::::::::::::::::::::::

"Soooo…" Margaret ventured as she snuggled in closer to William. "How does it feel to be plain old 'Colonel Tavington' again?"

Tavington grunted.

"It was bound to happen eventually," he replied. "A little sooner than I'd have liked. I had thought to distinguish myself in Cornwallis' eyes, in order to have the rank made more permanent when an opening in his retinue arose."

For a short time, thanks to being brevetted, Tavington had held all of the authority of a General. From the start, Cornwallis had made it clear that the position was a brevet only, that Tavington would hold the higher rank temporarily until Lord Cornwallis and his Generals returned from their sojourn into the Santee. Tavington had used the time wisely, proving himself capable of holding the rank in a more permanent fashion, which would pave the road for him to be promoted should the opportunity arise. Still, Margaret had guessed truly - it was vexing to him, to be 'plain old Colonel Tavington' again.

Cornwallis had returned a few scant days before, and last night, he hosted a ball in Tavington's honour. His Lordship gave a stirring speech, not only to publicly thank the Colonel for his efforts, but to ensure everyone understood that Cornwallis was grateful to Tavington, that the Colonel still had his favour. This action had ensured that none of Tavington's adversaries in Cornwallis' retinue, would snicker behind their hands about Tavington's return to his official rank. It was not a demotion and Cornwallis had worked hard to ensure everyone understood this. The night had been a rousing success, with many toasts and congratulations for Tavington. Margaret had been at his side throughout the entire ceremony and even Tavington's adversaries - those lackeys who were jealous of being passed over in favour of Tavington - had found themselves charmed by the Colonel's new wife.

"I'm certain he will consider you, William. He was certainly well pleased with how you conducted your duties."

"Yes, because nothing particularly taxing occurred during his absence," William complained.

"Thank goodness!" Margaret gasped. "I, for one, am more than pleased that it was peaceful. Lord, William - we've had such a wonderful few weeks together since we married! I'm grateful that nothing taxing occurred."

"I admit I'm grateful for the respite also," he replied, nuzzling his nose into her hair and inhaling deeply.

Three weeks had passed by since the couple married, and not a day went by that Tavington didn't marvel at the strength of his feelings for the woman he held in his arms just then. The two sat cozied up in Margaret's carriage, with Mr. Jenkin's up front, driving it along the country side. They had left Charleston behind a short while ago, crossing one of the many bridges spanning one of the canals. William had promised her a picnic - with just the two of them and they had almost reached their destination. Margaret had not been told where they were heading, it was a surprise, one which Tavington was quite excited about. He could barely contain himself just then, trying for an air of calm while inside, he was writhe with nerves and anticipation.

The cause of his agitation was just ahead now, 'Elmwood Hall Plantation', which as now coming into view. The time for revealing his wedding gift to Margaret was fast approaching and he grew more disquieted by the moment. In short order, Mr. Jenkins was turning the carriage from the road into the long drive. The driveway was bordered to either side with large, over hanging elms, which gave the property its name. Margaret gasped and drew away from William to gaze out the window, up at the elms and further beyond them, at the beautifully manicured gardens.

Though they could not see them from their vantage, the extensive property sported many outlying fields and swampy paddocks, which produced rice and indigo. Tavington had haggled fiercely with the widow who owned the property, Mrs. Windlelow. In the end, they had settled on a price which suited them both, for the widow had no desire to run the property, with her husband's recent demise. She had many debts, and with her husband's death, her debtors were calling their dues.

Tavington had sought out Margaret's lawyer, and had been astonished to learn how wealthy his wife was. How wealthy he was, for what was hers, was his. Mr. George Simms had been investing money wisely for Margaret, for years now. And those investments had been fruitful indeed, increasing her fortune far beyond what her father had bequeathed to her in his Will.

Still, while he'd haggled fiercely for the property, the amount he and the widow decided upon still depleted Margaret's amassed fortune quite considerably. He visited the plantation several times before the purchase, to peruse the books and determine how fruitful its yield. By his reckoning, he was certain the property would pay for itself, replenishing Margaret's fortune after three, perhaps four years.

The house came in to view and Tavington gazed at it with a small smile. This would be where Margaret would bare his children, where they would be raised. He had insisted Mrs. Windlelow vacate the property immediately upon purchasing it, and she was at least two weeks gone. Mrs. Windlelow owned many slaves, but they had not come with the purchase of the property. She almost had apoplexy when William suggested they were his, had even risen her voice to an almost shout, declaring he was beggaring her as it was. No, the property was his, but the slaves were still hers and so she had taken them all with her. Luckily - according to the overseer - there were enough paid hands for now to work the fields, though they would need more when it came time for harvesting. William was not certain what he would do then, for while he would happily buy slaves, he was aware that Margaret would not approve. Nor would the Crown for that matter - one of his purposes for being in the Colonies was to free slaves, after all.

The only people remaining on the property were the Overseer and his force of workers and servants, living in the many cottages to the rear of the main house. Tavington, whose duties prevented him from seeing to the managing of the property for the time being, had decided to keep the Plantation's Overseer in his employ for now.

The manor itself was empty just then, and would remain so until William and Margaret moved there.

William was unsure when that would be. Not until the war ended, would he be able to reside there with Margaret. She could move there immediately, of course - for he had decided he would not take her with him when it was time to continue the campaign into North Carolina. It was just too dangerous.

"I've never been here before," Margaret said. "But I've heard of its beauty. Mrs. Windlelow owns the property. I don't know her very well, I hope she doesn't mind us having a picnic here."

"We shall see," he said mysteriously. The carriage finally pulled to a stop in the circular drive at the front of the hall and Mr. Jenkins dropped down from the front seat and opened the door. Margaret climbed down first and turned to view the house, tilting her head back to see beneath the wide brim of her hat. William asked her, "so, does it live up to your expectations?"

"It certainly does!" Margaret gushed.

In the same tradition of other South Carolina Plantation houses, Elmwood Hall was a large, two story red brick house with porticos across the front, a verandah and upper level balcony spanning the entire front of the house, and many white painted French windows. All told, it was a very pretty house, and reminded William of an English country cottage. A very large, English country cottage.

"I'm pleased," he murmured, offering her his arm. "Shall we?"

"Go into the house?" Margaret frowned as she slid her arm through his. "We can't just wander through, we need to wait for Mrs. Windlelow. Or her butler at least. Where are they?"

The two were walking up the steps now and William stifled a smirk, understanding Margaret's chain of thoughts. She was confused over their lack of welcome - surely Mrs. Windlelow's butler should be seeing them at the door by now? And why was it so quiet - where was the family? The widow had children, Margaret knew. Grown, but some of them still lived with her.

"We can't just go in!" Margaret balked at the front door but still Tavington led her on, opening the door and stepping into the foyer, dragging Margaret along with him. As he had arranged, the servants were nowhere to be seen. He would present them to Margaret only after he told her that the property was hers. For now, he wished to show her around the house himself, with no one present. A pleasant aroma wafting from the dining hall told him that the servants had been hard at work, preparing a lunch for their new master. The kitchen would be occupied, he knew, but the staff would keep away for now.

"Come, don't be so skittish," he admonished, leading her toward the parlor. Which was devoid of any furnishings what so ever. Another thing that Mrs. Windlelow had insisted did not come with the house. There was not so much as a chaise to sit upon. William had provided the Overseer with enough money to outfit the kitchen and dining hall as much as was possible in so short a time, but the parlor would be Margaret's to decorate as she saw fit. The bed chambers also.

"It's empty…" She frowned. "Come to think of it, the foyer is too. Not so much as a stand table. What's going on here, William?"

"It would appear that Mrs. Windlelow is no longer in residence here," he said innocently as he watched her cross the parlor to stand before the large bank of windows.

"No longer in residence? It looks like she has sold up completely!"

William smiled at her back as he approached her. Winding his arms around her waist, his crossed his hands at her stomach and nuzzled her ear with his lips.

"It would appear that way," he murmured against the shell of her ear and she sighed, leaning in to him. "Which brings me to my true purpose in bringing you here."

"Oh?" She tilted her head back to gaze at him over her shoulder. "We're not here for a picnic?"

"No my darling. We are here to enjoy our first meal in our new home."

"You mean…" Margaret gasped, unable to continue for the moment. She placed her hand over her gaping mouth as she turned in the circle of his arms to face him. "You mean… This is ours?"

"It is, my sweet," he smiled at her brightly, allowing his excitement to come to the fore now that he had revealed his big surprise. "It's ours - a wedding present for my beloved. Come, let me show you."

Margaret had no chance to recover from her shock - William grabbed her hand and began pulling her through the house. From room to room, up the broad stairs to view the upper chambers, out onto the balcony to admire the view. They could see further out from there, out to the swampy rice paddocks to the right, and the fields of indigo to the left. Then he was dragging her, laughing, back through the house, downstairs, to the dining room where their lunch awaited them. Mr. Carter, the overseer, had known Tavington wished to dine in the home, and had ensured there was a table to eat from and chairs to sit in.

"We'll have to outfit the home ourselves, of course," William was saying as he pulled out a chair in order for Margaret to sit. "Mrs. Windlelow was quite exacting, haggling down to the last sovereign. And she refused to leave any furnishings - as you can see."

"Oh, that's no matter!" Margaret said excitedly. It had not occurred to her to wonder how wealthy her new husband was, which could have ended in disaster she was realising now. How lucky was she, that he was wealthy enough to afford to purchase such a gift as this? An entire plantation - just for her! Lord, it was a close call, she understood that now. How foolish had she been, marrying William without even enquiring as to his financial circumstances. Still, she reasoned, she would have married him even if he was destitute. She could not help feeling a wave of relief however, to discover that he was not.

"It will give us the opportunity to put our own stamp on the place!" She continued excitedly. Finally a servant entered, opening the door a crack hesitantly, and peering through to see if she was needed. William waved her in, imperiously indicating that they were ready for lunch to be served. The girl nodded, backed into the kitchen and when she appeared again, it was with a long line of servants, bearing trays of food and decanters of cider. When they withdrew, the couple began to dine, chatting quietly all the while. "I will still keep my furnishings at the manor," Margaret was saying. "We'll need our house outfitted fully for when we visit the town. The question is, do we have new furnishings commissioned or buy them at auction?"

"New furnishings commissioned, of course," Tavington scoffed. "Unless the piece is an antique with unique history. We don't have to buy at auction, darling. We can well afford to buy new. And we have time on our hands also - there is no rush for us to leave our Charleston manor."

"Oh, we can have all the new styles!" Margaret clapped her hands together like an excited school girl. "Mr. Cregin - now he is a wonder at carpentry. We shall visit him tomorrow and you can see for yourself, he has several pieces on display in his workshop."

"It's a good think Cornwallis has arrived back and given me furlough, then," he smiled. "I can't give you a honeymoon just now, but this will be the next best thing. It's out future after all, I'll enjoy choosing our furnishings and decor as much as you."

"Ooooh, think of the arguments we'll have when we can't agree on a piece," Margaret laughed, sipping her cider delicately.

"I'll let you win those arguments," William promised, then he stabbed his fork at the air in her direction. "Except when it comes to my office. My office is my domain."

"And very manly it will be too, I'm sure," Margaret smiled dreamily. "I can't imagine you as a planter, however. You'll always be a warrior, in my mind."

"A warrior," he murmured, taking great joy at hearing him described as such. "I'm not certain I see myself as a planter, either. I will spend my days hunting, I suspect, and teaching our sons to hunt and ride. My nights, I will spend making love to you. No - I will keep an overseer to maintain the property and see to its daily running, I suspect."

"Oh, William!" She felt flushed with joy. "What a surprise this is!"

On impulse, she rose and rounded the head of the table to him, and threw herself into his arms, kissing him deeply.

"Thank you for my wedding gift, my love," she said softly. "I can imagine raising our children here. As long as we win the war…"

"Hmm," he draped his arms around her shoulders and shifted back to make room, in order to pull her into his lap. The meal was almost done and their hunger had shifted to an entirely different kind. Margaret clutched his Redcoat as he kissed her, and he held her tight to his chest, his arms cradling her back. "If only there was bed…" He whispered against her lips.

"There's a table," she murmured back, then laughed at his scandalised expression.

"I've made a Devil of you, it seems," he teased, though his eyes were bright and lust filled, and he seriously considered her idea, of taking her right there on the table amidst the cutlery and crockery and glasses of cider. He sighed in regret. "No, the servants could happen upon us at any moment. We'll have to wait until we're back in Charleston."

"Spoilt sport," Margaret pouted.

He reached up to run one gloved finger along her smooth, flushed cheek.

"I have to tell you Margie - I was quite shocked to discover what an affluent young woman I'd married. I had known of your wealth, but the reality came as quite a shock to me."

"Oh?" Margaret kissed him gently, paying only half a mind to the conversation. "Truly..?" She said absently.

"Yes," he said, feeling somewhat distracted now as well, enveloped as he was by her warmth and scent. "I visited Mr. Haversworth, you see and he showed me your accounts. Our accounts."

That snapped Margaret to attention. She jerked up right and stared down at him, feeling somewhat put out.

"You went there without me?" She asked softly, her voice betraying her hurt feelings. "Shouldn't that have been one of the things we should have done together?"

"Now I could hardly take you with me!" He admonished her. "I wanted to keep the purchase of Elmwood Hall a surprise, which would have been impossible if you had known that I was visiting with Mr. Haversworth."

Margaret's face drained of colour as the full import of his words struck her like a blow to the stomach. She had thought he had paid for the property out of his own wealth, but now he seemed to be suggesting that it had come from hers. Her fortune, which she had been cultivating for years now, in an effort to protect her future in such uncertain times. No one knew how the war would be resolved, no one could predict who would win. She had striven for four years to create enough wealth to re-establish elsewhere, if the need arose. But if he had gone and spent that wealth on a Plantation…

"I paid for this?" She whispered, sidling off his lap slowly. The newly consumed food began to churn in her stomach and she feared she'd vomit right then. She gripped the table for support as her knees began to feel decidedly weak.

"I paid for this," William corrected firmly, aggrieved by the change in her reaction. "You pledged me your troth, Margie. When we married, what was yours became mine."

"William…" Margaret placed her fingers to her head, feeling faint. "Oh, William. Perhaps it's not too late?" She asked plaintively. "If the contracts have not been singed and -"

"It is all settled!" William surged to his feet. "I can't believe I'm hearing this! I thought you'd be pleased - you certainly were a few moments ago! I didn't spend frivolously - I chose to use some of my newly acquired fortune to buy you a wedding gift worthy of you!

"You're newly acquired fortune? It's my money, not some windfall! I've worked long and hard to make it, I should have been involved in this decision!" Margaret shot back fiercely.

"I wanted to surprise you, it's your wedding gift!" He ground out through clenched teeth.

"I bought me a wedding gift!" Margaret cried. "How much was it - how much do we have left?"

"Jesus, I can't believe this," he muttered. "This is a thriving plantation Margie! We'll make it all back after only three years!"

"Three years..?" Margaret froze, shocked to her core. "Lord, there's nothing left, is there? Oh, my God."

"There's plenty left!" He bellowed.

"We must sell it," she said, ignoring him and walking away from him as she continued talking to herself. "We'll speak to Mr. Simms and see if he can find a buyer for us -"

"This is our home!" He roared. He had followed her, his face dark with fury, and he grabbed her arm and whirled her to face him. "Our home! We'll not sell it!"

"And what happens if we lose the war, William?" She cried, ripping her arm from his strong grasp. "Who will we sell our crops to? There is not a Patriot in all of South Carolina who will trade with you - the man they call Butcher! Even if they don't seize this property from us and throw us out of the Americas, none of them will trade with us! And they will hold the power, mark my words! You've too many enemies amongst them to be sure of an ongoing income from this property, no matter how fruitful its crops might be! If the Patriots win, Edward Rutledge will be released from Provost and he alone has the power to shut you down! And he is but one of many powerful men who will wish you harm, will wish to see you fail! Lord, William! How could you do this!" All he could do was stare now, for her words were all true - every one of them. He could not refute her arguments. "Christ, William! The reason I have amassed such a fortune was because I was worried that as a Loyalist I would no longer be welcome in South Carolina, should the Patriots have their way! You knew this - I spoke of it to you the day we met! Don't you remember? You joked that you would win this war for me! My fortune was meant to provide a buffer, in case I needed to re-establish else where - in England! It was not meant to be spent here in South Carolina, where the future is so uncertain and I could very well lose the lot!"

The barrel of his chest heaved as he drew large, quick breaths, his stance tense. He glowered at her, his eyes blazing but she was beyond caring for his anger just then. How could he - just waltz on in and spend her money where he would, on what he wanted, without a by nor leave? All her efforts to secure her future could be for nothing now! She had worked hard to cultivate it, and he spoke of it as though it were a windfall - a fortune won at the gambling tables!

"This is the end, don't you see?" She wailed, her voice beseeching and wrath filled all at once - filled with furious passion. "This is the war between Patriots and Loyalists, and it will be the decider of who remains and who goes! This is it - the end to a fight that has been brewing for generations! It's all coming to a head now, and if we lose, William, we will have nothing! This house will be seized - they won't give us a sovereign for it! And as our money has gone into it, we'll have no fortune left to set up else where! And if by some miracle we are able to live here unmolested," she scoffed to show she seriously doubted that, "no one will deal with us! There won't be enough Loyalists left to rely on for trade! The Simms will be gone - even James Wilkins will flee! Only Patriots will stay - and too many of them bear you ill will! None of them will take contracts from us! You might as well have just thrown the money into the Ashley, for all the good it will do us if the Patriots win!"

"Enough!" He roared, pushed beyond all endurance. She was right, utterly, completely, maddeningly right! But his pride and fury would not allow him to admit it - not to her, not even to himself. And so he focused on the one argument he had and he threw it at her ruthlessly. "How dare you!" He bellowed, advancing on her, uncaring that her face blanched with fear and she gripped her silk skirts tightly in clenched fists, her eyes wide and wary as he backed her to the wall. "How dare you question me! I am your husband! I have every right to spend our fortune as I see fit!"

"I have been in control of my finances far too long to be expected to simply give it up to you now!" She cried.

He took a sharp step forward and she cowered back against the wall, holding her breath as she studied his face, unable to pull her eyes from his. Fire filled Tavington, blazing through his veins, setting his blood to burning.

"I expect exactly that," he said finally, his voice soft and all the more terrible for it. "And I expect absolute obedience from you. You vowed to obey me, you will do so now. You will not interfere with or complain over how I wish to spend our fortune," then he shouted so loudly that his voice echoed off the walls and Margaret gasped and covered her ears to keep them from splitting. "You will obey me now, by holding - your - silence!"

Margaret burst into tears, tears of fear, frustration, futility, worry for their future, all of it welled up inside her and the only outlet was a sudden storm of weeping. Despairing over their future, she pushed past him as she sobbed, and ran for the dining hall door. There, she turned back to face him, could barely see the swimming form of him before her through her tears.

"P-please don't s-sell our p-property in England, William," she gasped out in broken snatches. "I-it could b-be all we h-have l-left."

With that, she ran from the house and down the steps, and climbed clumsily into the carriage.

::::::::::::::::::

For the first time since the couple married three weeks ago, Tavington slept in his own bed chamber. And Margaret slept alone in hers.

The carriage ride back at been thwart with silence, broken only be Margaret's stifled weeping. She tried to muffle it, for he had commanded her to be silent. She tried to stop, but had been unable. Tavington had sat across from her, stiff and silent, glaring out the window as the carriage made its way back to Charleston. They were a far cry from the happy, attentive couple that arrived at Elmwood Hall. When they left, the servants buzzed with the excitement of it, telling those who had not witnessed the frightful argument, and they in turn told others still. They began to wonder exactly who these Tavington's were, their new masters, some of them even wondered if they wished to remain in the employ of a man who was capable of such a display of temper. The Windlelows had been far less excitable, far safer employers, than were the Tavington's, it seemed.

Though it was still early afternoon, Margaret took to her bed immediately and though he was on furlough, Tavington rode out to Drayton Hall. He needed to keep busy in order to keep his fury at bay.

Another night passed and another. Maisy was beyond worried by now, and didn't even feel like coupling with Philip when he slipped into her chamber on the third night.

"Oh, it's just terrible!" She said as he began to undress. She reclined against the pillows watching him, her eyes wide and fretful. "Margaret has barely spoken for three days - she told me he commanded her to be silent and so she is obeying him! She's not spoken a single word to him in days. And he her!"

"What the Devil happened between them?" Bordon frowned as he pulled the coverlets back and climbed in beside her. The two sat facing each other, ready to gossip.

"Hasn't Tavington told you?" Maisy asked, incredulous.

"No, he isn't talking - not even to Evans. Cornwallis commanded William to leave his duties for he is supposed to be on furlough, but William refused. He is like a bear with a sore tooth, growling at everyone. But he won't say what happened! It's beyond frustrating."

"Well, Margaret has told me some of it. She has been investing monies, you see, abroad mostly. And it's been quite lucrative. She wanted to save that money for a rainy day - in case the Colonies fall to Patriot rule. If that were to happen, she could pick up and set up elsewhere. Only Tavington went and spent that money on a Plantation, without informing her. Without asking, without saying a word. Now she fears that if the Patriots win, none of them will take contracts with the Tavington's, which means they won't make any money. And worse yet - as Tavington is so hated by them, the Patriots might just seize the property and toss the Tavington's out of the Colonies - which means that money, that he used to pay for the Plantation - will be lost forever. That's what Margie told me."

"I see," Bordon frowned. "Well, it certainly wasn't the wisest time for such a large purchase. But you realise that Mrs. Tavington had no right, to make such a fuss? William is the man of the house."

"Good Lord, Philip!" Maisy folded her arms over her chest and glowered at her lover. "Mrs. Tavington has been managing her finances quite well, well before she became Mrs. Tavington. She can hardly be expected to curtsy, step aside, and say "oh, here you go darling William. Here's all my money. Please spend it however you wish. Oh, and don't bother asking me first - I'm just a woman. I'm just your wife. They only have that fortune thanks to her hard work and diligence - and he goes and spends it?"

" 'Goes and spends it'?" Philip repeated, incredulous. "It's his money! It doesn't matter how it was amassed - or by who - or how much work Mrs. Tavington put into it. She said her vows, it became his when they married - just as she'd known it would! Hell, she became his when they married! She gave her rights up to him willingly! She knows the law!"

"She became his?" Maisy squeaked, repeating his words. "She's not a slave!"

"Oh, please, Maisy don't be so naive!" Philip growled. "She might wear silks but she is his property all the same! She belongs to him - Hell, the clothes on her back belong to him! You know it as well as I! She has no right to question him - none!"

"I don't think I want you in my bed tonight, Major," Maisy said primly, showing him her back.

"Don't be absurd, I'm not going anywhere," Bordon laughed, turning her to face him. "They are the ones having a domestic. You and I, we are having a discussion."

"Well I don't like our discussion much at all," she complained. "I think Margie's quite correct - in all of her arguments. Even you said it wasn't a wise time to purchase! They could end up with nothing!"

"I was not refuting that, my darling. I was merely pointing out that Mrs. Tavington doesn't have the right to make such arguments. William is her husband and -"

"The Lord and Master, I know," Maisy rolled her eyes to show how little she thought of that. "Well, if you ask me, the law needs to change. Women should have more say in it - especially when it's their fortune to start with!"

"Yes, yes, the law needs to change," he agreed, saying the words absently to placate her, as he leaned in to kiss her neck.

"Are you listening to me?" She asked fiercely, trying to dislodge him. She placed her hands on his broad shoulders and shoved with all her might but he didn't move an inch.

"Oh, you want to play, do you?" He chuckled, amused by her ferocity. "Let us play then!"

He pushed her back into the pillows and pulled her shift up all in one motion.

"Don't you dare!" She gasped, that he would try to couple with her when she was so angry only added fuel to her fury. "Get off me!"

She shoved again even as he began to nudge her legs apart with his knee. To no avail however - he laid his large, strong body on top of her slight frame, pinning her to the bed, despite her arms and fists flailing at his broad shoulders. With a small smile, he watched her fury filled face as he positioned himself and began to rock against her, his hips undulating as his shaft slid along her hard bud. As he was staring at her so intently, he saw the flash of desire flare over her face, saw her quickly try to stifle it, trying to maintain her expression of fury. He laughed at her and she growled up at him. But then she batted his ears with her fists.

"Get off me!" She hissed again.

To stop her from hitting him further, he took hold of her wrists and pinned them to either side of her head, pressing them gently but securely into the pillows. She scowled up at him but he knew damned well that if she was completely serious about not wishing to couple just then, she'd be screaming at him for the entire house to hear her. And so he shifted his hips from side to side, shoving her legs aside until she was spread eagled beneath him, caged by his body and his for the taking. The tip of his cock began to slide into her creamy velvet and he held her eyes with a smirk on his lips as he continued inside her.

"You bastard!" She hissed. Then bit her lip against a groan. "Bastard," she repeated breathlessly, with less fervour.

"Hmm, Maisy," he whispered as his phallus was engulfed in her slick heat. He buried himself to the hilt and held there, her walls tight around his shaft, pulsing with a beat that almost sent him wild. He could have stayed there forever, atop of her, joined deeply inside of her. Bending his head to her neck, he began to suckle her skin gently, kissing his way up to her ear. "So tight and warm. Shall we say I won this argument, so I can start fucking you, my dear? I can't wait much longer."

"You're a brute, taking me like this! Using your strength against me!" She hissed. Though she was still trying to hold on to her fury, he could also feel her trying hard to keep utterly frozen. It amused him, because he could feel her tension, her need to buck and writhe around his length. She was a stubborn lass, however and would not to yield to him.

"Very well, you've won the argument," he whispered against the shell of her ear. "You were right. I was wrong. As is always the case when we argue. Now my darling, can I fuck you?"

"Oh, Lord, Philip…" Maisy bit her lip against a wail, she could hold on no more and began to buck. "Release my hands!"

He did and her arms flew down, her fingers gripping his bare backside as she pushed him to her with all her strength.

"Can I fuck you?" He asked again, holding himself frozen above her stubbornly.

"Yes, fuck me, fuck me! You Goddamned bastard!" She reached up and gripped his hair then, pulling his head down to her, lifting hers up to him and kissing him deeply, groaning against his lips. "I'll make you pay for this!" She whispered. For using his strength against her, he knew.

"Let me make it up to you," he murmured. Lifting his hips high, his cock slipped along her insides, almost popping from her entrance. He thrust forward with a wild gasp, mashing his pelvis to hers as his cock slammed into the roof of her. Maisy arched like a bow and groaned fiercely against his lips, nipping and suckling him there, as the lower half of her body moved frantically to meet his thrusts. His heart pounded as he drove back and forth, setting a quick pace from the start, knowing it would result in a quick climax. He enjoyed dragging out their pleasure usually but just then, he needed to strive for it quickly and so did she, judging by the way she gripped his hair, gasped against his mouth, wrapped her legs around his back and thrust her pelvis against him.

In a flurry of continual and frantic movement, their bodies writhed together, tangled and sweaty until their pleasure exploded, leaving them gasping for air, trying to catch their breath.

Bordon jerked out of her at the last moment as he always did, then collapsed on top of her small body, heaving for air, with his face buried in the nook of her shoulder. Her heart beat madly against her ribs as she likewise gasped for air, sweet air.

She began to stroke his hair lazily.

"You can not win all of our arguments that way, Philip," she whispered eventually. "It's the same every time - I get angry with you, you hold me down and rut me, as though that will be enough to satisfy me. As though I won't remember I was angry with you, afterwards."

"You remember you're angry, then?" Though he did not raise his head, she could hear the smirk in his voice. "Damn it to all hell. I'm just going to have to try again."

"It's too soon," she scoffed. "You can't be ready yet."

"Ah, but there's other ways of soothing your temper, my sweet," he did lift his head then, in time to see her licking her lips, her eyes clouding with realisation and lust.

"Perhaps I do need a little more soothing," she whispered and he laughed at her. Easing his trunk down her body, he settled between her legs. His seed was spread out across her right thigh, he would not taste himself when he began. He inhaled deeply of her womanly musk, then prised her folds apart to begin. With expert skill, he kissed her clit and suckled her, causing her to writhe beneath him. Maisy bucked up against him, gasping and clutching his hair until a second climax exploded through her.

"Forgiven, now?" He asked her, laughing as he climbed back up her body.

"Hmm, I might need more convincing," she giggled, greedy for more. Bordon snatched up a pillow and batted her with it.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

For the fourth night, Margaret lay in her bed, forlorn and lonely, lost and miserable. As commanded by her husband, she had not spoken to him in days. He had not been home much during that time for her to speak to him in any case. Four days since their terrible argument and it seemed likely it would continue forever. After much dwelling, after speaking of their argument to Claire and to Lucy Simms respectively, she now had a better understanding of William's point of view. He had not meant to spend 'her' wealth, he had not done it frivolously. He had attempted to give her an extravagant gift, one she had disdained utterly.

Even now, she did not agree with what he had done, for it was the worst of times to make such a purchase. Not when he had used all of their wealth. She had been excited at first, believing he had used his own money and that they still had their buffer intact, in case anything untoward should happen. Only he had used that buffer and if anything untoward did happen, they would have nothing.

Nothing.

Still, he was her husband and he had been quite correct - she did not have the right to question him. Claire argued that Adam would never use his 'husbandly rights' to win an argument, he would never make such a large purchase without consulting her and then command her to silence when she refuted his decision! But Lucy had advised Margaret differently. She had painted a much altered picture, of how Margaret had tried to take away William's masculinity, by questioning his ability to provide for her. She argued that, as an Officer in His Majesties Dragoons, William would be given rewards for service and as such - no matter who won the war for the Colonies - Margaret's future was secure. Because she was his wife. She was William's to protect. She was his family. It was not up to her to provide for them. It was up to William. Lucy suggested that perhaps - just perhaps - Margaret had left her husband believing that she felt him incapable of providing for her - which was a huge blow to any man's pride. Yes, he had spent her buffer. But it was his fortune now, and he would have more from his service in the Colonies - perhaps three times what Margaret had accumulated.

Her bed chamber door cracked open and she sat up and threw her covers back, hoping she would see Tavington enter. Her heart gave a great lurch when she saw it was indeed her husband and she immediately shifted to her knees, her shift pooling about her legs, her hair flowing down her chest.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, at the exact same time as he did.

Both of them paused, William halfway to the bed, her on the bed, staring up at him.

"You're sorry?" She whispered.

"Yes," he said, approaching the rest of the way, sitting on the side of the bed. "You are too?"

She nodded frantically, tears welling, making the vision of him swim.

"I ruined your big surprise," she lamented. "You went to so much trouble and all I could do was find fault!"

"You're reasoning was sound," he was ready to admit it to her now. "Now was not a good time to make such a purchase. You were right, if things go poorly for us, we could lose it all."

She edged toward him on her knees and fell against his chest. "I'm so sorry, I love you so much."

"I love you too," he murmured into her hair, his arms winding around her body. "I know you've been independent all this time. I should have been more thoughtful - you'll find it difficult to relinquish control of our finances to me."

"But you'll get rewards, just like you said. I know you can provide for us, for our children to come. My money isn't the only we'll know in our lives."

"No, it won't be. And yes, I can and will provide for you, to the same standard you are accustomed to now - or even better, this I vow. Nevertheless, I promise that I won't make such life changing decisions without speaking to you of them first. I wish to meet you half way, Margie. You are not some stupid, mindless fool who I need to look after - you have a brain in that head of yours and I respect your opinion."

"Thank you," she murmured, clutching him tight. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, to find him smiling at her.

"Now, Margie," he warned her. "I'm not saying that I'll allow you to convince me one way or the other. All I'm promising is that I will give you the opportunity to try."

Margaret laughed softly and pressed herself closer, relieved that their fight, and their separation, was over.

"That's good enough for me," she said softly, shifting herself until her legs were across his lap. "But you should know now that I can be very convincing."

"And I'll grant you that opportunity to convince me," he said, his voice filled with warmth as he stroked the hair back from her face.

"I hated being apart from you," she whispered, her face crumpling at the remembered grief.

"And I you. I think we should make up now, yes? They say that's the most enjoyable part of fighting," he leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. Margaret sighed, so many emotions roiling through her she couldn't name them all. Guilt, relief, contentment. Love. To have him kissing her again - she'd missed it so much.

"So they say," she replied. "But I'd rather we did the making up part all the time, with none of the horrible fighting."

"I'll see what I can do about that," he murmured as he lowered her to the bed and lay alongside her. "Lord, I've missed you. Cornwallis all but threw me out of Drayton Hall yesterday. He could not tolerate my surly mood any longer and he demanded that I return home and fix my marriage. He told me I was on furlough until this was achieved, whether I wish it or not."

"Cornwallis is aware we quarrelled?" Margaret frowned. "How did he know?"

"I told him," William shrugged, kissing her cheek gently and then laying back on the pillows with a heart felt sigh. "He became annoyed with me you see, and he took me aside to demand what the Devil was so wrong. And so I told him."

"You told him," Margaret repeated, surprised that he would be so free with his private life with the Lord General.

"You forget, he and my mother are close friends. And he is Stephen's father too. I've known him my whole life - he is… An Uncle, of sorts."

"I 'forget'?" Margaret gasped. "I never knew! You never told me any of this. He is Lieutenant Evans father?" This came out as a squeak and Tavington clicked his tongue in exasperation.

"I thought I'd told you. No matter - you're my wife, I won't keep secrets from you. But the part about Evans - that goes no further than you and I, for it's Stephen's secret to tell, not mine."

"Alright," she agreed, shuffling onto her side to face him. She stroked his cheek as he began, the tale unfolding in his usual, soft drawl.

"My family and Cornwallis' have always been close - we even have a common grandsire, many generations removed. His Lordship and my mother have always shared a close bond, one of mutual respect and, well, I don't know what else. It was my mother who Cornwallis turned to, when he got one of the maids in his household with child, when the girl died giving birth. I had just been born a few months before and my mother took Stephen in to raise as her own, swearing to keep Cornwallis' secret. He could not acknowledge Stephen you see - not without breaking his wife's heart. He loved Lady Jemima dearly, you see. And he provided my mother with all that she needed to raise Stephen, and when he was old enough, he learned who his father was. Cornwallis has never acknowledged Stephen publicly, but he did want his son to know the truth, and so he instructed my mother to tell him on his tenth birthday. He had already met Cornwallis several times before then, of course, because his Lordship frequented our house often on the pretence of visiting my father. He was actually visiting my mother, and checking in on his son, watching him grow from afar. Their relationship altered somewhat after Stephen was told the truth - they have shared a familiarity for years now, though Stephen has never pushed it to discover if his relationship with his father has boundaries."

"Sweet Lord," Margaret murmured. "I never knew!"

"Not many do," William admitted. "My parents of course, though my father has passed away. My Aunt, cousin, my sister. Only one or two more. And now you."

"Thank you for sharing it with me, I won't tell a soul," she vowed. "But what a surprise - Lieutenant is the son of an Earl!"

"An unacknowledged bastard of an Earl, so it makes no difference. That's what Stephen always says," William said.

"Is he bitter about it? Even natural born children have rights, and the Gentlemen who sire them, are supposed to care for them. And here he is, the son of one as high as Cornwallis, with none of the benefits…"

"Of the Peerage," Tavington agreed. "But no, he is not bitter. Come Margaret - this is Stephen we're speaking of. Can you imagine him ever being bitter?"

"Mr. Thompson won't let him marry Mary. I think he's bitter now."

"No, he's heart broken, not bitter. As for he and Cornwallis - he had never wanted for anything from his father, as I said. Cornwallis has been generous in the extreme and will provide a vast fortune for Stephen when he marries. He told me this himself, after the battle at Camden when we spoke of Stephen's intention to marry Miss Thompson. He had intended to gift Stephen with property, a place for him to settle with his bride. And even though Cornwallis will not acknowledge him openly, he has been a patron all this time, throughout the war, and this good will will continue on when we return to England."

"The patronage of an Earl would be no small thing," Margaret agreed. "Poor Mary… She could have been married to an Earl's son. Even if Stephen plays down the connection, it's there regardless."

"That it is," William said.

"Lord, does no man keep to his wife's bed?" Margaret said, frowning and twisting her lips in distaste. "Cornwallis is an Earl!"

"Jesus, Margie. It was over twenty years ago!"

"No - he still indulges in debaucheries. He has been having an affair with a married woman. Luckily, she is beyond child bearing age. At least I think she is - she's thirty-eight years old…"

"Who?" William gaped at her, his eyes growing wider with her every word.

"This goes no further," she said, trusting him as he trusted her. He nodded impatiently. "He's been having an affair with Lucy. Mrs. Simms, that is."

"Mrs. Simms!" He drew a sharp breath of surprise.

"Yes. I'm not certain if the affair will resume with his return to Charleston. George and Lucy were drifting apart you see - he blamed her for Alex's death. And Lucy turned to Cornwallis - they began an affair. But she and George seem closer now, over the last few weeks. I wonder if they've resolved their problems… I hope so, I don't think even she could weather the scandal, should an affair with her and Cornwallis be discovered. I hope it's ended."

"Hmm. I'm quite astonished," he said. "Lost for words…"

"You?" Margaret smirked. "Lost for words? You're just surprised that I have important gossip to share, gossip- as important as yours was."

"Perhaps," he smiled and kissed her brow. "Weren't' we supposed to be making up? How did we get so far off topic?"

"You just told me your closest friend - the man you consider to be your brother, is the natural child of an Earl!" Margaret propped herself up onto one elbow. "That's how! You shouldn't have dropped that one on me, if you wanted to… Do other things…"

"You're right again," he smiled. "Come here."

He held his arms out to her and she melted against him, sliding into his embrace and sighing when his lips began to move over hers, and the two finally began to long and pleasurable process of reconciling. Stephen Evans and bastards of Earls were far from their minds, then.