A/N: One more update this week, so that after tomorrow's update, we'll have completed the Age of Edward entry portion of the story.

FYI, for those who read this on the AoE page, you'll have noticed I've added a bit here and there. We're way past the 12,000 word entry limit at this point, lol.

The original portion of this entry was betaed by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.

Some characters belong to S. Meyer, some belong to me, and some belong to history.


Chapter 4 – The Incident in the Cellar

As we ride through the wooded darkness, my mind is in an uproar, for what in God's name am I to do with this infernal woman now?

In the meanwhile, she rides stiffly and silently in front of me, but her fury rolls off her and seeps into my body like liquid fire. 'Tis as if Hades itself has taken up residence in the negligible space between us. The flames emanating from her are almost unnatural in their intensity – most notably where her rump meets my groin. Try as I might, I cannot keep my cock from stiffening, especially with the manner in which it pushes against her as Aro gallops speedily. I know she must feel it pressed and growing behind her, yet she squirms not, hellion that she is.

Damn this woman, for I cannot even focus on the revolution finally upon our colonies!

When we arrive at the McCarty home, I dismount my horse before he even ends his trot. Swiftly reaching for Isabella, I situate her over my shoulder, wrapping my arms around her backside to secure her.

Naturally, she objects.

"Set me down!" she whispers harshly.

"Calm yourself!" I hiss in return, only barely resisting the urge to smack her backside.

I kick my boot hard against the door, and when Katrina opens a few seconds later, I stride past her so swiftly she at first appears to miss the fact I carry a package – or at least, she misses the nature of the package.

"Edward, I thought you had forgotten about supper."

"I did," I admit bluntly, turning to face her, "but we have had slightly more important issues develop."

For a few moments, her face seems to fall, but as her gaze sharpens on the object over my shoulder, her eyes narrow and then grow.

"What are you carrying…" her breath hitches. "Is that…is that a woman dressed as a-"

"The British are marching in Massachusetts Colony," I say. "The revolution is here."

The manner in which Katrina continues to gape at Isabella makes me suspect she has little care for the revolution at the present.

"Where is your father?" I ask.

"I…" she tears her eyes away from Isabella and looks at me rather awkwardly, "I asked him to ride to the tavern to remind you of supper."

Only vaguely do I now note Katrina's overdressed appearance for a humble supper, combined with the fact that had I arrived as planned, she and I would have been quite alone.

"Where is my brother?" she questions quickly.

"He and the rest shall be here soon. Now, if you'll pardon me, I must escort this young lady," I sneer, "to your cellar."

"You will not take me below stairs!" Isabella protests.

"Have I not made it clear you have no say at the moment?"

Nevertheless, the entire way down the cellar steps, Isabella yells her grievances in my ear, kicks my thighs with her borrowed man boots, and pummels her small yet unsurprisingly powerful fists against my shoulders. I know not how I continue to resist the maddening urge to give her round backside a good thwack, both to settle her and…and well, 'tis right there, mocking me.

When we finally reach the dark landing, I do set her down. She steps back instantly, and furiously yanks off her tricorn, which frees her long tresses and allows them to settle 'round her shoulders like a curtain of silk. Then, she throws the hat at me before rushing forward and shoving me hard in the chest.

"Miss Swan, there appears to be some confusion as to whom the aggrieved party is here."

"You are a Patriot rebel and a spy!"

I confess, a mixture of both awe at her nerve and fury at her nerve fight for dominance within me.

"I am a spy?" I hiss, digging a finger into my chest. "I am a spy?" I turn the finger toward her. "You are the one who dressed as a man and snuck into my tavern!"

"I am no spy!"

When I step forward so only a couple of inches of space separate us, the woman does not even flinch. Instead, she lifts her chin defiantly.

"Then what were you doing in my tavern? Did your lover send you?" I scowl. "Were you on errand for your precious ensign or was it for your traitorous, Loyalist father? Yet, you have the utter gall to stand there, dressed as a man," I repeat, yelling loudly by this point, "and point an accusing finger at me when you are nothing more than a dimwitted Tory, whose only use-"

She reaches out and lands a palm flat 'cross my cheek.

For a few seconds, I am stunned into silence.

"I am no dimwit either," she seethes, "and I run no one's errands." Her voice quivers, but I know it is not fear. "I chose to go to your tavern! I chose to dress as a man to steal past your useless sentries and to sit in on your treasonous conversation!"

Grabbing her forearms, I guide her backward until her spine meets the wall. Of course, as I now know she is not a small man, but rather a large-mouthed woman, I wrap my arms around her waist so that she does not sustain injury.

"For what purpose were you there?" I demand, feeling her warm, deep breaths on my neck. "Answer me, Isabella, or by God, I shall-"

"You shall what, Edward Cullen?"

I know not if it is my name finally falling from her mouth or the challenge in her eyes or the adrenaline coursing through me…or perhaps the darkness of the cellar coupled with the feel of her skin under my hands, which does away with every ounce of control left in me.

Cradling her face, I crush my mouth to hers.

The maddening woman does not even fight me!

Instead, Isabella Swan, my Tory enemy, wraps her entire body 'round mine, her arms 'round my neck and her legs 'round my waist. Her lips part as she speaks my name again, this time in a rousing whisper breathed into my mouth.

"Edward…"

Dear Lord in Heaven, I am lost.

"Isabella…"

I suck greedily on the sweet nectar of her lips, softer and even more supple than I have dreamt; for yes, I have dreamt. As in my dreams, her hands fist my hair at its roots, and she clings to me. When I attempt to pull away, she tightens her grip all the more. This time, 'tis I who offers no resistance. Instead, I melt into her and bury my hands inside her silky mane, claiming her mouth with a passion I knew not I possessed for anything or anyone other than my country.

We continue in this lust-filled manner for what feels like ages, yet the hunger only intensifies with every passing second. Her entire body pressed to mine is the sweetest warmth I have ever imagined. My cock grows and twitches, straining for release from the enclosure of my tight breeches. I know not how Man has ever fought against such desire…ever thought through such all-consuming sensations.

When I sense her fighting for breath, I pull away from her lips and skim softer, open-mouthed kisses across her jaw and down her smooth neck. Even the taste of her skin is inebriating. I find myself wishing she was in one of her elegant frocks with the top swells of her breasts before me, instead of dressed in this man-

This man…

'Tis that reminder which manages to break through my lust-addled mind. Somehow, I muster the willpower to pull away from the bewitching traitor in my arms.

"No, no, no!" I reproach myself, setting her down and raking a hand through my hair, fisting it so hard spots dance before my eyes.

As I attempt to regain control of myself, Isabella stands against the wall, her chest heaving wildly. Her long hair is now in a tousled disarray, her lips swollen, and her dark, impish eyes sparkling in the dim light filtering from above stairs. She is ravishing.

Yet, in spite of how…utterly perfect she looks, man-clothed and all, I force myself back to the task at hand. I am a Son of Liberty, damn it, and she is a Daughter of the Crown.

"What were you doing in the tavern, Isabella?"

She folds her hands behind her back, of a sudden appearing so innocent. "I was curious."

"Am I supposed to believe that?" I smirk. "Were your kisses meant to lull me so I would easier buy your lies? For if that be the case-"

"I am not lying." Her dainty nostrils flare. "For weeks, it has been obvious to anyone with one eye and half a brain that you and your friends hide more than smuggled ale within the tavern!"

I quirk an eyebrow. "Have you shared these sharp observations with anyone else, with your lover or with your father?"

"I have not, and pray quit calling him my lover!"

"Is that not what he is?"

She presses her lips together and does not respond.

"What am I to believe here, Miss Swan?"

"I care not what you believe, Mister Cullen," she snarls. "You are a traitor and a smuggler attempting to bring about revolution merely to increase your gains!"

"Is that what you believe?" I step toward her, for she is like a flame, and I, the moth. "You believe I do all I do for profit?"

"What other reason can there be?" she counters. "There is no benefit in cutting ties with the Crown beyond an excuse to block shipments from England, so you and your kind may sell your goods without competition!" She curls her top lip, which just a few seconds ago was between my own lips. "So much hubble-bubble over tea. 'Twas only an excuse to rid yourselves of legally imported and thereby cheaper products!"

"Are you mad, woman? Do you truly not see why we needed to destroy the tea, or are you simply vexed because its destruction has meant you have had to do without?"

She stomps her foot. "'Tis about more than the confounded tea!"

"Exactly!"

"Exactly!"

"Correct!"

A humorless chuckle escapes her. "Mr. Cullen, in spite of our present agreement, I suspect we are not, in fact, agreeing."

"Heaven forfend we ever do, Miss Swan."

Her eyes narrow into indignant slits. When I once again dispel all space between us, she looks up with more wariness than with which she has ever faced me. Nevertheless, I cup her cheek gently and speak with more tenderness, for I have kissed this defiant woman, and so I shall attempt what I have never before attempted with a close-minded Tory.

"'Twas more than tea, Isabella. 'Twas everything which led to it. 'Twas the taxation, the legislation without representation."

"The crown taxes and legislates all its possessions-"

"We are not possessions. The issue has never been the taxes but the manner in which they are imposed, the manner in which everything is imposed on us by Parliament as if we are cattle to be led and branded without choice. We are men, Isabella. We are men, women, children…humans endowed by our Creator with unalienable rights. Life, liberty, happiness; we should have the ability to seek these without answering to a Crown thousands of miles away. You…" – I slide my hands around her neck, stroking her smooth skin – "you should not have to seek anyone's permission to display all the passion innately held within you."

As if with a mind of its own, my mouth has inched closer.

"I…but that is why we need the Crown, Edward. England is steeped in hundreds of years of tradition and knowledge. It is powerful. It protects all its interests. My father and his men protect us."

"We can protect ourselves better than any force, whose interests lie elsewhere, ever can, for our first interest is one another. Can you not-"

Heavy footsteps resound above us, more than one set. Biting back an oath, I back away from Isabella just as the cellar door creaks open wider, allowing greater light to flood the corner in which we stand. The light grows brighter as one by one, four pairs of feet pound the steps leading down.

Emmett appears first, with a lantern in hand, followed by Jasper, Jacob, and behind him, Katrina. The four halt a few feet away.

Jasper's gaze pans between us before inscrutably settling on me. "How goes the interrogation? What has she to say?"

"She says…" I exhale, "she says she was curious."

"Curious?" Emmett echoes.

"Curious," I confirm.

"Curious." Jacob nods slowly, his massive arms crossed over his chest. "'Tis a dangerous thing in these times, that of curiosity."

Behind me, Isabella is eerily silent.

"And how much of this…curiosity," Jasper further enquires, "was at the behest of our friend, James, or even better, at the urging of her father, the Captain of the County's British Regiment?"

"None!" Isabella snaps, "as I have already explained to Edward!"

"You've explained it to Edward, have you, Miss Swan?" Jasper smirks.

She presses together her lips, for his insinuation is not lost on her. Jasper senses much.

Jacob clears his throat and turns toward me. "Edward, what are your thoughts?"

My thoughts, he asks, as if I am capable of having any at this moment. Nevertheless, as I rake a hand through my hair, I reply instinctively.

"I believe her."

A tense silence fills the cellar.

"Regardless of…curiosity, there are only two salient facts here," Emmett finally volunteers. He lifts one finger for all to see. "One, she is a Tory," – he lifts another finger – "and two, she has decided to satisfy her curiosity on the worst possible night."

For the space of an entire minute, no one speaks.

"The question is, Miss Swan," Emmett says, "what plan you to do with all you have learned?"

"She shall do nothing with it," I hiss. "She shall keep to herself what she has heard."

All eyes turn to Isabella.

"I…I…" And then, her innate stubbornness -nay, her stupidly innate courage rises again, and what she says does her situation no favors. "I cannot allow my father to be hurt or ambushed by your militias!"

Shutting my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose and drop my head, shaking it from side to side.

Yet another long pause follows.

"Isabella," I finally say, meeting her rebellious gaze, "you must see you cannot disclose what you have learned."

"But my father-"

'Tis Katrina who cuts her off with furiously spat words. "Your father is a Loyalist traitor, as are you! Edward, 'tis obvious what must be done!"

"Is it? And what exactly is that, Katrina?"

In the meager light from the lantern, I see something dark lurking in Kat's gaze. It startles me, for 'tis something I have never before seen in her usual polite and seemingly harmless demeanor. Now, her gaze is so malevolent it makes me instinctively stiffen before Isabella, shielding her. And when Isabella's small yet strong hands slip around my waist, gripping me tightly…I know there is no turning back for me.

Katrina's eyes take in the position of Isabella's hands before her livid gaze returns to me. "Edward, she is the enemy," she says bitingly. "She represents all we have fought against all these years, and she must be dealt with."

"Katrina, no one will deal with her lest they plan to go through me."

Stupidly, she steps toward us, but Emmett sets his arm in front of his sister, halting her mid-stride.

"Edward, we have no choice!" she insists. "She will return to her father or to James and tell them of all she has heard! We must…we can…" she pauses to regulate her speech if not her plans, "we can ride her into the Pinelands and leave her."

"There are bears, rattlesnakes, wolves…" Jacob begins to point out, trailing off when he grasps her full meaning. "Are you mad, woman? It amounts to murder what you suggest, and we are not murderers!"

"It is not murder," Katrina says calmly. "If we simply leave her there, what happens afterward is not our concern. She may merely receive a lesson which will frighten her into silence."

"Katrina, you cannot truly believe that an option?" Emmett questions his sister. "She is no trapper; she would not survive the night."

"We must do it for the revolution," she persists with less control, "to protect our brothers and sisters in liberty! Is their protection not more important than hers?"

Emmett sneers. "I begin to suspect this option has more to it than the revolution."

Jasper volunteers his thoughts. "Katrina does have a point. Something must be done."

"And you believe abandoning her to the Pinelands be the solution?" Jacob questions incredibly. "We fight true enemies, not curious women!"

"I have not said I believe that the solution."

"Then what do you say?"

"ENOUGH!"

All argument immediately ceases.

"Enough," I repeat through gritted teeth. "I want you all gone from this cellar."

Katrina idiotically presses on. "But, Edward-"

"Katrina, I cannot even look at you at this moment," I say through a jaw locked so tightly my mouth barely moves, my gaze pinned to a spot in the darkness beyond her. "That you would suggest such a thing makes me believe I have never truly known you. Leave. Now," I stress when out of my periphery I see her open her mouth.

Picking up her skirts, she rushes above stairs.

Once she is gone, I address the rest of the men. "I ask the rest of you to trust me when I give you my word I shall-"

"Yet, therein lies the dilemma, Edward," Jasper says. "You cannot give your word for she makes no attempt to give hers." He speaks not in a confrontational manner, simply as fact.

"I shall resolve the dilemma, Jasper. I promise you."

"I trust you to find the right solution, Edward," Jacob says.

Both men nod toward me, and when they remove above stairs, Emmett remains.

We hold one another's gaze for a few moments, the lantern held tightly in his hand. More than the others, he is like a brother to me, and so I allow him his scrutiny.

"A word, Edward," he requests.

Isabella drops her hands from my hips, and I approach him.

"Edward," he whispers close to my ear, "I do not agree with my sister's severity, yet the salient points she reiterated in her argument still stand: Isabella is a Tory, and she has heard damning information, which can hurt not only us but the entire revolution. She knows of Mrs. Gage and of Dr. Warren. She could-"

"She will not."

He pulls back and meets my gaze squarely, no longer whispering. "She is not disaffected, Edward. She is a true Loyalist. More than that, she is loyal to her father, and there is no man to whom a woman is more loyal."

"There is…one."

He exhales heavily and rests a hand on my shoulder. "Know you what you are doing, brother?"

"We shall find out."


A/N: Thoughts?

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