Chapter 114 - Two Wives, One Husband:

End October, 1780

The ride back took far longer than it would have done, if William had been in better shape. Twenty miles, he could have easily done in a single day, unless the weather was atrocious. Instead, it was his pain that was atrocious - it slowed them down so that when night came on, they were forced to seek lodging for the Officers, while the men made camp outside.

Every yard in the saddle was agony and they had to keep the pace slow, so as not to increase William's discomfort. He was no better the following day - if anything, he was in worse shape, for his back was unused to such extremes as riding. Each time they stopped to rest the horses, Brownlow and Dalton were at his side, helping him down to reduce the strain on the wounds on his back. They told the men it was because of being shot in the shoulder, and the other Dragoons accepted this - it was certainly true, the bullet hole gave him as much grief as the weals on the back. But only Bordon had been told the truth.

This was hopefully their last stop before entering the fort at Fresh Water, the horses had been rested and watered, the men had relieved themselves. Brownlow bought Buttermilk over to William to mount. And there he stood, his boots sinking in the mud as he stared at the mare, his fingers clutching her bridle, the empty saddle waiting to be filled.

He was working up the courage. As soon as he began, his back would explode with pain and this time, he feared he might end up at their feet in the mud. He squared his shoulders. Bordon had ridden down the line and was watching William with a concerned expression.

"You can do it, Sir," Brownlow said. "We're almost there. Just one more time, and then we'll be home. I'll have a bath drawn for you, and then you can sleep in a real bed again. Just one more time, Sir."

A real bed again. As glorious as that sounded, William baulked. He hadn't slept in his bed chamber at Fresh Water since Beth left it nearly two weeks ago. He closed his eyes as pain of an entirely different sort washed over him. At length he nodded. He lifted his foot into the stirrup, gripped the pommel and as he began to lift, he was lifted by Brownlow and Dalton, who bore most of his weight so he would not have too. He grimaced against the flare of pain, drew several steadying breaths, then nodded down at the men.

"Let's go," he commanded, and they began to move out.

At the head of the column, Colonel William Tavington of His Majesties Green Dragoons, Commandant of the British Legion, rode toward his triumphant homecoming. Word of his approach had spread and by now, the entire Legion lined either side of the wagon road and William trotted by them, inclining his head to acknowledge their shouts of welcome. Pipers played their pipes, drummers banged their drums, local Loyalist noble women threw ribbons, camp drudges waved and blew kisses to the men. It was a fanfare worthy of his Majesty himself.

William was impatient to be free of it. Unfortunately, they had lined the entire carriageway from the road, all the way to the great house. William grit his teeth behind his fixed smile - Lord, his back was on fire. Oh, damn and blast it to hell O'Hara was there on the steps of the porch, waiting. There would be no quick escape to the bed he longed for.

"Hell's teeth," William groaned, his narrowed eyes fixed on the General. "I should have considered this…"

He blew out a sullen breath. He should have anticipated this; of course O'Hara himself would have come in person to meet William. It would have been an insult, if he had not. Just then, however, William would have welcomed the insult. O'Hara was flanked to either side with no less than eight of his Aides – Gentlemen all.

Cilla was amongst the group, O'Hara was showing his favour of her by having her at his side. Beth, of course, was no where to be seen. It should have been his own wife standing pride of place by O'Hara's side, not Major Bordon's. In that moment, seeing only Beth's cousin rather than Beth herself, William felt the absence of his wife keenly. Though he tried to deny how much he needed her, her absence from his own homecoming was wrenching.

His face set like stone, he trotted ahead of his Officers and stopped before the groom. He nodded to O'Hara to show acknowledgement for now, and then he took a deep breath and gripped the reins, bracing himself for the dismount. He heard someone curse and before he could attempt it, Bordon urged his mount forward to William's right, so that his horse was between William and those watching from the porch. Brownlow and Dalton did likewise, all of them behaving as though it were the most common thing in the world to be doing, even as they covered William so he could wince and curse under his breath all he liked, without his Superiors seeing. They would not be able to hide it should he fall, however.

So, he decided, he had better not bloody fall. While his loyal men were shielding him from prying eyes, he swung his leg over and down, then bent his head briefly to his saddle, his face paling as he drew a ragged breath. It took several moments to recover from the dizziness the came with the explosion of pain down his back. Presently, he steeled himself, and pushed himself away from his mount. The groom was giving him an odd look, but the fellow dared not utter a word. William turned and Richard, seeing William was down and recovered, shifted his mount out of the way. He was soon dismounting and following the Colonel up the steps, with O'Hara trotting down to meet them halfway.

"My word, it's good to see you, Colonel Tavington," O'Hara gripped William's arm with a firm hand, William returned the fond embrace.

"It's good to be home, Sir," William replied, pleased that his voice only reflected a portion of his pain.

"Are you well? I have been informed that you were shot?" O'Hara asked worriedly.

"Yes and I'm healing well, no infection," William said truthfully, though he said nothing of the whipping and the immense pain it still caused him. William gritted his teeth and shook hands with O'Hara's junior Officers, his adjutants which all required his attention and his respect. He took Cilla's fingers in his own and kissed her knuckles, for they were in public, though he was unsure how it would be received by her. She allowed it, she even curtsied. Good, she knew how to behave to become herself and Bordon, in public at least.

Soon later, they were moving into the house, to the parlour, where everyone began to gather. O'Hara announced that a luncheon had been prepared and that they would retire to the dining hall soon. William groaned, it would be some time yet before he could seek the privacy of his chamber where he could die in peace.

"I can't believe this…" Bordon breathed, flabbergasted. His eyes darted from Harmony to Cilla and back again. Both women appeared somewhat nervous, as though uncertain what reaction to expect from him. And well they might; Harmony had been living in the house for almost days, Richard had just been told. They had had days to stew and worry over what he would say, what he would do.

At the moment, he could not speak to save himself, he was completely speechless. If Cilla had grown a second head, he could not have been more shocked.

They were in the small chamber at the very end of the hall, tucked around the corder, which had once housed Sarah Wilkins and Rebecca Middleton; the chamber which now belonged entirely to Harmony. Richard, stunned, collapsed heavily to one of the two chairs. The women remained standing before him, both watched him as carefully as they would a snarling wolf.

His eyes were on Harmony, soaking her in like the vision she was. He was not certain what to do; a very large part of him wanted to gather her up in his arms and never let her go, to rain her all over with kisses, to whisper his undying devotion.

But he could do none of this, for Cilla - his wife - was standing right there…

"I can see this is a shock for you," Harmony said, voice thick. She longed to sit in his lap, longed to touch his hair and kiss him all over.

But she restrained herself, for Cilla - Richard's bloody wife - was standing right there.

And even though Harmony had told Cilla that she would fight for Richard tooth and nail, now that they were all together in the same chamber, she hesitated to stake her claim, even if she did believe she had the stronger.

"Jesus, that is an understatement," he whispered, scratching his head. He looked so confused, like a little boy trying to make sense of things. It was adorable, Harmony dearly wanted to ruffle his hair. "How… and why..?" His voice began to gain intensity, his gaze fixed on Harmony. "Lord, did Farshaw discover where you are?" Harmony could hear the panic in his voice, she could see it on his face. She shook her head, quickly indicating that her husband had caused her no troubles. "What then?" He asked intently. "Harm, you were safe where you were! Why in the world would you leave Pembroke?"

"She did not leave willingly, I took her away from there," Cilla said and he shifted his confused gaze to her. She straightened her spine.

"You?" He squeaked, incredulous. "Why in the world..? Cilla, I need you to start explaining this, right now."

Harmony gazed down at him with a hurt expression on her face and it took him a moment to understand why. Of course - he had asked Cilla to do the explaining, not Harmony. He opened his mouth to take the question back, to ask Harmony to tell him what had happened, but it was too late, Cilla was already launching into the tale. While Cilla spoke, he gazed up at Harmony, trying to convey his longing and predicament, but her lips were tight now and she was staring past him. Bordon sighed.

"…an altercation with Miss Stokes at the mercantile in Pembroke," Cilla was saying. She preceded to tell Richard all that had occurred, from Cilla listening in the back room, to the point where she was compelled to reveal herself and step into Harmony and Linda's quarrel, in order to protect Bordon's name and their reputation. She told him all of it; of feigning a friendship with Harmony, of discrediting Linda, and finally having Corporal Carr remove the doxy not only from the mercantile, but from the village entirely. Richard listened to the full account without asking a single question, barely drawing breath throughout. He tensed upon hearing that Linda had revealed the child to be Richard's and their ongoing affair, but although he was struggling with mingled guilt and fury, for by rights, he had been unfaithful to his wife, before the end, he was flooded with gratitude and approval toward Cilla for her quick thinking and her determination to protect their good name and reputation. She had denounced Linda and had won over Mrs. Reynolds and her daughters.

He rejoiced, for Cilla's triumph over Linda had protected the Bordon name and ultimately saved Harmony as well.

Harmony was unusually quiet; she made no interruptions or corrections during Cilla's recitation. Which indicated to Richard that everything Cilla had told him was completely and utterly true. The one thing that stood out the most, before everything else, was that Cilla was the reason Harmony still had a roof over her head. Not only had Cilla swept in and protected their reputations, she had protected Harmony as well. She had kept Richard's beloved safe from all the dangers Harmony might have found herself confronted with after Mrs. Turnbull put her out of the house. Lord, where would she have gone? What would she have done? Alone and fending for herself… What if Farshaw had learned that Harmony was loose from the Legion and unprotected? While Richard was off rescuing William! Images of Harmony, boarding in some small tavern, all alone, and Farshaw gleefully striding into her chamber, having learned that she was there – and with Richard miles away and unable to help her!… Richard's stomach twisted, how close they had come to disaster! Such was his gratitude that he rose to his feet, arms stretched toward Cilla. He seized her and hauled her against him. She grunted as she was suddenly propelled forward, and grunted again as his arms came about her, squeezing the air from her lungs.

"Thank you," he whispered against her ear, overcome. By her goodness and her generosity. She had protected his mistress, when she had every reason to see Harmony turned out of their lives. And by her willingness to protect their name. Cilla was investing herself in their marriage when she had every reason to despise it. He drew back slightly and kissed her cheek, then stared down into her eyes, face grave. She'd been about to give him a blistering for hauling her about, he could see it on her face, but her expression softened. "Thank you," he said again. The two words were simply spoken, but he knew that Cilla felt the full depth of his gratitude.

"You're welcome," she said. She did not quite return his embrace, though her hands did settle on the undersides of his arms. She held his eyes, head cocked to one side, "though I could have done without the broken ribs…"

"I'm sorry," with equal measures of amusement, and relief that Harmony was well. "I'm sorry," he said, loosening his hold but not releasing her. Not until he kissed her cheek again. Then he released her and he turned to Harmony and reached for her. Only to find her ashen faced, her blue eyes wide and glaring, her arms folded across her chest. It was the kisses, Richard knew, stifling a groan. He'd kissed Cilla - twice. He'd embraced her, he'd spoken to her with warmth. It was enough to make Harmony hot with rage.

"I'm sure I would have been fine," she spat, eyes as if on fire. "There is no need to fall at her feet in a damned faint!"

"Harmony," he sighed, again reaching for her but she took two full steps back from him and stood apart, glaring at him and Cilla both."I'm sorry," he said, shrugging, feeling terribly confused.

"For what?" Cilla asked, an edge to her voice. "For thanking me?"

"He could have thanked you from across the room," Harmony shot back, voice hot. "He didn't even need to lay hands on you to thank you. And it wasn't as it if was as dire as all that anyway, it's not as if you saved my damned life or anything."

"I distinctly remember you worrying otherwise," Cilla said. Her voice was calm but Richard was not fooled by it. She was fuming, but ladies did not lose their temper. She knew how to keep hers reined in. "The way I recall it, you were near to panic with fear that your husband would not only find you, but kill you and the baby."

"Well yes, he is most certainly a threat to me, but Pembroke is held by the British, those soldiers picketed there are of Tavington's Legion! I could have gone to any one of them and I would have been perfectly fine."

"If that was an option, why didn't you do that then?" Cilla asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"Well maybe I should have!"

"We discussed this, Harmony," Cilla said. "With Linda Stokes being escorted from the village, they would have assumed you were lying also. And even if they believed you, it would have meant revealing that you and Richard are lovers again, which would harm all of us, which brings us back to why I was trying to protect us in the first place."

Richard agreed with Cilla but he did not dare show it.

"I don't care about your precious reputation!" Harmony spat. She whirled away from them both and went to stand in front of the window, her entire body rigid. Richard gazed from one woman to the other, unsure what to do. Cilla was breathing in slowly, out slowly, her eyes closed, very much like someone trying to keep calm. Harmony wasn't even bothering to do that.

"I believe the decision to come here was the right course of action," Richard said.

"Oh well, give her another hug and kiss then, Richard," Harmony said, whirling to face him. "Show her how grateful you again." Her voice rose in pitch and volume, "the only reason she helped me was because she'd told the other women we were grand friends and they would have known that to be lie if she hadn't helped me." She threw her glare at Cilla, "let's not pretend it was out of the kindness of your heart!"

"You know damned well part of it was," Cilla said. "I was showing kindness. And there were other reasons too, as I've already told you," she folded her hands over her stomach, to keep them still, or she'd be waving them all over the place in a show of fury just like Harmony was doing.

"Oh, yes," Harmony laughed, throwing her arms wide. "Because you were scared Richard would spank your bottom if you hadn't didn't! That's all you cared about. That Richard wouldn't get angry!"

Richard gaped, eyes wide, he turned back to Cilla.

"You thought I'd get angry with you?" He asked her incredulously.

"It was a concern. While we were in the mercantile and trying to decide what to do, I suddenly recalled, quite clearly, your retaliation the last time Mrs. Farshaw was put in danger," Cilla said, forthright and crisp as ever. The blood drained from Richard's face.

"Cilla," he breathed. "You can't imagine I'd… did you truly think I would hurt you?"

"You did once," she said with a shrug. "How could I possibly know? This way, I'm glad that we'll never have to find out."

He shook his head slowly, speechless.

"If you're referring to Richard's killing of Sumter, you can't possibly think Richard would have killed you!" Harmony snapped. Richard and Cilla were holding one another's gazes, Richard's lips were bloodless. Harmony stalked forward to confront Cilla. "Sumter deserved what Richard did to him. He locked me away, he made me pleasure him, he intended to rape me! What Richard did, killing him like that, that was retribution!"

"Yes, it was. And it's such a grand thing that Richard would kill a man who would consider raping a woman," Cilla said, not shifting her gaze from Richard's, not even blinking.

"Yes, it is," Harmony snapped and Cilla finally pulled her eyes from Richard's, releasing him so that he could draw breath again.

"There was a third reason for my actions that day, Harmony, though I think you're pretending to forget it," she said with dignity. "You are pregnant, you were alone, you were frightened, and you were in danger and I know precisely how that feels. That was the true reason I helped you that day.

"Oh yes, I do recall you saying, I also recall you saying that when Richard returns, perhaps he can find other arrangements for me. You can't wait to be shed of me, can you?"

"Harmony, enough. Please, stop this bickering," Richard pleaded. Gods, what Cilla had said - it had him reeling. Did she truly think he would have attacked her again, if she hadn't helped Harmony? And she had not been complimenting him for killing Sumter, even if Harmony had taken it that way. In her very quiet, measured way, she was calling him a hypocrite again, for killing a man who intended to do the very crime Richard actually did commit.

Cilla was going through enough, the last thing she needed was his mistress attacking her. But Harmony would not stop, not until she was reassured of her position in his life, a thing he had made her doubt when he'd embraced and kissed Cilla. He would speak to Cilla about their discussion later, but for now - he closed the distance between himself and Harmony and although she tried to pull back from him, he cupped her face with both of his strong hands – but only after backing her to the wall and pinning her there, giving her no room for movement. "My love, I am sorry. I am just so grateful to Cilla for what she did – not only for you, but for me also. Everything she did that day amounts to one thing. She protected us all. My name. My reputation. My woman," he said, voice intent, eyes holding hers, searching for signs that she was thawing. She was, he could see. There was a softening around the edges of her eyes and mouth. "I love you," he declared to Harmony - right there, in front of Cilla.

In that moment, he felt he owed both women; he had paid Cilla her due in front of Harmony, it was only fair he did the same for Harmony in front of Cilla. Despite the small advances they had made in their marriage, Cilla would just have to accept that he loved elsewhere.

And despite how much he loved Harmony, she would have to accept that he respected his wife highly; more so with every passing day. And he was just realising now, just how much he owed her, also.

"I do love you," he said to Harmony, voice grave, eyes on hers. He had kissed Cilla on the cheek, and he leaned in now to kiss Harmony on her lips. She was still stiff in his embrace, but she did begin to soften.

Not wishing to provoke yet another argument, he did not prolong the kiss. He drew back from Harmony and resumed his seat, keeping equal distance from both women. Richard was almost fearful of meeting Cilla's gaze, for she was his wife and he had just kissed another woman in front of her.

He needn't have worried at all, it seemed, for Cilla's expression was… Impatient… if anything. He cast her a quizzical look, it was quite disconcerting, her lack of jealousy or concern.

Not so with Harmony who, it seemed, was determined to stake her claim on him. For, after casting Cilla a 'just try and stop me' sort of glance, her chin raised and with her nose in the air, she stalked over to Richard and plonked herself on his knee.

"Wonderful idea, my feet were getting tired," Cilla said as she lowered herself to one of the chairs. She began smoothing her skirts around her legs until she was comfortable, then she placed her hands in her lap, completely unconcerned. Richard shifted restlessly. Harmony glared at him in such a way that he did not dare suggest she sit elsewhere; on the bed, for instance. "After all that stupid pomp and ceremony downstairs… And then more speeches afterward. You British dearly like the sound of your own voices," Cilla sniffed. Richard breathed a sigh of relief that she was still acting as herself, despite the direction their conversation had taken, the undertones that Harmony hadn't heard. "Honestly, just how often did that man need to be toasted? As if he'd done some grand thing… All he did was let himself be ambushed by my uncle," she laughed softly, her face shone with pride over Benjamin Martin's achievement. Richard arched an eyebrow and Cilla turned her laughter into an embarrassed cough.

"Yes," Harmony frowned. She rested her elbow on Richard's shoulder, her forearm draped around his head, her fingers began toying with his hair. "You're the one who did the hard work of finding him… Were any speeches given in your honour at all?"

"My efforts were recognised," Richard said, nodding. "I would have been lauded if I'd managed to find Farshaw," he said, face growing dark.

Cilla stilled, her face became impassive lest she give something away. For she knew exactly where Farshaw was, yet she had no intention of revealing it. Not to protect Calvin Farshaw himself, for she knew now that he was a brutal beast and she owed him no kindness whatsoever, not when he could treat a woman – a pregnant woman – as he had his wife. No, she would not tell Richard for it would risk revealing that her father was alive, and where he and his men were hiding.

Strengthening relations between herself and Richard notwithstanding, she would never betray her father or change her allegiance.

"Would that you had," Harmony said quietly, heaving a deep sigh.

"Enough of him. He matters not, he'll never get hold of you, Harm," Richard's fingers traced her cheek lightly, then he dropped his hand and rested it on the swell of her stomach.

Cilla's eyes widened and her face closed over, she would have been three and a half months along by now.

"That was incredibly well done, Cilla," he said.

Cilla kept her mask in place, her thoughts lingering on her lost baby as he continued to compliment her.

"Incredibly well done. You've protected my honour," he said and as Harmony began to tense, he slipped his arm around her body and his fingers began rubbing the small of her back. She shot him a sharp look, as if she understood fully well that he was manipulating her, but she was much calmer than she had been just a moment ago. All she needed was reassurance, he thought, smiling up at her. When he was certain she would not explode again, he shifted his gaze back to Cilla. "My name is not blackened and Harmony is safe. You were right not to approach the soldiers at Pembroke, for all the reasons you gave."

"Oh, she was right was she?" Harmony asked but without the heat of earlier. "Richard, I would have gone and lived at the Kent's; they took Linda in, they would have taken me in, too."

"And when did you think of that grand plan? Not when we were faced with the dilemma in Pembroke. Oh well, it doesn't matter, off you go then," Cilla waved one hand airily. "I'm certain their house is far nicer than this one."

"Please do not start again," Richard said, voice hardening. Both women saw the warning signs and both of them closed their mouths on further argument. "Harm, it's better that you're here," he said, again firmly, ending the quarrel as far as he was concerned. "Cilla did the right thing. I find no fault in her actions and I appreciate her intervention, from the depths of my soul, I do. I owe her my profound thanks for helping you and for saving my name; and I owe her my respect, for her very quick thinking. And so, my proud little pumpkin, do you."

Harmony tossed her head and twisted her lips. He decided not to press her and instead, changed the subject.

"So Linda…" He shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. "She just… Blurted it all out? That the child is mine and that she's been…" He shot a glance at Cilla, looking both guilty and caught. "Helping us to be in one another's company?"

"She did," Harmony said, looking a little dazed by it all. "I can't believe how quickly she turned on me. You know, I can understand that she was angry and jealous that I would take Beth's side, but honestly. She tried to feed me to the wolves. As it was, Mrs. Turnbull turned me out. If Cilla had not been there," she paused, squeezed her lips tight, then forced herself to say, "if Cilla had not been there, I'd have been eaten alive by those women."

"Everything that woman said was designed to ruin Harmony," Cilla began. "Miss Stokes did indeed tell them that she assisted you and Harmony, by pretending to go for an innocent walk, when she was really escorting Harmony to the tavern, where you were waiting," she folded her arms across her chest and arched one eyebrow. Richard squirmed delicately. "I told you once I was not stupid. If you try to deny it, Richard, I vow, I will kick you where you sit," Cilla announced and Richard gave her a rueful smile. He took it as a good sign, that she would threaten him thus, the strides they had made in their marriage were not completely undone.

However, the tone of Cilla's voice gave Harmony a start. And that Richard did not take her to task over it… Harmony stared down at her lover, but his eyes were on Cilla, who continued, "just as I said earlier, she revealed that you are the father of the child. I could not have that doxy ranting that my husband had been carrying on an affair and that his mistress was carrying his child, even if both are true," she said primly, ignoring Harmony's sharp glance. Well, it was true! "I marched out, called Miss Stokes to account, named her a liar and sent her on her way. Well," she laughed ruefully, "Corporal Carr did the actual sending… My point is, we could not have those good women thinking those sorts of things. I managed to convince them, all of them, except Mrs. Turnbull, the stubborn old goat," Cilla huffed.

"Why didn't Mrs. Turnbull believe it?" Richard asked.

"She had heard the name Mrs. Farshaw before," Harmony admitted. "She even gossiped about 'Mrs. Farshaw' to Beth and I, when she thought I was Mrs. Campbell. What she said wasn't flattering. She knew of our early days, when we were travelling toward Fresh Water. We weren't as discreet as we were supposed to be, you and I," she said to Richard, sighing with regret.

"No, we weren't," he agreed.

"Mrs. Turnbull turned on Harmony as soon as the name Mrs. Farshaw was applied to her," Cilla spoke with a clipped voice. "She told me that she had heard plenty of stories about Mrs. Farshaw, and Miss Jutland too, who were one and the same. She would not have taken a woman such as that into her home – her words not mine, so don't glare at me, Harmony," Cilla chided before continuing. "and nor would her husband allow her to remain, now that they knew. Mrs. Turnbull knew that I was trying to cover for us all, but she knew the truth of our situation."

"Damned old bitch," Richard spat. "Did she say it in front of the other women?"

"No, she was discreet, she waited until she was alone with Harmony and I. She allowed me to save us, but she also let me know she was not having a bar of it. Hence Harmony's removal," Cilla glanced at Harmony, "and so I bought her back here."

"I'm not a stray puppy," Harmony ground out through clenched teeth. Cilla wore a small smile, both women knew fully well that Harmony owed her continued safety and preservation to Cilla and Cilla alone. What was more, Richard knew it also. He gave Harmony a small squeeze, again trying to soothe her temper.

"You must not call Mrs. Turnbull that awful thing – old bitch," Cilla chided Richard. "She could have gone to the other women and told them the truth, but she did not. I know this because if she had, we would not be receiving so many visits from them, nor would we be receiving so many invitations to their homes. We've been keeping company with families here about for days now, haven't we, Harmony?"

"Yes, we're most popular with them," Harmony rolled her eyes, she did not sound nearly as pleased about it as Cilla did. "I bet they find it titillating, to be in the company of your wife and your former fiancé. I'm certain they half expect Cilla and I to start pulling on one another's hair. I for one can not wait until the novelty wears off."

"That is not it at all," Cilla protested. "They are our friends, Harmony. You just can't tell the difference anymore, after having that doxy betray you."

"They come to us because they are expecting a spectacle, like you'd see at the circus," Harmony sniffed. Cilla shook her head, incredulous. "We've discussed the possibility of me staying in the camp," Harmony began, but was interrupted by Richard.

"Absolutely not," he said, voice firm.

Harmony smiled at him, her fingers caressing his nape. So protective! "Well, as it happened, we felt the same, for these supposed new friends of ours would question why I was staying with the camp followers, if I was esteemed so highly by Cilla," she shot Cilla another hard look, frustrated that her every comfort had been entirely dependent on Cilla's good will. Well, Richard was back now; she need not rely on Cilla for anything, not now that she had Richard again. Everything would be as it should. "I suggested a cabin out of the main house - the one you and I used to share. But Cilla said it's taken now…"

"It is," Cilla said. "Besides, I did not want to risk gossip. If Harmony wasn't living in the main house with me, I feared it might lead to this friendship of ours being questioned."

Richard's head was swivelling from Harmony to Cilla and back again as each woman took a turn speaking. This was much more pleasant than before, with all the tension between them.

"O'Hara doesn't know," Harmony said. "We decided it was best not to inform him, even though he has always been kind to me."

"O'Hara would never approve of Harmony being here, it would be a major breach in decorum. He might have asked her to leave," Cilla said with no rancour at all, "and without you or Colonel Tavington here, we would have had no choice but to comply with his wishes."

"And so the two of you have been living together in this house?" Richard asked, incredulous. "And so happily too, it seems." This was said in a voice thick with sarcasm.

"We've made do well enough," Cilla shrugged. "We do manage to have some conversations that don't end with Harmony getting into a huff," she said, taunting. Harmony lifted her chin, refusing to rise to the bait.

"I often visit the camp," Harmony admitted. "I spend time with Mrs. Andrews and Miss Cordell, though I'm always careful to return here when I know one of Cilla's uppities is going to visit us."

"Uppities!" Cilla snapped, offended. "How can you say that? You're such a back biter. They have been so kind to you, they've offered you their friendship, they treat you as though you were their…" she suddenly cut short, a slow flush spreading across her cheeks.

"Their equal!" Harmony snapped back, finishing what Cilla had been about to say. "That's what you were going to say, isn't it? Yet another reminder that I am not their equal, and not yours either. Well, I tell you, miss high and mighty, none of those women would have given me the time of day if not for this ruse of yours."

"That's right," Cilla shot back. "None of them would have looked twice at you, let alone offered you their friendship, if not for me. You should be showing gratitude!"

"As if I want it! Gratitude…" Harmony scowled. "Let us be clear, I am only going along with this farce for Richard; his reputation will be as dust if those wenches learn we've been lying all along! And as for those women - they are only showing me this friendly facade because they don't know me. If they did, they would never speak to me. Don't you look at me like that, as though it's a good thing that they are speaking to me, as though their attention makes me somehow better. I think that it's horrid and false, that they're only nice to me because they think I'm one of them, and the moment they learn the truth, they will drop me like I'm nothing, even after all this time getting to know one another. Look at Mrs. Turnbull and how fast she was to throw me aside. It shows that they don't truly like me at all, they're only being my friend because they are bored and because they think I'm on the same rung as them. That's it. Doesn't that sit badly with you? The knowledge that they aren't truly your friends? They wish to keep company with Richard's wife - Major Bordon's wife; not with you, not with Cilla Putman as you were."

"There was nothing wrong with Cilla Putman as I was," Cilla replied, defending her family name and status, though Harmony's words had struck a chord within her. "My family was of a high enough standing in Society to demand the respect of these women, even without my marriage to Richard." She added absently, her mind lingering on rising doubts. Did those women like her, for her? Were they only visiting her because she was a woman of consequence and, as her marriage to Richard made her, a woman of importance?

"Enough, both of you," Richard held up one hand for silence, the fingers of his other hand rubbing at his temple. Oh Christ, is this what he was in for then? Moments of peace lulling him into a false sense of security and then these sudden explosions as the two women flared up over some perceived insult? Lord, he'd rather be ambushed by Colonel Benjamin Martin, at least he'd know to expect it!

Is this how it would be, having both his wife and his mistress under the same roof? He'd only known Harmony was there for a half hour, and already he was getting a headache. How could the women live together, if they were at one another's throats? Yet how could he send one away, without making every single person within a hundred miles of the fort, rank with suspicion? Hell's teeth, he'd been lumped with what he could only think of as steaming horse shit and a pile of it.

"Enough. You will stop this snipping at one another," he commanded, determined to make both women stop bickering. "You're both worse than a bloody backcountry woodsman taking crack shots from the bushes. We will find a way to bloody live together, by God, or I'll take both of you over my knee!"

As one, both women became astoundingly cold. Harmony withdrew her hand from his nape – which was a great pity for he'd been enjoying her caress, but she folded her arms across her chest, denying him her touch. Her gaze was as flinty as Cilla's, who had her chin raised, her dark eyes narrowed. She also folded her arms across her chest. Both had become as stiff as a buckboard.

"Really now?" Harmony asked, her voice chill. "Over your knee."

"And what would you do, Richard, once either of us are bent over your knee?" Cilla challenged with a prim sniff.

Most definitely a pile of horse shit… Jesus Christ, the women had been at each others throats a moment ago and now they were banding together? To what purpose? To intimidate him? Surely they weren't stupid enough to think they could… No, to unsettle him, he decided. Damn and blast it, he was not having any of this foolishness, not for one moment!

"I'll tan your backsides raw, make no mistake," he snapped, not allowing either woman to gain the better of him. They stared, their sharp eyes on him, but neither said a word. Band together against him, will they? His voice dropped to a deep growl. "I vow, I'll not tolerate this for another moment. You will find a way to live together in peace, for I will not suffer the bickering. Lord, we've been sitting here all of half an hour and I'm getting a damned headache! No more of this, do you understand?"

The two women gazed at one another, studying, but not saying a word. Neither was certain how seriously to take Richard, which surprised him. Surely Harmony knew he would never actually raise his hand to her, and surely Cilla remembered his promise never to strike her? But here they were, considering his words, simply staring at one another, neither offering further insult to the other. Cilla unfolded her arms from her chest, she replaced them to her lap and relaxed back into the chair. Harmony did likewise, and her hand returned to the back of Richard's neck. He thought she would resume those idle caresses and he looked forward to them. But unexpectedly, her fingers wound around his queue, and – her eyes locked on Cilla's - she gave his hair a sharp, painful tug. It hurt enough to make him grunt. The way she was holding Cilla's eyes, the shared smirk between them, Richard could not help but to think that this act of defiance was performed for them both. Banding together… Sweet Lord, he was going to have to tread carefully with these two. With Harmony's own warning given, she began caressing his neck again.

Through out it all, Richard did not say a single word.

Nor did Cilla, she did not have to. She merely arched an eyebrow, her lips quirked with amusement. Amusement! Harmony had almost jerked his damned hair from his scalp, and his wife sat there, amused by it. Well, any little thing that helped to bridge the divide between them, he supposed… Still, Richard knew better now than to allow himself to be drawn into a false sense of security.

"If I'm no longer allowed to take crack shots from the bushes like a… bloody… back country woodsman," Cilla began, stumbling on the word bloody for she was unused to swearing, "then I see no further reason for me to take part in this discussion. I shall, therefore, take my leave of you both." She rose and smoothed her skirts with her hands, preparing to leave.

I've worked tirelessly to have the sort of marriage I have now, with a woman who doesn't despise me. She already thought I'd hurt her again, it's partly why she bought Harmony here. Have I just ruined it all? The thought occurred to him so suddenly, Richard felt a moment of panic by it. Had he ruined everything between them, had he compromised her trust again, by threatening to spank her if she spoke out of turn to his mistress? Lord, what a ridiculous thing to threaten her over! As she began to pass him, he reached for her wrist, encircled it gently with his fingers, stopping her momentarily. She paused and glanced down at him in askance.

"I didn't mean it," he said earnestly, his voice reflecting that panic. "That I would tan your hide. I wouldn't strike you, Cilla. My promise holds."

She cocked her head to one side and studied him. "I didn't take it seriously," she said simply.

Richard expelled a breath he had not realised he'd been holding, relief flooded through him, startling him with the force of it. That he could threaten to spank her over bended knee – for the crime of snapping at Harmony - yet they had not suddenly reverted to how things had been at the beginning, when she would cringe in terror, and gaze at him through the eyes of a wounded animal. Things would remain as they were now, they had come a long way and his stupid threat had not ruined everything. His relief was… profound, and it showed on his face. She had come to understand him well enough to read his face and see his turmoil. He released her hand and, as she walked by him, she reached out and squeezed his shoulder. He smiled, grateful for the gesture, and then she was gone, shutting the door quietly behind her.

"I'm not sure I like this," Harmony said, staring at the place on his shoulder where Cilla had squeezed.

"Like what?" He asked. Now that they were alone, he was free to shower her with affection, and he began by leaning into her neck and nuzzling his lips along her skin.

"This intimacy between you," Harmony said, voice very serious. Richard lifted his head and met her grave face. Harmony began toying with one of his gold buttons, not quite meeting his eye.

"Harm," he began in a soothing voice.

"Have you bedded her?" Harmony asked, voice sharp, finally meeting his eyes.

"No!" He cried, aghast. "I vow to you, my love… I mean, we've slept in the same bed so in that sense, yes, but I swear, we've not…"

"Then how do you explain this hold she has over you?" She asked, eyes narrowing.

Richard paused. When his shock began to recede, his mind began whirling for a suitable explanation. For he could not possibly tell her the truth, that he had spent the last few months in wretched perdition for what he had done to Cilla. That was the hold Cilla had over him. But to tell Harmony this… To reveal all that had come before… Harmony would despise him. She'd turn from him and he would lose her forever. It would be the death of him, if he lost her.

"Cilla does not have a hold over me," he lied, voice weak. "We've grown accustomed to one another, is all. I have not bedded her, Harm. I promised you I wouldn't and I swear I have not. I've not had relations with Cilla." He finished strongly.

"Then how do you explain this intimacy?" She asked, on the verge of tears. "You kissed her, you threw your arms around her and just now, taking hold of her hand and her squeezing your shoulder! Explain it to me, Richard!" She half demanded, half cried, voice breaking.

"Oh, my love, it's as I said, we've become familiar with each other, that's all," he said truthfully as he pulled her closer.

"She's had relations with you once, what is to stop it from happening again?" Harmony ground out, voice high with the effort of holding back her tears. She saw Richard's face blanch, it caused him great discomfort discussing what had occurred all those months ago in Charlestown. She knew it, but she needed reassurance and just then, she found she did not care if her words disturbed him. "What is to stop you from doing it again, now you're familiar with her? She acts so prim and pure and sometimes she even has me fooled. But then I remember why the two of you were forced to marry - because a high society bitch lifted her skirts for my man and got herself bloody pregnant by him. And now she's here, in your life, in your bed! "

"My promises to you hold," he said, unable to confess the truth, unwilling to lose Harmony; his love, his life. "I told you I would never be unfaithful to you again. The night we became engaged, I told you I'd never take another woman to my bed. I vow, Harm, mine is a marriage in name only. It's become more than that, I'll own, and so would Cilla I believe, if you asked her. We're trying to make it work. We've reached an accord, we've found a way to make our marriage tolerable," he said thoughtfully. "But intimate? No, my love. What you saw just now, you can not call that intimate. This, my sweet Harmony, is intimacy," he took hold of her jaw with both his hands, pulled her closer and kissed her, deep and sure, his tongue sliding into her mouth without hesitation to massage along hers. Harmony melted against him with a small groan. When he drew back, he was as flushed as she. "This, my love, is intimacy," he scooped her up in his strong arms, and she laughed softly as he carried her to the bed. "This is the difference between you and her," he told her, laying her down gently. He stretched out alongside her, his arm cradling her head and his hand on her waist. Again with no hesitation, for they were lovers of old now and loved one another dearly, he kissed her deeply, expertly, leaving them both panting and flushed. "I pecked her cheek, Harmony," he said, voice thick with emotion. "The same peck I'd give my sister, or my mother. Cilla has my name, Harmony, but you are the wife of my heart."

A soft sob burst from her parted lips. "And you are the husband of mine," she said, feeling wretched. "In my heart, Calvin is dead and there's only you, the only husband I ever wanted."

He kissed the tears from her cheeks, tasting salt, his lips drifting toward hers, calming her with each caress.

"I am your husband, Harmony," he avowed. "I would have been by now, if circumstances had been different. We're married in our heart of hearts, even if we'll never be able to say the words before a holy man. We don't need anyone to affirm what we already know, my love."

She nodded, wishing for more but settling for what she had. It was far more preferable than being without Richard entirely. He drew away from her and he rose from the bed. Feeling a moment of panic, she reached for him, certain he was about to leave her but determined to make him stay. He smiled reassurance, and she knew from that alone that her husband was going no where. She watched his every move as he crossed the chamber to the door.

There, their gazes met and locked. Richard turned the key with an audible 'click' and Harmony's heart beat quickened. Grave faced, their excitement grew though both understood the full import of his actions. He had just locked himself in his mistress's chamber, while his legal wife was just down the hall. Harmony licked her lips, breathing deeply as she waited for him to return to her. He did so a moment later, he was standing at the edge of her bed, reaching down to remove first one tall boot, then the other. All sound from without the chamber began to fade, reality itself swept away on a tidal wave chasing away all other emotions except for one - love, her undying longing for this man. She pushed herself up, threw her legs over the side of the bed, and watched as his fingers moved over the gold buttons of his Green Dragoon jacket. They trembled, his fingers did, and she reached up to cover his with her own, thrilled that he was as affected as she was. He swallowed hard, threw off his jacket and left it in an untidy heap on the floor. Most unlike him, he was always so fastidious and he despised wearing crumpled clothes. Rather than take the time to retrieve it and smooth it out, and even place it on a hanger, Richard ignored it entirely and hastily began unbuttoning his waist coat.

Her lips and cheek still burning where his lips had caressed her, Harmony began to feel haste also. She'd had enough of watching and as if they had a will of their own, her fingers reached up to untuck his ruffled shirt from his breeches. He smiled down at her. Not one to be idle while others worked, he began pulling the pins from her hair, letting loose her cascade of golden locks.

"Who has been dressing you, my love?" He asked, voice deep, thick.

"Mila," she returned. "I have not been neglected, if that is what you're asking," she smiled up at him, it was like the sun shining through a parting of the darkest clouds, it bathed him with its warmth and brilliance. She edged his shirt up along his trunk and revelled in his fine, athletic physique. Richard pulled the shirt over his head, letting it drop from his fingers atop the ever growing pile on the floor. Harmony's fingers drifted along his chest, he leaned in closer with a sigh as her fingertip circled one flat nipple, then the other. Her fingers traced lower, leaving a fiery sensation in their wake as she glided down his abdomen, raising goose pimples along his flesh, feeling his muscles twitch beneath her fingers.

Nothing had changed between them. If anything, their love and need for one another had grown during their time apart. Now they were joined again, and even though it was an imperfect union, with Cilla between them, their reaction to one another was anything but. Nor was it mild. Harmony gazed at a long healed scar, her trembling fingers caressed it, and her eyes misted again.

"This is the body I've missed so well," she gasped, pressing her cheek against his stomach as she began to sob. A spark of grief mingled with relief shot through him, he placed his hands protectively around her head and cradled her there, fingers stroking, pulling through her unburdened gold locks even as they offered comfort with continual caresses.

Harmony drew back, feeling and looking exhausted, she smiled up at him tiredly. His heart gave a lurch, to see her smile with undried tears still coursing her cheeks. He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers and whispered reassurance.

"I'm alright," she replied, a heart felt sigh escaping her lips. Recovering herself, she turned her attention to his belt buckle, peeled the front of his breeches open and pulled the pants down his muscular legs. His manhood was free now and standing upright and hard, she gave it a loving caress from the tip to the root. Richard stepped out of his breeches and was now naked except for his silk stockings, and showed no shame at being so. He knelt before her, she caressed his face tenderly as his fingers moved to the front of her bodice, no longer trembling as they began to work the many small buttons along the front. His touch was sure now, claiming. He leaned in close and she half lidded her eyes, breathing deeply at his nearness and his scent. He gave her a quick kiss but his mind was on other matters, which quickly became known to her when his arms snaked around her body and she felt the insistent tugging on the laces holding her stays tight. Their faces only an inch apart, her smile amused. The heavy boning thumped when it hit the floor.

"My lady?" He asked, taking a hold of her hand and standing before her. She inclined her head, accepting his invitation and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. His arms snaked around her waist again, this time to tackle the cord tying off her skirts. He released it, and the one tying her petticoats, the expanse of cloth slipped down her body to pool at her feet. He took her hand again and held her steady while she stepped out of that pool of cloth, and made no protest when he kicked it carelessly aside to join his own clothes on the floor. Richard pulled her in close for a deep, heart-stopping kiss, then released her despite her now wobbly legs. She steadied them, biting her lip as she watched him bunch up her shift and pull it up over her hips, past her waist.

"Lift," he commanded and her arms came up, her shift was pulled free from her body. She stood before him, as naked a he, except for her thigh high stockings. Neither felt the chill from winter's breath outside, however; their close proximity and arousal left them feeling well warmed. The flames burning cheerily in the inglenook certainly helped; if anything, having the fire burning, when their own bodies were afire, left them feeling uncomfortably hot.

He gazed down at her, eyes lingering on her full breasts, a lump forming in his throat as he gazed at the swell of her stomach caused by the child within.

"Do you feel it yet?" He asked, fingertips brushing her rounded stomach with tenderness, as if he were stroking the baby itself.

"I have," she replied, proud and excited, immensely pleased to be sharing this moment with her beloved, the child's father. Who else would feel the same level of excitement and love for the babe, but the father himself? "It was like fifteen butterflies were fluttering about inside me, but now it's more than that. He's getting stronger as he gets bigger."

"He?" Richard asked, amused.

"I feel like he is a he," she replied, her playful tone held a firmness, as though she were daring him to doubt her. "I can feel kicks now. He's going to be strong like his da."

"His da," Richard laughed fondly at Harmony's lower bred speech, a hold over from her Back Country upbringing. "Do you feel him kicking right now?"

"No, my love," she stroked his face, her fingertips easing his disappointment. "He's asleep just now."

"When he wakes, will I feel him?" He asked, hopeful.

"I don't know, maybe."

"Will we wake him, do you think?" Richard asked, teasing.

"Almost certainly," she replied softly, a small smile tugging her lips, her mouth going dry with anticipation.

"Let's see if we can wake him," he chuckled, hauling her close and giving her a heartfelt kiss.

"Now, you can't go driving me across the room," she said, being deliberately crude.

"Darn," he laughed, feigning disappointment.

"But nor do you need to treat me like I'm made of spun glass," she said, tapping his face with her fingertips.

"Good, because I doubt I'd be able to," he leaned in to nuzzle her neck, lips and teeth biting playfully. She assumed he would lay her back onto the bed, and she began to make a move toward it. Richard seized her, his strong hands cupping her bare buttocks and in one swift move proving his impossible strength, he hauled her upward. Her breath stuck in her throat. He guided her legs around his waist, she crossed her ankles at his back to secure them. "If I can't drive you across the room," he said, voice thick with arousal, his phallus bearing hard against her clit, he continued, "how about I drive you up the wall?"

"You already do," she said; a peel of laughter followed, ringing through the chamber. He blinked up at her, startled by her unexpected quip, making her laugh the harder. She shook in his arms from the force of it, making it difficult for him to hold her. "Oh, I couldn't resist," she giggled unapologetically.

"I drive you up the wall, do I?" He growled, feigning ferocity as he carried her to the closest one. Her smooth back was pressed to the roughly textured wallpaper.

"You always have and you always will," she replied archly, giggles still escaping her. Oh, he had stepped into that one quite nicely, thank you very much! "Oh, my Richard, I do love you."

"And I you," he replied sagely, forgiving her moment of mischief. He kissed her until she was breathless, until all amusement was chased away, leaving only arousal and need for him. All the while, he'd been rocking his manhood against her, letting her feel the hard shaft gliding along her sex. Only now, he angled away from her and bent his knees slightly, taking a more determined aim, his phallus began to enter the warmth of her body. She clung to him, one hand grasping his nape, the fingers of her other hand digging into his shoulder, as her quim opened to him, taking him in full and welcoming him home.

Richard gasped against Harmony's lips. His legs felt the strain, after the long ride home and now, the exertion of holding Harmony in place against the wall. His muscles quivered but did not yield to the ache. Heat surged along his veins, with a grunt he slapped his palm to the wall, tried to dig in for purchase, nails leaving deep scores in the paper. All the while he thrusted and panted, Harmony pushed against him, also grasping, both pressing on toward their final favour, the ultimate pleasure that was stronger when coupling with each other, than it had ever been when either had been with someone else.

Sweat making Harmony's hair damp, she threw her head back and emitted a silent keen, her body shuddering. Richard's cock continued to thrust, urging her orgasm on, prolonging it, making it more forceful. It left her speechless, took away her ability to breathe. She struggled to hold on to his sweat slicked skin. He quivered, gasping, his hand left the wall to seize her jaw, his fingers digging in almost painfully as he kissed her, the vestiges of his orgasm breathing into her airless lungs.

"Oh sweet Lord," she whispered, body stilling, hips no longer thrusting. Still impaled on his shaft, she gazed at him, sweaty fingers stroking his cheek. "Sweet Lord."

"Sweet Harmony," he replied, leaning in to her touch. "My sweet girl."

He carried her to the bed, laid her gently down and only then did he withdraw his semi hard member from her body. Movements slow and languid, she glided further over, pulling back the covers for them both and leaving room for him to lay alongside her. She lay on her back, one arm held up to him, ready to take him into her embrace. He fell to her willingly, the muscles in his body turned to water. One last kiss, then he laid his head on her breasts, and one hand on her stomach.

"Did we wake him?" He asked, remembering their conversation from earlier.

"No," Harmony said after a moment. "It must have been like an earthquake for him in there... He sleeps like the dead, it seems. In that, he takes after his da."

Richard snuggled in closer to her warmth. Her fingers moved through his cinnamon locks, damp with sweat. Her touch lulled him, his entire body felt more relaxed than it had in months. Lifting his head for a moment, he took one of her nipples into his mouth, kissing her, before laying his head down again. They lay there, glorying in the warmth, their spent pleasure, the wonderful sensation of simply being together. The world began to intrude once more, where their pleasure had drowned all out a few moments before. Someone bellowed outside, a cart was being driven by, horses nickered, dogs barked. Someone was singing down the hall; Brownlow, Bordon thought. The fire crackled on the grate, and soon Harmony's soft snores joined the cacophony, a far more welcome sound than the rest. He breathed out slowly and, closing his eyes, joined her in slumber.