Disclaimer: See Chapter One

Chapter 2

"Vera? Are you all right?"

I jumped away from the door and stared blankly at Theodore, who was watching me with concern. The sweet boy, I thought. I walked over to him and grasped his shoulders firmly and hustled him down the stairs, not wanting the British Officer to overhear our conversation.

"I'm fine. Now, we'll be sleeping in the girl's bedchamber while Mother sleeps in mine. The officer has confiscated hers and papas' for the time being." I explained. "Mother is in the kitchen now with a burned finger and I want you to go and rub some aloe on it. Please?"

He gave me a short glance, telling me he wasn't buying my 'fine', but did as he was told by going in to the kitchen. As I watched him, the sound of a throat being cleared sounded behind me causing me to turn quickly in it's direction near the front door. In the doorway stood two officers, watching me. I studied them, mostly their eyes and found them to be decent. They weren't leering and didn't have the chillness of the other officer about them.

"Gentlemen, if you'll follow me, I'll show you to the room you shall be sharing. I'll bring up some hot water for you both, so you can wash up before supper." I said pleasantly as I turned and marched up the stairs. Again!

"My name is Miss. Atkins. My mother is Missus and yes, there are children here. I shall keep them occupied and out of your way to the best of my ability, but keep in mind that they are children and are prone to be loud." I reached the tops of the stairs and pointed to the boys' bedchamber. "That is your room. There are two beds. The water will be up shortly. Supper will be served in an hour or so. Come down whenever you feel like it."

I turned and went back down the stairs to the kitchen where I found Theodore looking at our mother disgustedly. I guessed she had continued parroting the first officers fine physical attributes. Sighing silently, I looked down at the floor where only two buckets of water sat, ready to be used for the cooking and cleaning tonight. I knew in the morning I would have to go outside to the creek for more to be used for breakfast, dishes and morning shaves, yet I truly wanted to cringe away from the idea of walking among the red coats. Hell, I cringed at the thought of walking among Continental soldiers as well, but theses redcoats were even more dangerous then any side of regular army. These soldiers were commanded by the officer upstairs in my parent's bedchamber, the very officer, who scared me beyond measure for his hold of my body and his hold on the lives of my family. That officer held a lot of power, a lot of control. Control being the thing that I had always had over everyone, except my father. My hunger for control was what keep me unmarried and unattractive to many men and me not attracted to them for their arrogant ways and ideas about what women should do and not do. Control was what that officer upstairs took away from my hands to wield it against me in a physical way. A way I had absolutely no control in, just as I had no control over the men inside or out from hurting my family or myself.

Rubbing the back of my neck to ease the tension, I turned to face Theodore, who was pretending to gag from behind our mother's back. I fought a smile as I lifted the bucket of hot water off the stove with towel from my apron pocket. I turned to look at Theodore again.

"Theo, please take this bucket up to your room. The officers are waiting."

Theodore walked over and took it, towel in all, but not without complaining.

"Why can't they come down and get it? They have two legs and we're not slaves to be ordered about!" Theodore whined mildly as he carefully dodged my swatting hand.

"Out with you, Theodore Conroy Atkins! Shoo!" I ordered, smiling. He grinned and left me with our mother. Ignoring, I busied myself with getting a pot and grabbed a sack of potatoes. I sat down at the table far from my mother as possible (which wasn't far at all, unfortunately) and began to peel potatoes for supper. As I peeled, I was aware of my mother watching me closely, waiting for...something.

"You're a pretty girl, Vera. Why aren't you wedded, bedded, and enjoying motherhood?" She didn't wait for my answer. "I know why. Your father! That man adores you and refused to let you go." She shook her head, silent now as she watched me peel the potatoes.

"Papa hasn't forbidden me to marry. He would love to see me happily married with children, his grandchildren, but I just haven't been tempted to marry and give up the freedom so generously given to me by Papa. No man near us has appealed to me or me to him. I'm not in a hurry to marry, Mother, plus I'm needed here. Blossom is only one and still needs more care than you can give." Or ever will give,' I finished silently. I looked up at her from my peeling, stifling a smirk at her stunned expression. I imagine she didn't think I would mention her neglect of caring for her own children. 'Spoiled witch.' I thought darkly.

I finished the potatoes and stood with the pot full of peeled and sliced potatoes before walking over to the stove, where I placed the pot. I bent and picked up the bucket of water to pour a fair amount into the pot before setting the bucket back down on the floor. I left potatoes to boil and went into our small pantry to unhook a chicken all ready plucked from earlier in the day. I went back tot he table with a bigger pot than before and which I placed on the table and placed the chicken inside it. I arranged the chicken's limbs before going to the open cabinets to take out the spices that had cost a small fortune, but was our personal indulgence since my father gladly let me take over the cooking when I was old enough.

Sprinkling the spices onto the chicken now, I began to quietly hum a song my father had taught me. After adding the spices, I picked up the pot and carried it to the stove, as I grabbed a towel from a nearby stand before opening the latch where the fire and the wood resided. I slid the pot inside over top the handcrafted tray that my father had made for me. I shut the latch and walked back to the pantry to gather a basket of peas that needed to be shelled for supper. I walked back into the kitchen to see Theodore walking in a slight scowl on his face. I sighed quietly as I sat the basket on the table. I hoped he hadn't had a run in with the first officer.

"Theo, go upstairs and tell the children to grab a toy and to come down into the family room to play." I instructed him as I sat down near my baskets of unshelled peas.

He opened his mouth to speak, but apparently thought better of it when he noticed the mother was still in the kitchen. Instead, he nodded and walked back out of the kitchen to return upstairs, this time to retrieve the other children. I shook my head and began shelling the peas, still ignoring my blessedly silent mother, who at that moment stood and walked out of the kitchen as she said called airily over he shoulder, " I'll be in the study."

I continued my task, singing and occasionally humming if I forget the words of the song, completely unconcerned about my 'helpless and dim-witted' mother being in my fathers' study. Soon I heard several feet on the stairs as well as stifled whispers. I smiled as the family room door shut loudly before muted exclamations were heard from behind the closed door. I soon relaxed, soothed by the sounds of the children bickering and playing nearby. As I sat shelling the peas, my mind began to wonder to the men upstairs. The two in the boys' room has seemed friendly enough. Polite, yet no warmth to speak of. One had been stocky and broad-shouldered as well as on the short side, while the other was taller and leaner. The stocky fellow hadlight hair almost redhair and blue eyes, while the other was dark haired and eyed. Thedark onelooked familiar. A loyalist fighting for the King? More in likely. I just hoped that he didn't recognize our name. A name frequently linked with the word independence among friend or foe. Foes called us traitors, but patriot was and is the word my father favored. Noble and proud he had said. That was what he thought of the word that he called himself. The word that he put his full faith into, but was his faith blind? Blind to reality? Reality being tyranny? Tyranny from a man three thousand miles away, yet had the power to crush us. Was crushing us!

I didn't know the answer and again I was afraid of knowing the answer that could make or break my father and I along with the rest of the family. However, we are stubborn, my father and I, as mules refusing to be broken to move, no matter how hard we are beaten or how hard we fall for we would rise again from the ground for more.

Defiance. Defy the rule of a tyrant. Defy the box we were being forced into. Defy the denial for our voice, our freedom was our goal, our aim. A large aim, yes, but why not? Why aim small when the risk was the same? This aim meant different things to many. Independence for some. Freedom for others and a world of dreams for many others. For my father it was all three: An independent country where there was freedom to dream. My father was the dreamer. He was the man that invented things. Things for easier life. Easier ways for field and house work (thanks to my naggin). My father, however, needed materials that costed high or decent prices, but now couldn't buy them thanks to the high tariffs.

As far as I can remember my father has always been seen tinkering with something. He lived to tinker and invent. He was his passion. A passion that I understood. I knew why he went to fight again, but this time against the people he had fought for. I understood him for I had my own passion. I wanted freedom. Oh, how I craved it. My father let me taste and run with it for nineteen years and I didn't want to give it up. I refused. I refused to give up my freedom for any for I knew that every man would try to constrict me in some way. I refused totone downmy independence to make my suitor or husband feel manly because of the feminine wills they favor among the weak-willed females. I also refused to give over the control of my voice and body. It came down to control. I controlled my life and I refused to have some man, who thought he knew best, to control it and me for me.

My father fought for us both and I helped the Continental wounded and starved when they passed through. 'As well as the British apparently,' taunted a voice. I scowled as I finished my shelling. 'I feed and shelter those men for the protection of my family.' I argued firmly as I rose from my chair to check on the chicken. It wasn't ready. I stood and stirred the potatoes with a spoon that had been resting on the stand nearby. I turned away and walked over to a pitcher, which I picked up and brought back to the stove, where I poured the white content into the pot of potatoes. I replaced the pitcher and grabbed a chunk of butter, which I eased into the pot of the potatoes, where the butter sunk to melted at the bottom. I began stirring again, but stopped as a sound caught my ears. Boots! On the stair landing. Now on the stairs!

I stood frozen, listening to the boots, praying that he wouldn't disturb and scare the children. I was holding my breath and it came whooshing out as the boots neared the kitchen, passing the suddenly silent family room. 'They must have heard him too.' I thought, forcing myself to began stirring again. I had my eyes on the pot as the boots stopped near the kitchen entryway. There was silence. I breathed deeply and evenly as I stirred, trying to ignore the officer standing at the door. The silence and waiting grated on my nerves before finally he moved. I listened as he walked into the kitchen and apparently pulled out a chair as it scraped on the floor. There was again silence as, I assumed, he sat. I stopped stirring for now they just needed to be mashed. Setting down the spoon, I grabbed the ever present towel and wrapped it around the pot so I could lift it down. I turned, stonily focusing on the sink, as I walked towards it. I poured out the water, without dumping potatoes, well without dumping more than a few before turning again...towards the table, where he sat. I approached the opposite side of the table from him and sat down the pot. I was hesitant to walk over to the stove to grab the hanging mallet from over the stove, butI did it despite having to pass by him. Unfortunately, on the journey back a steely grip of a hand grabbed by the arm and tugged me sideways and down into a hard seated body. An arm clamped around my hips and waist anchoring me down into his lap. In anger, I twisted and wriggled, raising the mallet, only for it to be grabbed and wrested from me. He throw it across the table and quickly grabbed my hands and banded them together behind my back with one of his. I, in vain, tugged and twisted as he chuckled above my bowed head as my futile attempts. Beyond anger and, plainly terrified beyond human common sense, I lifted my head, snarling.

"Let go of me, you vile animal!" I hissed, not wanting to alarm the children with raised voices.

He laughed at my anger before answering, "I don't think so, my dear. I've found myself thinking about your invitation from upstairs. I think I'll take you up on it now."

I drew back as far as I could, horrified and ashamed as I blushed brightly from my hairline and down. He noticed and followed the flush of red down my bodice.

"Stop it! It wasn't an invitation and you know it, you insufferable pig." I spat at him.

He tsked at me as his arm released my waist only to bring his hand up to caress my collarbone and the top of my breasts, that were visible above the bodice. I gritted my teeth, fighting tears of frustration and disgust at my reaction. My body shivered at the touch of his calloused fingers as my eyes went to half mast.

"I think I'll save this for later." He whispered close to my ear.

My eyes snapped open in horror as I began to struggle anew. He made no move to stop me from moving and I soon discovered why. As I moved, I moved against a bulge that was now incessantly poking my bottom through his breeches and my skirt and petticoats. I stopped realizing what it was. I stared at his amused face, seeing the arousal in his now not so cold eyes. My breath caught as he moved his face closer, a smile on his lips as they neared my own, which were parted as they drew ragged breath into my suddenly air depraved lungs. I heard my heart thundering in my ears even as he placed his lips gently onto mine. I was sure he could hear how hard my heart was beating as he softly moved his lips on mine, encouraging and surprisingly gentle. I had thought he would be brutal, taking what he wanted and not caring for me or my pleasure. I was wrong. So deliciously wrong.

I began to respond to his kiss after the initial shock faded as desire steadily arose inside me and in between us. He made a sound in his throat of approval as he slid a hand behind my neck, tilting my neck and head towards him and his delicious lips. He took my bottom lip into his mouth and suckled gently then strongly as I moaned faintly as the pleasure spread and centered down into one place. I tugged my bound hands and he released them. I slid both behind his neck to bring him closer, pressing against him. He groaned deep in his throat before suddenly taking my mouth hungrily. His tongue, to my confusion, traced my lips before sliding into my mouth to caress and entice my own into playing. I gripped him tighter and dueled with him, each trying to be the dominant one. A hand traced up my back making my body shiver and press closer to his, where my breasts pressed, suddenly aching, against his chest. As I shivered, my nipples shifted against him causing white hot desire to knife through me. Our kiss broke, the need for oxygen finally paramount over pleasure, leaving us panting and hot as we eyed each other. The hand at my neck shifted up and tangled into my hair, which it gripped and pulled, baring my throat to him. He bent his dark head and attacked my neck feverishly. Teeth and tongue scraped, bite and soothed my neck above my rapid pulse. His mouth shifted and moved to the skin that joined neck and shoulder, where he suckled gentle and hard, making me cry out as I gripped him, pressing him closer. My eyes were closed, my mouth open as I panted and moaned to him my pleasure. The pleasure that only he has ever given me. I was for once mindless and out of control. I was his at the moment. Only his as he played my body. I was so lost that I forgot about the children and my mother, all who were nearby in other rooms, yet surely could have heard us. So lost I was that I didn't hear the footsteps of boots on the stairs, but he did.

One minute I was in his arms, frenzied with passion and need and the next I was sitting on the floor, breathless and confused. He was standing and staring down at me as I stared back, both of us breathing hard and heavy as the footsteps came closer.

A/N: Well, here's chapter 2. Tell me what ya think. And Thanks to all my reviewers. I appreicate it!

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ana- Thanks a whole lot for the review and the advice.