Chapter 25 - Professions of Love

The storm lost its ferocity by morning, the howling wind, thunder and lightening had died down to a steady rain, which slowed to a drizzle and was gone completely by midday. The sun finally broke over the plantation after lunch.

Lyra had been quiet for most of the morning, though she stayed with William while he alternated sleeping and waking, she felt strained, pushed to her limit. It was not an easy or comfortable morning for either of them, but eventually Lyra began to behave as her usual self, even settling into his arms at one point, reading to him from a book.

It was a romance novel, one that William himself would never have picked up much less read from. It was a book his sister would love and had, no doubt, probably read a half hundred times. But not one for the hardened Colonel. When he was a boy, he had been fascinated with Robinson Crusoe and other adventure novels, but Lyra opted to read from The Princesse de Cleve's, a story set in 1500's France, about a young princess forced to an arranged marriage, with a man who loved her, but whom she did not love in return.

As the story unfolded Tavington tried hard not to roll his eyes or show his incredulity in any way. As expected the Princess fell in love with another man, and her husband, driven to madness by his unrequited love, eventually ended his own life. Tavington had felt passion and jealousy many a time, mostly over the very woman he held in his arms at that moment as she read to him. But to die of it as this Princesses husband did? Madness. Lyra, however, read with increasing fervor as the young princess found herself caught between her two loves.

Certainly not the novel of his choice. He would have preferred for Lyra to have read him Fanny Hill. Perhaps he would return the favour and read to Lyra, when they reached Charles Town. She would like Fanny Hill, he felt certain. Or Moll Flanders... After everything he had taught her of bedding over the past week, nothing from those two books would shock her. Nevertheless, it felt good to have Lyra in his arms again, willing to put the horrors of the night behind her.

All good things must come to an end, however, and Lyra placed the book aside with a heavy sigh, wiping a tear over a particularly sad scene, and left him alone so she could take a bath. She had not even been gone a minute when the door opened again and Katie slipped inside the room.

Speaking of unrequited love... Tavington rolled his jaw with irritation.

"Katie, what the Devil?" He said coldly, dragging up the bed-sheet to cover his nakedness. "I'll have a hard time explaining this if Lyra returns and finds you here!"

Katie frowned as she approached the bed. "I was worried for you darling. God, after the duel and then you becoming sick. Tristan shot you, William! How is your wound?" She drew back the blankets and climbed into the bed beside him. "How do you feel?" She reached out to touch his forehead.

"Shit, Katie!" Tavington growled, pushing the blankets aside and leaping out of the bed. He grabbed his pillow and held it before him, to hide his nudity. "Get out!"

Katie was on all fours on the bed, staring up at him with astonishment. "William! You can not send me away! We have at least half an hour before the pretty little doll returns, plenty of time for us to..." She climbed off the bed and approached him. "Be together." She placed her hand on his bare chest and sighed.

"This is not going to happen, Katie," Tavington said, calm now. Still holding the pillow in place, he took hold of her arm and shoved it from his chest.

She stared up at him coldly.

"And what of us? I let you... Do what you did..."

"Let me?" He quirked an eyebrow. "You had no choice."

"Hmm. Yes, it was punishment. But you enjoyed it..." She placed her hand on the pillow, pushed it away, her fingers immediately tracing his cock. "I'll let you do it again. We have enough time."

Tavington's cock gave a twitch. It had felt... exceptional, being in her tight embrace. There were not many women of his acquaintance that would welcome such coupling, and unfortunately, Lyra had made it clear that she would not try again. Tavington sighed heavily and closed his eyes as Katie's fist encircled his erection. He imagined turning her around, guiding her to bend over the bed. Imagined slipping inside her, thrusting.

Imagined Lyra's heartbreak, should she discover it. Especially if she were to walk in while they were in the middle of it!

"Now, William," Katie breathed against his ear. "We can do it now, my darling."

He drew a ragged breath, and seized her quickly pumping hand in a tight grip, stilling her movements. Several long moments later, he opened his eyes, prying her fingers from his cock. Pinning her with his gaze, he spoke slowly, deliberately leaving no room for confusion.

"I am in love with Lyra." He ignored her chagrined expression. "I have promised to be faithful and I mean to keep that promise."

"William!" Her tone was anguished, her eyes filled with tears of pain, of heartache.

Better her than Lyra.

"You will leave now, Katie, for I will not have her discover you here, will not have her experience even a moment of pain. I will not take you to my bed again." He released her wrist and, feeling faint and dizzy for he was not entirely recovered, he walked back to the bed and pulled the covers over himself.

Katie used the time to compose herself, wiping her tears and straightening her skirts. Then she glanced at the handsome Colonel, reclining once more on the pillow he had used to cover his nakedness.

"You really will not take me again?" She asked in a small voice.

"No Katie, while Lyra is my lover, I will not. And I do not plan on giving her up anytime soon."

Katie gathered her dignity, and swept from the room.

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Tavington finally felt more energy before dinner, even rising and dressing, and joining the Collins family in the dining hall for the evening meal. Bordon spent most of the meal speaking of the preparations to leave the following day, he had been working hard, it seemed, to get the last of the wounded on their feet and the men packed and ready to go. They would leave at first light.

Mr. Bradley Collins, of course, was very well pleased by this announcement. Finally, to be rid of the Colonel, the bloody bastard who had broken his nose over his bloody lover. He would be glad to see the backside of Miss Lyra Mathan, also. With her beautiful face and tempting lips. Christ, how good it had felt, to rub against her. He would have returned to her, when her menses had finished, if it was not for Tavington.

His broken nose and the pain of a broken rib where the Colonel had kicked him, were more than enough deterrent. He would keep his promise and never go near the wench again. He would not even look at her!

Tristan would be leaving, with the Green Dragoons. This saddened Bradley, he cared for his younger brother. Though Tristan had been quite wroth with him, over his treatment of Lyra. Well, how the Hell was he to have known that Tristan had planned to ask the girl to marry him? Neither Tristan or Bradley would have her now, not while the Colonel had his claws in her.

Katie was in the depths of despair. She had given herself to William, let him use her as he wished, in the hope that he would make her his mistress! But when she had slipped into the chamber he shared with Lyra, while the wretched girl was having a bath, the Colonel had told her in no uncertain terms that he had promised himself to Lyra, that he would be faithful to her!

She had been sore tempted to go directly to Lyra in her bath, and confess that she had bedded the Colonel twice since they had arrived at the plantation, that Cassie the maid had not been his only lover. But then she remembered how he had pinned her, and entered her from behind. He had been merciful, not hurting her too much, but she knew fully well that if she interfered, if she tried to come between Lyra and William again, she would be made to howl for it.

Yes, she would howl. And so she held her silence, embraced her despair, and hoped like Hell the hours would pass quickly until the Green Dragoons left them in peace.

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William was too tired to meet the family in the parlor after dinner, it suited him far better to take Lyra back to their room, back to their bed.

Reclining against the pillows, Lyra reached over and picked up the book again, ready to read to him some more. She read half a page, read of the Princesses husband declaring his undying love for her, his wife. And William realised, at that moment, that he had not told Lyra how much he loved her since the previous night, after he had woken from his fever dream. He thought he remembered her saying the words back to him, just as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Tavington gently pried the hated book out of her hand and placed it on the bedside table.

"William! I was up to a really good part and -"

He silenced her with a sweet, gentle kiss. A mere brush of his lips on hers.

"Hmm," Lyra closed her eyes, as Tavington's lips drifted softly to her cheek, her jaw, then her neck. With a small smile, Lyra melted against him, forgetting all about the book for now. Her fingers lightly caressed his chest, making their way inside his shirt to touch his bare skin.

William drifted back to her lips, gently teasing her with soft, slow kisses.

"William," Lyra whispered, unable to say more as his fingers pulled away the shoulders of her bodice, his lips still a mere caress on hers.

"Hmm?" He murmured his question, their breaths mingling.

"Are you well enough?" She sighed, her fingers now caressing along his neck and through his hair.

"Always," he smiled, amused. His lips again moved to her neck, a soft trail that made her shiver. His arms held her in a tight embrace, his hands moving along her back as his mouth found hers once more. "I love you, darling," he whispered before deepening the kiss, and she parted her lips with a sigh.

"I love you," she murmured as their tongues met, stroking softly.

They took their time, making love gently, slowly, continually professing their love for one another, their lips never more than an inch apart as he stroked inside of her.

He was very romantic, he thought with a smirk. The Princesses lover, the depraved seducer M. de Nemours from Lyra's book, had nothing on Colonel William Tavington.

His thigh hurt like Hell, but as he lay back against the pillows, Lyra already asleep in his arms, he knew it had been worth it.

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Thunder split the air, shaking the house, jerking Lyra awake.

"I thought the storm was over," she muttered sleepily.

"That is not thunder, not this time," Tavington lurched from the bed, his face implacable, stone. "They are here."

"Oh, God!" Lyra jumped from the bed as Tavington began to dress, steady and calm. In contrast, Lyra wrung her hands, twisting, as fear surged through her. "What do we do? William, what -"

"What I always do," he replied, strapping on his sword belt. He had been naked moments ago! Now he was fully dressed, he even had his boots on! He threw Lyra his banyan. "Fight."

"Oh, you can't, your wound! And you aren't recovered from your fever -" she stopped dead as another volley of canon exploded in the night, her entire body shivered and she began to cry, great fear filled sobs ripping from her. She felt Tavington's hands, cupping her chin and she opened her eyes.

He was calmness personified. "Lyra," he said firmly. "I need you to calm yourself."

He waited as she took several steadying breaths, her eyes fixed on his, she finally began to relax and he nodded curtly with approval. All the while pistol fire rang throughout the house, canons still firing and men were screaming.

Bordon opened the door and stepped into the room. Another calm one.

"Sir. Wilkins reports there are at least three hundred and fifty Continentals, with the remaining fifty rebels, all of them under Colonel Benjamin Martin's command. We have the house secure for now, but are out numbered two to one."

"Ah, the Ghost sought reinforcement from Burwell, it seems. That will explain why he was not at Black Swamp when we searched the are. Have the Collins family and their servants taken to the ball room, with half a score of Dragoons to protect them. Corporal Collins, Michael and Arthur Middleton, and another five of Lyra's guard are to take her out of the house, into the woods. I want her as far from the manor as possible, in case Martin comes looking for her." He turned to Lyra. "You will need to dress, quickly. Something dark. Forget your stays, wear stout shoes."

Bordon turned his back while Lyra dressed. The fight was still raging outside but these men, hardened to battle, were alert but not nervous in the slightest. She could not credit it, it was all she could do not to scream. More canon fire cut through the night, rattling the windows. The men were still discussing tactics and deployment when Lyra bound her hair back in a simple plait. Though her hands shook with fear, she was ready to go.

"I will gather Miss Mathan's guard. You wish Corporal Collins to join them, you say?"

"Yes. He will know the immediate area better than any of them."

"Very good," Bordon disappeared.

"What of you, William, surely you can't mean to fight? Your wound could tear open! Or you could fall flat on your face! Honey, you are not recovered!"

"I know my limitations, darling. I will direct this battle, but will only partake as a last line of defense," his lip curled, clearly he did not like the idea of fighting from the sidelines. He liked to be in the thick of battle, were he always excelled. Another volley of canon, this time it seemed to be directed away from the house.

"Ah, good man - Wilkins has captured their canon. Come, we'll meet your guards in the hallway."

Tavington ushered her out just as Bordon returned, indeed with the familiar faces of the Dragoons who had been set to guard her the night the rebels ambushed them, now including Tristan Collins in their number.

"Corporal," Tavington greeted him - no animosity, no jealousy, this was soldier to soldier. "We need a way out, do you know of any concealed passageways?"

"Yes, Sir," Tristan responded in kind. "From the master bedchamber, leading to the basement."

"And what of an easy escape route from the basement to the woods?"

Tristan thought for several moments, then nodded. "Yes, yes, a short trot across the yard, we will be exposed but there is no help for it. It will take just over a minute, if we sprint the distance."

"Very good. Wilkins," he turned to Richard Wilkins, James Wilkins brother. "You have command. Collins, you are the last line of defense, I am charging you personally with Lyra's safety. Be warned, I bedded Mrs. Selton and Benjamin Martin has sworn to avenge himself on me through Lyra."

Lyra gasped, he spared a quick glance but there was no time for more. He needed Tristan to understand the severity of the situation.

"If he gets hold of her," Tavington continued steadily, "he - will - rape - her. Of this I have no doubt."

"Christ," Tristan muttered. "I understand, Sir."

"Good, now lead the way. I will accompany you until we are in the yard, then Bordon and I will join the battle."

Lyra's head was spinning as they made their way down the corridor to Bradley Collins bedchamber. William had bedded Mrs. Selton. Was it the same as the fever dream then? Did he rape her after all? She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, saw his eyes on her. They walked across the master bedchamber, into the concealed passage. It was dark, the men carried torches down the slim corridors and stairs. Then they were in the basement.

"This way," Tristan led them to the exit closest to the woods. The noise of battle was immense, so very loud. Tristan and Richard Wilkins scouted the way, there were Dragoons fighting Continental in the very yard they needed to cross.

"We need a distraction," Tavington murmured. "Simpson, Collins!" He barked. "The two of you will get Lyra to the safety of the woods, and the rest of us will cover your retreat. Corporal, can you run?"

Tristan nodded. Though his wound hurt like hell, he would do his best. "Yes, Sir."

"Good man," he turned to Lyra. "You are down to two guards, I'm afraid. Listen to their commands, obey them utterly." Then to Tristan, "Collins, Simpson has command."

With that he kissed Lyra, hard and fast, quickly whispering, "it was seduction, not rape. Though her consent was... dubious at best."

She nodded, sensing he would tell her everything when the battle was done and they were reunited.

And then Tristan took her by the hand.

Despite the bullet wound in his leg and the infection he had still not recovered from, Tavington, with Bordon and his side and the remaining Dragoons at their backs, rushed out of the basement, entering the fray. Their explosion into the courtyard provided an excellent distraction, and amid the smoke caused by the firing of many pistols, Tristan and Max Simpson ushered Lyra out. The three of them raced across the yard, though the fighting men.

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A/N - Thanks Lisette :-)

And to everyone who is reviewing, thank you. Sorry I took a little longer to update, was busy this weekend, and then I wanted to incorporate a more sensual, intimate scene between Lyra and Tavington. Thank you to JScorpio, whose awesome story, The Boundary, gave me tingles with its wonderful kissing scene between Bordon and OFC Laura...!