast to the ground when Tavington struck the flat of blade against the back of her knees. She inhaled sharply as Tavington brought the tip of his blade to rest at her throat. Catherine's eyes trailed along the length of the sword up Tavington's arm until she met his eyes.

"Whatever you're planning, Catherine--don't." The steely calm in his voice was as unnerving as the blade at her throat.

"What makes you think I'm planning something, Colonel?" Catherine asked not daring to move her head a fraction. Tavington allowed a smirk to cross his face. "Because I would be."

"Considering your extraordinarily high opinion of yourself, Colonel, I will take that as a compliment." Catherine swallowed heavily despite her suddenly dry mouth.

Tavington smiled down at her and lifted the blade slightly, forcing Catherine to raise her chin even higher before pulling his sword away from her and sheathing it.

Catherine saw that Tavington watched her as she rose unsteadily to her feet. She returned his gaze with wary eyes.

"By the way, Catherine," Tavington said opening the stall door to leave, "I've left you something on your bed. It's a little thank you gift from the Dragoons. I'm sure I don't have to tell you what to do with it."

Catherine said nothing as he left. She sagged in relief when she could no longer hear Tavington's footsteps. She lingered a few minutes longer in the stables, calming her agitated horse and trying to calm herself. When Catherine returned to the house she was still shaken from her confrontation with Tavington.

As she mounted the stairs to her room, she did not allow herself to speculate on what manner of gift Tavington had brought her. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it was.

Catherine opened her door and saw that this gift, whatever it was, was sitting on her bed wrapped in a Dragoon horse blanket. She crossed over and stood looking down at the bundle afraid to open it. Catherine took a few steadying breaths and reached out to pull the edges of the blanket back.

Oh no, she thought to herself. This can't be good.

Suddenly Tavington's enigmatic instructions made perfect sense. Catherine stepped away from his present and rang for Judith. Catherine was still staring down at Tavington's gift when Judith came in.

"Miss, did you need something?" Judith asked as she came to stand next to her mistress.

"Yes," Catherine answered quietly. "I need a long, thin strip of leather. And I need you to redo my hair."

IV

Under different circumstances, Catherine might have enjoyed the experience of wearing man's clothing. She was walking around the room trying to become accustomed to the new sensation of so much cloth between her legs and around her neck. Pausing in front of her mirror, Catherine took a step back to survey her entire body now arrayed in full Green Dragoon uniform.

It was beyond strange to her to see herself like this--cravat, breeches, vest and jacket. In some ways, she felt almost naked; the breeches tucked into her own black riding boots did absolutely nothing to conceal her figure. And yet the heavy fabric of the vest and jacket was uncomfortably confining. No question Tavington had brought her the smallest uniform possible. Yet even with her hair plaited into a queue like Tavington's, there was no mistaking her for a man.

The only truly unbearable part of it was the waiting. She had heard Tavington and his officers return well over an hour ago, and he still had yet to make his appearance in her room. It was just like their first night together. He was torturing her by leaving her alone with her speculations. But she had even less idea what he meant to do with her tonight than she did then.

Whatever it was, she had a very strong feeling that it would not be pleasant.

Catherine studied herself a few moments more in the mirror, turning this way and that, before collapsing wearily into her chair by the fireplace. The waiting was excruciating. She knew he was doing it on purpose.

Finally, she sighed, when she heard his footfalls on her stairs. Whatever punishment Tavington had planned for her, she just wanted to get it over with soon. She did not stand or even speak when she heard him enter the room. Listening intently, she heard him first remove his sword and lay it on the desk followed shortly by his pistol.

Catherine took a steadying breath and stood to her feet. She tugged at the jacket and straightened her lapels before stepping away from the chair.

She opened her mouth to speak as she finally turned to face Tavington. But the look on his face as he strode toward her stopped the words in her mouth. He was seething with fury inspired, no doubt, by her scheming against him. She was quaking with fear of him even though this too was part of her plan. She needed bruises, as many of them as she could get and welts that would last until tomorrow night.

Tavington was on her before she could get out one word. With a sudden kick of his boots to the back of her ankle, he knocked her off-balance. He seized her viciously with his hands as he brought them both hard to the floor. Catherine was too stunned to even fight him at first. His hands were all over her, yanking the shirt out of her breeches, reaching under it to grasp roughly at her breasts. Paralyzed, Catherine seemed to watch the scene from a distance. Tavington's fury, her fear--it wasn't until she felt Tavington rip open the buttons on her breeches and wrench them down her thighs was she even aware of herself again. Tonight, she wasn't ready for him and she cried out in real pain as he forced himself into her. He clutched frenziedly at her back, scouring her skin with his powerful hands. She tried to push him off, hoping to antagonize him further, but he swatted away her feeble attempts with his casual, brutal strength. Catherine whimpered softly as Tavington captured her wrists and slammed them over her head as he thrust a final time into her and spent himself without a sound.

He hadn't spoken a single word to her.

Tavington came up on his knees and pulled himself out of Catherine. When he was off her, Catherine came painfully up on her hands and tugged her breeches back over her hips. She winced in pain as she lifted herself up and slid her hand in-between her legs to touch her throbbing flesh. When she pulled her hand out she saw blood staining her finger.

Catherine turned accusing eyes to Tavington who was sitting on the floor with his back to the chair. He was watching her with dark, veiled eyes. She held up her hand and turned her palm toward him, displaying the blood for him to see.

She stood up and stepped gingerly toward Tavington before sinking down on her knees in front of him, silently staring into his eyes. With all the force of her fury, she slapped him viciously across his face leaving a faint streak of crimson on his cheek.

"Catherine. . ." he breathed as he took her into his arms and pulled her to him. Something in her broke at that moment and she found herself sobbing in his arms, clinging to him desperately and not knowing why, only that she needed him to hold her.

"Don't betray me, Catherine," Tavington whispered into her hair as he gently rocked her shuddering body. Even through her anguish, Catherine could detect the faint note of a plea in his voice.

She said nothing in reply, could say nothing, but only held onto him. She didn't let go even when he brought his hands to her hair and slowly began unbraiding her queue.

V

Catherine wasn't sure how long she and Tavington sat, curled together, on the floor. After their lengthy, strangely intimate silence, Catherine found herself finally leaning back to face him.

"So," Catherine asked with artificial levity, "how are you going to make it up to me tonight, Colonel?"

She watched him closely as he closed his eyes and took a slow breath.

"William." Tavington opened his eyes again and gazed quietly at her. He lifted his hand and ran his fingers through her now loosened curls. "Please, call me William."

Catherine couldn't help but smile at him with a sardonic grin. So, she had earned it at last.

"Very well...William," Catherine said as Tavington came to his feet. She started to stand too but stopped when he instructed her to stay put.

Disobedient, Catherine pulled herself into her armchair and bent to remove her riding boots. She started a little when she heard footsteps on the stairs and turned to see Tavington open the door and order a bath.

She smiled slightly and leaned back into her chair, resting her eyes for a few moments. When she sensed Tavington standing next to her, she opened her eyes and saw he was offering her a glass of wine. She accepted it without a word and sipped at it as Tavington sat in his usual place.

Catherine sighed tranquilly. "William. William. William," she said with a faint grin.

She laughed softly when Tavington heaved an identical sigh. "Yes, Catherine, Catherine, Catherine?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm just practicing. Hard habit to break...William."

They sank into another comfortable silence as the servants prepared the bath. Catherine wondered vaguely what Tavington was thinking. He seemed utterly serene, as if this brutal act had emptied out the last of his wrath. Wishful thinking, Catherine, she told herself. She wanted to be angry with him and knew she should be. But who bears the greater guilt, she asked herself? Him, for the doing? Or her, for provoking it, even enjoying it despite the pain? They were just the same, and she was too tired to hate herself.

Tavington stood up shortly after the servants finally departed. He stood by her chair and offered her his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. Catherine recoiled slightly as Tavington brought his hands up to her neck. But he smiled reassuringly down at her as he began untying her rumpled cravat. He undressed her slowly. She thought, perhaps, he was trying not to scare her. After a moment, she relaxed and even let him slid the breeches down over her hips. When she was standing wearing only the loose-fitting white shirt, Tavington slipped his hands around her and lifted her gently in his arms and carried her over the bath where he sat her on her feet again. She lifted her arms over head and Tavington pulled the shirt off, throwing on the floor.

Catherine turned and stepped into the bath, sinking gratefully into the steaming waters and wincing only slightly as the heat came into contact with her sore flesh. She took a deep breath and pulled her legs to her, shifting forward in the tub.

"Are you trying to show me what else I did to you, Catherine?" Tavington asked coldly.

"No, William." Catherine looked up at him shaking her head at his insistent distrust. "I'm making room for you."

"You are an extraordinary woman, Catherine." Tavington smiled at her as he began removing his clothes.

Catherine suppressed a pang of guilt. "Oh, not really, William. I just like seeing you naked."

Catherine watched as Tavington removed his bandage--she was pleased to see his wound was healing--and stepped into the bath behind her. He sank into the water and stretched out his legs to either side of Catherine. She sighed with reluctant pleasure as he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her back against his chest.

"Do you feel better now?" Tavington brought his wet hands up to her hair and brushed it over her shoulder.

"Do you care?" she asked with a smile.

"No," they said at the same time before laughing at each other.

"Yes, I feel better now," Catherine said wrapping her arms over Tavington's. "Do you?"

"Much. And you were right. That enormous brown and I were meant for each other."

"Well, he was always a vicious beast. But completely fearless. You two should do well together. Until you get each other killed, of course." Catherine lifted one leg out of the steaming water and laid it on the side of the bath. She turned her head to rest her cheek on the center of Tavington's chest and glanced up at him.

"What are you going to name him?"

"Ben, I think," Tavington said as he lifted a handful of water and poured over Catherine's arms. "That was the name of my first horse."

"Big Ben. Perfect. Ben and Will."

Catherine yelped as Tavington splashed her face with water.

"Terribly sorry," she apologized insincerely. "Ben and William."

"Thank you, Catherine." Tavington reached for a towel and handed it to her who wiped the water off of her face with an exaggerated gesture. "You wouldn't want me to call you Cate, would you?"

"Well," she said dropping the towel onto the floor, "it would be better than what my father always called me."

"Worse than Cate?" Tavington asked. "Catie? Cathy?"

"Oh William, it was much, much worse than that."

"He didn't?" Tavington asked in mock horror.

"Oh yes, I was a Kitty." Catherine laughed at the memories of her horrible childhood nickname. "He should have been drawn and uartered. And then hanged."

"Well, I threatened it a few times," Catherine admitted ruefully. "But I finally got used to it. Now I wish I could hear him say it just once more."

"Do you miss him?" Catherine was surprised by the sincere tone of his voice.

"Yes, of course. Don't you miss your family at all? Or England?" She prompted.

"England, sometimes," Tavington admitted as Catherine turned around to face him in the bath. "Although there really isn't much left for me back there."

"What do you mean?" Catherine reached for a washcloth and dipped it into the water. Tavington turned his cheek to her as she wiped the streak of blood off his face. She was inwardly gratified to see she had managed to slap him hard enough to leave a red mark.

"As I told you, my father squandered away everything. As we speak, my family's ancestral lands and estate are being sold to pay off his debts. Now, my father--he was a bastard."

Catherine shuddered at his bitter tone. At the same time she grudgingly admired him for the life he had made for himself. Had her father been equally irresponsible, Catherine couldn't imagine what she would have done. As it was, however, Catherine could probably buy England were it for sale.

"I may stay in America," Tavington continued. "It is a beautiful country."

"I know. Everything grows here. It's glorious in spring. I guess I won't be here to see it," Catherine said wistfully, thinking of how much she herself would miss it when she had to leave.

"Do you know where you'll go?" Tavington asked quietly.

"Does this mean that I am going to survive the week?" Catherine tried to suffuse her question with flippancy, but even she could detect the anxiousness.

"If you behave yourself...so, probably not." Catherine laughed at his tone and threw water over her shoulder into his face. He promptly splashed her back inciting a brief navel battle between them that ended only when Catherine, blinded by a face of sodden hair, called for a truce.

"William, you really are too old to be acting this childish," Catherine said with a haughty flip of her wet hair. She was promptly rewarded with another pinch on her bottom. Catherine playfully rolled her eyes at Tavington before settling in again on his chest.

"Do behave, Catherine," Tavington ordered superiorly. "You're getting the floor wet."

"Yes, Sir." Catherine scooted forward as far as she could in the bath and leaned back into the water, soaking her hair completely before raising up again.

"You really do have very beautiful hair, Catherine," Tavington said as he took it in his hands and ran his fingers through the wet locks.

"Thank you." Catherine replied, beaming at the compliment. "And thank you for not cutting it all off."

"I must admit that it crossed my mind to take a curl or two." Tavington drawled with a mischievous grin. "But, unfortunately, you were sleeping on your stomach."

It took Catherine only a moment to comprehend his insinuation. She turned and gaped at him before breaking into unrestrained laughter.

"Truce over, Will." Catherine put both hands into the water and shoved it at him thus instigating the second watery conflict of the night.

VI

"Catherine, it doesn't work that way."

"Oh fine, William, show me again."

Catherine rolled her eyes in lighthearted aggravation as she sat up and crossed her legs in front of her. She and Tavington were on the floor in front of the fireplace where Catherine was letting her hair dry while Tavington was attempting, very unsuccessfully, to teach her two-player Whist.

"I think this game is too British for me, William." Catherine scrunched up her eyes at her hand and played another card on the pile.

"Better, but not by much." Tavington gave Catherine her card back and twisted her hand to look at what she was holding before taking a different card and placing it on top. "And what do you mean--too British?"

"There are too many rules," she complained. "We rugged colonials have too much work to do than sit around in drawing rooms and invent convoluted card games." Catherine smiled at the picture they must make. Together, she decided, they made up half a Dragoon uniform. After their bath, Catherine had slithered into Tavington's white shirt and he was wearing only his breeches and his own long hair hung drying about his shoulders.

"Yes, I can see that you are a very busy woman. And how late did you sleep today?"

Catherine shot him an outraged glare before breaking into a smile.

"You're the one who is always ordering me, 'Go back to sleep, Catherine'," Catherine intoned trying to match the tenor of Tavington's imperious commands.

"As if you would have gotten out of bed anyway," Tavington said, ignoring her impersonation of him, as he captured another trick thus winning the third game in a row.

Catherine gathered up the cards into her hands and repositioned her legs in front of her. She flashed Tavington a smug grin before expertly shuffling the cards in her nimble fingers. She handed the cards back to Tavington who immediately cut the deck and shuffled it one-handed.

"Show-off," she said petulantly. "I think you're cheating anyway."

"At shuffling?" he asked, arching his eyebrow at her as he began dealing again.

"I wouldn't put it past you, William. And shouldn't we be playing for something?" Catherine asked as she perused her cards still making absolutely no sense of what she had in her hand.

"What did you have in mind?" Tavington asked with a wicked smirk.

"I don't know. What do you usually play for in Whist? Other than the glory, of course." Catherine said provocatively hoping to make this bizarre game a bit more interesting.

"Let's see," Tavington drawled arrogantly as he leaned over to rest on his elbow. "I have played for money, of course, a two-hundred year old bottle of port, a racehorse, and a night with another man's wife."

"Did you win any of them?" Catherine asked as she closed her eyes and picked a card at random from her hand.

"All of them. That was just in one hand, Catherine." Tavington flashed her another roguish look.

"How was the port?" Catherine laid the card on the pile with a tentative gesture.

"Better than the wife. And you can't play that card, Catherine."

Catherine groaned and threw her hand into the air letting the cards flutter around her as she collapsed back on the floor with an exasperated sigh. "Oh, I give up. Too many rules, William. I only have the patience for games with one rule." She lifted her head and raised her eyebrows at him with a meaningful waggle.

Tavington laid his cards down and crawled over to where she lay on the floor. He lifted his leg over her stomach and hovered above her on his hands and knees.

"A game with one rule, Catherine? Are you up for it?" Tavington asked as he dipped his head to kiss her leisurely along her neck.

Catherine knew Tavington was asking if she was still hurting inside. It touched her a little that he had even bothered to ask. She lifted her hand and slid it down his stomach into his breeches.

"I think I am. And I can tell you certainly are," Catherine replied with a cheeky smile.

"Catherine," Tavington said in a low voice as moved to kneel behind her head. "I know a game with only one rule. And the best part is, we both win if we play." Catherine smiled as he bent to kiss her, relishing the strange sensation of him kissing her upside-down.

"I'm certainly willing to try, William. What's the one rule?"

Tavington didn't answer her question, but instead slid his hands along her body up to her bent knees. He took her knees in his hands and rolled them back toward him as he came forward and slipped his hands behind her thighs bracing her legs wide open with his arms.

Catherine immediately understood Tavington's comment about them both winning when she looked up to see what was positioned right above her head. She lifted her hands and unbuttoned his breeches. She slid her hands up to hold on to his back and raised her head, taking him in her mouth as she felt Tavington descend on her.

Oh yes, she thought, this is definitely better than Whist.

VII

Sometime during their bath, Catherine had let herself forget that she was scheming against him. Now that they were in bed together again, she was forced to remember what she had resolved that morning. She knew that Tavington was at his most dangerous during those moments when he seemed most human. And tonight, after he had taken her so brutally, he had turned back into a man. Although she hated to consider it, she had to admit to herself that it was a distinct possibility that Tavington's behavior this evening, even letting her call him by his name, had been a calculated ruse on his part to undermine her conviction to cause him trouble. After all, hadn't she attempted the very same thing this morning? Catherine almost missed the devil. It made these things so much easier.

"So does that other game have a name?" Catherine asked as she crawled over Tavington to snuff out the candles. She curled up on his chest, sighing languidly as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Let's just call it a variation on Whist. Very likely," he said with a revealing smile, "a French variation."

"Vive la France." Catherine purred before lifting her head and clapping her hand over her mouth. "Oops. I think I just committed treason."

"Sedition actually. But we'll just keep it our secret...Kitty."

Catherine groaned and buried her head in her arms. "Can we keep that a secret too, please?"

"Of course, Catherine. It is one more thing to hold over your head."

Catherine smiled into her arms. After a moment she propped her head on her elbow and stared at him through the shadows.

"What else are we keeping a secret, William?" she asked intently.

"What do you mean, Catherine?"

"Why doesn't anyone know about us? Other than all of your officers and all of my servants, of course. I know why my servants haven't talked. But surely one of your officers...With so many people who do know, the whole colony should be talking about us. You are the notorious Colonel William Tavington, after all. And I'm..."

"A very generous Loyalist supporter of Lord Cornwallis?" he supplied distantly. Tavington sighed and threaded his hand through Catherine's hair. "I learned a long time ago, Catherine, that the secret to command has nothing to do with either fear or respect."

"Then what is it?" Catherine asked intrigued.

"Complicity. I turn my head. They turn theirs," he intoned with a world-weary sigh. "And thus the bonds of loyalty are forged."

"So you let them get away with anything and they let you get away with everything?"

"Everything," Tavington answered with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Well, I know firsthand what they let you get away with. What do you let them do?"

"Catherine, do you really want me to answer that question?" Tavington asked dismissively, tapping the end of her nose.

"No, probably not," Catherine conceded laying her head back down on his chest as she ran her fingers mindlessly over his scar.

"Catherine?" Tavington said softly to get her attention.

"Yes, William," she said turning back to face him in the dark.

"Don't fight me, Catherine. I know you want to. Don't." Catherine felt herself blanch at the unexpected menace in Tavington's voice. She saw his features soften a little and he added almost tenderly, "I don't want to have to fight you back. But I will."

The threat was unmistakable despite his tone. She knew that, quite literally, she was playing with fire. Catherine nodded noncommittally but made no promises.

She drew away from Tavington's body and lay on her side away from him. After a few silent minutes, she heard the rustle of linens as Tavington rolled onto his side and pulled her to him, laying his arm over.

Catherine took a slow breath trying not to enjoy the feeling of her and Tavington's bodies lying together. She ran through the litany of abuses he had heaped on her during this past week--the little cruelties, the insults, the humiliations, and the violence. Earlier today, he had even put a sword to her throat. Why could he make her forget these things so easily? She had never known a more dangerous man in her life.

"How did you get the scar on your back?" Catherine asked finally hoping for another story to remind her of his violent and checkered past.

"Didn't I just warn you about asking questions you didn't really want answers to?" Tavington asked quietly.

"I'm a naturally curious person," Catherine said with a smile, teasing him about their morning together.

She heard Tavington sigh into her shoulder and kiss the back of her neck before settling into his pillow.

"Not all of us had fathers who spoiled us, Catherine."

Catherine grimaced with sympathy into her pillow. Bastard, she thought. Why do you have to make hating you so hard?

"I'm sorry--"

"Shh. . .Catherine. Just go to sleep." Tavington rolled onto his back again. Catherine stared quietly into the shadows before she turned over and draped herself over his chest again, flinching slightly when he rested his arm gently over her bruised back.

Don't betray me, Catherine. She remembered his voice as he held her. Violence, humiliation, the blood on her hand...We'll see, she thought. Why did you have to let me call you by your name?

End of Night Six

Continue to Night Seven...