Magdalen by Kate

[This takes place late 1777 through early 1778. Providing our hero was with Cornwallis through most of his campaign, that would put him with the capture of Philadelphia. So here we are, the winter encampment of the British at Philadelphia.]

"Seeing that girl today, My eager heart Is driven by desire." --Vidyapati, Twin Hills

William Tavington had not been in America very long. He was surprised to find that he liked the colonies a great deal. He had never expected to. Tavington could not say the same for the traitorous inhabitants. England held the upper hand and Tavington was smug in the knowledge that the rebels were no match for the wealth and might of His Majesty. Philadelphia, the newly proclaimed rebel capital, was a recently conquered gem. His only regret was losing the American Congress that had fled before they had a chance to capture them. Such a capture would have quelled this rebellion quickly.

The citizens seemed pleased at the British occupation. Things at first had been difficult. The Americans had blockaded any supplies to the city. A few days ago they were able to capture two forts along the Delaware river, boosting the cities supplies and enabling the British to settle comfortably into their winter encampment. Most of the rebel supporters and their families had fled with their Congress, much to the joy of the Loyalists and Tories that remained behind. Balls were held every week, plays performed in the theaters, and the wealthy resumed their frivolous lifestyle confident in the knowledge that England was as strong an empire as ever.

Tavington twisted his neck. It was uncomfortably cold in Philadelphia and his wool uniform only warmed him to a point. Still he walked tall and upright. He rarely let his discomfort show. His Dragoons uniform was perfectly tailored to his tall, strong frame. Tavington continued down the city street with a small number of his men. General Howe, Lord Cornwallis and their officers had taken residence in many of the abandoned homes of wealthy families. Tavington's residence was a particularly grand home once owned by a prominent American merchant. He was lucky enough to share it with no one.

He heard a young woman laugh and say, "Oh, Miss, it's Dragoons they are. Fancy having a go at some of them sometime?"

Tavington's head snapped around. Two young women were traveling in his direction. The older of the two smiled lustfully at him and he clenched his jaw in distaste. The other girl merely stared at him through stark, gray eyes. Her dark hair was pulled up in fashion, but a few wisps danced about her face like silk. She smiled warmly at him and did not turn away. There were times when grown men found it impossible to meet his glare. This young girl stared him down without blinking. As they passed each other, neither could tear their eyes away. Time seemed to slow down for Tavington, he found he could barely breathe as their bodies passed within inches of each other. He quickly growled in surprise when he slammed into the back of Captain Borden.

Borden turned around angrily, "Watch where you're go-" He stopped short and turned white when he saw who the offending party was. "Sir, I apologize, I did not know it was you."

Colonel Tavington shoved Borden aside without a word. He glanced back to see the girl was still smiling and staring into his eyes as she walked away. Her pink coat and dress flapped behind her like a flag. He was so impressed with the sight of her.

"Well," Tavington muttered to himself. He took off his hat and walked towards them. Both women widened their eyes at his approach. "Do not fear, ladies," he said. "I mean no harm."

The girl who had spoken so boldly of the Dragoons relaxed and smiled. "I'm Daisy Sheffield. What might I do for you, Sir?" She swayed her hips from side to side in a most unladylike manner.

Tavington tried to shrug off Daisy's shrill voice. He stepped towards her companion in the pink dress. "What is your name?" he asked. She blinked but said nothing. Tavington did not have a great deal of patience. He asked again, "What is your name?"

"Sir," Daisy began.

"I was not speaking to you," Tavington said evenly.

Daisy stepped between them. "Yes, Sir, but it will do you no good, Sir. She can't speak."

Tavington looked at Daisy in confusion. "She what?"

"She can't speak. Horrible thing, Sir. She hasn't been able to speak since she was a young girl," Daisy said. Tavington looked at the girl. It was then he spied the edges of a scar peeking out from the coat's thick velvet collar at her neck. He looked back at Daisy with a bewildered expression. "Her name is Magdalen Stuart," Daisy told him.

"Magdalen?" Tavington asked. "Very odd name for a girl."

"Yes, Sir. Her mother was mighty religious, Sir. Somewhat of a strange woman, I think, to name a child after such a lady. Right odd name indeed. You know, she was the lady in the gospel who-" Daisy explained.

"Yes, I know who Mary Magdalen is," Tavington growled. Daisy backed away from him, but Magdalen stood her ground, the light from her face blazed up at him. Damn her, she was still smiling at him as if he were the grandest thing she had ever seen. It rattled him. He asked, "Who is her family then, the Stuarts? I do not believe I am familiar with them."

"No, Sir. She's the daughter of Gareth Kent, Sir," Daisy said. She leaned in close and lowered her voice, "She's a bastard, Sir. Her mother was Bess Stuart, who worked in the kitchens of the Kent home back in London. When her mother died awful, Mr. Kent took pity on her and took her in," Daisy told him.

Tavington eyed Magdalen carefully. "I see," he said. His voice began to waiver. "I know Gareth Kent, he was a friend to my father." Tavington's mind wandered back to past unpleasantness. He shook them off and coldly said, "Good day, ladies." He turned and stalked back to his men.

###

"I saw him, blushed, turned pale when our eyes met. Confusion seized my bewildered soul." --Jean Racine, Phedre

As Magdalen watched him walk away she elbowed Daisy in the ribs. "Ow!" Daisy exclaimed. "Well, what else was I to say, Miss? He would have found out sooner or later."

Magdalen frowned and walked away. The word bastard was still ringing in her ears. She tried not to let it bother her. It was not her fault who her parents were. She could not help that any more than she could help the fact that she had brown hair instead of blonde, or gray eyes instead of green.

"Oh, Miss," Daisy said running behind her, "He fancied you I think."

Magdalen Stuart turned away so her older friend would not see her face flush with color. Magdalen was captivated by a man. The very thought startled her. She never thought she would be so enraptured by anyone. Although she could not blame every man for her past, she had never met one she had liked or felt comfortable with. Even her own father was a stranger to her, for she kept her distance to him. She could not help but think things would have been different had he just followed his heart instead of London society and their rules of propriety.

Magdalen turned and spied a small dog chewing on a shoe it had found. Simple sights like that always broke her heart. There were so many simple, beautiful things. She felt lucky to be able to catch them from time to time. Her heart would fill with bliss. She turned back and stole one more glance at the Dragoon who had stopped them. He was far on the other side of the street and almost out of view. She sighed. Another simple, beautiful thing she had found. Another thing to break her heart.

"We'd better be going back, Miss," Daisy said softly. Magdalen gave a quick smile and followed.

When the two walked up the steps to the lavish house in front of them, an older woman flung open the door. "Magdalen! Get inside at once. Look at you, you are an utter disgrace to us all. I do hope no one saw you," the woman said angrily. Magdalen looked at her step-mother and walked past her slowly.

"Was my fault, Mum," Daisy said. "I asked Magdalen to go with me."

"Daisy, you are not paid to drag Magdalen about the city," Agatha Kent said coldly.

"Yes, Mum," Daisy answered. Mrs. Kent turned away and grabbed Magdalen by the arm, dragging her up the steps.

"I do not know why you insist on making friends with the help," Agatha said nastily. "Then again, you are not so far removed from them, are you?"

Magdalen ignored the insult and scampered up to her room. She flung herself down on her bed and laid motionless, staring out the window at the streets below. She would not cry. Agatha Kent was a pitiful woman, happy in only making Magdalen's life miserable. It angered her when Magdalen did not react to her insults or threats. She craned her neck to see down the street. She wanted to see the Dragoon she had seen earlier. She wanted to hear his voice again. The first man she had met since her youth that had not frightened her. Magdalen fell asleep and dreamt of him.

###

"My soul this hour has drawn your soul A little nearer yet." --Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Insomnia

Tavington sighed in disgust. General Washington had set up his camp at Whitemarsh for the time being. Philadelphia was very heavily fortified and the Americans knew it. Washington sent skirmishers along the northern end of the city to harass British troops entrenched there. Casualties were light enough, but it angered them all to no end. Often General Howe would send Cornwallis into New Jersey to engage a few of the skirmishers there. Tavington was able to release his fury then and it often looked forward to it. Howe had ordered all of the American homes on the outskirts of Philadelphia burnt to the ground. Most of the rebel families had fled, but if any lingered behind they would soon get the message.

Tavington spied movement in the brush. He felt quick panic when he realized the source of the movement. "Borden," he said. "Take over here, I'll be back shortly."

His set his horse off. Upon coming to the edge of the trees he dismounted and removed his hat. Magdalen was perched on a large rock, that lay nearly concealed beneath her heavy blue, floral dress. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling slightly. She was completely unaware that she had company. Her concentration was solidly centered. Tavington studied her. He realized she was listening to the sounds of the creek bubbling and swirling. She looked so blissful. He took a step forward and stepped on a fallen branch. The loud snap of the wood startled Magdalen out of her reverie.

"I am sorry," Tavington said at once. "I did not mean to frighten you." He could see his presence terrified her and it made him feel a small degree of guilt. It was a feeling he was not accustomed to and was not sure how to handle it.

Magdalen stared at him. He could see her pulse beating furiously at the base of her neck. He took a step toward her and her eyes widened in terror. He stopped. "Do not be afraid," he said soothingly. He held his hand out in front of him to show he meant her no harm. Her breathing was labored.

He could not see what it was in him that could terrify her. Even though his very name terrified the rebels, she was English. Of a family loyal to the Crown. She had no reason to fear him. They were friends, not foes. Then he painfully realized it was not him, but something dark and buried in her that was the source of her fear. Perhaps it was the incident that had taken her speech. He looked at the scar, now fully revealed at her neck. Tavington recognized the sight of an old gunshot wound, he had a few of his own. His stomach tightened with anger. He backed up, straightening his posture.

"What are you doing out here alone, Miss Stuart?" he asked. She blinked at him and raised her head in defiance. "Right," he said apologetically, "you cannot answer. You are alone, are you not?" He looked about the creek bed for signs of another presence besides her own.

Magdalen started to run. Tavington broke off after her. She was not ten feet before he grabbed her. Her breathing grew ragged and gasping, as if she had begun to choke. She turned and dropped to her knees at his feet, her arms crossed around her body in a defensive manner. She began to weep. He quickly realized what she thought he meant to do to her and instantly stepped back. When at a safe distance he kneeled and looked at her tear-stained face. "I am sorry. I will leave you be, but you must understand. It is extremely dangerous for you to be here."

He spoke so softly and gently, that Magdalen was able to relax her guard. She looked at him and nodded. He smiled briefly at her. "There's a good girl. I'll escort you back to town, right?"

Magdalen slowly got up, her eyes never leaving his for a second. He held out his hand but she refused to accept it. He sighed and walked over to his horse. He gathered the reins and brought the animal over to her. She mounted the horse and Tavington walked forward, pulling the reins behind him.

Borden's eyes widened when he spotted his commander leading a young woman out of the woods on his horse. Tavington never let anyone near that damn horse. The animal was almost as savage as the Colonel was. Now it was as meek as a child's pony carrying the girl as if she were the Queen of England.

When Tavington met up with Borden he asked, "Bring me one of the rebel horses we confiscated."

"Sir?" Borden asked.

"Well, I am not going to walk back into town through the snow," Tavington bellowed.

"No, Sir. Of course not," Borden replied. "Bring a horse!" he yelled.

Magdalen rode behind Colonel Tavington. It was true she had wanted to see him again, but when he found her out by the creek alone, old fears took her hostage. She hated herself for letting him see her in such a state. He had acted kindly, however, and to some small degree it had surprised her. She had heard things said of him. Whether or not they were true, he had been kind to her. Yet at the same time, she could see why the colonials hated and feared him so much. There was a raw fire burning in him, and the bulk of it lay in his eyes. He was a frightening man to behold, yet she found him fascinating. When he looked at her, she could not tear her eyes away from his face. He was a hypnotic presence to behold.

###

"It blows over my heart, -a long Infinite wind, again, again! Again!" -- Trumbull Stickney, Service

Upon reaching the Kent home, Tavington dismounted the rebel horse and helped Magdalen down. He heard a voice say, "William Tavington, my God."

Tavington turned and smiled at the man, "Gareth Kent, you look well, Sir."

"Well, it is a Colonel now I see. Good for you, lad. I always knew you would make a fine officer," Kent said. Tavington smiled again in spite of himself. Gareth Kent and his father had been close friends. Although his own father had been a cruel man, Gareth had always been kind to him. He had treated Tavington as he would have liked his own father to treat him.

He stepped forward and took Kent's hand, clasping it in his own. Gareth looked behind Tavington at his daughter. "My god, Magdalen, what have you done, girl?"

"No, nothing," Tavington responded quickly. "She wandered a bit from town. Found her in a bit of a dangerous area and so I thought it proper to escort her back at once. The outskirts of town are a very treacherous place to be. Washington's men constantly harass our lines."

"Thank you," Gareth said. He turned his attention again to Magdalen. "Go into the house, girl." Magdalen quickly did as her father said and left them. Gareth watched her leave. "Poor thing," he whispered. He turned to Tavington, "You must come tonight and have dinner with us. It is good to see you again, there is much to catch up on. I do not believe I have seen you since you were a lanky lad of fifteen."

Tavington smiled, "I will be here."

Borden watched the exchange as if it were something strange and foreign to him. The Colonel had already smiled three times in the past ten minutes. Something that surely must have caused Hell to freeze over. Why not, Borden though, it was damn cold enough outside. Tavington had greeted the other man warmly. Borden was sure the Colonel was friend to no man. He shook his head lightly and realized he would never understand Tavington's deeds or actions.

###

The food had been good and the company even better. It was the first time in a great while that he had found himself laughing. Magdalen had beamed smiles at him from the moment he entered the house. Her face warmed him better than any hearth. When the dinner was over and the most of the family taken to bed, Gareth and Tavington sat by the fireplace.

Gareth said, "William, I was sorry to hear of your father's death." Tavington's countenance grew cold. "Yes," Gareth continued, "I know you hated him. So did I to some extent, but he was my friend and I knew him for many, many years. Long before he married your mother, long before you were even born."

"Tell me about Magdalen," Tavington said suddenly. Gareth eyed him suspiciously for a moment. "I am just curious, Gareth."

"Her mother was something of an enigma to me," Gareth said smiling. He lost himself in a personal moment of happiness before continuing. "You know my marriage to Agatha was one of convenience for both of us. We have no children of our own. Magdalen's mother worked in the kitchen at our home back in London. She was such a beautiful woman." Gareth stopped and stared off into the fireplace.

Tavington leaned forward, "You loved her."

"Yes I did. But you know how these things are. She was just a maid who worked in the kitchens. We were together often, then she had our daughter, Magdalen, and I sent her away from the house, to the countryside. I did send her plenty of money, made sure they were both comfortably living," Gareth explained. "And I did not see her again. Then one day, the most terrible news arrived. Bess was dead and Magdalen gravely injured. I went at once," Gareth explained.

His voice grew soft as he continued. "They were on their way to London to see me. I knew not of it, and then they were attacked on the open road by brigands. Bess was...ravaged. In front of Magdalen."

Tavington felt his body stiffen. It would explain her actions by the creek that morning. He asked, "How old was she?"

"Twelve. The men responsible had shot them both. They lay by the road for a day before they were found," Gareth said. "To this day I know not how Magdalen could have survived, but she did. What was I to do then? Leave her to strangers? She is my child, the only child I have. And I loved her mother so very much."

"You brought her home with you," Tavington said.

"Yes, much to the extreme disgust of Mrs. Kent," Gareth told him. "It has been ten years, and I still have to try to keep things civil between them, but my wife has such a burning hatred towards Magdalen that I fear how she is treated when I am not here."

"How long have you been in the Colonies, Gareth?" Tavington asked him.

"Almost five years now," Gareth answered. "We had to leave London, Magdalen was teased mercilessly in school and my reputation did suffer a bit from the scandal. We decided the family would do well here in the Colonies where those kinds of things are not as important." He hesitated a moment then said, "Are we really going to win this conflict?"

"Yes, of course we are," Tavington answered confidently. Gareth noticed his tone was harsh.

"Is that William the Colonel talking, or William the man?" Gareth asked.

"We are the most powerful army in the world," Tavington responded coolly. "Are you implying-"

"William," Gareth said impatiently. "Do not put words in my mouth. You know my loyalties lie with His Majesty. We are so powerful, should not this war have ended in a month or two? I am certain the King is not too pleased with it all."

"No," Tavington admitted. "He must not be."

"And you?" asked Gareth.

"I do my duty," Tavington responded shortly. "In all things."

"I have heard you do more than that," Gareth said. "I have heard things of you-"

"All of it is true," Tavington growled coldly. He stood up from his chair. Walking over to the coat rack he grabbed his Dragoon's jacket and spun around at the sound of Gareth's voice following him.

"William, please, these are not the actions of the boy I used to know," Gareth said.

"I am not that BOY anymore. Things have changed, I must make my own way now," Tavington replied angrily. He hesitated a moment and said, "It was good to see you again, Gareth. Take care of yourself."

###

"I have brought your heart to you. I have put it in its place for you in your body." -- Ancient Egyptian, Papyrus of Ani

Food was expensive in Philadelphia. Many families went without. Looting and assaults began. Tavington had his hands full trying to keep the peace. No matter, he at least had a chance to release his frustrations. For the most part, the guilty parties would see his Dragoons approaching and immediately end any and all criminal activity for fear of his harsh punishments.

Magdalen often helped out at the makeshift hospitals where wounded were still recuperating after the battles of Brandywine and Germantown. Along with the wounded that were brought in after the small skirmishes with Washington's men. Mrs. Kent had forbid it, but her father had given his permission. She had arrived there, however, to find they needed no assistance that morning.

On her way home she encountered the sight of William Tavington in full warrior mode. His Dragoons had caught a man assaulting one of His Majesty's soldiers. The unfortunate soldier had been beaten almost to death. Tavington's rage was ruthless. Magdalen watched him from a safe distance across the street. His face was colder than any winter storm. His eyes were harsh and emotionless as he ordered the man shot and his body hung on display. When he turned and caught sight of her she did not flinch but kept her eyes solely locked on his. To his surprise, she smiled fondly at him. He was rendered speechless.

He had just ordered a man executed. As most people were familiar with his brutal reputation, no one dared look at the man who showered his wrath so unforgiving. She stood there smiling at him as if they were the only two alive on the earth. Tavington swallowed hard. "Borden, take over from here." He noticed his voice was shaky. So had Borden.

"Yes, Sir," Borden replied. The Dragoons were dismounting and pushing through the surrounding crowds to catch any other dissenters. Tavington slowly walked his horse over to Magdalen. Slowly, because he was not sure what he would say when he got there.

A light snow began to fall, dusting her hair and face with tiny flakes. She brushed them aside and stared brightly at him. "Miss Stuart," he said softly as he dismounted. Her smile widened and her cheeks flushed. She grabbed his arm as if to lead him away. "No," he said gently. "I must stay here with my men." His sudden desire for her was so overwhelming he could not think of his own self-control should he find himself alone with her.

She persisted and tugged at his arm again. "All right," he breathed. "I should escort you home anyway. The streets are in a bit of an uproar this morning."

As they walked, Tavington tried to explain at length why he took the course of action that he did. She turned and put a gloved hand to his mouth. She smiled at him and shook her head no. He looked at her, bewildered. "You are not curious to know why I do the things I do?" he asked, removing her hand gently. She shook her head no and wrinkled her brow. He thought he understood, "You do not care a bit why I do the things I do?" he asked her. This time she shook her head yes. He realized he still held his hand in hers. She smiled so much at him he was not sure if he could stand it any longer.

The snow began to fall heavier. "I should get you home," Tavington told her. He released her hand and guided her onward. The storm became so great that Tavington stopped them at the house he was occupying."We can wait here until the storm lets up," he said. He left her standing by the front door as he went around and tied up his horse in the stall on the side of the house. He returned to find the front door wide open.

He followed her inside. She had begun to build a fire in the fireplace in the den. He moved forward and said, "You should let me do that."

Magdalen looked up at him and shook her head no. She got up and walked over to Tavington's desk and pulled out a piece of paper and dipped his pen in the inkwell. She wrote on the piece of paper and handed it to him. He read:

Father and Mrs. Kent are on the other side of the city this afternoon to see Mrs. Kent's sister. She is having a child. Father did not want to leave me alone, but I promised him I would not leave our house.

Tavington looked up and grinned at her. "You do not obey orders very well, do you?"

She responded with a sly grin of her own. He took off his hat, gloves and coat. He took off his belt to lay his sword on the desk so he could rest comfortably by the fire. Magdalen sat next to him. He watched her face in the firelight and inhaled sharply. He wanted to touch her, but given her reaction to him in the woods the week before, and her tragic history, he dared not. To his great surprise she flew forward and threw her hands around his neck. He felt her hot breath on his neck and it undid him.

"Are you certain?" he asked her. His hands were already beginning to caress her. She nodded her head vigorously. He grabbed her up into his arms and stormed down the hall to his bedroom.

###

"Friends you are lucky you can talk about what you did as lovers: the tricks, laughter, the words, the ecstasy. After my darling put his hand on the knot of my dress, I swear I remember nothing." -- Vidya, Untitled

He kicked the door open and slammed it shut behind him. He was surprised at how quickly she had removed her clothing. He was still fumbling with his pants when she pulled him down to the bed. The rest of Tavington's clothing was off in a heartbeat. She kissed the side of his neck as he ran his hands over her smooth, silken stomach. He whispered her name into her hair as he took her with a single stroke. With no more than an inch of himself inside he stopped to make sure she was all right. She thrust herself forward to let him know she was eager and waiting.

Magdalen felt him cautiously ease himself deeper. The heat from his body radiated against her. Every movement was agonizingly sweet. His thighs resting between hers, he began to move slowly, deliberately prolonging the erotic assault against her senses. He showered her neck and chin with small kisses, nipping gently at her earlobe with his teeth. He felt her body begin to quiver violently in response to his every move. Tavington kissed her again. His mouth was burning hot, the kiss was ravenous and brutal. He had meant to kiss her softly but he could not restrain himself. Surprisingly, she returned the kiss just as savagely. He began to moan. It was an excruciating pleasure for them both with every breath they took.

She felt her abdominal muscles contract, she raised herself up to meet the next impaling thrust. He took a deep breath. Magdalen was breathing harder now, as he pulled back between strokes to delay the inevitable. His hand slid down and cupped her breast while the other hand dug into her thigh. She tightened her arms around his chest, sealing them together.

Their breathing was ragged and gasping. The bed began to squeak with the fury of their union. Her fingernails finally dug into his shoulders as their climax was met simultaneously. He could barely stand the sweet release. He worried if he had hurt her, but the glow from her exhausted, love weary eyes told him differently. Several long moments passed before he rolled off of her, pulling her into his arms as he settled onto his back. Magdalen laid her head in the crook of his neck. Within minutes they were both fast asleep in each other's arms.

###

When Tavington awoke, he was cold. The bed was empty. He shot up into sitting position to find Magdalen sitting comfortably in a chair next to the bed, dressed only in his red Dragoons coat. "What are you doing?" he asked softly. She crooked her head to the side and put her hand to her heart. He reached forward and seized her. He pulled her onto the bed and kissed her passionately. He broke away when he realized how much time must have passed. "Magdalen, it is late. Your father will return home and wonder where you are."

She frowned but understood. He watched her get dressed and sighed. Why couldn't they just stay in his bed for the rest of their lives? He quickly dressed himself and guided her from the room. As they were striding down the hall he grabbed her and kissed her neck. "General Howe is throwing a grand ball tomorrow night. I want to see you there."

She smiled and hugged him. A knock at the door startled them both. Tavington walked over and opened the door. "Gareth?" he asked.

"William, Magdalen is missing-" Gareth stop himself when he saw his daughter standing in the hall. He looked at Tavington. A strong gust of wind propelled him forward. Tavington grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.

"My God, man, you shouldn't be out in this mess," Tavington said.

Gareth eyed Tavington with worry. "What is she doing here with you?"

"Gareth, please," Tavington said. "She was walking home from the Church hospital when the storm hit. I tried to get her back home, but the winds were too strong and the cold was merciless. I thought it better we stop here until the weather lightened."

Gareth relaxed. "Of course, thank you William. Twice now you have shown considerable kindness to my daughter, and I am indebted to you."

Tavington felt no guilt at the lie. Magdalen may be Gareth's daughter, but she had given herself to him, and he was keeping her. She was his. "Where is Mrs. Kent?" Tavington asked.

"Still with her sister. The baby was a strong healthy boy," Gareth said smiling. "The family is overjoyed."

"Of course," Tavington smiled. He never thought much of children, but looking at Magdalen standing in the hall flushed from their recent activities, he suddenly wanted nothing more than to have a child with her. "We should stay by the fire. I am sure this storm will break soon. If not, of course you are both welcome here to stay."

"Thank you, William," Gareth said.

Tavington brought them bread and wine from the kitchen. He had refused any help in the house, wanting a place he could enjoy without distractions. They sat by the fire and enjoyed it's warmth, listening to the fierce battle the wind was waging just outside.

"Good God," Gareth said. "Would you listen to that? And it is only November, the worst has yet to come." He yawned as he poked his head through the curtains. The snow was so thick he could not see the street.

"You both look tired," Tavington said. "Let me show you to your rooms."

"That sounds like a welcome idea," Gareth said, yawning again.

###

"Close to my side, as lovers are wont to do, His haunches, deliriously dreamy or not, Sudden, mutinous, malicious, stubborn, whorish, In the name-of-God his cravings so gentle, will pierce my flesh." -- Paul Verlaine, A Bad Sleeper

Tavington lay on his bed uncomfortably. There would be no sleep for him as long as Magdalen lay in the next room. He kicked off the covers and tossed his pillow across the room in frustration. He jumped with a start when the door opened. Magdalen entered the room slowly, and quietly closed the door behind her. She smiled wickedly at him. Tavington grinned and grabbed at her. His breath hissed as he stroked her neck with his tongue. He laid her down on the bed. His hand moved to her thighs and she parted them to allow his access. He stroked at her through the thin fabric of her undergarment. She arched her back while he pulled down the top of her gown. He kissed her everywhere there was skin exposed. When neither could stand it any longer, they tore frantically at each other's clothes. The storm outside was calm in comparison to the frenzy inside the room. She tore his nightshirt open. He laughed at her boldness. They flew down to the floor where he hauled her onto his lap. She lowered herself slowly onto him and her eyes never once left his for the entire duration of their lovemaking.

###

Music swirled in the air around him. Tavington stood with two older women finely dressed in their silken dancing gowns. He kept an eye open for Magdalen. Gareth promised they would attend the night's festivities. Tavington tried to remain composed, but he was bored beyond reason. He didn't know why he was so anxious. Gareth and his family attended every one of the balls thrown each week. It had been months since the winter storm that had brought him Magdalen's undying love and devotion. They had spent every single moment they could together since then. They snuck around like thieves in the night. They stole every moment they could. Now that spring was beginning to push the winter away, they both lamented the loss. It was the cold, harsh nights that she snuck from her house to nestle herself warm and snug inside his bed.

"Would you look at that?" one of the women gasped. "It's Gareth Kent, and he brought that bastard daughter of his again."

Tavington leaned close to the woman and said evenly, "Why not, your husband brought his whore." He stalked off angrily without waiting for the woman's indignant reply.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kent," Tavington greeted them. He looked over at Magdalen. "Miss Stuart," he said softly. She was so breathtaking. Her eyes flashed like fire at him.

"Colonel Tavington," a voice said behind him. Tavington turned to face a young freckled face youth in uniform. "Sir, General Clinton wishes to see his officers." General Howe had been recalled to England, to be replaced by General Clinton. It was much to Tavington's dismay, for he had liked the General and thought him a decent general.

Tavington turned. With remorse and irritation he excused himself from Gareth and his family's company. He walked over to the table where Clinton and his other officers inhabited. "Ah, Colonel Tavington, sit down please."

Tavington did as he was told and seated himself next to a Colonel from the Queen's Rangers. Clinton wasted no time. "The Americans are negotiating an alliance with the French. If it holds through, the French will no doubt begin an assault on Philadelphia from the Delaware river. While we may be able to withstand an assault from Washington's army, we will not be so fortunate against French guns."

"What are you implying, Sir?" Lord Cornwallis asked. The ambitious man had hoped for an army of his own to control. There were rumors that he would take over the invasion of the South, but until then, General Clinton was very definitely in command.

"We evacuate Philadelphia when we can, and head north back to New York," Clinton replied.

"Sir, that is madness!" Tavington growled. To his surprise, Cornwallis jumped from his seat and shouted in agreement.

"Absolute madness! The French could not possibly get any troops here for months. This is the prize, General. We have the rebel capital. We took it at expense of many lives at Brandywine and Germantown. We cannot, MUST not give it back to the Colonists. At least not without a fight," Cornwallis railed.

Although he hated to do so, Tavington backed Cornwallis. "General, it is imperative we keep our position in Philadelphia."

"What of the families here, loyal to the crown? We repay their loyalty by abandoning them?" Cornwallis asked.

"The decision has already been made, we leave in a month's time," Clinton ordered.

###

Magdalen could see Tavington was angry as he left the table. Something was not right. He walked to her father and pulled him aside. She strained to hear their conversation.

"Gareth, listen to me," Tavington said. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "We will be pulling out of Philadelphia within the month. Gareth's eyes widened. "It will not be safe for you or your family here. For certain the Colonists will take retribution for the lands and homes their people have lost."

"What shall we do?" Gareth asked.

"Go back to England," Tavington ordered coolly. "Take your family and return to England as soon as you can arrange it." It was an order he did not want to make. He could think of nothing worse than being separated from Magdalen save losing her completely should something happen.

"I will think on it, William," Gareth replied. "I know my wife will be more than happy to return to London, but Magdalen is rather fond of Philadelphia. It will be hard for her to leave."

"I know," Tavington choked. He straightened himself and said, "Let us enjoy the night while we have it."

###

"Rippling, rippling, rippling, like a flapping overlapping of soft flames, soft as feathers, running to points of brilliance, exquisite, exquisite, and melting her all molten inside." -- D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterly's Lover

He turned his attention to Magdalen. She blushed when his eyes met hers. He smiled at her and at once moved to her side. "Do you think we could escape undetected?" Her eyes lit up as she tugged at his collar. He laughed lightly. He saw that her father had become engrossed in conversation with Lord Cornwallis and he lead her away. Tavington was certain they had not been seen. He hurried their pace and led them back to his house, which was only a block from the party. He was barely able to get her inside the door. Tavington hurled Magdalen over his shoulder and made a mad dash for his bedroom.

He ran his mouth down the front of her body. Pushing back the fabric in his way, his head dropped to her thigh and began to slowly and deliberately work it's way towards her core. She came undone when his lips finally found their target. Her hands flew back and grabbed the pillow beneath her head. She rocked against him. She felt a fire raging throughout her body. She wanted to die at the sheer intensity of pleasure. He held back at each crucial moment, prompting her to hit plateau after plateau, wave after wave of ecstasy. Finally he could stand it no longer and shifted positions to take her. Both their bodies began to scream for the mercy of release. He embedded himself in her quickly and forcefully, no longer able to hold himself back. His thrusts were hard and demanding. She squeezed him with her thighs and threw her head back at the splintering pleasure that attacked her senses. He gasped aloud, then slowly relaxed and started thrusting again. He grabbed her hips and paused to catch his breath.

They both grew wild and uninhibited. They held nothing back. When he felt her climax, his own took him by surprise. With a loud, erotic moan he poured himself into her. He collapsed on top of her, both of them completely shattered by the almost painful pleasure. The scent of their union filled his head like a fog. He laid his head on her breast and waiting for his breathing to calm down. She stroked his hair with her fingers. It aroused him further, but they were both too physically spent to do anything about it.

They lay dreamily in his bed until a forceful knock at the front door stirred them both. Tavington got out of bed, annoyed. He hastily threw on his clothes and made his way down the hall. Before he could reach the door, Gareth Kent burst in. The two men stopped and eyed each other evenly.

"I know she is here," Gareth said angrily. Tavington tried to respond. Gareth raged at him. "DO not lie to me, Sir!"

Magdalen had heard her father's angry voice and jumped from bed. She dressed and ran down the hall to Tavington's side.

"Magdalen!" her father bellowed. Again, Tavington stepped forward to speak. "William, do not say a word. I will not have you do to her what I have done to her mother!"

Tavington responded coldly, "I have no intention of leaving her by the wayside, Sir. I intend to marry her, whether it be the decent thing to do or not. Damn you if you think you will get in my way, for no man has lived who ever tried to."

Gareth's face boiled over. "We leave for England in two days, I have already arranged it with Lord Cornwallis. I do not want to see you again." He looked at Magdalen, "Do you hear me? You will not see him!"

Magdalen angrily shook her head no. She edged closer to Tavington. Gareth reached over and grabbed her arm. "We are leaving!" he hissed. Tavington grabbed Magdalen's other arm.

"Do as he says," he told her. Upon seeing the hurt expression on her face, he responded, "Everything will be fine. We will work this out. I will find a way, I promise."

"You will not see my daughter again," Gareth told him. He yanked Magdalen out the door and slammed it behind him. Tavington stood silently. No man on heaven or earth was going to take what was his, that was for damned sure. He clenched his teeth and went back to his room.

###

"Escape me? Never- Beloved! While I am I, and you are you, So long as the world contains us both." -- Robert Browning, Life In A Love

The ship was being loaded. Magdalen watched the men work with diligence and frowned. She turned and eyed her father and his wife coldly.

"A whore just like your mother," Agatha Kent snapped.

"Agatha!" Gareth yelled at her. "Keep your mouth shut." The woman's face paled and she turned away from her husband angrily. Gareth's face grew cold with anger when he saw Tavington stalking up the dock. Magdalen began to run to him, but her father grabbed her arm and yanked her back. She spun around and looked into his eyes. She stared hard at him, willing with her entire heart, all of her thoughts. She pleaded with her eyes. Gareth softened his grasp and released her. "Go," he whispered.

Magdalen broke out running. She flew into Tavington's arms and locked her embrace around him. "Magdalen," he whispered. "You must go with your father." Before she had a chance to argue he said, "We will be withdrawing from Philadelphia soon. It will not be safe for any of the King's loyal subjects to remain." She began to struggle in his arms. He cupped her face in his hands. "Go back to England with your father, Magdalen. I want you to go, and I want you to wait for me. This war cannot last too much longer, wait for me and I swear to God I will come for you. I promise you."

Magdalen was crying softly. She kept shaking her head no. Tavington found it hard to breathe. He led her back to her father. "Please, make sure she gets on that ship. Take her back to England." Gareth stared at Tavington, his anger beginning to subside. "I will come back for her. I will come back and I will take her with me, understand?" Gareth nodded in compliance. William Tavington had the courage to do the thing he never had. He was putting up a fight for the woman he loved.

With great difficulty, Magdalen and Tavington parted. He stood on the dock for hours as her ship slowly sailed away. "I swear to God, I will come get you," he said to himself.

###

"Live here, great heart, and love and die and kill, And bleed and wound, and yield and conquer still." -- Richard Crashaw, The Flaming Heart

William Tavington never came. Magdalen waited years. He wrote her almost constantly until one day the letters ceased. She did not need to be told why. He had died charging through a battlefield in South Carolina. Magdalen never married. Mrs. Kent died five years before her father. He left everything he owned to Magdalen. She became a recluse out in a small country estate she bought after her father's death.

In the summer of her eighty-fifth year, she laid on her bed when her nurse, Miss Garland knocked soft upon the door. "Mum? Shall I move you over to the window? It's a lovely day." Magdalen nodded in agreement. Miss Garland carefully helped her over to the window seat. The sun was warm shining through the window on her face. "I'll go make you a nice cup of tea, Mum."

Magdalen nodded. She turned and looked down the road to her estate that was beautifully lined by poplars. A smile slowly spread across her face at the sight of a handsome Dragoon walking towards the house. His black-plumed hat shone in the sun. His blue eyes locked with hers. She let out her last breath.

After some time Miss Garland entered the room. She walked over to her mistress and gasped at the lifeless body. "Oh, Miss Stuart," she said sadly.

The Dragoon had kept his promise.

end