Reflections in a Flawed Mirror, Part 2
The Mirror Cracks

Notes and warnings:

This piece of erotic fantasy fan fiction is based in part on the characters (notably, Colonel Tavington) from the movie, The Patriot. This is a piece of fiction, and not meant to be taken seriously (do not seek historical accuracy here). This piece of fan fiction has many adult situations (sexual, cross dressing, dominance & submission, violence and blood sports) and therefore is restricted to those of a mind to handle such scenarios. I will not tolerate hate mail expressing that I have a sick and twisted imagination -- I am aware of the boundaries between fantasy and reality but am also open-minded about what some of us consider erotic. Please do also note that the sexual situations are written based on experience, and if you have any sincere queries, please do not hesitate to contact me for additional information or explanation.

This piece of fan fiction was written with the use of Dragon NaturallySpeaking (a speech dictation program), as I am unable to use the computer conventionally as a result of my chronic tendinitis disability. Therefore, there may be errors in word choice or use which I missed upon re-reading. Feel free to e-mail me with corrections.

This piece of fan fiction is written in the first person from a female perspective.

Feel free to drop me a line with any comments or criticisms you may have.

Chapter I

Tavington and I appeared to both be lost in our own thoughts during the short walk back to his tent. I wondered if he, like me, was considering the ramifications of having found a partner at a juncture in life where death was only a matter of mere moments. Our thoughts were interrupted as we came upon Marcus, my most faithful servant, standing next to the opening of Tavington's tent, sporting an almost grim expression.

"Colonel, Countess -- I was wondering if I might speak to the Countess in private," Marcus glanced from Tavington, to myself and then back to Tavington, searching for permission.

"By all means," Tavington opened one arm wide, gesturing towards his tent flap.

"Thank you, Colonel," Marcus smiled briefly and entered Tavington's temporary domicile.

I could not imagine what would have brought Marcus all this way to search me out. It was unlike him to seek me out in this fashion for discourse. As I entered the tent, I observed Tavington's form depart the vicinity. Marcus appeared extremely agitated and I could see he was carefully considering how he would express himself to me.

"Well, what are you doing here?" I asked, hands on my hips in offensive posture.

"That is the very question I would like to ask you." Marcus stepped towards me and I stood my ground. His shaking hand reached up to my neck, "But I can see perfectly well what you have been up to." He yanked off my neck scarf, tainted with the recent shedding of blood, and held this before my face demonstratively, attempting to steady himself.

I snatched the scarf back and narrowed my eyes, "That is my business, Marcus."

A flicker of amusement regarding my word choice spread across his lips as he countered, "Actually, this is not your business at all. This is no place for you to be playing soldier."

"I am not playing."

"Even worse. Do you want a repeat of Europe? Remember what happened there?" Marcus seemed to find courage, for he stalked behind me, grabbed onto my shoulders and roughly repositioned my standing form before Tavington's long narrow mirror. Marcus held me fast against him, forcing my head to see directly before me -- my reflection. "Look at yourself, Maxine. Look! Is that the reflection of an Austrian Countess and vast landowner?"

I was taken aback by Marcus' sudden strength in character, but I knew where it had been borne. One could not live with me all those years and remain a disciplined servile individual -- sooner or later he was bound to speak his mind utterly. In the mirror I could see his face -- angry, flushed, warning and concerned. I gazed at my own reflection and suddenly felt as though I were unknown to myself -- hair bound back mercilessly, added weight around the midsection...my uniform flecked with blood not several hours old. How much I had changed in the past three years! How much of what I had become was truly reminiscent of me and not the affectation of an ideal?

"Remember Europe? You can never go back. Would you risk the same here? All for what -- to satisfy your whims?" Marcus continued.

Europe. After my father died I had tried to resume his business. Despite my talents and abilities and despite having worked for my father previously, none would honor me with the respect I desired. None would hire me even for the slightest assignment. I was a woman and had no place in a man's world, they said to me. My father had never recounted my capabilities to those he worked with and presented me merely as his aristocratic daughter. I hated him for that. He affected my reputation and ruined me. I had no choice but to depart Europe -- those with the most influence in Europe ridiculed me and what they considered my lofty unrealistic notions. I was shamed and could no longer face them. Consequently, I fled to America to begin life anew.

"Why can't you be satisfied with what you have?" Marcus' hurtful tone interjected my thoughts of Europe.

I struggled against Marcus and freed myself from his grip expertly. I faced him with obvious agitation on my lips and fury in my eyes, "Because this is what I know most intimately." I slipped my scabbard from my side and held it up emphasizing my point. "Do you think that once I was capable of cognizant thoughts in this world I decided to learn a trade of arms and warfare? That was all around me, Marcus -- and you know that."

"What I know is you were a highly intelligent girl, capable of anything she put her mind to, and who allowed one event in her youth to change her forever."

My eyes seethed with hostility, "Don't." I warned.

Marcus skirted the issue I refused to speak of and continued berating in another direction, "For the longest time your father thought he was simply entertaining the curious questioning of a precocious young woman. It wasn't until it was too late he realized he had lent a hand in the creation of his protege. He respected you because he was your father -- others won't." Marcus shook his hand and lowered his voice, "Maxine, the past is gone. You've spent the last three years learning a new trade -- and have performed marvelously at it. Don't throw it all away on nostalgia."

I lowered my scabbard and leaned on it as if for strength, "It is not nostalgia. It's William."

An amusing incredulous smile flickered across his face, "Tavington? Your distraction?"

"He's not a distraction, Marcus. I wanted to be with him last night and concocted this plan of insurgence. This morning he rode off with his Dragoons and I followed. I don't know why -- the lure of potential battle? I subsequently fell upon a skirmish and lent a hand -- rather, a sword."

"You could have gotten yourself killed. These are highly trained men."

"So am I," I countered angrily, "Never forget that."

"And how did Tavington react?" Marcus was searching for an ally in his positioning.

"He was grateful. He offered that I remain here." I smirked in defeat.

"You're not, I hope. You could die."

"Then you'll inherit a fortune," I replied simply and shrugged my shoulders.

"It's impossible to talk to you," Marcus was both frustrated and angry once more. He was searching for a resolution to ensure my safety, "Okay. I'll endeavor to find you a worthy sparring partner. Just come home with me."

"I will stand by William," I remained resolute.

"He is just a distraction, an amusement -- you said so yourself. He's not worth dying for."

"Not any longer," I smiled and paused dramatically, uncertain whether or not to divulge my innermost to Marcus at this time. "Have you ever been in love, Marcus?" I asked tenderly.

The silence was deafening. I searched Marcus' eyes and in that one question I saw the answer I could never have believed or imagined. Marcus saw my own comprehension and dropped his gaze, averting my eyes in shame.

I spoke softly. I was touched by Marcus' unspoken revelation, but I could never reciprocate his feelings towards me and he knew that too. "Just give me a couple days, Marcus."

Marcus, defeated, nodded and slipped out of Tavington's tent without another word.

Chapter II

The battle of words with Marcus left me feeling so open and vulnerable. It wasn't entirely the content of our discussion so much as it was the emotional issues behind the discourse. As a result, I was frightened. For the first time since that unspeakable moment as a youth, I was absolutely terrified. I needed to ground this unwanted highly emotional state and myself -- purify it in some manner. My emotions could only be slaked by way of physical means. I placed one of my hands at the opening of the scabbard, fingers wrapped under the hilt of the sword. With my other hand I began to draw my blade, cool steel slicing into my flesh. Tavington's entrance stopped me short. I slid my bloodied hand down the scabbard and dropped the blade back into its resting place.

"Maxine?" Tavington inquired with serious concern on his face. He approached me slowly. How well he already knew me by my countenance. Only Marcus had ever been able to read me that quickly.

I forced a smile, "I'm fine." I lifted my right palm and glanced at the bleeding cut.

Tavington's eyes followed the direction of mine, "What happened?!"

I quickly wrapped the wound in my neck scarf.

"Did Marcus do that to you?" Tavington questioned, his anger rising and he motioned towards the tent flap.

"No, he didn't. I did." I quickly doused his thoughts for revenge, and he approached me.

"What is the matter? Bad news?" he inquired and lifted a comforting hand to my cheek.

I was silent. I had no words to describe my feelings. I felt vacuous and filled simultaneously. I didn't even comprehend my feelings, and Tavington's immediate presence did not aid in solving the riddle.

"This wasn't the first time you killed someone, was it?" Tavington was searching for the reason behind my malcontented state. Perhaps he could be of assistance after all.

A small laugh escaped my lips, "No. 37 other men have fallen by my hand prior to this day." I fell into silence once more, my thoughts and emotions erratic. I was agitated by the fitful state I found myself in.

"How old were you when you killed your first?" Tavington asked curiously, absently stroking my neck and the side of my face, attempting to soothe my afflicted self.

I looked up into his icy eyes and confessed before I had an opportunity to censor myself, "When I was 13. Approximately 5 minutes after I lost my virginity." His hand stopped short and his face softened unbelievably. "I guess you could say I lost all my innocence that day." I shrank back from his tenderness and found myself at Tavington's bureau, atop which rested a decanter of Scotch and some glasses. I poured myself a drink, drank it completely and poured another. I returned to stand before Tavington. I knew he wanted details. As I'd come this far in my divulgence, I could do no less, and therefore continued, "One of the men my father was contracted to kill had a son. This son had sought revenge and waited until I was at our home alone with a handful of servants. He found me reading in my bedchamber. After he explained who he was, he proceeded to take me. Not very well, I might add." Tavington did not appreciate my attempt at humour in this story telling. I quickly resumed the account, "When it was over, my hand fell upon a dagger, caught amongst the bed sheets, which he had dropped unnoticed during the violating act. When his back was turned to me I gripped the dagger tightly in one hand and plunged...and plunged...over and over. Marcus found me -- his father was my father's aide as Marcus was to become mine. Marcus found me covered in blood with the mutilated remains of my rapist on the bed. We disposed of the body and any traces of what had transpired. I swore Marcus to secrecy and we never told my father."

Tavington glanced down at my shaking hand holding the glass of Scotch. I brought the glass to my lips and drained it of its contents. And I felt drained -- completely and utterly. I could not believe I divulged my secret adolescent occurrence to Tavington. I didn't want pity -- I'd dealt with what had transpired...that's what I told myself. Tavington removed the empty glass from my hand and set it aside. He captured my hands in his and stroked them comfortingly. His eyes sought out mine and I forced a smile.

"I don't want your pity," I shook my head.

"And you won't get it. I see all to clearly what you are made of -- as clearly as I can see myself. No, I give you no pity. Only support -- an ear, a familiar voice or the presence of someone who cares deeply." Tavington searched further, perhaps to distract me from the unpleasant account of my teen years, "The men you killed -- do you regret doing so?"

I laughed a little, "No. Most deserved fates worse than death or I could deliver to them. Atrocities -- almost all of them. The men I killed today were probably the most innocent of all and I feel nothing for their deaths." I gripped his hand and searched his eyes, my reflection, for the reasons of my unrest. The smoke of confusion lifted, revealing the source, "No, William. I am frightened. Frightened of losing you in a senseless death."

He gathered me in his arms tenderly, "I haven't lost a battle yet, and I don't intend on losing my life. Like you, I left Britain to start a new life -- and I've found it."

Such well meaning words were defenseless against the realities of death, however, I knew full well he could never deny what he was. And I wouldn't want him to. "I do not wish to interfere with your duties," I whispered into his ear, pressing myself against him seductively, the coolness of his jacket buttons on my warm exposed skin at the neck filled me with sudden desire.

"You won't. Will you stay for a few days?" Tavington's hands slid down my back, at my sides and then beneath my coat, further inciting my desire. His hands felt glorious on my body and I yearned to lose myself in his touch. He shifted so that one of his legs pressed between mine provocatively -- he leaned forward and up, lifting me up ever so slightly by his thigh.

I gasped at the deliberately applied sensation against the apex of my sex, "Yes," and I clung to Tavington with my arms around his shoulders -- he could be very persuasive. I never thought I could be lead by my own sexual hungerà I'd always been in control. In response to my unabashed need, my lips curled back and I brought my teeth to his neck.

Tavington groaned in delight and fixed his hands to my hips, at which point he slowly and deliberately rocked me against his thigh. I flushed and felt my heart skip several beats. Waves of pure ecstasy crashed down around me and I bit into Tavington's neck more firmly. He knew me very well -- extraordinarily so. He had proved to be more than a capable lover -- he seemed blessed with intuition regarding my body and its cravings. His hands moved my pulsing engorged sex against his thigh more quickly until I screamed against his shoulder in release. He held me steady and sought out my glazed over eyes. Tavington smiled deliciously and remarked on my quickly obtained climax, "Where did that come from, hmmm?"

I could barely catch my breath but managed to gasp, "It's your fault entirely."

"My fault is it?" he raised a brow in mock defense. He nudged his thigh between my legs briefly and I shuddered at the tenderness-- the sensation almost painful.

"Yes," I whispered and leaned back, stretching my arms above my head in this hedonistic moment, my coat falling to the floor behind me. Tavington held me firmly by my hips.

"You are indeed incorrigible," Tavington shifted one hand to the small of my back, holding me securely with the assistance of his leg, while he moved his other hand beneath my shirt, inspecting the bindings of my disguise.

I remained still, not wanting to throw the tenuous balance our bodies formed together. Tavington knew I was vulnerable in this precarious position and I could see he delighted in it. "But it is you who draws this hunger out of me," I added.

He verified the manner in which the bindings encased me and remarked with a cool edge to his tone, "So we're back to it being my fault again, are we?" Tavington proceeded to unbind my upper torso and remove the extra padding of my disguise.

I lifted my head and tensed my body slightly, becoming ravenous for his touch. I ached to feel him against me, his sweet lips on mine, his hair brushing against my skin. My body demanded to be taken immediately.

"Don't move. I don't want to drop you," Tavington warned holding my gaze. With his one free hand, he rolled my shirt upwards and then touched my lips with his fingers, "Open."

I opened my mouth and Tavington placed the roll of my shirt between my lips, exposing my breasts and taut toned stomach. My figure was atypical for a woman, spending as much time as I did on regular exercise to maintain a highly honed form -- carried over from my days in Europe and my physically demanding profession. Tavington never minded and I daresay relished in his capability of pushing my body physically beyond the limits of most people.

"Hold it." Tavington instructed removing his hand from my mouth and sliding it very slowly down my chest, between my breasts and to my stomach. His hand continued to glide over my alabaster skin, cupping each of my breasts in turn and then paying particular attention to my nipples, rolling them between the pads of his fingers, teasing them to erection. His expression was one of ravenous hunger, yet he remained slow and deliberate in his actions -- always in control. Having tormented my upper torso flesh enough for his tastes, his hand hovered around my trouser buttons.

Over the trousers, he stretched his thumb down to that place of intense ecstasy, throbbing from pleasure past, present and future. His thumb moved in a circular fashion, rousing a new height to my own hunger. I groaned against the fabric of my shirt in my mouth, clenching my teeth. I never experienced this extreme pressure building inside of me with anyone else. I yearned to break free of his hold, throw him upon the floor and mount him like a steed. Tavington touched a place so deep within me I could not bear to think of life without him now. With him I was more alive than I had ever been in my life. Is this what happens when a mutual love is shared between two people?

I released a disappointing groan as his hand left my trousers and moved to the left side of my hip where I kept a short blade sheathed in a black leather case. Despite having just climaxed, I wanted another -- I wanted more. I wanted to take Tavington so deep into myself he'd never wish to return. I heard the snap of the case open and felt the blade be withdrawn -- slowly. Tavington held the blade firmly between us and his eyes momentarily left mine to inspect the dagger. He was ensuring it was as sharp as required for his purposes, that much I could detect. Tavington felt me relax against his hand and leg, awash with euphoria and anticipation, despite my frustration. In my eyes he could see complete trust and I daresay he must never have had anyone extend to him this much trust for I saw a depth of gratitude in his cold eyes. I gasped slightly as I felt the cool flat of the blade against my stomach.

Tavington's eyes left mine to carefully administer his attentions. He slid the blade up between my breasts, to my shoulders and then neck. The blade moved so the edge was kissing my collarbone. It rested there for what seemed like forever. All the while my passions continued to rise and I was not sure how much longer I could maintain this supine pose -- even for him. Tavington must have sensed my need, for the edge of the blade transformed to a point. I felt the tip below my collarbone and above my breast. Some pressure and my skin broke, my blood sliding kisses over the razor edge.

I gasped, arched my back and pressed into the blade Tavington held with a skilled hand. He cut me diagonally, the sensation wickedly exquisite. No pain, only pleasure. I had no idea he understood the body's mechanism so intimately. Did he, like me, experiment on himself in times past? When properly aroused, certain controlled inflictions such as the lash or a blade served only to heighten the pleasure response and be itself devoid of the pain one would logically assume accompany such a deed. Tavington studied his work and leaned forward, his mouth closing over my bleeding flesh. I groaned once more into my shirt, his tongue flicking over the cut, euphoria gripping me tightly. The heat between us was tropical. Tavington paused for a moment, observing the blood well to the surface with deep satisfaction. His head bent down once more, capturing my life essence on his hungry tongue.

Tavington steadied me with his hands and aided me in standing on my own. I took this opportunity to remove my shirt and toss it aside. He pulled me towards him and closed his mouth over mine. My blood on his tongue -- such sweet lust, trapping me, and binding me to him without mercy. I sucked his tongue into my mouth and drank in his soul. He groaned against my mouth and I felt desire rise in his trousers hard against me. As we continued our passionate kiss, I quickly removed my boots and trousers. I took my blade from Tavington and assisted in his disrobement -- a task he couldn't complete quick enough.

I drew Tavington close and snaked my fingers up his chest, holding the blade firmly. Much to his approval, as it could be discerned from the sighs escaping his lips, I pinched one of his nipples and tugged at the slightly darker flesh encircling it while I held the tip of the blade similarly under his collarbone. I watched his chest rise and fall in a quickened anticipatory pace. His penetrating eyes caught me, demanding, wanting and encouraging. He gasped in delight as I cut him -- not enough to scar, but enough to bleed well. Tavington's strong hands urgently guided my head to his wound and I suckled ravenously, teasing the blood to the surface with my teeth and lapping the coppery fluid with my tongue. I tossed the blade on his desk behind him, the world shut out of our intimacy -- nothing remained except us and our hunger.

Clinging to one another as though for dear life, desperate to slake the intensity between us, we descended slowly to the ground atop our discarded clothing. Tavington stretched his legs out before him and I lowered my form, straddling him slowly, drawing out his complete entrance into my moist core. We both sighed as I was completely lowered, completely filled, and wrapped my legs around him. I felt him so alive inside of me and contracted my inner muscle walls in response. Tavington smiled at this mutual exchange and then tensed momentarily as he became overwrought with carnal desire.

Tavington cradled my head, eased me back just far enough for him to lean forward and tend to my blood-streaked chest. His mouth worked the wound, coaxing the blood from my body, his lips drawing the fluid into his mouth and into himself. We could not seem to get close enough or possess enough of one another. There was desperation in our hunger -- clinging to one another for permanence, not wishing to relinquish these moments and the time we'd spent together. I clutched his shoulders with my wounded hand, gathering his blood onto my other. My dry fingers became slick with his life fluid and I brought them to my mouth, tentatively and sensually licking the dark red blood, enrapt by his feeding lips on my flesh. I leaned forward now, catching his lips with mine momentarily. Our blood ensconced kiss began to appease our lust, but also transcend it to a new height of desire. I finally settled on his reddened chest to taste directly of Tavington's essence. We continued this exchange until little more blood escaped our love wounds.

Tavington's sudden ferocity took me by surprise as he pushed me back and lay atop me in a confining fashion. I smiled and gazed into his piercing blue eyes. "My dearest, Maxine, I trust you know I was sincere in my desire for us to be wed," he whispered, our chests heaving against one another's.

"And I'm glad for it. There is no one I could imagine spending my life with except for you. But don't ever allow our relationship to interfere with your duty," I whispered. I couldn't bare the thought of Tavington giving anything up for me. I'd sooner die.

"I don't think that's possible," Tavington whispered in return, capturing my hands in his and stretching them out above my head. And I believed him. He, like me, was dedicated to his duty first and foremost. I respected that, and adored him for that.

I curled my fingers around his, feeling his pinned weight upon them as he began to thrust himself deep inside of me. My body shuddered and shook with the intensity of his lovemaking. It was all I could do to keep up with him, being so restricted in my movements. The onslaught of pleasure filled waves finally removed my ability to respond in any capacity. My heart felt as though it would explode and no breath resided in my lungs. I arched my back in the throes of this most intense and drawn out series of multiple climaxes. He revealed no mercy and took my pleasure beyond what I thought I was capable of. My eyes widened in shock and I believe I completely ceased breathing. I couldn't speak and thought I would die with my heart exploding in my chest. I rose to one final, highest of all peaks, Tavington accompanying me with his own sought after release. His last series of thrusts seemed to push even deeper inside of me and I felt his body shudder against mine most divinely. Tavington collapsed next to me, one of his hands settled absently on my stomach.

We lay there without speaking, basking in the sensation, the only noise was that of our labored breathing. My legs quivered uncontrollably and I smiled. Satiated exhaustion encapsulated us and we drifted into a peaceful slumber, certain there would be many more sexually exploratory occasions ahead of us -- at least until death claimed us.

Chapter III

I remained with Tavington for two additional days, continuing to pose as a Lieutenant, before returning to my estate. Marcus was relieved at my return, continuing the business of our relationship as usual. I could detect he wished the previous disclosure of his feelings towards me had not occurred -- but it could not be undone. I never inferred to it, and he never raised the topic -- our respect for one another safeguarded. I resigned myself to focusing on my acquisition business with renewed interest, for I had suspicion of requiring property in other territories before too long.

Tavington and I discussed marriage with mutual brevity and arranged for an engagement announcement to be held at my estate. I left the details to my staff, not truly caring what foods should be served at the banquet, invitation list construction and so forth. I believed such thoughts to be distracting from the pursuit of my own interests. My household appeared content to carry out the tasks, and I would almost suspect relieved that I was to be married. Perhaps they hoped marriage would settle me -- how incorrect they would be.

I pondered deeply one afternoon as I engaged in some archery practice -- I always liked to maintain my skill in all manner of weaponry with the exception of pistols which I had a personal disdain for -- about how I came to be and what was responsible for the person I presently was.

If I had been brought up with both parents accounted for and a father who was an industrialist rather than a mercenary and assassin for hire, would I have become so different in my personality and thoughts? Marcus seemed to believe that my unfortunate experience at 13 years of age was responsible for hardening me. I beg to differ. I'd always been quiet. I'd always absorbed whatever fascinating information and knowledge I could find or was disclosed to me. Were my numerous indulgences in reading military treatises responsible for the person I grew into? But I never had an interest in running a household, life at Austrian court or the gossip mongering women engaged in. I despised the few young female friends of my youth -- their puerile interests frustrating me to no ends. It wasn't long before I was devoid of appropriate friends -- and in relief, I sought out the company of the older and wiser amongst my father's acquaintances.

Upon analysis, I was willing to admit my atypical upbringing held a small influence over my character, but I maintain that my personality has been true to itself as far as I could remember. I was at peace with myself -- moreso than most people I encounter who obfuscate their true selves beneath veneers of societal and familial pressures. The closest I've come to folding myself into a lie was the past three years. At least I could handle my business affairs with the same clinical procedure I had handled my other interests.

Perhaps this is why Tavington and I bonded so well. Likewise, his youth was littered with experiences affecting him deeply, but only serving to accentuate the person he ultimately became. He, like me, was pleased with himself and what he had accomplished in his life despite the occurrences that might otherwise have thwarted others. He had strength of character and convictions I'd so seldom seen in anyone else. Tavington loved something more than himself or even myself -- his ideals and his resolute views. And I loved him for that.

And here I now stood in my yard, pulling on a bowstring with a precise amount of my strength, letting arrows fly -- almost all dead centre to their target. The sky was a clear azure blue; the sun streamed down and cast a shadow around the large nearby tree currently a roost for a regiment of birds. Did I really care about such splendor? -- not really. The day's light breeze carried familiar voices to my ears. Tavington and Marcus. I relaxed the bow in my hand and stole to the parlour window from where I heard the voices emanate.

"...shouldn't be disclosing these facts to you, Colonel," Marcus spoke, his tone respectful.

"Maxine and I are to be wed, and as someone who knows her mind intimately, I ask for your insight, Marcus. While I doubt she would give me anything less than the truth to these queries, she might balk at an answer, misunderstanding the reason behind my query." Tavington was very persuasive with his cool tongue.

Marcus sighed and relinquished, "Very well. No, she cannot become pregnant and she has never indicated to me any interest in wanting children."

I leaned against the cool stone wall for support, my fingers gripping the bow tightly. I prayed Tavington didn't want children. My stomach knotted at the thought. As much as I adored Tavington, I could never allow children to enter our lives.

"Good, neither do I. They are only a liability." Tavington remarked with a tinge of satisfaction.

My body relaxed and I smiled in relief.

"I can see why the Countess finds you so agreeable," Marcus commented suddenly.

"I do hope she finds me more than agreeable," Tavington's tone was tinged with jest.

"She does." Marcus was so serious.

There was a long uncomfortable silence, which Tavington broke with the slice of his voice, "You don't like me, do you, Marcus?" In my mind's eye I could see Tavington standing erect, leaning slightly more on his right leg resulting in a miniscule bend of his left knee, his left hand resting on his sabre hilt and right arm casually at the side. This was his neutrality position but one that could easily shift into an offensive posture. I knew him so well...as he knew me.

"It's not for me to like or dislike, Colonel."

"You would favor me with your candor, Marcus." Tavington's voice akin to the devil, coaxing the information he wished to possess with a slightly clenched jaw and lowered tone of voice.

If Marcus understood me as well as I knew he did, he would similarly know Tavington. He knew full well of the many similarities between our personalities and I hoped he would reply appropriately. I closed my eyes and braced myself. "With all due respect, Colonel, while I do not dislike you as an individual, I do dislike the sometimes compromising affect you have on the Countess." I slowly released my held breath and opened my eyes, grateful for Marcus' disclosure of honesty -- anything less could have been disastrous.

"Compromising?" Tavington questioned.

"You must understand, Colonel, for the past three years the Countess has worked very hard to develop her career here in America. Since you both met, she has had bouts of inappropriate behavior for one in her position." Marcus was ever the diplomat when given an opportunity.

"You mean she likes to dress up like a man and meet opposition on a battlefield?" I could hear Tavington's appreciative grin in his voice. How could Marcus understand the respect Tavington had for me as a result of my predilections.

"Yes, something like that. I fear such activities could adversely affect her work here or be the cause of her untimely death."

"Maxine is competent enough to handle herself. You know her past as well as I -- moreso, I wager. And you also know that there is no arguing with her on this position. She will do as she pleases."

"Yes, but I doubt she'd find her way to battle as easily if you were not an influence in her life." Marcus did not relent in his disclosure.

"The source of your anxiety, yes." I heard Tavington's footsteps, the sound of spurs being jostled. He was circling Marcus like a hunter would prey. His footsteps ceased -- directly before Marcus and inches away from him, I imagine. "Marcus, have you considered what would have happened to her life if her peers in Europe had embraced her original occupation? Hmmm?" Tavington paused hoping for a response from Marcus. None came. "She would have become one of Europe's foremost assassins and possibly a sought after tactician. My influence has nothing to do with her interests and hobbies." Tavington paused dramatically and I heard sudden comprehension in his tone, "Oh, I see. Your concern stems from a different source altogether." Tavington suddenly realized Marcus was in love with me, but thankfully knew enough to not be so bold with this understanding, "Marcus, I don't want to see Maxine injured any more than you do. We both care for her welfare deeply. But we cannot control her. She is a free spirit and I will not hinder that." There was a long silence.

Marcus could no longer engage Tavington in a battle of words -- he'd lose every time. In concession, Marcus informed, "She's out back. Archery practice."

"Thank you, Marcus."

I sprinted to my place in the yard, next to a table holding four arrows. I grasped one and notched it in my bow, taking my stance firmly. I choose to wear a pair of black breeches and a white shirt, hanging loosely over my nubile frame. My hair was tied tightly to the top of my head to prevent any strands from interfering. As I pulled the bowstring back and focused, I heard Tavington's footsteps saunter down the stairs and approach me from behind.

"Hello, William. There's some cherry wine on the table to the side of me -- do help yourself." I greeted and let the arrow fly. Near to centre.

"How did you know it was me?" I further detected he removed his gloves and place them in his belt.

I notched another arrow. Despite the obvious, I did confess truthfully, "I know your walk. The way your sabre and scabbard sound against your leg, the clip of your heel and spurs. I wasn't expecting you until later today."

"Are you disappointed?" I felt the warmth from Tavington's body directly behind me.

I let the arrow fly. Dead centre. "Not at all. Pleasantly surprised." I selected the second last arrow.

Tavington's hands settled onto my hips and his tender lips on the back of my bare neck. I sucked in my breath. It was incredible how this man's touch could incite such desire from me every time. He proved to be most distracting.

"I'm not quite finished yet," I mock complained at his advance.

"I'm not stopping you," Tavington whispered in my ear and resumed kissing the nape of my neck. After several kisses I felt his moist tongue tracing my spine on the back of my neck. His left hand slid up under my shirt and cupped my breast while his right slid down to my trousers, deftly and quickly unclasping the buttons.

I let the arrow fly and watched it completely miss the target. "Clearly you are," I said firmly, leaning over momentarily to set the last arrow in the bow.

As soon as I settled into position, Tavington settled his teeth to the back of my neck, pinching the nerve deliciously. The fingers of his left hand tweaked my nipple and two fingers of his right plunged deep inside of me. I was surprised to hear a shocked cry escape my lips. I couldn't even raise the bow. He withdrew his right hand, his fingers brushing the epicenter of my pleasure. His teeth left my flesh for the moment and slippery fingers slid across the side of my neck. "You're not resisting very well. And your body betrays you," he whispered in my ear and closed his mouth over the portion of my neck wet from my loins, tasting me. He groaned softly against me.

I couldn't speak and dropped my bow. Tavington's right hand quickly slid down my stomach and into my breeches again. He inserted three fingers inside of me and I gasped, pressing my body into him. He held me securely, alternating between kissing and nibbling the side of my neck. Tavington removed his three fingers in such a way to draw out my passionate wetness and delicately wash my hardened bud of pleasure with its fluid. I moaned loudly, pressing my backside into the rising passion contained in his trousers. His ministrations were certain and delicate. He played me like an instrument, coaxing a song of absolute paradise from my lips.

Tavington's teeth glided over the edges of my ear. "I want you to come hard," he whispered, his firm tongue sliding down to rest on my bare shoulder.

He continued relentlessly taking me to the edge of a release and then withdrawing. He denied satiation of my hunger. My body stiffened and he countered my own thrusts against his skilled fingers, denying me, teasing me. He was merciless. And I adored him for it. His rhythm finally changed, became more insistent, demanding obedience, and I gasped for air I was unable to take into my lungs. I barely noticed his love bite into my shoulder -- however, my physical body responded to its wickedness. My entire body pulsed, moving against him and the waves came closer and closer until I cried out in victory. Tavington's fingers did not relent but drew out of me a very long and powerful climax. A torrent of unearthly sounds ripped from my throat. I heard the beating wings of birds who had been nesting in the nearby tree vacate the premises -- a response to my primal scream.

Tavington turned me around delicately in his arms, his left arm holding me steady for I was shaking from the powerful release. He caught my gaze and brought one finger up to his lips and then slid it into his mouth. My chest heaved and fell from my bated breath. Tavington brought another finger to my lips, which I took into my mouth, tasting myself with a hungry tongue. As he withdrew his finger slowly, he replaced these with his lips. The kiss was divine, sweetened with unabashed desire and my passions. Slowly we drew apart and I buttoned my trousers.

My shoulder felt moist and somewhat pained. I reached up with my hand, smoothed it over the surface where Tavington inflicted his oral attentions. I took my fingers away and inspected them. A small streak of blood. I smiled and licked the blood from my fingers. How I adored this man. I could die tomorrow and feel complete.

Chapter IV

"Some cherry wine? You must be parched." Tavington referred to the overuse of my voice, already pouring two glasses.

"Utterly," I drained the glass at once and returned it to Tavington for a refill.

"Do you do anything in moderation?" Tavington teased, pressing the newly filled glass of cherry wine into my waiting hand.

"Life is too short for moderation." I smiled and eased my slightly aching yet very warm form on the wooden bench beneath the tree -- no longer a roost to certain recently vacated birds.

Tavington carefully laid himself on the bench, his head resting in my lap comfortably. He'd drunk back half his wine and rested the base of the glass just below his belt. He closed his eyes and I watched a very peaceful expression transform on his visage. I moved a stray strand of his hair back into place and settled my free hand on his chest. His hand reached up and entwined his fingers with mine.

"Tell me about your other women?" I inquired softly.

Months ago Tavington would have reluctantly answered the question, but now that we were to be wed, there were no pretenses, no walls, no secrets, nothing to be withheld. "My other women? You make it sound as though I had a harem," he smiled in amusement.

"I practically had an army of lovers..." I began.

"You also had more idle time, and I daresay your needs more complex and demanding than my own." Tavington glanced up at my smiling face and disclosed slowly from his heart, "I think I might have been in love once. I was too young to really know for certain. There was a young lady, well bred, pretty and quite intelligent. When my father's ill-conceived reputation began to circulate she expressed her desire to see me no more. At the time I was devastated, hating my father with all the fury I was capable of. After that I sought out one time liaisons with certain women. Even those not known for their chaste natures were a danger to my psyche. They would cling to every word or action as though I'd even consider some sort of relationship with them." He sighed and glanced up at me once more, "You understand."

I nodded, "With men I could usually have two encounters before they lost their heads in the pursuit of something more than what I was willing to give. Two was best as the first encounter usually had them fumbling around."

"Did I fumble?" Tavington queried.

"Certainly not, and you know it." I scolded in jest and we laughed a little.

Tavington leaned forward slightly and drank from his glass before resuming his relaxed position. "Are the preparations complete for tomorrow night?"

"I assume so. The guests will begin arriving at six o'clock in the evening. That reminds me, I have a gift for you."

Tavington felt my urgency to rise and lifted himself off the bench. I quickly removed myself from the bench, caught up in the excitement of the gift I'd planned for some time. This was one secret I had difficulty maintaining but I managed.

"It's in my bedchamber. Come," I took his hand and pulled him behind me.

Tavington smiled a mysterious smile and allowed himself to be led. Once in my domicile my resident physician, Charles Granger, stopped me in our travels to the bedchamber. Charles had been with me for many years -- his services more depended upon in Europe than America, but I did have a rather larger servant staff these days, which I assume would keep him occupied.

"A messenger delivered this, Countess." Charles handed me a sealed letter.

"What are you doing answering the door?" I asked inspecting the seal prior to opening it -- a lawyer from York, Canada.

I released Tavington's hand and he glanced curiously over my shoulder -- to which I turned playfully blocking his view. The letter was a private matter -- not even Marcus knew of its contents, and Marcus knew almost everything about my activities.

"The remainder of your staff are quite tied up arranging the festivities for tomorrow night. Your wedding announcement, I believe. You do remember, don't you?" Charles had a wicked tongue, but I did not mind. He was a first rate medical practioner with the bedside manner of a sarcastic comedian.

I scanned the letter containing the contents I'd hoped. I smiled to myself.

"I wish you the best of luck, Colonel. I fear the Countess will make you an unusual wife. She suffers from a variety of maladies, the least of which is a terminal memory loss concerning events she has no genuine interest in," Charles droned on in his peculiar fashion.

"I'm sorry. You've not met yet, have you?" I stuffed the letter into a small pocket in my trousers. "William, this is my household physician and jester, Dr. Charles Granger. He used to stitch me up when I suffered under the wrong end of a sword, dagger or pistol. Now he plagues me with comedic banter. Charles, my fianc‚e, Colonel William Tavington -- but I see you already know that."

They greeted formally. Tavington seemed quite amused by Charles for the grin was slow to vacate his lips. We found our way up to my bedchambers where I was surprised to find three large boxes on my bed.

"They are for you from me," Tavington confessed, a devilish grin playing on his lips.

"What's the occasion?" I asked, completely surprised. We were to venture up here so I could present him with my gift -- not its opposite. I disliked gifts for the most part. I never knew how to respond and spent more time attempting to ascertain the reason behind the gift giving. With Tavington it was less so -- he had no ulterior motives where I was concerned. Just the same, I was taken aback.

"Nothing in particular. Open this one first." Tavington guided me to the largest box.

"All right," I was puzzled and curious at the same time. All this time and we'd never exchanged gifts. Upon reflection it seemed so odd to have a courtship without gifts. But then we had an odd courtship. I lifted the lid and set it aside. My eyes widened and so did a smile. I lifted from the box a red and green coat of a Green Dragoon officer, which I could see was fashioned for my frame. Beneath the jacket was a green vest and beneath that black breeches. I turned to Tavington, hugging the coat to my body.

"The next time you ride with me, I'd like you to ride as one of my Green Dragoon officers."

"Thank you so much, William. I'm honored." I placed the coat in its box and lifted the lid from another box. The hat -- forlorn on its own, but when crowned on the ensemble -- absolutely menacing. The last box held the boots with a new set of spurs. I could not stop grinning. I was speechless -- a rarity for a verbose individual such as myself.

"You've earned it. Europe's loss is my gain," Tavington pulled me into his arms and we kissed tenderly. I only recently disclosed a portion of the depths of my history to Tavington, and there was so much more -- all in good time. Tavington was quite intrigued how I came to be an assassin and military tactician under the tutelage of my father and various others. In my youth it seemed easier -- I was considered a novelty, an amusement. But when my father died, all the admiration towards me vanished -- my one time colleagues and associates believing I could not successfully replace my father. I had little choice but to leave that life behind and in so doing I met Tavington. How far we'd come in our relationship, and how surprising its development was. Neither of us could have conceived of a beneficial romantic relationship, but here we were. Rousing my thoughts to the current moment, and as hungry as I was for physical intimacy, I desired very much to present my own gift to Tavington.

"Your gift," I slipped out of his arms, pulled a long narrow box from beneath the bed and held it out to him. My eyes flashed pure mischief now and Tavington eyed me warily.

He lifted the lid from the box cradled in my arms. Three fancy cravats of varying lace styles lay on top of two new white shirts resting side by side. "Thank you. They are quite lovely." I was certain his mind was working overtime, spinning without direction, attempting to comprehend how I could be so passionate concerning a gift of generic clothing. I observed his suspicion grow.

"I know you dislike more extravagant fashions, but I thought a few formal cravats would compliment your wardrobe nicely. And you can always use new shirts." I interjected seriously, stifling an amused grin.

"How right you are. We must have both worked your seamstress to the bone recently. She's very good at keeping secrets." Tavington's hands did not leave the box.

"All members of my household are good at keeping secrets," I continued to hold the box out to Tavington. I observed his hands lift one of the shirts for closer inspection. His hand paused and his eyes widened. I smiled as he discovered the gem in the box beneath the clothes.

Tavington set the shirt down and withdrew from the box a most exquisite sabre in scabbard. I tossed the box on the bed with the others and watched with keen interest Tavington's approving reaction to my gift. "It's absolutely beautiful," he withdrew the blade from its housing. He inspected it thoroughly, feeling the weight in his hand. A beatific smile crossed his visage upon discovering the red pommel at the edge of the golden hilt etched with his initials, WT. "The craftsmanship is spectacular."

"I commissioned a Japanese artisan, Agari, some time ago to create that for you. It just arrived yesterday. This blade should never break and can shatter those inferior to it -- which most are." My eyes sparkled in delight. Tavington knew of my fondness for Japanese blades and had listened intently to my numerous litanies regarding their superiority.

"I must confess I'm at a loss for words. I've never received such a gift, nor seen a sword of this quality -- except in your own collection. Thank you, Maxine. But the cost..." Tavington began, turning the blade over and over in his hands.

"Is irrelevant. I hope you christen it well with Continental blood. Consider it an engagement gift if you like." I smiled wickedly and seated myself on the edge of the bed before him.

"What do you have in mind for a wedding gift -- cannon?" Tavington jested.

"It could be arranged," I grinned, considered it seriously for a moment and then put the notion from my mind. Tavington slowly slid his new sabre into its scabbard. "Now, speaking of sheathing swords," my hands flew to the buttons on his trousers and deftly released them. I slid his breaches over his hips and ran my fingertips up his thighs. I could feel Tavington's burning gaze upon me but did not look up -- yet.

With a delicate touch from my fingers I teased his soft silken flesh to a state of erection. I smoothed my right hand, fingers curled, down his shaft to the base, holding him firmly. I brought the palm of my left to my mouth and licked a copious amount of spittle into the palm. I gazed up at Tavington now, who eyed me with fascination. I so enjoyed watching his expression transform from complacency to sheer lust -- his control melted away on such occasions. I brought my left palm towards his member and cupped just the tip, massaging the head firmly. Tavington groaned and closed his eyes. Saliva was an excellent lubricant and resulted in divine reactions such as this.

I removed my left hand slowly and blew a light breezy breath. Tavington moaned again, tossed the scabbard gently on the bed behind me and lost his fingers in my hair. I blew until he was dry, the saliva either soaked into his flesh or evaporated. He unbound my hair and shook it out around my shoulders. I paused for a time, simply holding him with my right hand curled around the base. And then I struck like a cobra.

I opened my mouth and closed my moist tongue and lips around his rigid flesh. I felt his fingers tighten their grip in my hair. My left cupped his underside and stroked gently, coaxing his pleasure. My right hand slid in a rhythm matching my mouth's speed and pressure. My mouth left behind enough saliva to be picked up by my right hand, creating an effective extension of my attentive lips and tongue.

Tavington's hands continued to play amongst my auburn curls, never applying coercive pressure to the back of my head. To do so would disrupt the rhythm and ultimately his pleasure. I enjoyed feeling him so alive between my lips. My left hand slid down the inside of his thigh and caressed its way to his right hip and then his backside. My fingernails settled and began to dig into his flesh as my mouth moved more quickly along the length of his hardness. Tavington's hands dropped from my hair and hung slack as he steadied himself against the euphoric passion now encapsulating him. I increased the pressure and built a vacuum in my mouth, tugging on his member hungrily as my fingernails slowly raked up his spine.

Tavington's vocal emanations were akin to urgent hauntings and his head thrown back in ecstasy. My fingernails on his backside dug into his flesh wickedly as I applied more pressure and speed simultaneously. He cried out longingly, pulsing violently in my mouth and filling it with his seed. I only diminished my attentions by a minute amount, savouring his taste and savouring the control -- driving him to the brink of insanity. His fingers found their way into my hair again, a subtle signal to cease my ministrations. I prolonged the exquisite agony a moment longer before withdrawing and swallowing.

I rearranged his trousers and stood up, sliding my body against his until our lips joined. His tongue plundered my mouth for a taste of himself, gasping slightly and holding my head firm now. The burning kiss was like a torch, setting my soul to flame. Soon I would marry this incredible man -- my friend and lover -- my reflection.

Wedding. Marriage. I could almost shudder from the thought, but considering the man I would marry -- any resistance dissipated. After tomorrow I would have to focus my household on wedding preparations, as Tavington and I had set a date for two months from now. I would be glad when the formalities were all behind us and we could continue with our lives together. The concept still arrests me...together...forever...until death do us part.

Chapter V

I was surprised with the numerous attendance for Tavington's and my engagement announcement. Upon closer scrutiny, I reconsidered my position -- neither Tavington nor I were deemed "likely to wed in this life time", hence attracting the interest of any who knew or knew of us. People were so easily swayed by gossip hungry curiosity. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth.

The interior and exterior of the estate was alight with numerous candles. Flowers were picked from some of my other properties and adorned the grounds beautifully. The majority of my entire serving staff was abuzz delivering drinks, some food items and pandering to the needs of the guests. Banquet tables held buffet food items, continuously replenished by my attentive staff. I had two sets of musicians -- one inside the estate and the other on the rear grounds. Insofar as a party was concerned, it lacked for nothing and was spectacular to behold.

Marcus was beaming, pleased with his well executed choreographing of tasks. I found him on the upper balcony surveying the results of his tireless efforts.

"Thank you, Marcus, for all of this," I smiled warmly and kissed his cheek.

"You are most welcome, Countess. It's been quite the different undertaking of my services," Marcus commented with pleasure.

I snatched a glass of wine from a serving tray wandering past, its operator gliding down the stairs behind us. "Quite different from tracking down weapons, exotic oriental poisons and the odd reconnaissance mission, yes?" I flashed Marcus a wicked smile and drank deeply.

"Mmmmn," he narrowed his eyes disapprovingly...whether at my remark or imbibing I could not discern. "How many does that make?"

"Not enough to deal with all of this, for certain," I waved an arm, gesturing at the lawns filled with men and women sporting the best of their wardrobe, creating a sea of lavish fabric highlighted by wigs of all styles and accentuated with a cacophony of gossiping voices. "Vultures," I spat.

"Countess!" Marcus chastised.

"They're only here to gather more information for their tedious gossip mill."

"And you don't gather information?" he challenged me.

"Yes, but I use it for political and business purposes. I could care less who was getting married, who was pregnant, and who was having an affair with whom -- with the exception of that information affecting the aforementioned purposes."

"Even love doesn't change your attitudes, does it?" Marcus leaned on the balcony edge and gazed at me in wonder.

"I beg pardon?" I cocked my head slightly to the side, requiring further explanation of the comment.

"I would have thought since you've fallen in love you would likewise develop certain attitudes of a similar genteel nature."

"Apparently not," a wry smile formed on my lips. I drained the glass and handed him the empty. "And I hope I never fall victim to such behavior."

Marcus shook his head and watched me slip inside the estate from the balcony, taking up another glass of wine from a nearby servant.

I meandered through the estate, pausing every so often to speak with a guest, until I found my way to my room of solace. The doors were closed but remained unlocked. Very little in my household was locked for I trusted my servants implicitly and rewarded them well. I only surrounded myself with individuals of a similar work ethic as myself. It made securing adequate help difficult, but that was Marcus' responsibility and he performed such duties excellently. I opened the large doors, slipped inside and shut them behind me.

A dimmed lamp was burning on a side table near the door. I turned the wick up to throw additional light upon this massive seemingly bare room. There were no windows, no furnishings and no art to decorate the walls. One wall was adorned with a series of glass cases, almost the length and height of the wall itself. These cases displayed a variety of swords from the world over. I slowly walked to the centre case, my footsteps echoing in the room. I longed for my prize. I longed to feel the cool hilt in my warm hand. I longed to feel such fine steel become an extension of my body and respond to my slightest whim.

In retrospect, I longed for my life back in Europe. My only moment of weakness in my entire life came the day I decided to leave Europe for America. My relationship with Tavington reminded me of what I left behind and what was truly ingrained into my soul and etched into my being. I began to view my life here in South Carolina as a joke -- a false display of my true self. I never wanted to command territory -- with the exception of a battlefield. I only ever truly wanted to take my father's place -- become a mercenary, assassin and tactician, commanding the respect of those who would hire my services. I miss the hunt, the thrill of bending others to my will, feeding my ravenous lust on the blood of pathetic vile men who wield power from what they believed to be a safe distance. Riding with Tavington and his Dragoons was a small taste of what I once had and what I realize now I so desperately want again.

I opened the centre case and withdrew a long narrow black scabbard holding my most favored sword. I set my wine glass down and stepped away from the case. I was about to quiet my mind, to enjoy the moment, when the door opened. I turned and observed General Cornwallis enter, breaking my reverie.

"Lord General Cornwallis," I smiled, "Please do come in."

"Thank you," he entered and closed the door quietly behind him. He must have seen me enter this room for it was deemed inaccessible to the party revelers. "Congratulations on your engagement to Colonel Tavington," he deliberately approached me. His conversation with me was directed by his own purposes. I couldn't imagine what was on his mind.

"Thank you," I smiled as best as I could given the fact I'd been congratulated dozens of times this evening and doubted the sincerity of most well-wishers. I turned my attention on the scabbard and drew the blade from its sheath.

Cornwallis regarded me with curiosity and uncertainty. By now he'd heard many rumors about myself, and I now suspected was the reason for his desire to speak with me.

I held the sword's hilt firmly in my hand, point down just above the floor, and caught Cornwallis' gaze -- a salacious smile on my lips. The wine began to flood my senses and I was feeling rather superior at the moment. "It's a Japanese sword. A 13th century katana from the Koto period -- 100 years after the Shogun government rose to power. This sword..." I thrust the sword downward, burying the tip deep into the wood floor, "...was created by Masamune, probably the most superior swordsmith in Japan." I bent the sword to the right slightly, placing my foot against the edge buried in the floor, holding it firmly. I proceeded to grip the sword's hilt with two hands and bend the blade excessively to the right so that it almost folded in upon itself. "This..." I slowly released the pressure from the blade, stood erect and lifted the sword up from the floor, "...is the quality to which today's Japanese swordsmiths aspire but none have been able to master."

"It is most impressive, Countess. Speaking of your interest in the art of warfare, I'd like to talk to you candidly about your involvement in ours." Here it was -- the reason for Cornwallis' intrusion into my sanctum.

"I'd offer you a place to sit but as you can see, this is a training room." I allowed the blade to slide downwards, the point resting on the floor before me. My hands curled around the pommel. I stared at Cornwallis intensely and I felt him grow uncomfortable. Little did he realize I was simply trying to focus my hazy wine ensconced vision.

"I heard about your escapade with the Dragoons a while ago. While I understand your assistance to have been quite welcome, I would like to point out the distracting nature of such assistance." Cornwallis spoke slowly, emphasizing almost every word.

"Distracting in what way, General?" I inquired, absently lifting the sword and inspecting the sword smith's mark on the blade. I did not want to have this conversation.

"Distracting for Colonel Tavington. I fear that your presence in battle scenarios would limit his abilities to function as a commanding officer. If he's concerned about your welfare, he is not as likely to be appropriately focused on the tasks at hand. I can't have that among my men."

I could decapitate Cornwallis right now with one swing from this magnificent blade. However, that would accomplish nothing not to mention the mess I would have to have cleaned up. I brought the scabbard to the edge of the blade and dropped it in with a cool smooth slice. "You are incorrect in your assumption, General. Colonel Tavington and I have discussed this already, and I will pose no distraction to him or his men. I have no desire to be a distraction. And as I'm sure you've also heard, I'm quite capable of handling myself." The wine further freed my tongue. I would not be dictated to by anyone -- even Lord General Cornwallis. I circled Cornwallis, scabbard in my hand. When I was directly behind Cornwallis I leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "I will spar or duel with any of your men and show you exactly what I'm capable of. Colonel Tavington isn't the only butcher in South Carolina."

Cornwallis was at a loss for words. Whether he was disturbed that someone could speak as I have to him or whether he was regrouping for a new argument, I could not discern.

I walked purposefully to the centre wall weapon's case. Upon reaching it, I heard the door open. I spun around and smiled at Tavington.

"I thought I might find you in here, avoiding your guests..." Tavington remarked to me and then his eyes found Cornwallis. "My apologies."

"Do come in, Colonel," Cornwallis urged and Tavington complied.

"I was just showing the good General my prized Japanese katana," I grinned -- a little too much.

"Colonel, a word." Cornwallis retreated to the other side of the room where Tavington joined him for private discourse.

I turned to the case once more and replaced the katana in its prominent position. I gazed at each sword in turn, reflecting its origins and how it came into my possession. I'd been collecting various blades since I was 18. I had never given much thought to swordsmithing until I was engaged in a practice duel with one of my instructors. During the duel, my sword shattered from a blow directed by my teacher. He explained how all swords were not created equal, the advantages and disadvantages of the various methods of their construct and so forth. I was quite fascinated and began seeking out the confidence of quality swordsmiths to learn more. It was in Japan, under the tutelage of swordsmith Agari, a very obscure yet accomplished man of his craft, that I obtained the Masamune katana. Agari was also responsible for Tavington's new sabre.

I heard the door open and close behind me. Tavington stood directly behind me, resting his hands on my hips. "I promised Cornwallis that if it came to pass in battle that you were outnumbered ten to one I would not worry because I knew you were so accomplished that you'd vanquish your opponents and there would be ten less enemies someone else would have to eliminate. Should you become wounded by the ten, I would pay no heed because my focus would remain fixed on the task at hand -- serving King and country, an attitude you support completely."

"And did he believe you?" I inquired, pressing myself into Tavington's body wickedly.

Tavington's hands slid forward overtop my stomach and up to my breasts where his hands remained fixed. "I believe he did -- in the end. But I think he's somewhat wary of you."

I turned in Tavington's arms and slid my hands up his chest. He was wearing one of the cravats I gifted him with, and I smiled like a Cheshire. "Wary of me?"

"I don't think he's ever met a woman who boasts more knowledge of swords than most battle hardened soldiers," Tavington replied with a wry smile. His fingers stroked the side of my face and gently squeezed around my neck, "Now, as much I'd love to take you right here and now, we should return to our guests."

I sighed wearily at his remark, but my body was aflame from his touch. I conceded, "You are correct."

As we exited the room arm in arm, Tavington commented, "By the way, Bordon quite likes my new sabre. He asked where he could obtain one."

I chuckled, "There is only one and you are wearing it."

Chapter VI

For the remainder of the evening, Tavington and I maintained a close proximity of one another, supporting one another's social interaction despite the continuous urge to flee. Our mood increased considerably towards the end of the celebration as more and more guests vacated the premises and as we imbibed more and more wine.

Bordon was the last to leave and Tavington saw him to the door. I remained outdoors, surrounded by slowly sputtering candles and the general debris of a party gone well. I collected a few shawls from the chairs, given to various guests who became chilled during the evening, and spread them out on the grass in a clearing. I lay down and gazed up at the stars -- a jet-black ocean encrusted with diamonds. I wished Tavington and I could escape to those stars, and see what was out there, leaving behind these societal expectations and pressures. I was tired of following protocol -- I yearned to have full command of my life again. Suddenly my view became obstructed by Tavington's handsome face -- weaving back and forth slightlyà I wasn't sure if the movement was a result of my having drunk far too much wine or Tavington or both. I smiled and stretched my hands up to him.

Tavington took my hands and settled down next to me, removing his restrictive cravat. He kissed me briefly on the lips and then laid his head on my shoulder, my arms around him, and our hands entwined upon my chest.

Tavington sighed, "I'm glad that's over."

"Only one more to go," I commented softly, closing my eyes, feeling more peaceful with Tavington next to me.

"Yes, the wedding."

"William, I must say something to you rather important. Now, while it's fresh in my mind," I began, attempting to shake off the haze of intoxication I was currently under -- rather unsuccessfully.

"Yes?" he squeezed my hands gently.

"I'm meeting with my lawyer next week concerning changes to my last will and testament. I'd like you to be aware of the modifications so there is no misunderstanding. Currently, all of my possessions are divided amongst key members of my staff -- notably Marcus and Charles. In light of our formal union, I will be allocating certain possessions to yourself and other members of my staff. Any monies and property not allocated are to be distributed with yourself receiving 50%, Marcus 25% and the remaining 15% amongst my key staff members."

"This is rather cheerful news to be discussing this night," Tavington remarked sarcastically. He slid himself over my body and sat upright, straddling my hips and stroking my hands with his fingers and the cravat he held.

"William, it's important. I could die any time. I never really paused to consider the ramifications of my death until now." I became somewhat frustrated in Tavington's refusal to acknowledge this conversation. I barely noticed he had gathered my hands together in one of his hands. With his free hand he wrapped his cravat around my wrists, binding them securely.

"Is there something you're not telling me? You aren't ill are you?" Tavington paused briefly and leaned back to withdraw the long solid dagger from the sheath bound to my left leg just below the knee. He guided my wrists above my ahead and fixed them firmly to the ground -- the dagger slid between my wrists, pinning the cravat bindings.

"Of course not. I'm being realistic." I stared up at Tavington with his bloodshot eyes. He was at least as intoxicated as I was. I should have waited to discuss these details when my judgment was less deficient. His focus was on my bodice and I realized his fingers were fumbling with the tiny button closures.

"You're being depressing," Tavington scolded and sighed in exasperation at the uncooperative buttons. He gripped both front edges of my gown's bodice and ripped them apart, tearing my gown excessively.

"Since when is planning for the future depressing?" I asked, tugging on my bonds, which remained fixed to the earth with the dagger.

Tavington released the catches of my corset and opened it wide. He smiled for a moment in satisfaction and then caught my gaze, narrowed his eyes and said, "When it concerns your death. Now please, be quiet. I'm trying to ravish my future bride." He lowered his lips to meet mine, his body hovering over me.

I melted from his kiss, parting my lips and taking his tongue deep into my mouth. I slid my legs up his sides, wrapping them around his waist, and pulled him downwards -- completely on top of me. I shivered at his cold coat buttons against my bare flesh. I yearned to touch him in response to the glorious kisses he bestowed upon my face and neck, but could not. He slid himself firmly lower, applying pressure between my legs with his groin and closing his mouth over a nipple. I moaned and pressed my breast more fully into his eager mouth. He suckled and teased my nipple erect with his teeth and moved to the other while his hands played upon my legs over my gown. I arched my back, incited by the flames of desire spreading from Tavington to myself, gripping us in this inferno of delight. His hands traveled beneath my skirts, upwards towards my waist, his fingers finding no resistance in the form of bloomers. He lifted his lower torso briefly, pushing my skirts up to my waist and settling his fabric encased hardness against my blood engorged bud. Tavington slid up my body firmly, nudging me between my legs, until his lips met mine.

"Wicked lady," he commented amidst wine laced kisses, working one hand to open his breeches, his fingers brushing me between the legs absently.

I smiled and whispered against his sweet lips, "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, Colonel."

His icy blue eyes, currently accentuated with a perimeter of alcohol induced redness, sought out my own bloodshot green eyes. "I know exactly..." Tavington thrust himself into me forcefully and my body arched and opened to him fully, "...what I am getting myself into."

I groaned loudly, lavishing in Tavington's attentions. He lowered his head to kiss my lips as he withdrew almost the full length of himself and then thrust deeply and quickly once more. I threw my head back in ecstasy and felt his mouth at my throat, sucking, nipping and biting. I yearned to caress him with my hands but could not break free of my bondage. The dagger held my wrist bindings quite firmly. There was no hope I could dislodge the dagger buried deep into the ground -- I suspected at an angle not conducive to easy removal. I settled my feet onto the ground and used them for leverage to time my hip movements with Tavington's lusty thrusts.

His lips finally sought out mine and we breathed heavily against one another amidst our savage lovemaking. At times I felt he might break my spine from the sheer force at which he descended upon me. Perhaps it was our state of inebriation or the certainty of how we felt for one another, allowing us to pursue with so much vigor, free from any inhibitions, this almost furious expression of our passion. Tavington held my body firm with his hands clasped at my shoulders. Our teeth nipped at one another's necks and shoulders relentlessly. I began to cry out a reactionary torrent of pleasure-pain. He drowned my vocalization in ravenous kisses, continuing to lay siege to my receptive body. Inadvertently, I bit into his lower lip to which there lacked any concerned response from Tavington. Bloody kisses intensified the experience, culminating at long last into a mutually intense, draining and exquisite climax.

Tavington collapsed next to me, straightening my skirt and then his breeches. He rested his head next to mine and laid an arm across my bare chest. After a short time, I detected his breathing regular -- already asleep. The world around me began to fade until I likewise fell helplessly into a warm satiated state of unconsciousness.

I woke to the sound of clattering dishes in the distance. My eyes were glued shut and considerable time seemed to pass until they opened fully. Eventually I focused on the rising sun in the distance and realized Tavington and I had fallen asleep outdoors. When I tried to sit up my body revolted and remained still. My head ached annoyingly. I could barely sense my arms yet I could feel my legs and torso. Just as the dawn cast its new rays upon my estate's lawn, a replay of the evening's festivities, primarily those occurring after the party, filtered through my mind. I shut my eyes for a moment to gather my wits, the dish removal activity drawing nearer.

I opened my eyes and turned my head towards Tavington's sleep ensconced visage. "William, William..." I whispered urgently. When he grunted some indiscernibly reply I repeated his name with little effect. He remained unconscious. I was left little alternative and rose my voice, "William, we're surrounded by Militia!"

I never imagined a man with a hangover could move so swiftly and even delicately. Tavington was now standing erect with his blade drawn -- I believe even before his eyes were fully open and able to focus unimpeded. He slowly turned a full circle before sheathing his sabre and glaring down at me with an expression of contempt for this deception.

"It was the only way I could wake you. As you can see, my hands are tied." I pulled against my bonds with no effect.

"Yes, and maybe I should leave you that way for playing such a nasty trick," Tavington's lips curled in an impish grin. He dropped down on his knees, straddling my hips. "You look lovely, all disheveled in the morning sun," his hands lightly caressed my chest, breasts and neck, sliding my torn bodice to the side, further revealing my nakedness to the morning sun.

"Thank you. Now, I hear my servants fast approaching with their cleaning duties, would you mind freeing me?" I raised a brow urgently.

Tavington paused dramatically and replied coolly, "Oh, I don't think so." His hands left my naked exposed upper torso and he gazed off into the distance, "It looks like almost your entire household is up to tend to the grounds. I'm sure they'll find you shortly." Tavington rose and strode off without another word.

I called after him -- futile. While my household was accustomed to my extra curricular activities, I've always been as discrete and as less overt as possible. Marcus would have an absolute fit if he discovered me in this manner -- more fodder for his anti Tavington crusade. Fully awake now and despite the sun's warm rays, I began to shiver from the cold ground. I strained against the bonds again to no avail. Tavington had angled the lengthy dagger into the ground in such a way that it could not be lifted out very easily from my current position -- not to mention that it was buried to the hilt so I could not even cut my bonds against the blade. I contemplated swinging my legs up overhead but knew if I could not secure enough room to maneuver my hands in compliance, I'd snap my wrists. Voices came into range now...yes, only a matter of time before I was discovered. I swallowed hard and waited, a tinge of embarrassment creeping over me.

Chapter VII

As I lay helpless, waiting to be discovered in this precarious position -- wrists bound above my head, hair disheveled and my naked upper torso greeting the morning sun, my body began to issue a casualty report. My head pounded relentlessly from far too much wine, my arms were completely numb and my right inner thigh ached painfully. The last I attributed to Tavington's sabre, not having been removed from his person prior to our lovemaking. I muttered a string of obscenities in my native Austrian tongue.

I heard soft deliberate footsteps approach and halt directly behind me. The dagger was being pulled out of the ground, simultaneously slicing through my bonds. I slowly brought my arms to my sides...pins and needles as the blood rushed its normal course through my limbs. A red coat dropped over my bare chest and strong arms lifted me up.

"You didn't think I'd really leave you to be discovered like this, did you?" Tavington queried, carrying me into my estate.

"I wasn't sure. You do have a bit of a legendary temper and are renown for your cruelty."

Tavington continued to carry me up to my chambers and once within my bedchamber, he set me on the bed gently and removed the remainder of my clothing. I shivered all the more. I was about to speak, to request that Tavington order a bath for us, when he laid a single finger over my lips to silence me. He lifted me up once more and carried me through a side chamber door into my bathing room. I smiled when I saw that my massive bathing tub had just been filled with hot water. I could only surmise Tavington ordered the bath as soon as he left me.

He descending my shivering form into the sandalwood scented water, proceeded to undress himself and then join me. We sat immersed in the warm soothing water across from one another, silent in our musings. Tavington unbound his hair and shook it out...black snakes in the water, never straying too far from their owner.

I smiled and closed my eyes, knowing I could completely trust the man I was about to marry. I could trust him as I could trust myself. The only uncertainty was that of explosive rage as a result of external actions that could not be directly controlled. As I suffered from this syndrome, so did Tavington. Some day it would be the death of both of us. But for the present, we took much comfort and joy in one another.

Our wedding was attended more heavily than our engagement party, which did surprise me. I'd assumed the engagement party would have satiated these gossip hungry residents of South Carolina, but apparently I was incorrect. My staff handled the attendance extremely well and were all rewarded for their superb duty -- as always.

Tavington and I married outside with a simple ceremony in the early twilight. My wedding gown would comprise of the first proclamation of scandal amongst these people with seemingly no real lives of their own. I walked from within my domicile, across the grounds, towards Tavington who was dressed in his best uniform with one of the fancy cravats I'd given him previously. My gown was far from traditional, but so was our relationship, and I daresay my seamstress enjoyed its fabrication far more than if it had been traditional. The skirt of the gown was mostly black with six narrow red triangular slashes beginning in a point at the waist and running the length of the gown to the floor. The upper portion of the gown was primarily red, the sleeves tight against my skin. The bodice and high collar were green with gold edgings -- a perfect match to Tavington's uniform. I wore no veil and had the majority of my auburn curls piled atop my head, a few strands of hair caressing my pale neck. I did hold a bouquet of white flowers wrapped in black, red and green lace, in my hands as I walked alone towards Tavington.

Our eyes were locked on one another...ice blue and green. A small approving smile flickered across his face, reciprocated by myself and I was at his side. We faced the minister of a religion neither of us believed in and professed our promise of undying love for one another. We exchanged rings and kissed the most chaste kiss we'd ever partaken of. We faced our guests, some still wearing a look of shock on their faces -- incapable of obfuscation. Tavington's Dragoons lined both sides of the makeshift aisle and drew their sabres in unison. The blades were raised above on an angle to meet their opposing tips. Tavington offered his arm through which I encircled my own and we walked beneath a ceiling of sabres. I winked at Bordon as we passed him and he smiled. I liked Bordon very much for he was truly a man of honour -- as I defined honour, that is. He would defend Tavington with his last breath if it ever came to it.

We had no time for a traditional honeymoon -- instead, I joined Tavington's Dragoons on their next mission for a couple of weeks. For us this activity was far more enjoyable than lounging somewhere being pampered. The days were dedicated to military maneuvers and skirmishes and our nights found us making love with such a passion as though it would be our last. And it could have been, for we had no illusions.

Tavington kept his promise and remained focused on his own tasks, allowing me to fend for myself in battle. Admittedly, I stole glances in his direction whenever I could during combat, for I'd never known anyone to wield a blade in such a way as to appear as a beautiful dance. Tavington was fierce and brutal, his eyes focused and clear on the impassioned tasks. There was no doubt whatsoever of his mastery over the blade. He would use every ounce of his form, commanding his body to move as quickly and deftly as he wished it. My own techniques were more stationary and deliberate, not nearly as fluid and beautiful as his. However, each of us in our own way was very effective in elimination of opposition.

I was fortunate to witness the first occasion where Tavington's deadly sabre completely shattered an opponent's blade. A thrill of pride coursed through me -- Agari would be pleased to learn of the effectiveness of his craftsmanship. Only after his victim had been run through did Tavington allow a smile of satisfaction and understanding break across his visage.

There were several occasions after we had been victorious in battle where we had succumbed to the bloodlust and passions inherent within us and fell upon one another most intimately.

One situation afforded us several long moments of privacy against a large old tree, far enough away from Tavington's men taking stock of the recently deceased Continentals. The fever was on us like a frenzy -- I kicked off my left boot and yanked my left leg out of my breeches. Tavington was fortunate enough to not have to remove any clothing whatsoever, merely having to undo the buttons on his breaches.

No sooner had he released himself from his fabric prison than Tavington pressed me against the tree, lifted my left leg and found freedom in the moist receptive warmth of my sensual flesh. My heart hammered in my chest furiously, pumping blood through my veins as he pumped in and out of me. I settled my left leg at his waist, resting on his hip and stood firmly on my right using the tree at my back for additional support. My hands rested on his backside, aiding in the momentum of our lascivious coupling. Tavington's hands pressed firmly on my shoulders, keeping me still for in this awkward position and with the speed at which we thrust against one another, any sudden move on my behalf could end disastrously for both of us.

This moment of lust was completely unabashed, devoid of closed eyelids, parted lips and soft moans. We stared at one another with that same wild penetrating openness we shared upon our first meeting at Cornwallis' temporary domicile. There was but one purpose to this moment -- slaking the fires raked to flame by the bloodlust of battle and our mutual hunger for it and one another. Tavington modified his angle slightly so that his stiffened flesh rubbed against my small external hardness, demanding release from its torment as much as my inner core of passion. His hands on my shoulder held me fast as my hands on his backside lured him into me savagely. Our wide ice eyes were locked, bearing into one another's dark soul, drinking deeply from the well of truth.

Tavington felt my own release near and quickened his pace further. A growl formed in the pit of my stomach, threatening to transform into an eruption of screams. Tavington's right-gloved hand closed over my mouth securely. My cry of triumph, wrenched from my throat, was dulled by the leather. His climax was silent, accompanied by several deep thrusts followed by slower movements. His hand slid away from my mouth, leaving a trail of sticky blood that had been gathered on his sword hand from recently impaled opponents.

Tavington pressed his lips to my blood covered mouth, traced his tongue along the edges and groaned against me. Hungrily I pulled his blood-laced tongue into my mouth and pulled him deeper inside with my hands. A renewed jolt of electric lust infused us. My inner core worked its muscles in response around his unfading hardness. The taste of blood from a deceased enemy amongst our kisses swelled a newfound furore within us. Breathless we heaved against one another and I felt Tavington spasm deep inside of me, reaching a second climax within moments. He winced with the pain of having no fluids for this second quick successive release. However, I knew it was a delicious pain, borne in absolute pleasure. I thrust against him firmly, snatching my own final peak; aware it served to prolong his agonizing and rapturous moment.

I leaned my head back against the tree, breathless, satiated yet invigorated. Our eyes never left one another during this entire encounter. Tavington's slick gloved hands closed around my throat and I sighed. He smiled wickedly, moved his hands up my neck and over my cheek. I turned my head to the side, snaked out my tongue and licked at the blood on his left glove. His mouth quickly captured mine, his tongue plundering and body hard against mine. For a moment we wished the world would fade away around us, leaving us to our debauchery. But it was not meant to be.

Reluctantly, slowly, we disentangled and straightened our respective uniforms. As often the situation was, words were unnecessary between us. We were completely at ease with our mutual hunger, desires and their expression. We could be completely free to explore every depraved thought and want with one another. There was no reservation, no worry the other would be taken aback by such needs. We had found in one another the perfect partner for these sensual explorations. Knowing this only encouraged these moments all the more.

No sooner were we sliding our respective blades in our scabbards than Bordon discovered us. If he had been observing from a distance, waiting for the right time to approach us, he did not reveal it.

"Excuse me, Colonel. We have taken two men alive...for questioning." Bordon announced.

"For torture," I commented quietly, a small smile on my lips.

"You enjoy this too much," Tavington chided and laughed. "Come -- Bordon's quite an accomplished interrogator...although it wouldn't hurt to have another professional in our midst."

Bordon, Tavington and I strode off together in the direction of the assembling Dragoons and the two Rebel prisoners which would become our playthings during the next several hours or days -- depending upon their stamina and Tavington's questions.

I yearned to remain by Tavington's side, but I had other duties, and other plans. This war would not last forever, and if Tavington and I survived it, we would require a fallback for neither of us would likely ever return to Europe or Britain.

Marcus was noticeably relieved when I resumed my duties of land baron, but he never once more spoke to me in the same manner as he had in Tavington's field tent. What more was there to say? He was defeated -- in several arenas.

Marcus found me early one morning in my study stuffing some papers into my satchel and outfitted for riding. I seldom wore dresses while riding and preferred the comfort and flexibility afforded by my riding breeches.

"You're up early," Marcus remarked, leaning inside my study doorway, folding his arms across his chest.

"I've a few properties to see," I replied, closing my satchel, which I tucked under my arm and pulled on my gloves.

"Do you wish an escort?"

"No, not today, thank you, Marcus." I smiled and walked past him. He knew well enough I could fend for myself, but he continued to ask regardless.

"Good luck," Marcus called after me and I quickly vacated my estate.

My only thoughts were of the properties for inspection and the role they would play in my grand scheme. Consequently, when I came upon the second piece of property, razed to the ground, I was furious. I only needed one guess to know who was responsible -- Tavington. Husband or not, his activities were proving inconvenient.

I rode hard to Tavington's camp, the anger growing inside, deeper with every mile I had to traverse. My horse was barely immobile before I dismounted energetically and bound into Tavington's tent. He was at his desk, pouring over a map. I tossed the charred remains of a corn stalk onto the map before him.

"What's this?" Tavington looked up at me with incredulous eyes.

"The remains of some property I would have been in a good position to acquire a few months hence -- now worthless. Not only were the fields fired, but the house and barns as well. I presume you at least had the foresight to take the horses for the Dragoons."

Tavington rose from his chair but remained behind his desk, perhaps hoping the obstruction would afford him protection from my wrath. "Of course. The residents were harbouring the enemy." His tone was quiet and cold. He seldom raised his voice, but when it became quiet, he was verging on anger.

I was silent in my own rage.

Before I could retort, Tavington continued, "What would you have me do -- maintain a list of all the properties you have an interest in and just ignore those who dwell on those properties?"

"No, I --" I placed my hands on his desk with my arms locked tight and leaned forward. He was lucky the desk existed between us.

Tavington's voice became very quiet, "Contrary to popular belief, I do not order the firing of homes indiscriminately. I --"

"I know, you do so to send a message to others who may consider betraying the Crown. It's a good deterrent; I'll give you that. But must you fire the house, the barns, the grounds, and the fields?"

Tavington likewise placed his hands on his desk and leaned forward. His face was inches away from my own. "What do you propose?" The bargaining began.

"Leave the house," I demanded.

"The barns will be fired, livestock killed and horses taken," his lip curled in a sneer.

"Leave the crop fields."

"Grounds not considered crop fields will be fired." Tavington whispered the last, his voice slicing through me. "In extreme situations, I will fire the house."

"Agreed," I stood tall once more and narrowed my ice green eyes. "You have no idea what that cost me."

"Perhaps you should consider lands in other territory from now on," Tavington's eye twitched and he slowly resumed his standing position.

If he only knew. I strode to the tent flap removing my riding crop from its place in my belt, paused and turned around, "You are still coming for dinner tonight, aren't you?"

"So this disagreement isn't divorce then?" Tavington's blue eyes lit up playfully.

"Divorce, no. But you'll still be punished." I flashed a brief wicked smile and slapped my riding crop into the palm of my hand before I departed without another word.

Chapter VIII

As angry as I was, I shrugged off my loss. Tavington did not comprehend the reason behind my choices in acquisition -- although he might if he actually looked at my portfolio. My own wealth was never under discussion. Whether Tavington simply did not desire to know its extent for whatever reason, or it caused him to feel less contributory to our relationship, I could not say. I know from discussions with Marcus that Tavington had never inquired about my financial status. Be that as it may, Tavington would learn when the time was right. And for the present, he would be punished for spoiling a long conceived plan.

Once I returned to my estate I ordered a light meal to be served this evening which I partook my share of just prior to Tavington's arrival. My servants were instructed to inform Tavington that I'd already dined, for him to eat and then join me in the bedchamber. It was not long before I heard the telltale footsteps, tinged with the sound of his spurs, approach the bedchamber door. The door swung wide open and Tavington found the bedchamber almost completely engulfed in darkness save for the corner directly opposite the door where I sat upon a chair with my legs crossed and arms on the arm rests. I wore black breeches, the Dragoon coat unbuttoned half way revealing that I wore nothing else beneath and the wide black belt. Resting in one hand was a glass of wine. Tavington leaned in the doorway, crossing his arms across his chest, and assessed the situation.

"Enter and shut the door," I spoke evenly.

A small smile flickered across Tavington's visage. He paused for a moment before complying, attempting to assert his position. He knew he could not hold onto control for much longer.

"Remove your belt," I lifted the glass of wine to my lips, attempting to obscure my grin of pleasure.

I could see the control beginning to slip away from Tavington as he unbuckled the wide belt and draped it over a nearby chair.

I shifted sideways in the chair sensually so that my legs dangled over one armrest. I turned my upper torso to face Tavington's direction, causing my coat to gape open enough to expose more of my cleavage. I smiled, "Your coat and waistcoat."

Tavington hesitated for a moment, caught my playful gaze and traveled down my neck to my exposed breast. He sighed, relinquished, and removed his coat and waistcoat. He observed me keenly as I drank deeply from my wine.

"Lay yourself, back down, in the centre of the bed," I instructed.

My bed, now our bed I suppose, was a massive four-poster mahogany bed. I watched with piercing green eyes as Tavington lowered himself at the foot of the bed and pushed himself backwards. A response of pleasure was evident as he realized his head lay upon several carefully placed pillows, allowing him to take his ease and view the room around him unobstructed.

I drained the glass and slid off my chair elegantly. I stood at the foot of the bed, devouring Tavington with my hungry gaze. I proceeded to crawl upon the bed, overtop of him, taking care not to touch him in the slightest. As I predicted, his arms stretched out, preparing to pull me down on top of him. I seized his wrists, smiling innocently and slowly laid them down above his head and slightly to the side so his fingers pointed towards the bed posters of the headboard. I felt his warm breath between my breasts and raised myself up away from him -- he would receive little satisfaction for the moment. I slid further upwards on my knees, straddling Tavington's chest. I reached for two ends of a thick silk scarf dangling just atop the headboard, obscured by the darkness -- but I knew they were there. Firmly in my hands, I pulled quickly, observing Tavington's arms suddenly stretched taut. For unbeknownst to him, I'd placed his wrists through a loop of silk wound around the poster on either side. I tied the silk scarves together in a knot that would be difficult to loosen. I bounded off the bed sideways and observed my handiwork.

Tavington tugged at his bonds to no avail. "I see this is the punishment you were referring to earlier today," he remarked with casual amusement.

"I haven't even started yet," I flashed a wicked smile and proceeded to light all of the candles I'd scattered about the room. The task took some time as I arranged for several dozen to be brought to the bedchamber. I opened the window slightly, in preparation for the anticipated heat overtaking the room from the quantity of candles. I stood at the foot of the bed, gazing down at Tavington with lascivious intent. His eyes followed me as I stepped backwards several feet until my back was directly against the wall.

I reached out with my strong delicate fingers and touched my face gently. I slid my fingers slowly down my neck, between my breasts then over top of my coat to the front of my breeches. I watched as Tavington's eyes followed my hands. I spread my legs slightly and cemented my shoulder blades to the wall for support. My fingers hovered over the buttons for a time and then slowly unbuttoned. My left hand dipped down and pushed the fabric of my breeches away from my groin while my right slowly made its way to the source of my pleasure.

I gasped audibly as my fingers brushed my small pulsing hardness. I closed my eyes and tossed my head back, pleasuring myself as I often did. I could almost hear Tavington's increased breaths from where he lay helpless on the bed. My groin gyrated against my quick nimble fingers, well acquainted with this task. I felt my peak creep towards me, sooner than I would have liked -- but I had no desire to draw it out for this moment. I surrendered to the pleasure, my shoulder blades lurched forward and back, hard against the wall, a short series of moans and gasps escaped my lips. Partially satiated for the moment, I accomplished the goal I'd set out for myself -- the release of enough sexual tension permitting me to focus on the true goal for the evening...punishing Tavington in a most delicious and wicked manner.

I steadied myself, opened my eyes and focused on Tavington. He appeared to be somewhat uncomfortable -- his breeches very tight and constricting. I stepped forward and halted at the foot of the bed. I reached forward, taking hold of one boot and pulling it off. I set it down next to the chair harbouring his outer clothing. I removed his other boot and set it next to the other. I removed the wide belt from my waist and tossed it aside. Holding his ice blue eyes, I very slowly removed my trousers. I noted his breath quicken even more. He was very hungry indeed.

Once more I slid onto the bed overtop Tavington, moving like a predator on an unsuspecting prey. Except Tavington knew he was the prey. Straddling his hips I reached to one side of the bed and withdrew a short ornate dagger from its hiding place beneath the bedcover. I captured his gaze and grinned maliciously. I searched for fear and found none. He trusted me implicitly as I trusted him. This pleased me. Ensuring I did not touch him, I grasped the bottom of his shirt and lifted it upwards until it strained against his body. With my left hand I firmly held his shirt as my right, grasped around the dagger, slowly made its way to Tavington's neck. I plunged the dagger tip down, cutting into his shirt. With a steady hand I sliced towards myself, the sound of tearing linen filling the void of silence between us. I used the dagger's tip to pick at and remove the neck scarf around Tavington's neck. I noted he shivered as the cool of the blade kissed his warm chest as I pushed the torn fabric aside with the sharp steel, completely exposing him from neck to belly. He was absolutely lovely. I suddenly wanted to cover him with kisses, but restrained myself. This was not a time for such pleasantries.

I caught his longing gaze momentarily and gently dragged the flat of the blade over his neck, collarbone, chest, ribcage and sternum. Tavington shifted below me, applying pressure to the blade, straining against it, wanting it, hungry for it. I smiled and quickly laid it on the edge of the bed -- his demands would continue to be denied for the moment. He relaxed his body in frustration, melting into the bed beneath. I moved up over his body, my knees now resting his chest level. I straightened up and leaned forward, my hands at the back of Tavington's head searching for the bindings of his long silken hair. He leaned his head forward to assist me in the task and in so doing saw an opportunity to strike at me like the rogue that he was.

I suddenly felt a warm moist tongue darting between my legs, flicking against my tender shaved flesh only pleasured by myself moments ago. I gasped and quickly steadied myself, one hand flying up the headboard, gripping it mercilessly for stability. My jaw grew slack from the pleasure and my hand at the back of Tavington's head ensuring he would not withdraw from his skillful oral attentions. His mouth closed over my epicenter of pleasure, isolating the region and tugging at my small hardened flesh with his lips while his tongue slid rapidly in a rhythm attuned to the slight movements of my groin against his mouth.

I could barely breathe but managed to free his hair from its bindings. My fingers played in his hair for a moment and then my hand was firmly placed at the back of his head once more. I would not be denied what Tavington began. He could believe he was in control, but my hand on the back of his head would tell him differently -- his mouth would continue pleasuring me until I decided otherwise.

I tried to focus my vision downward and it only blurred, blinded by the hunger of my loins, demanding release. With my hand at the back of his neck, I pushed him harder against myself and he quickened the pace of his tireless tongue. My legs began to shake and torso began to convulse. Just as I reached my peak, Tavington sucked my erect bud mercilessly, flaying it with his tongue. A primal scream wrenched from my being and both of my hands slapped the wall above the headboard in response to this very powerful climax.

Gasping for air, desperate to pull it into my lungs, Tavington's ministrations were now all encompassing and languid. Long tender strokes from his tongue calmed the abused flesh of my groin. I was about to beg him to cease when I realized all I had to do was move away. I walked my knees backwards until I straddled him at his waist. I looked at him with glazed over eyes and noted his smug expression. I composed myself and leaned down so my mouth was inches away from his reach with his own lips.

"You should not have done that," I purred with malicious intent.

"You didn't complain," Tavington replied, reveling in usurping my power and authority over this moment.

"I would have been foolish to complain. This way..." my tongue darted down, snatching a taste of myself on his lips before grinning, "...your own agony will be further prolonged."

He strained forward, seeking a kiss -- denied. I reached to one of the bedside tables and wrapped my fingers around a thick candle. I straightened myself and squeezed my knees slightly against Tavington's waist, holding him firmly. I grinned wickedly as I observed his blue eyes widen at the candle positioned above his chest as high as possible for my reach. He'd never experienced the pleasures of hot wax -- this stimulated me all the more. Just as intense pleasure could be derived from expertly wielded blades against flesh, a riding crop or belt, so could this pleasure be reveled in with the skillful application of hot wax. As with all forms of sensation play, the method and artistry involved was vital to yielding the desired results. The results being rapturous pleasure heightened by a tinge of pain and encased in such ravenous hunger that only the most extreme lovemaking could satiate it.

With the recently received pleasure fading from myself, I focused on the task at hand. Tavington's chest rose and fell quite quickly with anticipation, his eyes locked onto the candle. I tilted it slightly and immediately brought it back to a level position. Several small drops of hot wax fell, cooling on their descent, finding a home on Tavington's right breast, just above the nipple. He flinched involuntarily and then sighed upon the realization there was little pain to be experienced from this action -- for the moment. I smiled slightly, tipped the candle from the same height again, splashing a little more hot wax on his left breast. I could feel his probing blue eyes on me but I refused to return the glance. My concentration was essential.

My lips were locked in determination, my left hand resting on my hip and right hand working the candle. My vision was narrowed to the candle and Tavington's flesh beneath -- nothing more. I maintained the same height for a time, dripping increasing amounts of hot wax onto his skin with several long moments of inaction between each tilt of the candle. His body became accustomed to the sensation, eventually anticipating it and then desiring it. At this point, I tipped the candle and did not relent. I moved my hand slowly, a steady stream of dripping wax around each nipple and then at each lower rib cage. Tavington shifted beneath me, bent his knees and placed his feet flat on the bed. He raised his hips against me, absolute pleasure coursing through his entire body. He demanded more and I would give him more.

I squeezed his hips with my knees, holding him firmly, preventing his pelvic thrusts. I maintained the candle in a level position for a time, allowing it to gather its hot liquid essence. My eyes searched out the best route on Tavington's body -- a clear avenue untouched by wax. Once the course was plotted in my mind several times I lowered the candle half way, positioned it accordingly and tipped gently. Simultaneously I moved the candle in concert with the planned route while I slowly lowered the candle. The closer the candle was to his body, the hotter the wax would be as it fused to his flesh.

Tavington's body strained beneath me, tensing in ecstasy, rising to meet the pleasure-pain provided by the hot wax. I finally gazed up where his head lay upon the pillows. His eyes were closed and neck exposed, his mouth open in a soundless scream of rapture and his gorgeous hair framing his face. His arms were taut against the bonds and his chest heaved erratically from lack of oxygen intake. I leveled the candle once again and relaxed my grip on his hips. Tavington gasped and gazed at me with ravenous eyes. He desperately wanted me -- his hunger growing exponentially with each passing moment.

I rose myself up slightly and moved back a little so that my knees caressed the sides of his buttocks. I settled down directly on top of his hardness, very painfully confined in his breeches no doubt. He sighed at this touch and sensation, observing me curiously as I removed my dragoon coat, transferring the candle carefully from one hand to the next as my arms slid free from the coat sleeves. I dropped the coat to the floor behind me. Tavington's bent legs made for a perfect reclining backrest for myself.

I leaned back slowly, my shoulder blades against his knees, our groins separated only by the fabric of his breeches. I heard Tavington suck in his breath as I moved the candle over top of my own chest and begin to pour the accumulated hot wax over each breast in turn. Ripples of hot lust broke over me and I pressed my lower body against his. I couldn't help but moan in response as I systematically dripped hot wax from just below the hollow of my throat, over my breasts, to the lower region of my rib cage. Tavington's lust grew harder beneath me as I rocked myself against it.

I ceased my self-waxing attentions, relaxed against his bent knees and caught my breath. Composing myself once more, I leaned forward and assessed the condition of Tavington's wax flecked chest. His breath quickened as I brought the candle to a position only inches from his body. Single perfectly timed droplets of hot wax fell on areas of untouched flesh. Tavington sucked in his breath and emitted a soft groan of pleasure. I held the candle upright and off to the side as I gazed down at my handiwork. I lowered my body, the hardened wax on my skin cracking in places, feeling glorious. I bent my head down and sensuously licked at each of his nipples in turn with a very moist tongue, further teasing them with my teeth. I slowly withdrew my mouth and brought the candle above him a final time. From about 15 inches above his body, I dripped hot wax directly onto his nipples. Tavington tossed his head from side to side and moaned as though he'd just achieved a release from his sexual torment.

I blew out the candle and sent it skittering across the floor to rest beneath my bureau. I slid off the bed and made my way to its foot. I leaned over, grasped at the buttons of Tavington's breeches, all but ripping them apart. I pried his breeches from his toned legs and flung them behind me. We were both labored with shortened breaths, caught in this web of absolute erotic pleasure. I crawled atop him, settling onto him slowly, burying his hardened flesh in my moist hollow. My wetness allowed for his full length to be buried deep at once. We sighed in unison as I moved myself up and down slowly, savoring the sensation sweeping through us, binding us deeper to one another. How I enjoyed gazing at his restricted form, numerous strands of his hair creeping across his face and neck, his pleasure-pain wracked expression.

I leaned forward, extending my legs behind me along Tavington's. I wrapped my ankles around his for support, our legs tense, and lay completely atop him. I stretched my hands upward, clutching his shoulders. Our eyes locked in rapturous delight, followed by our lips. A sense of satisfaction followed as we plundered one another's mouth with our tongues. I could still taste myself in his mouth and I hungered for more. Slowly we moved our joined bodies in synchronicity, our passions overtaking any sense and reason. The cooled wax clinging to our flesh cracked from the movements and I pressed my chest against Tavington's knowingly. I removed my lips slowly from his and sought out his gaze with my own. I yearned to see the expression on his face for what was to come.

As I slid upwards a fraction and he slid downwards a fraction, cracked wax from our bodies caught, pulled and tore at each other's flesh. The pleasure-pain sensation was exquisite and sent a shudder through our bodies. The more vigorous our lovemaking with chests pressed tight, the more the wax was ripped from our skin coercing its inciting results. Tavington growled in delight, tossing his head backwards and tensing his body. My fingers twined around his neck, gently caressing, feeling his blood pump through his veins at a miraculous speed. I squeezed ever so slightly, restricting his breaths, adding to the euphoria of lust.

Tavington barely moved now. I took complete control and moved languidly at first, slowly building up force in my thrusts. I winced a few times, burying Tavington deeper than I could take in this position. I lifted myself into a straddling position and dragged my fingernails from his neck, shoulders and down his chest, catching cooled wax under my nails, pulling it away from his skin deliciously. Just when the torturous sensation might be too much, I moved my hips lovingly and used my inner muscular walls to massage Tavington's hardness. He tossed his head from side to side -- evidently building up energy demanding release. He strained against his silken bonds with considerable force and I knew it would only be a matter of time before he succeeded in freeing himself and potentially damaging our bed.

His ice blue eyes were pleading now. He had accepted this defeat, and enjoyed my complete control over his lust. But now, he yearned to be free. So focused I was on Tavington receiving such pleasures, I denied feeling much myself. In order to give to the fullest extent I was capable of, I had to shut out the sensations of my own body. But not for much longer. Gazing down at his wanting expression, insatiable hunger lurking behind those cold eyes, I leaned forward, my right hand falling to the dagger at the edge of the bed. In one motion I sliced through each silken scarf, inches from his wrists, freeing Tavington from his torment at last.

Tavington's eyes hardened immediately and he removed the dagger from my hand. I was completely compliant as he rolled over on top of me, usurping the position of control. Still buried deep inside of me, he seized the back of my head with his right hand and grabbed a handful of my hair, holding me firm while his left lowered the tip of the dagger to my right shoulder. Poised in this position for what seemed eternity, Tavington plundered me relentlessly. I could barely emit my cries of passion, slowly being satiated. He brought me closer and closer to the summit of my first internal peak. Droplets of blood formed around the dagger's tip at my shoulder. I caught my breath enough to scream a torrent of rapturous sounds. The dagger flashed and Tavington's mouth closed around my right shoulder -- without missing a beat. He would not relent in his coital ministrations, thrusting with blinding speed and force. I felt the last breath escape my lungs as my release plateaued and was building up once more, the next peak reached quickly, and again...and again. I thought I would die. I faintly heard the dagger drop to the floor.

I suddenly felt Tavington's lips on mine. How sweet the kiss of life breathing into me. I parted my lips and received his tongue, laced with my blood. Rejuvenated, I clawed at his back with my fingernails and thrust myself against him, matching his rhythm. Closer and closer we approached absolute pure ecstasy. Kisses and moans passed between our lips until we cried out simultaneously, our bodies utterly spent, our souls united in a sea of pure passion.

Tavington withdrew slowly and painfully, for our lovemaking had transcended all previously experienced fierceness. He eased his pleasure-pain wracked body onto the bed next to me. In the candlelight I observed our flesh damp with perspiration and flecks of hardened wax clinging to our various body parts. We exchanged satiated and triumphant glances. I gathered some strength into my shaking form and rose from the bed. We seldom engaged in apres coital small talk. I rang for a servant who appeared promptly at the door. I ordered a hot bath, brandy and for the bedchamber to be cleaned while we bathed.

I laid my head upon Tavington's chest until the bath had been prepared. I listened to his calming heart while his fingers absently stroked my face. Our eyes locked and we smiled.

"I am curious to find out what happens when I truly anger you beyond reason," Tavington remarked.

I chuckled a little, "You were only saved from disgrace today because of our love. Much more would have meant death." My eyes narrowed and I added, "You could always speak with Marcus regarding the few people who've crossed me in the past. I'm sure he'd delight in giving you the details."

"Then I shall promise to love you until the end of time," Tavington's lips curled in a grin as his fingers lovingly caressed my lips.

Continue...

Copyright 2001 Xandria (xandria@akasa.bc.ca)