A/N: There's the devil in the detail this time. I was taking up on a scene that I found in the book where Tavington chases after some insects. In the German edition they are speaking of 'Libellen' – dragonflies. And I always wondered, how the hell does he do it, but liked the idea very much. I mean not that there is anything Colonel Tavington might not be able to do, is there? Now that an extended 'Patriot' movie version is on the market, I had to see that he chases fireflies. Well, by the time of my discovery the chapter was done and I'm in a fine quandary now.

So, if you, dear gentle reader, should share my view that catching dragonflies with ones hands is rather difficult to impossible, please, remember that we are moving on the grounds of a parallel existing universe, called fanfiction, and I ask you to give me some credits for having been fangirlish enough to provided him with such outstanding ability. Thank you.

Tantrum and Tenderness

Chapter 11 – Escape of a Dragonfly

"What's wrong, Madam?" Tavington demanded to know when he observed that Judith had so suddenly changed colors. She appeared to be truly scared of something. He followed her bewildered gaze checking the surrounding. "Have you spotted Lucifer himself in the brushwood or what is it that makes you… Hang on!" Tavington exclaimed as it dawned on him why Judith had turned pale with terror. "Can it be? You are not possibly afraid of the militia, are you?"

Judith clutched tightly at the fabric in her hand. Tavington knew he had hit the mark. He shook his head and chuckled at her obvious trepidation.

"Goodness! Madam! That's it? You fear them?" It was barely credible that she was apparently only so little in favor of the men and their leader who in general had become very popular among the local population. Tavington sneered. "How very unfortunate for you. As matters stand, they are the only ones who might come to your rescue."

That was how it seemed. But Judith had massive doubts about it.

It was certainly no fun to be with the Dragoons. But at least they appeared to be more or less civilized people. According to Tavington they were organized in a smooth working hierarchy and each of them was used to strictly follow the orders of their superior. And while Judith truly wished the Green Dragoons would have been a little less efficient in the execution of their order when they destroyed Sarah's home, she was utterly grateful for their implicit obedience in the matter of her own predicament.

Judith doubted that the same thing could be said about the colonial militia. Not all of the men who had gathered around the Ghost were as sincere and right-minded as Sarah's husband for instance. Some of the men could only be described as rather unsavory rabble and Judith found it hard to imagine that any of them would have had the decorum to offer her a coat like Captain Bordon had done. Would Benjamin Martin's influence on those men be strong enough to keep them back in case they fancied to lay hand on her?

Would he even care? Judith recalled the rumors about Benjamin Martin's past. Usually she didn't give much credence to gossip, but in this very case the strange offshoots of stories that had spread on the quiet had been preying on her mind to the extent that she had bothered to conduct further research. When she had finally got reliable firsthand information of how this man had treated his enemies during the French Indian War, Judith was terrified to see that the gossip was actually understated. From then on she had felt her flesh creep whenever it had been unavoidable to meet with him.

Considering the rumors that were none, Benjamin Martin was in no way inferior to Tavington as far as ruthlessness and cruelty were concerned. Regarding it from that point of view his nimbus as the heroic leader of the militia appeared to be rather tarnished and it needed not much explanation why he had come to recruit men of their sort.

They were not exactly trustworthy people and it left one wondering what they might do for a living. Theft and trickery were presumably no unknown businesses to them and most people who supported the rebels would have given them a wide berth in times of peace. God knew what other misdeeds those shady fellows might be guilty of. Now, they did fight for the cause but in the first line they fought for themselves, despoiling the vanquished. If war hadn't forged them together, they might have victimized the men who now fought alongside them.

Judith was not sure if they would bother much about her health and safety, in case they attacked the Dragoons right now.

"Do you have good reason to suppose they might turn up with nightfall?" she asked with undeniable dread in her voice.

Tavington was intrigued to see the profound distrust of her supposed saviors in her facial expression. His sneer grew even bigger as he took his pleasure in keeping Judith on tenterhooks for his answer. After an unnervingly long delay he finally said, "No. It's not very likely to happen."

When Tavington observed that Judith was just about to breathe again, he decided to extend her state of uneasiness for a while and mentioned with marked casualness, "Since we paid the plantation of Martin's sister-in-law a visit, it has fallen rather silent about him and his followers. Our warning has literally hit home! To fire the plantation was obviously the fitting lesson - a language that a man of his kind does understand."

„Oh my God!" Aghast, Judith gaped at him.

Surely, she had witnessed Sarah's cottage falling a victim to the flames. Yet the idea of a burning manor was another thing. Almost impossible to imagine that the

Drakespar Estate had suffered the same fate as Sarah's modest home. Manor-houses like Charlotte Selton's simply didn't go up in flames. It was a safe and solid building compared to the simple small cottage, which Sarah had dwelled in.

Of course, it was rather silly to assume that a manor was resistant to fire. Judith wondered what on earth she was believing? That splendor and tallness would make a building fire-proof? Certainly not. Once again she was terrified to see what this man was capable of and asked in disbelief, "You… burned the manor-house?"

"Along with the barns and stables", Tavington confirmed with frightening calm and self content. He had risen to his feet and it was difficult to say whether it was random or purpose that he rubbed his hands to clean the dirt off them.

Judith looked in his face which was appallingly bare of any regret and another thought scared her to death. "What about the children?"

„Lo and behold! You knew they had been there?" Tavington concluded effortlessly, refusing to answer her question. "Very interesting!"

Too late, Judith realized that Tavington hadn't mentioned the children before. It dawned on her that she had said more than she should have.

„It appears that it was far wiser than I thought to keep you alive for a while", he congratulated himself on this move. "Tell me, Madam, what else do you know about Benjamin Martin and his wonts?"

"Nothing, Sir. I never associated with the Martin's", Judith replied in accordance to the truth.

"Where else could they take refuge to now that their last place of retreat has gone up in smoke?" Tavington proceeded unswervingly in his interrogation. "You knew where he had hidden his children", he stated, "Perhaps you happen to know where he and his children do hide now?"

"No. I don't know where they are. I did not even know they had to flee…"

In a fit of annoyed impatience, Tavington grabbed at her collar. Every friendliness had vanished form his face and in its stead his predaceous nature had fully returned. "I warn you, don't you lie to me!"

"I'm not lying, Sir!" Judith shouted hysterically at him. "I swear, I don't know where they are!" Luckily, she didn't know. She was not sure if she wouldn't have told him, if she had had any idea, just to save herself. Judith hardly dared to breathe for she feared every wrong movement could be a death-warrant.

Tavington saw the blank terror in her features and regarded the truth of her words as proven. Remembering what had the basically proven to be a big failure at Charlotte Selton's plantation, he could do worse than drop this subject.

He released her, rearranging the collar correctly. Then he raised his index finger and warned, "Be sure not to play any tricks on me, Madam. For the moment we'll leave it at this."

Briskly straightening up, Tavington withdrew from her. He needed some distance and so he turned his steps towards the creek.

What a drag! He had not meant to be rude to her, just a bit teasing. He somehow had enjoyed their bantering so far. But he could not bear to be duped, especially not in the case of Benjamin Martin. The matter was just too serious. He had had to make this clear to her.

The Devil! That goddamned Ghost kept getting in his way everywhere. The importunate encroachment of this man turned out not to be confined to military actions but to become more far-reaching than Tavington had ever imagined.

What was going wrong?

William Tavington knew when a woman had begun to take a liking for him, even though it was only just barely known to herself. And never would he permit that Benjamin Martin of all the people would prevent the two of them from getting closer to one another. Instead of letting that deuced Ghost putting him off further, he should take advantage of Judith's resentment for the head of the rebels and make himself appear in a more pleasant light.

They had not had the best start of an acquaintance –that much was true. So if he wanted to prepossess her in his favor, it wasn't helpful to unduly intimidate or distress her. Perhaps he should do her a kindness.

Judith had valiantly suffered the Colonel's impetuous reproof and was just glad when he had let off of her again. She didn't mind him retreating to the bank, not at all. With all his quickly altering moods, the Colonel was so unpredictable a man that Judith doubted she would ever get along with him. She wished there would be miles between them.

Instead she was to observe another example of his volatile temper. In an incredibly short time Tavington seemed to have shrugged off his peeve. Judith could hardly believe her eyes when she saw him, a grown-up man, diverting himself with a rather boyish pastime. He had started to chase after some dragonflies.

To what point and purpose, she wondered and slightly shook her head. He could not earnestly reckon on ever getting hold of one of them, could he? She knew they were very nimble and able to perform flight maneuvers which sought their peer.

Yet, to her big surprise it didn't take long and he had caught even several of them, which after a short examination he let go off again as if they had failed muster.

Finally he got hold of one that obviously found his liking. With a satisfied smile, he returned to Judith. When she saw him drawing closer with the odd catch in his hand, she finally saw fit why people also called them 'Devil's Darning needle'.

Tavington sat down right next to Judith and carefully presented the vehemently struggling animal to her.

"Fascinating creatures, aren't they?"

"It's a dragonfly", Judith explained matter-of-factly and gave him to understand that she was not overly impressed.

Inwardly she was highly impressed, though. Never had she seen anybody able to catch a dragonfly with their hands so easily. What man was this who could pick them out of the air? This exceptional ability left her in awe of him.

"I've seen them often before", Judith made clear to him, though, that he had shown nothing new to her. "But I don't see what should be so extraordinary about them."

"Have you ever given them a closer look? This one here is a fine specimen. So beautiful. A fairylike creature with limpid wings. And just look at its brightly shimmering color! Simply amazing." Tavington spoke in such a soft voice that even the dragonfly seemed to be set at ease. "In a way they remind me of you."

"Of me? The only similarity I can see is that you take pleasure in keeping us captive." This time, Judith would not allow him to lull her with his lip services.

"There's so much more you have in common: Your delicate svelte shapes, a bewitching gracefulness in every motion. Beings of an eye-catching comeliness, alert and slick, but wild and refractory when it comes to struggle for freedom. Those parallels are absolutely striking, wouldn't you say?"

"It's enough to make me sick!" Judith spat at him with disgust. "You regard those little insects more valuable than a human being."

"How do you come to that?" Tavington puckered his brow. "I don't know what you mean."

"That's but obvious."

"Help me?" Tavington encouraged her to speak her mind as he could not follow her thoughts.

For the short moment of one breath, Judith rolled her eyes behind closed lids and then began to explain, "Well, Sir, while you do allow the dragonflies to fly away as they seize the very first opportunity to regain their freedom with the mere opening of your hand, I am still forced to stay with you."

Tavington scowled. Insulted by her ingratitude, he felt his blood boiling. When would that woman finally understand that he had treated her already with more regard than the situation actually allowed? She was truly stubborn and bristly. He was trying to be nice to her and she constantly gave him the cold shoulder. Could she not see or did she not want to see that it was better to have him for a friend than for an enemy? He was offering her a truce. But instead of accepting she kept putting him out of temper. She could play those pranks with James Wilkins but certainly not with him.

"Now you disappoint me, Madam. You've not yet taken the point. You envy that dragonfly? Look…" He held his hand with the trapped insect right in front of Judith's face. "Fly away you say? Regain its freedom you say?" Tavington repeated her words, clearly pronouncing them. He pursed his lips as if he contemplated the possible outcome of a scientific experiment.

Judith looked at the delicate body of the insect and expected it to be airborne the very moment he would loosen his grip.

All of sudden Tavington mashed it before her eyes.

Judith had started with horror at the cracking noise that followed the quick unexpected contraction of his hand. Slowly he opened his fist again. The

former elaborate insect had turned into a crumpled something. Greenish-blue fluid was running down from Tavington's palm to his wrist.

"That is what will happen should you ever try to escape me. Understand?" Tavington set her aright frostily. "Consider yourself lucky that you are allowed to stay with us."

Still trembling at the display of brutality, Judith had no doubt that he would crush her without blinking if only she gave him the slightest provocation. She wondered what to do? He had just demonstrated to her that running away was no alternative. As matters stood, attack was probably the better defense.

„You think you scare me? No, Sir, nothing of that kind. I pity you. What was the bravery in that act? It is not so courageous as you may think to destroy a being which is so hopelessly inferior to you. Do you believe a grown woman would be impressed by a spoilt boy pulling the wings off flies? Why should I be glad to keep the company of a man who harms what he likes? Have you not only just now praised this poor little animal to the skies. Why do you have to destroy what you love?"

Judith looked him straight in the eyes and he equally held her stare.

"And what about you, Madam?" Tavington queried. "You think yourself quite smart, don't you? You think you can look inside my head. You think you've found out the riddle about the man I am? You have no idea. What I once loved, has destroyed me!" he said bitterly. "You know nothing of me!" With that he jumped to his feet and withdrew from her once more.

A painfully clear memory had flashed through Tavington's mind at her words that had pierced him to his core like a well-aimed rapier. How did she dare to say a thing like that? She didn't know about his past, she didn't know about his father and all the misery he had caused for his family. His late father had destroyed it all.

A stabbing pain in his heart, he remembered his mother, the only person who had ever been really dear to him. Being a widow of an impoverished and shunned member of the lower aristocracy wasn't easy to endure.

When Tavington had left England there had been no way to care for her in an appropriate way. He had turned his back on England and on an angry mob of debtors. He had heard the gossip that had spread about him, that he was no better than his old man, leaving his mother along with his debts. The rumors had wounded him and he had never stopped feeling bound to do her justice one day. After all she had had to suffer under the tyranny of his father, now she had deserved a carefree eve of life.

Once he had established himself in this new world, he wouldn't hesitate to send for her to live in his care on this continent. Finally he would be the son for her she had so desperately wished for. He would not be like his father.

'I'm not like you, Garrick Tavington. I will never tread in your steps. Ever!' Tavington inaudibly repeated this vow to himself for the umpteenth time.

He would restore all the esteem and respect to the name of his family that his father had once squandered.

Maybe it was a mere coincidence that he looked straight to the east into the darkening sky in the direction of his fatherland. A strange bitter-sweet melancholy seemed to have taken hold of him. Judith had intended to give him a blow that would hurt him; it appeared that she had been quite successful and now she found that she felt sorry for it. He looked so vulnerable standing there alone.

No one was born bad in this world. So what was it that had turned him in that cold, cruel man as whom she had got to know him so far? What or who had forged this fearful weird symmetry of mind? Against her will, Judith began to search for excuses that might explain his heartless way of acting.

Maybe his love had once remained unrequited. Maybe he had a wife who loved another. Or had she died? Maybe Tavington had taken his leave in England and decided to join the army in order to forget his old life. Was his cruelty and brutality just his way to hide a broken heart?

It reminded her of James. She had never told him about her true feelings for him and now he had joined the army. To forget her? Was he through with her? She thought of the letters and was afraid he could turn away from her completely now only to spare him the disgrace. What would he do to deal with her stupid constant rejections? Would he ever turn as violent as his superior? And if so, would it be her fault then? She felt that she needed to talk to him. She wished he could have been around. She needed clarity about this. She wanted to be back at the camp.