Chapter 12
She was an enchantress of sorts. Yes, she was a colonial, a saucy one to be exact; one that didn't like anyone telling her what to do. She was not afraid to get her hands dirty. He saw that when she worked. Blood would be up to her elbows and yet she wouldn't flinch continuing with her work as if she had been doing it for years. She didn't frighten easily either, in fact, with the exception of the kiss they shared, he hadn't seen her squirm about anything since her captivity. It was true he could've taken her right there. No one would have seen and she would've been powerless to stop him. He didn't want it to be that way. She was challenging…he liked that. He liked her. Flipping the quill between his fingers, Tavington thought on that little piece of actuality. How on earth had he become attracted to a colonial?
He frowned as he changed the direction of the quill and began tapping the tip gently on the parchment in front of him. He was supposed to be dictating his report to General Cornwallis and instead he was thinking of her. Distractions were not good, especially of the feminine sort. That was why he kept his romantic involvements to brief interludes. It was better that way. He had never found anyone that held his interest more than a few romps anyway. Why did he feel this was different?
"Colonel Tavington?"
He straightened as Borden came in making a show of writing on the parchment.
"I do hope your interruption is warranted Captain." he said coolly.
"Yes sir. Correspondence from General Cornwallis sir." he said handing him a sealed letter.
Tavington sighed and took the letter bitterly. "What on earth does he want now?" he muttered. "Dismissed" he shot at Borden.
He waited until he left and carelessly opened the wax seal. He growled at the message wadding it up in his hand and throwing it across the tent. 'Damn that man!' he thought. "Pompous, arrogant…" he muttered standing to pace the small confines of the tent. Well, if he had to go there, he wouldn't go alone.
Stalking out of the tent, he walked the short distance to his destination, barging past the two sentries.
"Do you ever knock?" asked Sarah wearily.
"And what do you pray I knock on? The wooden post holding the tent up?"
"Actually, that wouldn't be a bad idea." she replied smiling. She stood walking to the middle post and knocked twice; a hollow sound emitting from the beam. "Works for me." she said looking at him. "Next time you try."
"We are moving." he said simply crossing his arms in front of him.
"Oh, and I so like this place, so simple, yet homey. A white picket fence would be lovely in front, maybe some flowers aligning the canvas?"
"As it is, you will be moved to somewhere more comfortable."
"Such as?"
"General Cornwallis has requested our presence at Middleton Place. He is throwing a ball of sorts."
"And I am to come along as show I assume?"
"You would be extremely striking in a real dress." he said eying her slightly tattered clothing. "It would be a holiday for you to have such civilized items after enduring such hardship here. You deserve a little rest."
"Colonel Tavington, what are those strange words emitting from your mouth? Could that be somewhat of a compliment you just attempted to give me? Are you trying to be nice?"
"Trying" he confirmed dryly.
"Well," she whispered, "will miracles never cease?"
"Apparently not, pack your things; we leave in the morning…please."
He left, a smile forming on his face as he turned. He could feel her shocked eyes bearing through him. It was just the reaction he was hoping for.
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Gabriel sat on his haunches, his knees beginning to feel the wear of holding his position for so long. He had relieved Jean a mere few hours ago. They had been taking turns staking out the camp in hopes of verification of who was held prisoner so carefully in the tent. His father, lost in his own grief, never questioned their disappearances, but they had been painstakingly careful to not raise his suspicions. Listening to what Jean told him, he didn't want to give his father any false hope. However, after two days he thought that whoever it was would never see the light of day. He was finally rewarded when the sun started to come up. There was just enough light to see her, there was no mistaking the hair color, and he started as soon as she stepped from the tent. Reminding himself he was in no place to storm a dragoon camp, he watched a moment more, making sure she seemed alright before turning and running as fast as he could back to his horse tethered a safe distance away. He rode like there was no tomorrow back to camp. He had to speak to Jean first. He would know what to do. This was just what his father needed to snap him out of the funk he was in.
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"Why would General Cornwallis throw a ball in the middle of a war? Especially in known hostile territory?"
She had asked the question suddenly, startling him as they rode. He insisted once again that she ride on his horse stating that she was a flight risk. She was wary at first, but after the first hour or so, she began to relax. Tavington had been surprisingly gentle as he assisted her on his stead and even then, he kept a gentlemanly distance from her, only placing his one arm around her as he held the reigns.
"Why would that man do anything?" he muttered under his breath thinking that he said it so intelligible that she wouldn't understand him. He was wrong.
"I take it you don't endorse this ball?" she asked turning her head slightly to look back at him.
"His diplomacy matters little to me…he doesn't approve of many of my methods of interrogation." He had been unexpectedly honest, surprising even him.
"I would think you would be used to that by now." she said talking before she thought out her words. She quickly regretted them and clammed up right after they came out of her mouth. He had been nothing but respectful to her over the past twenty-four hours and it confused her greatly. He had asked several times if she needed to rest or get a drink of water and each time she politely refused. It was better to get there as soon as possible, but it was in her nature to return the kindness, even knowing what kind of man he was. However, she could also sense the tension in his voice and knew that even the cruel Colonel Tavington was not above condemnation from his superiors. It was a humbling feeling knowing that he was human after all. She even felt, well, sorry for him.
Wanting to say something, but knowing an apology wasn't appropriate, she opted to remain quiet instead thinking that reflection was perhaps best at this time. He was the first to speak.
"I realize," he said quietly, "that many of my techniques may seem harsh, even cruel at times. But this is an unfortunate circumstance of war. It is neither good nor evil. It is purposeful however…and necessary."
"Some may disagree colonel." she said just as softly, "killing boys before their time is never necessary."
"You are a very insightful woman my dear, and I must admit that there are times when I feel almost regretful in my actions. My childhood was never happy I'm afraid. It was mixed with alcohol and gambling…never a good combination, but my father didn't really think about that I suppose. He was too self absorbed in himself. I assume I have inherited some of his qualities. Not at all what I would prefer to be like, especially when I'm at my worst, but fatefully they are the traits I possess."
"You could change." she whispered engulfed in his story.
"I am too old and too stubborn to change. I recognize my faults, yet do not wish to correct them. They have been part of my personality for far too long."
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked confused at the rash of openness he was portraying.
"I'm not sure myself." he said after a minute of thought. "Perhaps it is the compassion I see in you as you tend to your patients that provokes me to say these things. It is truly a gift to be able to help those so direly in need and yet be so selfless. Perhaps I see in you something that I wish to be, but cannot."
Sarah stared straight ahead at the direction in which they were going. She didn't know what to say to that, didn't know if she should say anything. So instead, she focused on the trail in front of her deep in thought to what he was saying. This was so unlike the man she had gotten used to over the past few months. He was sarcastic, rude, and offensive…or was that just a front to keep him from feeling? She wasn't sure anymore. However, if she had been paying the slightest bit of attention to him at the moment, she would've seen the sly smile that crept up on his face in victory.
