Chapter Nine - Tavington's Pretty Little Doll

"Colonel?" Came a woman's voice behind him. He turned and bit back a groan, Mrs. Collins had been waiting for him, it seemed.

"Have you done as I asked, Mrs. Collins?"

"Oh, the seamstress? Yes, she will be here later today. I have a booklet from London - it has very detailed drawings of the latest fashions, perhaps you would like to have a look?"

"What in Hades for?" He snapped, running out of patience.

"Why, so you can choose which gown you would like your little mistress to wear, of course. You can even choose the colors for her, pick out some ribbons, dress her like the pretty little doll she is."

"I think we are done here," he said firmly and turned from her. Mrs. Collins grabbed his arm to stop him.

"William," there were tears in the woman's eyes. "This is pure Hell! When I heard the thunder of horses I ran to the window and when I saw it was the Green Dragoons I almost fainted! It has been so long since I have seen you, I was filled to bursting with excitement. But you bring her here, your mistress, - to my home! And then you demand I run her a bath and order her a seamstress? Lord, the insult!"

"You have servants to do both those things, Katie. You hardly had to do either yourself."

"That is beside the point. You have me running errands for your latest lover!" Her hand was still on his arm and she began to caress her fingers lightly over his sleeve. "Darling, don't you remember how wonderful it was between us? She is a child. I am, however," Katie moved closer and gazed into his eyes. "A woman grown. I can please you -"

"And who taught you to do the things that would please me, hmm?" He laughed down at her. "When you first came to my bed, you were as witless as a virgin! You, a married woman! I had to lead you by the hand, teach you everything! At least Lyra's ignorance is justified, having never known a man before."

"Lyra," she spat. "So familiar! I will not have it, William. I can not send her away, I have no choice but to allow her to stay. But you will not bed her under my roof. If you do, I will expose your affair -"

She gave a loud squark as Tavington, face set in a hard scowl, seized her arms and yanked her toward a nearby room. He slammed the door shut behind them. His face raged over hers, and she quailed in his grip.

"You will not utter a single word about my dalliance with Lyra, Katie. If you do, I assure you, your husband will learn exactly where you learned all your new... techniques... from. Is he benefitting from my teaching, hmm? Is he enjoying your mouth sucking him?"

"Please, William, I am sorry - let me go," Katie sobbed.

He tightened his grip and she whimpered. "You will cease encouraging her to find a husband, also."

"Why?" She gasped, her tone became pleading, mournful. "Please, tell me you do not wish to marry her! She barely has two thousand pounds coming to her! So what if she has a manor, its not hers and she has no money! Please, oh please my darling - tell me you are not in love with her!"

Lord, am I? Tavington's eyes widened with shock. No, I have only known her a few days. I simply do not wish to lose her before I am done. I am not in love with her. By Christ, I am not.

He felt an almost desperate need to prove it to himself. Katie was sobbing, he loosened his hold on he arms and crashed his lips to hers. She moaned and gripped his neck, moulding herself to his body. There was nothing gentle about the kiss - it was harsh, frantic. He shoved her against the wall and gripped her jaw with one hand, teasing her mouth open with his finger.

Katie whimpered as his tongue assaulted hers, circling and clashing, both groaning with need.

Tavington drew back, his expression sharp and frightful. "Turn around Katie, I am going to fuck you. Now."

"Oh, God," she mewled, and whirled around, lifting her skirts high eagerly. He jerked at his belt buckle, ripped at the buttons and pulled his breeches down low enough to free his aching erection.

"Brace yourself against the wall," his only warning that he would be taking her hard. She whimpered again and placed her hands on the wall, she straightened her arms and locked her elbows - ready to take the battering he had promised her.
She was not disappointed. Tavington felt between her legs for her moisture, and pried her lips apart. He bent his knees and leaned forward, taking his erection in his hand he positioned himself at her entrance.

"You are wet, Katie..." he taunted. "Been thinking about me, have you?"

"Oh, yes..." She breathed.

"Been imagining me fucking you?"

"Oh, God... Please..."

With a low snarl, he snapped his hips forward, his member barging into her, and a thrill shot through his body.

"Agh," he groaned, holding still momentarily. When he was ready, he placed his hands on either side of hers on the wall, gaining leverage and bracing himself. "Are you ready, Katie?"

"Yes, oh, yes!"

His smile was savage as he drew his hips back, his length almost dropping out of her. Then with bestial abandon, he crashed forward, pulled back, crashed forward, a frenzied but fluid motion, as he bucked in and out of her. She slammed forward, but immediately began to groan and push back with each thrust.

More thrills shot through his body, gaining intensity until it was one, long, fiery pulse of sensation, burning through his veins. He groaned out loud, his pelvis snapping back and forth, his legs pushing hers father apart, his body pushing her closer to the wall.

She moaned and whimpered, her fingers scrabbling for purchase against the wall. Needing intimacy, she moved her hands over his, wound her fingers through his against the wall. He continued bucking violently with out missing a beat. Her pleasure was pulsing through her, he was pounding her so very hard.

"Agh! Agh! Agh!" He grunted in her ear, and bent his head to the back of her neck, biting firmly. She cried out, though he did not break the skin, it was painful. He barely noticed.

Lyra...

He bucked forward.

In the bath...

Another thrust.

Right now...

He continued his assault, thoughts of Lyra searing his mind as his pleasure, rising steadily, seared his body.

Fuck, I have not seen her naked yet.

A hint, nothing more, as she raised her shift up to show him her bruises. He caught a glimpse of her golden triangle above her thighs. She parted her legs on his command, showing him the beautiful sight of her -

"Aggghhhh!" Great spurts of seed shot up his length into Katie as his climax roared through his body. He held himself still, deep inside her as his cock twitched and pulsed.

"Emmnnnn," an inarticulate groan of satiation. Lowering his head to her back, he breathed heavily, trying to calm from the violence of his coupling. Eventually, thought returned, and with it, fury.

Katie noticed nothing, if she had turned to him, she would have quailed at his cold, hard expression. She began to pull forward from him, her body languid now, she sighed with contentment. Her sigh became a gasp of fright as Tavington untwined his hand from hers and punched the wall. She quickly snatched her hand away.

"Fuck!" He snarled, and punched the wall with the heel of his hand again. "Fuck!"
He jerked back from the wall and hauled his breeches up.

"Darling?" Katie ventured as she turned to face him nervously. "Is everything alright?"

His lips tightened, he ignored her, turning his glittering glaze to his buttons and belt buckle. She raised her hand and made to caress his face, but froze when he lifted his head, his expression savage, blood thirsty.

"Was I not... Good?" She asked quietly, her voice quavered. "I can do better, I will do better - next time. I remember everything you taught me, I know how to take care of you."

"You were perfect," he snapped, his voice abrasive as he turned to stride from the room. "Just fucking perfect."

Fuck. I am in love with her. A Colonial. Raised on a backwater farm! With barely two thousand pounds to her name. Fuck!

He slammed the door behind him, and stormed down the hallway in search of Bordon.

"What is she accomplished at?" He raged as he paced. "Nothing. She was raised on a farm, for Christ's sake! Her stepfather forced her to pleasure him! She has two thousand pounds! How can I be in love with her, I barely know her!"

"Well, I only knew Margaret a short while before we wed - we fell in love quickly."

"Is your wife a Colonial?" Tavington spat. "A savage? No. And she came with a considerable dowry, too. She is accomplished - I have never known a woman who can play the pianoforte as your wife can. She is intelligent -"

"As is Miss Mathan - though she was too frightened at first to show it. I like her."

"Do you now." He shook his head and sighed heavily through his nose. "This is madness. We are in the middle of a war, I can not fall in love now. I have Miss Price waiting for me -"

"And her twenty thousand..." Bordon mused.

"Yes, that too." Tavington took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself.

"I do not know why you are so angry over this William. She is a good girl - beautiful, intelligent. You do not need her to have a dowry, you have your inheritance and a decent pay. You could take a Colonial back to your mother -"

The Colonel barked a laugh. "Of course I can," his tone dripped sarcasm.

"She would be a novelty amongst our peers, the talk of the town."

"Enough, Stephen," he barked. "I will deal with this as I had intended - I will continue to bed her, then when we move out of South Carolina for North Carolina, I will discard her."

"When we make a move for North Carolina? I thought you were going to discard her when we reached Charles Town?" Bordon raised an eyebrow and Tavington scowled. "William, do not play with her. You will get her with child, she will be ruined for anyone else. She has her future to consider. If you do love her, do the right thing."

"Which is what?" Tavington spun to Bordon, assuming a confronting stance. "Leave her to that whelp?"

"If you must. Come, they are about to serve afternoon tea and I am hungry for more than your conversation." The Captain strode passed his superior and headed for the dining hall.

After asking amongst the servants, Tavington quickly learned which room was Lyra's. She had gone to lay down after her bath, but that was several hours ago now, and the Colonel wished to speak with her in private before they retired for dinner. Before Tristan bloody Collins took her attention all over again.

With a quick glance to be sure no one saw him, Tavington slipped into Lyra's room.

"Ah, I thought you were sleeping," he said as he closed the door quietly behind him.

"I was, I woke a little while ago," she reclined against the pillows in her borrowed dresses.

"How are you feeling?" He asked as he sat on the bed.

She shrugged. "Much the same as last night and this morning, though I am glad to be off that horse. Mr. Blair told me it would be several days before the pain began to subside."

"You are speaking to me again..."

Another shrug and she turned her face away.

"Oh, Lyra, I am so sorry," He moved further on to the bed and pulled her into his arms.

"William, no!" She pushed at him but he held her firm.

"No, please just listen. I am sorry, darling angel, I am sorry." He kissed her head, her cheeks, her hair and she gasped back a sob. "I am sorry," it became a litany, he whispered it over and over, and he found he meant it.

He held her as she cried.

"I was so afraid," she gasped for breath. "He called me whore. He punched me, - pulled me by my hair. When he started kicking me I thought he would never stop. I've never known such pain - so much worse than anything he has ever done before."

"Shhh, there there," he stroked her hair. "You are not a whore, darling."

"You treated me like one. I am supposed to be your lover, how could you use me so?"

"I am sorry," he closed his eyes and pulled her against his chest. "I did what I thought necessary to draw him out, I did not mean to treat you as a whore."

"You don't care for me," one last attempt, one last feeble protest. Her resolve was failing, however - his arms, so strong and warm. His lips, so soft and loving, his hands moving over her body, she could slip back into the safe cocoon if she let herself, the same as their first night together.

"I do care for you," his quiet murmur. "A little too much, I'm afraid."

She shook her head, a denial then with one last desperate gasp she shifted herself higher, buried her face in the nook of his neck and wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging as tight as she could. For there was no one else - no one in the world who could give her the comfort and protection she desperately needed. There was no Sally, no Mrs. Bryant. No mother or father... Only this man, professing to care for her.

"Am I forgiven then? For using you as bait?" He asked quietly, tightening his hold on her.
She heard the hope in his voice, heard his need. She remembered asking him the exact same thing two nights ago, when she admitted to knowing the Ghosts identity for months.

And just like he could not forgive her then, she could not forgive him now. She gave him the same answer he gave her.

"No, William. I understand, but it does not mean I can forgive you. Not for this."

"Please Lyra," his murmur sounded desperate but she shook her head.

"One day perhaps, but it is too fresh yet. As I said, I understand. I just wish things to go back to the way they were."

He was silent a moment then he nodded. "As do I."