"We're nearly there now. Ah, here." Margaret stopped in front of a dark wooden door and turned around, clasping both of Vivienne's hands in hers.

"Don't you be nervous now. This is something you're supposed to look forward to!" When Vivienne didn't move a muscle, Margaret raised an eyebrow and smiled slyly.

"Mr. Tavington will take very good care of you. May you be blessed with many children!" With that, Margaret swung open the door and pushed Vivienne inside. Chancing a look away from her toes, Vivienne's jaw dropped.

The room was enormous and lavishly decorated. To the left, a crackling fire stood in a gargantuan fireplace at one end of the room, soft, black leather couches standing before the fireplace on top of what looked to be a bearskin rug. Cappuccino colored stone covered the floor and dark red curtains hung sensually at the enormous windows. Then, as Vivienne's inspection brought her eyes to the right side of the room, she felt cold with fear again. An elaborately carved double bed sat there. It almost seemed to be leering at her.

Tavington stood silently several feet behind her, examining her outfit. From what he could see, she had been well prepared for her "wedding night." The low cut of the nightdress was delicious as the neckline of the red dress, but he rather liked the look of the nightgown - it was more innocent, subtly sexy.

His eyes were drawn to the high slit of the skirt, which exposed her garter-covered legs, allowing only a delightful sliver of her thigh showing. Those garters would be the first to go. His breathing thickened as he anticipated winning his game.

"I see you've finally decided to make an appearance, Miss Kent." Vivienne held back a squeak as Tavington strode up behind her. She swirled to face him, searching his body position for any signs of attack. There were none. He looked as if he had just sauntered in from the party. His hair was still pulled back in a queue, but he was wearing only the loose, white shirt with his regular black breeches.

She looked at him cautiously, unaware that she was curling her shoulders forward, trying to seem as small and unnoticeable as possible. Her sudden shyness seemed only to amuse him. He smiled easily and stepped closer to her.

"You're nervous," He put his finger beneath her chin, tilting her face up to his. "You can't have forgotten what passed between us but an hour ago, Miss Kent - or shall I call you Vivienne?" His eyes flicked toward the bed.

Vivienne forced herself to stand up straighter and move a safe distance away from him.

"I will not be going to bed with you, Colonel."

"Now now Vivienne, surely you wouldn't be so naive as to assume you will be making the rules here."

"You wouldn't rape me . . ." He picked up on the unease in her voice, feeding off of it.

"That is entirely your choice, Vivienne. I intend to have you with or without your consent - but allow me to warn you, rape is far more painful on the receiving end, especially so for a virgin." A wicked smirk stretched across his lips.

Not knowing how to reply, Vivienne turned her back and walked away from him. She felt a rush of helpless panic as the sound of his footfalls tapped up behind her.

"I shall sleep with no one but my husband," she stated defiantly, staring forward, but feeling the heat of his imposing presence. She felt incredibly vulnerable with her back to the enemy, but she mustn't show any fear. He looked at her tensed back with interest, raising his eyebrows.

"As far as everyone knows, I am your husband." Vivienne's jaw tightened.

"I never married you." She emphasized her words by stepping further away from him, her palms beginning to sweat. Silence hung in the air between them for but a moment - Tavington's cool hands descended on Vivienne's shoulders. He began pushing her from behind, gently but gripping too hard for her to escape, toward the bed.

Guessing his intentions, Vivienne tried to squirm away, but she was held tightly in his viselike grip. Tavington stopped several feet away from the bed, still standing behind her. He leaned in, brushing her hair aside so his mouth was near her ear.

"You might have a bed like this one for your wedding night."

His hands slid away from her shoulders, down her sides as he dragged out his words, his voice low and seductive. Vivienne found herself immobile as the warmth of his touch seemed to stoke the reluctant flames within her that were so desperately crying for more.

"A bed you would share with your husband."

His hands rested on her waist as he continued his husky soliloquy.

"Surely, on the special occasion in which you consummate your loving marriage, you will want to please your husband the first time you are truly together . . ."

Tavington had slowly pulled her towards him so her back was to his chest, her neck brushing his collarbone. She could feel his arousal pressed to the back of her thigh, but instead of frightening her, it excited her, rousing her own desire.

"The ability to satisfy your lover in bed comes naturally to no one," he nearly purred.

His hands were on her hips now, spreading warmth through her loins down to her feet.

"The only way to truly please him is to know what you are facing; to practice." His words were warm and pleasant, tickling Vivienne's ear. Her eyes closed of their own accord, her chest moving up and down with her deep breathing. She almost felt this was her real wedding night.

Tavington's gentle kiss touched the spot just below her ear, his lips trailing down her neck. Gasping at this intimate touch, Vivienne had forgotten her urgent need to stop him from . . . what was it again?

Still gripping her hips, he turned her around so she was facing him. He pushed her against the bedpost, his hands tingling to feel her bare skin. She spoke, her sweet breath flowing over him.

"And how am I to practice?" she asked in a sultry voice, already knowing the answer. Tavington couldn't hold back a sneer. She had been successfully, and very easily, seduced. He had triumphed in this challenge. Now to claim his reward . . .

"It would please me to teach you everything you need to know."

As if these words were a signal to have at it, they both dove in at the same time. His lips descended on hers, his hands roaming, clutching every part of her within reach, holding her tightly to him. He wanted to taste her, wanted to feel every inch of her, wanted to make her his, so no other man would dare touch her.

Vivienne was nearly as eager as he was, her hands on either side of his face. She was unsure of what to do, but his kiss awoke strong feelings in her she had never grasped before. Her fingers tore at the band that held his hair; she soon had removed the band, digging her fingers into his scalp, encouraging him to kiss her harder, faster. His kiss moved down her neck, down to her collarbone. Her chest heaved and she released a breathless moan.

They had collapsed onto the floor, he on top and she on the bottom, their legs unable to hold them up any longer. Both were struggling to breathe between fierce, draining kisses. Vivienne writhed beneath him, her skin burning everywhere he touched.

As his kisses moved down to the neckline of her gown, his lips pressing hard against her breast, her back arched and her nails dug into his back. Tavington reached around and grasped both her wrists in one hand. He pinned them above her head, his other hand trailing down her body. She let out a small groan - how she ached for more!

Tavington released her wrists and pulled her up so she was straddling his lap. She arched her hips into him, the feeling of the hardness beneath her sending waves of heat coursing through her. Tavington drew in a shaky breath at her closeness. The sheen of sweat on her skin, the bulge of her breasts above the rim of her corset was just at his eye level. He would only be able to stand her exploration for a few moments longer . . .

Not breaking the kiss, Vivienne reached up to his shoulders and pushed the white fabric of his shirt down so it was gathered at his waist. Touching his hot skin nearly sent her into a frenzy. She dragged her hands down his muscular chest, his stomach, his arms faster and faster.

Her nails grazing his skin made him gasp aloud, the pleasurable feeling urging him to rip away the damned corset. Vivienne wanted her clothes off too; she wanted to feel his delightful hands, his soft lips on her bare skin.

Suddenly he stood, pulling her up with him. They stumbled forward, Vivienne's back hitting the cool wall.

The cold sensation against her burning skin caused her to writhe, pressing herself into Tavington. Breathing hard, he pulled just far away enough from her to look into her eyes. They were glazed over with desire and warmth, hungry for more.

"This. . . this is," Vivienne gasped, not knowing how to put her feelings into words.

"This, Vivienne, is pleasure," he breathed back at her, his voice throaty. Vivienne's lips parted and he took advantage of this, plunging his tongue into her sweet mouth. His hands angled up her outer thighs, his powerful fingers coming to meet at the soft fold of flesh between her legs.

Tavington felt Vivienne gasp beneath his mouth as she anticipated what he was going to do. Using his thumbs, he gently teased her, moving his fingers farther and farther back until he could feel the wetness of her, waiting for him. Without warning, his thumb drove into the hot, wet chamber he would explore at last.

A small mewl tore from Vivienne as she reaped the swirls of rapture he brought with only a single finger.

"More," she whispered, desperate for the mounting delight. Without a word, his index finger joined his thumb, pinching and prodding her sensitive flesh until she moaned, her hips pulsating to his steady rhythm.

Suddenly, he withdrew from her, wanting to bring her to her peak and satisfy his own straining arousal at the same time.

"I want you," she murmured breathily, her eyelids hooded with lust.

"And have me you shall, my darling," he groaned into her ear, nipping her neck on the way up.

Tavington knew he couldn't stand this foreplay much longer. He wanted her naked so he could claim her completely.

"I have your consent?" he gasped huskily between kisses. Pulling away for the briefest moment, she whispered,

"Oh yes." He smiled beneath her kiss, his ache to be within her intensifying. They fell onto the bed, the coverlet warming quickly under the heat of their passion. At last the corset was loose enough for him to remove, and he began to push it down her waist, she helping him -

"TAVINGTON!" The lovers froze in removing Vivienne's corset, heads swiveling to identify the intruder.

General Cornwallis stood in the doorway, his face purple with rage. Vivienne tried to shy away from Tavington, very much embarrassed, but he held her tightly beneath him. Cornwallis's scrutinizing glare moved over their sweaty, glowing bodies, tousled clothes, wild eyes.

With every detail he noticed, the angrier he became. Rushing over to the bedside, he grabbed Vivienne's upper arm, yanking her upright. She was a rather pitiful sight with the trembling hand of her free arm clutching the loose corset to her, hair tangled, falling messily over her pale face. Her swollen lips were set in a fearful grimace.

Tavington stood, possessively wanting to tear her out of Cornwallis's grip. That was my prize . . . Before Tavington could even open his mouth, Cornwallis launched into a rant.

"Look at this, Tavington, look at this!" Cornwallis boomed, shaking Vivienne, who had squeezed her eyes shut.

"Going whoring with the other soldiers is one thing, but taking advantage of an innocent young girl is another entirely! Do you really find me so stupid as to being fooled into thinking this is your wife?! You have not only brought dishonor on this girl and her family, but also the whole British army once again!"

Vivienne's eyes opened, narrowing immediately.

"He did not take advantage of me! I am not so stupid," she spat quivering with anger.

Appearing surprised that she had even bothered to speak, Cornwallis paused before fixing her with a threatening stare.

"Foolish child! You know nothing of this man's manipulation. He doesn't love you. You will not lay with a man who is not your husband in my presence, especially not one of my soldiers! And let me give you a bit of advice, impudent girl," Cornwallis brought her pale face close to his raging red one "Colonel William Tavington is the last man any self-respecting woman should ever want to marry! Now get out of my sight!"

He flung Vivienne out into the hallway, slamming the door before her stunned face. Tavington clenched his jaw hard to stem his fury. If Cornwallis had been anyone but the Lord General of the British army, Tavington would have killed him on the spot. Cornwallis turned to Tavington, looking exhausted.

"You never rest, do you, Colonel? Sometimes I truly believe you act this way to torment me." Tavington didn't say a word, but glared at Cornwallis until the general got the message and left the room.

Tavington resisted the urge to drive his fist into the wall. Vivienne was gone and so were his chances of satisfying the near painful tenderness of his manhood. With an irritated sigh, he sat back into one of the couches and unbuttoned his breeches.

This time he would have to do it himself.