Chapter Ten - Battle of MacIntyre's Farm
"Smile, Middleton, for Christ's sake," Tavington gritted through his teeth. His face muscles where beginning to hurt from his forced joviality. "And have a drink." He passed the flask to young Arthur Middleton.
"Sir, we can't get drunk now!" Nevertheless he took a swill from the flask. His eyes widened with surprise and Tavington's forced smile became real.
"Yes, water. Do you think me so foolish?"
"No, Sir. I should have known." He glanced around the camp at the Dragoons, all laughing and drinking, passing around flasks among themselves. "Water for them too, I take it?" He nudged his head in their direction.
"Quite obviously. Martin is out there -"
"With a good hundred men, from what we could see," Wilkins with Bordon strode around the large camp fire to sit down not far from Tavington. Both wore stupid smiles on their faces and shared a flask, James stumbled slightly as though drunk. "Still we out number then two to one."
"I will not leave it to chance. I want this fight to be on our terms and I want it over with quickly. They mean to wait until we have all bedded down for the night, but if my plan works they will be attacking within the next hour."
A young Dragoon, Peter Danielson came over and whispered in Tavington's ear. The Colonel's smile became real once more.
"Seventy Five Dragoons are in position now, ready to take the rebels from behind when the attack begins. We will have them pinned here, trapped."
"Excellent," Bordon nodded. "Now we just have to -"
Wilkins barked a laugh and slapped Middleton on the back, as though the young man had told him a great joke. Tavington chuckled with approval, the men where playing their parts perfectly. Martin's militia will become far less cautious if they believe they were attacking a camp drunk on whiskey.
"- coax him out. Are you sure this will work, Colonel? It seems unnecessarily cruel, and she could lose the babe."
"I will take that chance, Bordon. If we wait, the fight will be on Martin's terms and that I will not allow. More rebels could be on their way to join him as it is. Wilkins, you will try to be careful of the woman, cause her only enough pain to make her cry out. I want her husband to hear her shouts and come rushing in to aid her ahead of time, I want them enraged when they attack, they will make for far easier adversaries."
"What of the other two bands? Martin himself is leading one, Smith the other, both have thirty men each. How do we draw them in?"
"Smith is leading the other?" Tavington was surprised. "I am certain that The Ghost will be rash enough to come to his brother's aid, and as for Smith... Yes, I have just the thing..." A slow smile crossed his face, this was going to be easier than he thought.
"You mean to use Miss Mathan against him," it was not a question and Bordon's tone was disapproving. "Will you cause her just enough pain to make her cry out?"
"Pain?" The Colonel was genuinely startled. "No, Captain. I would not hurt her, not even for this. Lyra is Smith's weakness, however. He has spent the last two years telling the girl that as soon as she turned eighteen, he would wed her."
"Good Lord! He's her stepfather!" Wilkins' forced smile slipped.
"Disgusting!" Arthur spat.
"Poor Miss Mathan - why would he do such a thing?" Bordon.
"She has a small inheritance, apparently and a house that were to be hers when she turned eighteen, it is why she was heading for Charles Town. If Smith wished to marry her, it stands to reason he will become quite incensed when he sees her in my arms, does it not?"
"Perhaps, and if he is leading the band, his rebels will follow to protect him -"
"As will Christopher Martin's. Benjamin Martin will have no choice but to follow in to aid his rebels," Wilkins was eager. "When do we begin?"
"When Lyra comes back from washing up at the stream, all of you are to disappear. You will spread the word, none of the Dragoons are to watch, or even glance at Lyra and I when we begin. I will not have them ogling Lyra while we are... Well, any caught watching will be whipped."
"Tavington! What in the world do you plan to have her doing?" Bordon gasped.
"Never mind that. Just make sure the Dragoons know they are not to watch. The rebels are the only audience I will tolerate."
"You are sitting in the centre of camp, Sir. I do not think Miss Mathan will be... amenable... to this plan. She Lady and as such will have a strong sense of what is proper. I doubt she will couple with you right here in the middle of camp."
"Bordon, Miss Mathan is innocent, very young and very eager to please me. She may require some gentle coaxing but in the end she will do anything I desire of her."
"I wonder how Miss Mathan would feel to be used as bait. I doubt she would be so eager to please you..."
"She will not learn of this, however, will she Captain?" Tavington's voice was suggestive, dangerous.
"Of course not, not from me. Mark my words though, Colonel. Miss Mathan is no fool and when she discovers that you had her pleasure you, in front of rebels for the soul purpose of drawing her stepfather out, she will be less than pleased with you."
"Perhaps. Again, I will take that chance. The Ghost is sitting yards from here, watching, this very moment. I will do what is required." His face set like stone.
"Even if it means shaming your lover by fucking her right here in front of everyone." Bordon arched an eyebrow and Tavington tensed.
Wilkins could almost taste the violence in the air. In an effort to diffuse the tension, he laughed aloud and slapped Arthur on the back again. The Colonel and his adjutant both recalled themselves to the task at hand and forced smiles to their faces.
"That was a clever move, stuffing Dragoon bedrolls with straw," Wilkins said.
"Yes, I am sure Martin is well aware how many Dragoons I have under my command, he would certainly miss it if seventy five suddenly disappeared. I do not want to give him reason to suspect that the men are out there, waiting to pin him in. Here comes Lyra now," Tavington murmured. Wilkins swiftly changed the subject, still smiling for all he was worth.
The Colonel watched his lover approach, she had managed to brush her dresses clean, her long blonde hair was wet and as she sat down close beside him he caught a whiff of strawberries. He draped his arm across her lap and she smiled at him worshipfully.
Bordon need not have worried, Tavington had no intention of 'fucking her right there in front of everyone'. Smith had taught Lyra well, and for two years she had been forced to pleasure him with her hands, as he stood before her, until he climaxed.
All Tavington needed to do was coax Lyra to do the same to him - in the centre of camp. That was the difficult part, Lyra would not be agreeable to such a display before all his Dragoons. The Colonel did not doubt his control over the girl, however. She would, indeed, do anything he commanded her to do.
And once Smith saw his stepdaughters hands pleasuring another man, the Butcher at that, he would become enraged - Tavington did not doubt it in the slightest - he was counting on it, in fact.
"Hmm, to be clean again," Lyra sighed. "There is no greater feeling in the world."
"None?" He murmured with a smirk.
"William!" She whispered back with a nervous glance at the other men. The Colonel eyed her appreciatively as she blushed and busied herself combing her hair.
Michael Middleton, who had been guarding Lyra and escorting her through the camp, sat nearby and Lyra handed him a small bottle.
"Thank you, Mr. Middleton. My hair doesn't feel like straw any more. Ouch," she frowned as she hit a snag in her hair.
"Ah, Michael's lent you his scented oils..." Wilkins smirked. "You should have a look in his rucksack, Miss Mathan, you may find a spare shift."
"Shut it, Wilkins," Middleton threw a friendly punch at his Captain.
"Or perhaps a garter..."
"Yes, our Middleton takes care of himself with more care than most women I know," Bordon quipped. "Carrying scented oils of all things."
"You never know when you have to impress the ladies, now. Personal grooming is of utmost importance."
"Michael," his brother, Arthur, rolled his eyes. "You've always taken it a little bit further than the rest of us, though, haven't you?
"Well, I for one am grateful." Lyra smiled. "I feel almost pampered."
"Lord, the sooner we get you to Charles Town the better, if you are beginning to think this is being pampered!" Michael exclaimed.
"Hmm, no more riding... I look forward to the day we ride in. I'll never look at another horse again."
"And here I was thinking you may wish to join the Dragoons," Arthur grinned. "Patriot women are fighting, why not Loyalist women?"
"Hmm, why not indeed. The swords are too heavy for a start and those buckskin breeches..? No - I'll leave the fighting to the men, I think."
The Dragoons chuckled and as if on queue began to make their excuses and shuffled away. Tavington saw them move amongst the men, quietly giving his orders that they were not to watch. The Dragoons began turning their back on Tavington and Lyra, others purposefully looked in any other direction.
Almost as soon as they were 'alone', Tavington turned to Lyra and began kissing her tenderly, eager to get the next phase of his plan started. Wilkins would be heading over to Mrs. Sarah Martin now. He was not to rape her or do anything else that might harm the babe, but Sarah would be hurt - just enough to cause her visible and verbal distress. The Colonel expected to hear a scream or two from her any minute now - her husband should be incensed enough to lose control and rush the camp.
"Sit in my lap, darling," he murmured in Lyra's ear.
"No, William. Not here - everyone can see -"
"No one is watching angel."
"Can't we go somewhere quieter, and darker? What is the matter with your men tonight, are they drunk?"
"No, my sweet," he nuzzled at her ear. "And we can't go where its darker - its not safe. Look around you, is anyone looking at us?"
"Well, no..." after a quick glance.
"Then sit on my knee," another kiss as encouragement. Lyra sighed and sat down on his knee and they resumed kissing again.
"This is unseemly, William," Lyra's eyes darted to the Dragoons. None of them where paying them any mind, none where looking at them at all. And Tavington's lips felt so nice on her neck, Lyra sighed and leaned into him.
"Stop worrying about them, my sweet," he turned her face and kissed her lips gently. "Lord, I've been thinking about you all day," he murmured quietly. It was true, to his dismay, the girl truly had cast a spell on him. Still, he would use it without qualms.
"You have?" Lyra breathed, her innocent eyes open wide, running her hands along his neck up his cheek. "Truly?"
"Hmm hmmm," he murmured, his lips moved to her suckle her ear lobe and Lyra shivered. "Have you not thought of me?" His voice taunting, already knowing the answer.
"Yes," she swallowed and traced her finger over his lips.
"Did you think about last night?" he taunted, trailing kissed along her jaw. "And this morning?" More kisses, and his lips met hers again.
"And later, back at my house," Lyra blushed to admit it and Tavington chuckled.
"Yes, that was..." he sighed and kissed her deeply. "Very pleasant."
"Hmm," Lyra melted against him. "Pleasant."
"Little one, I am aching for you..." Tavington moved his lips to her neck again, her throat and lower - to the top of her breasts. He pulled down her bodice as far as he could and nuzzled her flesh. "I wish we could get rid of these stays, darling," he groaned against her chest. "I wish to kiss your breasts, your nipples..."
"Oh..." Lyra wrapped her fingers through his hair and kissed the top of his head. "We should have, earlier, at the farm house..."
"Christ, we should have!" He glanced up at her through lowered lids, heavy with lust. He caught her full bottom lip between his teeth, nipping and suckling gently until she moaned. "Lyra..." he took hold of her hand and placed it, palm down, on the front of his breeches, holding it against his throbbing erection as she tried to pull away.
"William... We mustn't - they will see -"
"No one is watching," his voice insistent. "Can't you feel my need?"
"Lord, you are so hard," she whimpered and began massaging and molding him through his breeches.
"And aching, my angel." He latched onto her lips again with a despairing groan, his tongue stroked hers into submission. "You have such power over me, my darling."
"Mmmnnnn," Lyra whimpered against his lips, her eyes squeezed shut and Tavington smiled as he kissed her. Yes, she would do anything he wanted.
"Unbuckle my belt," he coaxed gently. "Free me, I need to feel your hands on me."
"William -"
"No. Do it, Lyra. Now." The Colonel commanded fiercely.
"Ohhhh," another whimper and beyond thinking of arguing further, she obeyed. Soon his cock was freed and Tavington thrust forward as she wrapped her hand around him, a tight, firm fist.
"Harder, my angel," he growled in her ear. "Agh, perfect darling!" Knowing the rebels in the woods where watching heightened his pleasure. If only they gave him enough time to come before attacking.
Lyra's hand became a blur of movement, tugging him fiercely. "Oh, I'm aching too Colonel," she moaned, her face set in a frown of lust and need. She watched her lover, his face twisted with agony as he snapped his hips back and forth, his cock felt hot in her hand.
"Christ," he swore and gasped for air, "Don't say that, I will be undone."
"It is true," Lyra whispered, sensing the effect her words had on him. "I have such a throb, William. I feel so hot. Lord, I think I would take you inside me, now, sore or not."
"Fuck!" He gripped her waist to steady himself and slammed back and forth in her grip. "More, tell me more!"
"I don't know what you've done to me," she lowered her lips to his ear and kept tugging him, feeling his cock twitch beneath her fingers, he was close. "You've woken something inside me and I need you."
"Need me to what, need me to what!" The tension built to a crescendo, it was about to break, fire would soon be coursing through his body. His heart pounded in time to his thrusts and he bit back a scream as white hot pleasure burst. He buried his face in the nook of her neck, groaning low and panting as thick ropes of seed shot up his length and spilled over her hand. He pulled her closer, his eyes squeezed shut, trying desperately to quell his ragged breathing and calm - if they were attacked right now, he doubted he could respond, doubted he could summon the bloodlust needed to fight.
Lyra breathed heavily and when Tavington lifted his head to hers she whimpered and kissed him deeply.
"Need me to what?" He murmured, calm now, already wiping her hand clean with a handkerchief.
"Oh, William... Please - take me somewhere else, where its dark," she paused and whimpered as his hand lifted her skirts. "Oh, yes... Darling, I need you to touch me -"
"We will stay here, your skirts cover everything." Though Smith will be sure to know exactly what Tavington was doing. Any moment now... He was surprised the man had not attacked already.
Tavington's hand very deliberately lifted her skirts to her thighs, then very deliberately disappeared between them.
"No one is watching - open your legs," he was poised, tense, any moment now. "Wider Lyra."
Let Smith see, let him see it all. Let Smith see how wanton and debauched his stepdaughter became under the Butcher's expert caress's. She obeyed after darting one quick look around, she buried her face in his neck to hide the world from her view and opened her legs wider, knowing how lewd it would look to anyone who glanced their way.
A scream split the night, cutting across the clearing. Wilkins had begun his work on Sarah Martin.
"What?" Lyra jerked her head up. "Oh, William, what is happening? Why -"
"Hush, angel. I'm trying to pleasure you."
"But Mrs. Martin -" She cut off with a whimper as Sarah's second scream sounded through the camp. "William -"
Every thing seemed to happen at once. Screaming rebels came crashing through the trees, explosions sounded, bullets cutting swathes through the camp.
"Christ! Finally!" The Colonel snapped and dumped Lyra unceremoniously onto the ground and stuffed himself back into his breeches.
"William!" Lyra's scream of terror as a bullet wizzed past her ear. Then Michael and Arthur where there, along with the rest of her guard except for Bordon, and she was hauled to her feet and dragged away as Tavington slashed and parried, fighting with two rebels who had closed on him. They died quickly.
Tavington caught sight of Martin himself, just before the Ghost had a chance to close. The Butcher laughed with glee. The two men crashed together, bloodlust and hate twisting their features. Their swords rang with a loud ting ting ting as they crashed together, furious strokes with lightning speed. They traded feints and luck was on Martin's side - he drew the first blood. Tavington gritted his teeth as pain flared across his arm.
He sneered at Martin and surprised the other man with an onslaught, a series of sword thrusts, aiming to kill. Martin, hard pressed, still managed to turn most of the thrusts aside. He bellowed with pain as one deep cut seared along his thigh. With the quickness of a striking snake, Tavington viciously cut down on Martin's sword arm, slicing the Ghosts hand deeply. With another cry of pain Benjamin dropped his sword but with the experience of a well seasoned soldier he drew his tomahawk, used it to block as Tavington aimed a thrust for the Ghost's head.
The tableau held for timeless moments, the two men snarling at one another, close enough to feel their frenzied breaths hot on each others faces. Both strained against the other, their muscles taut, veins popping.
"Tell Mrs. Selton I send her regards," Tavington smiled then with unexpected swiftness and strength he pulled his sword free of the tomahawk and cut savagely for Benjamin's other thigh. The Ghost went down with a shout and Tavington raised his sword high for the killing stroke.
A woman's scream rent the air, loud even over the fight of battle around them. Tavington hesitated, his eyes darting toward the noise - it had come from the direction the Dragoons had taken Lyra. Martin used the distraction, raising his tomahawk high, cut it through the air toward Tavington's head. The Colonel snapped back to attention, turned the blow aside just in time.
"I'll be sure to," Martin taunted. He had seen Tavington's sudden distraction, judged his weakness swiftly. "And you be sure to send mine to Miss Mathan. I will treat with her one day, the same as you did Charlotte."
Tavington's quick in drawn hiss was all the confirmation Benjamin needed.
"Soon, Colonel. You may enjoy her for now. Bed her in for me." He smiled suggestively.
With a snarl, Tavington raised his sword again, too late. A mounted Gabriel was quickly crossing the distance toward his father, Benjamin had seen him coming. With a swift move, Martin grabbed his sons arm and jumped into the saddle behind him, they fled across the camp.
Suddenly a loud explosion sounded and Benjamin lurched forward in the saddle, hard against Gabriel.
"Father! Are you hit?"
"I am... Christ - just keep going, we need to get out of here."
"It was a blood bath, father! So many dead!" Gabriel shout over his shoulder as he continued through the woods. They rode for some time, avoiding the pursuit Tavington surely would have sent after them. Finally, Gabriel came to a stop not far from a cave known only by a handful of Patriots. He helped his father down from his mount, got him settled and comfortable, before fetching his small medical kit.
"Good Lord, he got stuck into you, didn't he?" Gabriel stared with shock at all the cuts - one on each thigh, one on his hand and of course a bullet which had lodged itself in the fleshy part of his father's back. Gabriel did what he could to stop the bleeding and bandage his father. "We need to get you to camp. That bullet will need to be dug out, those cuts need stitching."
"In a moment, son. In a moment. Let your old man rest a bit. Christ - he is good. Fucking bastard! I thought I had him!" Martin shook his head, sweat beaded his brow.
"It was a hot fight, for certain. The whole skirmish was - Lord. Do you know how many we lost?"
"No, I was too busy with the Butcher."
"Father, at least half of our men were cut down. As I said, it was a blood bath. The Dragoons cut in from out side the camp, they obviously knew we were there and they attacked when we advanced, cutting off retreat."
"I suspected they would, as soon as I realised. It was a trap, lad. They knew we were there from the moment we arrived. Half dead you say?" Benjamin wiped his sweaty forehead. "We had to save those girls, but... Christ - at what cost?"
"I know - I hate to say it. We got the girls to safety, though. Except for Lyra Mathan, I am not sure what happened to her - Smith went after her but she was surrounded by Dragoons."
"Lyra Mathan," Benjamin laughed bitterly. "Was not in need of rescuing. Emery had it right, son, she is bedding Tavington."
"No, it can't be - she wouldn't -"
"You did not see what I saw. Believe your old man, she is his lover."
"Very well. If Smith gets her free of the Dragoons, he will decide her fate." Gabriel sounded reluctant, he liked the lass. Hell, they all did - though most of the men Martin knew liked her a little too much. "Father, I have to tell you... I'm sorry, but Uncle Christopher... He fell in the first wave."
"Oh, Christ!" Benjamin grunted. "Agh!" He punched the wall of the cave - hard. His brother... Dead. They had always been close, this was a devastating blow for Martin.
"I'm sorry."
His father shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut with grief. Gabriel left his father alone in the cave, he tended his horse and watched for signs of danger until Martin finally came out of the cave, his face still stricken with grief.
"Lets go, son. We need to get the Hell out of here."
The men will need to lick their wounds, the ones that survived this disaster. Over half his men, lost in a rescue attempt. He was not looking forward to making his report to Burwell, knowing the General will be less than pleased. At least fifty men, to save six women...
Martin shook his head again as he mounted behind his son. A disaster. He had underestimated Tavington, a mistake he would not make again. The Ghost smiled. For the first time, Tavington had shown a weakness. He had been about to finish Martin off once and for all, and would have done if he had not been distracted by a woman's scream.
He had let Smith off the leash to do as he wished to several Loyalist families, however, Benjamin Martin himself had never had a taste for rape. If it would cause his enemy even the slightest distress, however...
And why not? Tavington had purposefully seduced Benjamin's fiancé. He really aught to return the favor in kind.
His mind drifted back to more than twenty years earlier when, at Fort Wilderness, a young and bloodthirsty Benjamin raped, murdered and pillaged, stalking through the dark and the wild for fresh victims amongst the savages. He had it in him, to do what needed to be done.
It suddenly became very important to Martin to get his hands on Miss Lyra Mathan. And if luck was on his side, Smith would be bringing the girl directly to him.
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