Chapter 132 - Beth, Ban and Electa:

"The head of his unwieldy machine..." Beth gasped, the words panted in bursts as she lifted and plummeted on Banastre's mast, barely able to read the book held clumsily in one hand as it bounced and jostled with her movements. Banastre lay beneath her gasping and thrusting, his fingers digging into her thighs with one hand, her breast with the other. "was critically pointed," Beth's voice lifted in pitch as the heat in her body grew unbearable, the pleasure just too much. Straining, she squeaked, "that, feeling him... fore-right against... the tender opening,' oh God, Ban! 'A favorable motion... from me met his... timely thrust -' Oh good God!" She dropped her head back and wailed, the book falling from nerveless fingers as all thought fled and she exploded with joy, her heart pounding to the tune of the orgasmic pulses singing through her body. Banastre grunted and thrust, grunted and thrust, gritting his teeth, fingers holding her, pushing her down on his length, mashing their bodies together.

When their trance was finally over, Beth lifted her exhausted body from Banastre's and collapsed beside him, trying to catch her breath.

"That Fanny," Banastre panted, winding his arm around Beth as she curled up next to him. "She's a little... Vixen, is she not?"

"I'll say," Beth agreed. She laid there, languishing for a time, waiting for her breath to not be so laboured. "She should not be doing that. Mr. H is keeping her - he is paying for everything; her food, her clothes, her lodging. And she beds this boy right under her lovers nose?"

"I'm well pleased to hear you take that view, considering," Banastre laughed.

"Considering what?"

"Well, you're my mistress, just as Fanny is Mr. H's. I'd not like to learn you'd been unfaithful to me with some private in my Legion."

"I never would," she replied. "And nor should Fanny, even if she did see that Mr. H with her maid. It's not as though she loves him, she even says she doesn't. It's a business arrangement only." This was one of those scenes they had already read several times, Beth knew how it played out in the end. "And Mr. H ends up turning her out, because of it. She was really very silly to do as she did."

"Still, it makes for a wonderful read, does it not?"

Beth laughed, agreeing. She set the book on the bed side table, then settled in beside him, her head on his chest. As she closed her eyes for sleep, Banastre's fingers stroked idly through her long hair. It was already late, they'd been in bed for hours. They'd coupled earlier when they retired, afterward they fell asleep, only to wake at the same time just now and start all over again. With Fanny Hill accompanying them. Or perhaps they were accompanying Fanny, Beth wasn't sure anymore. His chest rose and fell beneath her cheek, the beating of her heart drifted with her into sleep.

Where her father waited for her beside some squat little cabin, the woods surrounding them lit up by firebrands. Her brothers were there, and there was William, tied to a slave post. Beth cringed away, wanting it to end but it hadn't even started yet. She knew what would happen however and she did not want to be there when it did. She did not want to see it again. She looked at William, his long brown hair falling away down his back, his face turned to her, pale gaze staring and her heart - her damned, rotten, traitorous heart broke, yearning for him - in sleep, it was free to yearn for him in a way she did not allow during her waking hours, when she was in control. Her father lifted the flog and Beth screamed. She ran forward, grabbed his arm, but he barely even seemed to notice she was there. His arm swung forward, the flog whipped through the air and William threw his head back and cursed to the black skies above. She ran to him, touched his skin, fingers caressing, feeling him quiver beneath. It'd been so long. Too long. She stared at his side, at his naked arm, his chest, lifting her gaze up to William's face. She lifted her fingers to touch him there, to caress his face, lifted onto the tips of her toes to kiss his lips -

She snapped awake, jolted from the dream. Panting, entangled in blankets and sheets, she reached for him but found nothing. The space beside her was empty. No William. Tears burned, blistering air stung her throat. She would not cry. By God, she would not. She sat up, drew her knees to her chest, stared grimly into the darkness. What she could not prevent while asleep, she could quash when awake. She did so now. Ruthlessly, she pushed those barbs from her heart, forcing them back, forced herself to remember. William and Linda. She would not yearn for him. She would not cry.

Banastre was returning to the bed now, the stump of candle held before him. He'd been standing at the door, a long loose shirt dropping around his athletic body.

"I'm away to Winnsboro, my love," he said regretfully.

"Now?" She blurted. It must have been three in the morning!

"Now," he agreed. "Worry not, I shall return to you here in a few days. I'd take you but... It's best you don't go within any distance of Cornwallis or O'Hara or any of the other Generals."

All of those who knew her, believed her to be with her sick sister. Yes, she could see the wisdom in her staying behind. But what a time for him to leave, right on the cusp of such an awful dream? William still filled her thoughts, and in the darkness all she could see was his face. She needed to slough off the vestiges of the dream, and the only way she could rid herself of thoughts of William, was to...

She edged forward on the bed, lifted her legs over the side, wrapping her ankles around Banastre's calves. "Surely you have some little time," she said as she lifted the bottom of his shirt up past his member. It was flaccid now, but did not remain so for long as she took him into her mouth.

"No, I have some little time for this," he whispered, twining his fingers through her hair. He lowered the candle to his hips, keeping it well clear of her hair while giving himself better light to watch her. In moments he was granite - hard to aching as her mouth worked up and down his shaft, her tongue making him feel like he might very well die then and there.

How could he leave her here? How many days before his return? How many days before he could be in her mouth again, in her quim, how many days before he heard her beautiful voice reading Fanny's? He couldn't. He could never.

He set the candle aside, pulled out of her mouth and pushed her back gently onto the bed. "You're coming," he said, climbing on top of her between her legs.

"God, no, not yet," she said mournfully, seizing his shaft and guiding it to her quim. He entered her and she gasped, "but I will be soon. Oh, God!"

"No," he couldn't help it. Even buried inside her, pleasure soaring, excitement reaching a pinnacle, he could not help but to laugh. "I mean you're coming with me. To Winnsboro."

"But you said -"

"I can't be without you," he kissed her hard, tongue entering her mouth as his cock thrust into her body. "I can never be without you. You're coming."

"Yes... yes, I'm coming," she whispered, gripping his buttocks with her fingers, pressing her breasts up into his chest. "I'd not be without you either," she said, as William finally receded, and her mind and body was again utterly filled by her lover, by Banastre.

What is promised in the heat of passion is not always fulfilled when desires cool, as Beth discovered the night that Banastre announced she would accompany him to Winnsboro. Before he was even fully dressed, rationality had set in and Banastre recalled that there was sickness at Winnsboro. He would not take his pregnant mistress, to a place so devastated with yellow fever. Besides, he had needed to move quickly if he was to answer Cornwallis' summons with the swiftness he'd become so famed for. Again, Beth could not be forced to maintain the hard pace he would set. The weather was against them also, it was as though the heaven's had opened and would never, ever close again. Another Great Flood, perhaps. There was no Noah with his ark to provide safe haven for Beth, and so he resolved to go on alone.

He had left her that night with his fast moving Dragoons and the following day, the rest of the Legion ambled out of the camp he'd left behind. Their intent was to follow the route Banastre had taken but they'd all known, as sure as the sun will rise, that he would return to them well before they ever reached Winnsboro. And that was precisely what had happened. Two days, perhaps, for him to gallop to Winnsboro and back, the Legion barely made it a quarter of the way before he'd rejoined them again. Beth knew he was returned, but she had not yet seen him. It was always the way. He returned, there was a grand uproar from the camp, he would make a tour of it - an inspection - before finally coming to wherever she happened to be waiting. She always knew well before he strode through the door, that he was back. He'd never be able to sneak up on her, that was for certain. Whether she was in a tent or a mansion, it was always the same. She sipped her cider and waited patiently. She'd spent the last two days in the carriage and was now residing in another Great House on another Plantation, the home of another gentleman Planter she did not bother to engage with. Banastre's Officers filled the house, taking it over completely, there were guards stationed out in the hall to ensure her privacy and safety. The occasional slave entered with sweetmeats and the like - as arranged by Miss Nancy, who took her job as Beth's maid far too seriously.

Beth's lips tightened, thinking of the woman. She did not trust her, or anyone else in camp who wore skirts. Beth wrapped herself in her cape and stared broodingly into the small fire. Burwell was in the area, rumour said. He was going to make a strike for Fort Ninety-Six, rumour said. The British had just lost Fort Williams, which had left the road open for the Americans to venture on through, unheeded. Now Ninety-Six was under threat. That was not bothering her, not at all. It was that Colonel Harry Burwell, her former fiancé, the man who'd spurned her, was so very close. Another thing that bothered her terribly was, while she was pleased she hadn't gone haring off with Banastre in the middle of the night in the middle of a storm, it did mean her opportunity to visit her father was taken from her. Perhaps that was a good thing as well. What would he have to say to her, anyway? It would not have been a happy reunion. She wondered if she'd ever experience one of those again. A happy reunion. She wrapped her fingers around the hot cider, letting the cup warm her. She didn't remember there ever being a winter that was so damned cold as this one was. Then again, she'd always stayed indoors during the winter. There'd never been any reason for her to venture out. Her father never travelled in winter, they always stayed home.

Home… She sighed. Took a sip of cider. Then pushed thoughts of home away. Her father's little house was as unattainable to her right now, as was the sun. No point dwelling. Futile, even, especially as the Legion was making its slow way to protect Fort Ninety-Six, the complete opposite direction of her house on the Santee. A clamour in the hall announced Banastre's arrival. Beth smiled - he'd never be able to sneak up on her. Still, she rose from the chaise and put on a smile, preparing to feign astonishment. She heard his voice, the tread of his boots, and then the doors flew open and he was striding in toward her, a grin splitting his handsome face. She barely had time to form a greeting when he was suddenly picking her up and twirling her in the air in a full circle. She laughed until he set her to her feet and pulled her close. Then she grimaced as his freezing lips attached themselves to hers.

"Agh, Ban!" She cried. "You're freezing!"

"And you're so very warm," he replied, kissing her again, soaking in pleasure and warmth.

"And you're all wet," it was a complaint but it was playfully said. "And you stink of horse and old wool," she sniffed at his great coat and curled her lips in distaste.

"Ah, my love, how I missed you!" His lips were slightly warmer for having been against hers, she did not mind them so much now. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, her head tilted back as he kissed her. He broke away and stared down at her, as though she were as pretty as a sunrise and he wanted to bask in her radiance.

"I missed you," she said, stroking her finger along his unshaved cheek. "How was Winnsboro?"

"Eh. Even worse than I expected. Entire Companies are sick, even the doctors are ill. I can't see how Cornwallis can possibly leave there any time soon."

"Does he intend to?" She asked, surprised.

"He must, I think, and soon. We will need to trap Burwell's force to prevent him from joining with this Greene's. If those two bands come together, we'll be in strife. Cornwallis will need to move out of his safe little haven at Winnsboro, to help me corner Burwell."

"But my father is there," Beth caught her bottom lip between her teeth, she gazed up at him beneath hooded lids. "Did you visit him?"

"I did, he is well. You should see his chamber, the room is nicer than this, and this is damned fine. He has all he needs - he's pampered, just as I promised you he would be."

"Banastre?" A woman's voice said. Stunned, Beth turned and saw a tall woman, hair as black as midnight, eyes just as dark. Her face was pale and clean, though she wore the clothes of a camp follower. A jade, then. And she'd just called Banastre 'Banastre'. Beth pulled herself to full height, her entire body going rigid, warmth cooling to ice. The way the woman stood, leaning back against one wall, her legs crossed at the ankle... Her black eyes trailing Beth lazily up and down. Beth lifted her chin. The woman was vaguely familiar, Beth had the feeling she had met her before.

"Ban, who is this?" Beth turned to him. "And why does she call you Banastre?" Banastre flushed crimson. Beth drew in a sharp, little breath. One of the jades he'd bedded before Beth was bought to his camp. She turned back to the woman. "I am certain you meant to say Colonel Tarleton, miss. But that is neither here nor there, for he is busy just now. You may leave us."

"Oooh, she is a fire cracker, isn't she?" The woman drawled, her voice like silk and roses, her eyes still trailing over Beth, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She was pretty, but for her nose which was a little on the large side. Did it detract or add to her beauty? Beth could not tell. Her fists curled, she released her fingers, trying to ease the fury and tension in that flexing movement. She would not humiliate herself by ripping the woman's hair out as she dragged her out the damned door. She was a lady of breeding, was Beth, she would humiliate herself no longer. She turned to Banastre again and said one word. His name.

"Banastre," she lifted her head, her eyes chips of ice. There was a load of meaning behind her speaking his name; a quiet command that the woman be removed immediately. She knew he understood, she saw comprehension flare across his face. Why then, was he not removing her? Why had he even bought her here? It was a question she would as as soon as the slattern was gone.

"Ah, Beth," he said, looking vastly embarrassed. He ran a hand over his head like a wayward child. As he removed his great coat, he said, "this is Miss Electa Alden, you might remember her? She bought you milk your first day here."

"And it was not warm enough," Electa said, there was a drawling quality to her voice.

"I do not recall," Beth lied, though she did remember now. "I do not associate with camp women, as you well know," she threw a look at Electa, who was peeling herself from the wall and approaching, as if she were expecting a fine introduction indeed.

"Yes, well, I do know that," Banastre said. "But you're all alone, with only Miss Nancy. I worry about you, love. You need a friend and Miss Alden will serve you well in that."

"I most certainly will," the woman drawled, swaying forward until she stood in front of Beth. "I know all sorts of… games we can play together."

"I don't want to play games with you, Miss Alden. I'd like for you to leave," Beth said, voice as hard as granite. "Colonel Tarleton and I have not seen one another in some days. We've much to discuss and…" Beth trailed off, fearing she sounded like a sulky child. Or a jealous mistress. How dare he do this to her? To bring one of his former whores and present her as a potential friend, all when she hadn't seen him in days! As soon as the vixen was gone, she intended to have a few very hard words for her lover. This was not to be borne. But she would say no more, she would not ask him again to remove her. She would not embarrass herself or make a scene. She stared at him, her glare speaking the volumes she would not say out loud while Miss Electa Alden was there. As soon as she was gone, though… Oooohhh, he'd better brace himself then. She waited, for him to apologise and bow, and send the bitch on her way.

"I know, a game of cards!" He said, instead.

The glare slid from her face, replaced with astonishment. She watched as Electa gave happy agreement and the two took up positions on the floor in front of the fireplace. Banastre pulled a pack of cards from a pocket of his Green Dragoon jacket, a flask of rum from the other. He handed the latter to Electa, who pulled the stop and took a swig as he began to deal. "Faro, do you think?" He asked happily. Beth stared, barely able to take it in. It was utterly outrageous. But she would not stamp her feet or yell or slap. Those days were over. She was a Lady and it'd taken her long enough to finally recall this, she would not suddenly forget it now. "Come, Beth, sit with us."

Part of her wanted to stride past them both in a huff and go straight to bed. But to do so would leave her lover alone with a former lover. Could she trust him with Electa? The way the woman was gazing at him, leaning in far closer than was necessary just to pass him the flask - he was already in arms reach for goodness sake! She just wanted to rub her bosom against his arm! Part of her wanted to leave but she simply could not. Not while the woman was there, not while Banastre might be tempted by her, if left alone with her. What did that say for the strength of their bond? She did not like to ponder that. With a glare for Electa, Beth took up the space on Banastre's other side. She sat far closer to her man than Electa did, Beth's arm brushed his. The jade was drinking again while Banastre watched, admiring. Then the flask was handed to Beth. She was going to refuse - she was a Lady, was she not? But she would not be outdone by a jade. She took the flask and drank deeply also.

They began to pass the night. Slaves bought in food, which they ate from platters right there on the floor. Beth had little appetite, Electa and Banastre had plenty. The flask was soon empty, wine was bought to them and it flowed freely, until Beth could barely concentrate on the cards in her hand. The plates had been removed, somehow Electa was seated on Beth's other side, which suited Beth fine, for she was now between the jade and Banastre. Those two still chatted with animation, while Beth offered nothing to the conversation except single word answers. Her head was swimming, the cards made one black and red blur. She chose one, began to set it down.

"Oh, no, not that one," Electa's fingers touched hers, a gentle, fleeting caress. She was sitting so close, her legs curled under her, her arm pressed up against Beth's. Banastre had gone utterly silent for some reason, watching them as he sipped his wine. "You'll break up your pair, you see?" Electa's warm voice whispered at her ear.

"Oh, yes, I do see," Beth replied, frowning. It was the most she'd said at once since she'd sat down with them. She stared at her cards, trying to decide what to do, which to choose, but it was so hard. To concentrate. The warmth of the fire, the warmth of all that wine, the rain lashing the windows, lightening distracting her, thunder booming over head and Electa sitting so very close, her knee was touching Beth's now as well as her arm. And Banastre staring, staring, like he wanted to lean in and kiss her, that same look he wore when he laid her down and covered her body with his, only it was more intense now than she'd ever remembered seeing it. That look spoke intrinsically to her, arousing her, her body calling to his and when he leaned in to her, she tilted her head and closed her eyes and when his lips touched hers, her senses exploded. The cards fell from nerveless fingers, her fingers drifted up past her beating heart to gently caress his face while his lips moved over hers. Tenderly at first but harder and more compelling by the moment, the kiss soon left her spell bound and breathing raggedly. Perhaps it was desire, arousal, the heat, the wine, she did not know what but she barely noticed it when much smoother fingers than Banastre's began moving up her leg. It didn't occur to her that it would be anyone else but Banastre, though in truth, both his hands were cupping her face, holding her so surely. The hand moved up her leg beneath her skirts and with a whimper, Beth instinctively parted her legs, she was so drunk she barely remembered that they were not alone. The third finger of this glorious hand felt blindly but surely for Beth's quim, it pushed deep inside her and Beth lifted her hips with a long moan against Banastre's lips and began to rock her pelvis in time to the slow, finger length thrusts. Her hands curled into his hair, her hold pulling it loose as she panted into his mouth. The finger was removed and she wanted to beg him to put it back inside her, even as his hands moved up and down her neck. She did not have long to fret, for the first finger joined the second and together, they slid upward away from her opening to touch her clitoris, ever so gently, a featherlike brushing that made Beth's heart flutter.

Ban's hand was cupping her face again, drawing her away from him. She frowned, aroused and drunk and confused, as her head was angled away from his lips to Electa's. It wasn't Ban's hand guiding her, she realised. The woman Beth had forgotten was even there was kissing her, it was soft and smooth and like nothing she'd ever felt. A moment only did they kiss before Beth's senses slammed back to her, like someone lifting her and shoving her hard back against the wall. She was kissing Electa. With a cry she jerked backward, almost sprawling onto her back in her haste to get away, the fingers touching her between her legs fell away. Heart pounding, Beth edged backward on her rump. She wanted to jump to her feet but she felt like she was struggling through thick molasses.

"You, you..!" She gasped, her heart in her throat.

"Beth, love, it's alright," Banastre tried to sooth her. He was at her side, pulling her into his arms while she still tried to edge away from a very confused looking Electa. "My love, calm down, don't fear it! It's just like what you wanted. The same as Fanny does with Phoebe." It was meant to sooth her, his voice, warm and compelling and amused, coaxing her, caressing her. "Remember? You were so fascinated with them. This will be just like that, you'll soon know what Fanny was feeling and -"

"Banastre!" Beth managed, a croaking voice, her panicked eyes darting from Banastre to Electa and back again. "It's just a book! My God, this is… it's madness!"

"You said she'd be open to this, Ban," Electa said, disappointed and irritated. "You should not have bought me here unless she was absolutely willing."

"She is willing! She just needs to remember!" Banastre cried, looking from one furious woman to the other. "My love," he said to Beth, "you do remember, don't you? The first time we read from the book. You'd already been reading it on the walk back from the peddler's wagon. You were so aroused that as soon as you got to the tent, you tied off the door and climbed onto my lap! You were ready for me, you were as wet as a fresh spring -"

"Banastre!" Beth protested. She noticed Electa biting her bottom lip - to keep from laughing?

"And you rode me so hard we almost broke the stool!" He said over her. "Afterward I asked you to read the part that put you to such heights and you read that scene with Fanny and Phoebe!"

Beth remembered. To her horror, the memory crashed around her. It was not the way Banastre said. Yes, she'd locked them in the tent, yes she'd climbed onto his lap and yes, she'd coupled with him fiercely. Yes, she'd let the book fall open and began to read a random scene, to cover that she'd just met with Alby and had just learned how Banastre had protected her, and had felt such determined and possessive love for him that she'd felt a sore need to prove it, then and there. But she hadn't been able to explain that to him then, where her fierce moment had stemmed from. She hadn't been able to tell him that she'd met with her father's spy, that Alby had told her all about her father's attempts to 'rescue' her, and Ban's determination to keep her. But her mood had required an explanation, and so she'd flipped open the book and started to read from the first page it fell open. The scene with Phoebe and Fanny in their game of flats as Banastre called it. She'd been hard pressed to convince him that it was a mistake, she hadn't meant that scene at all. He hadn't believed her then and this was the result. He'd bought a woman to their bed, so she could experience what Fanny and Phoebe had, first hand!

"Dear God!" She cried. "I said it once and I'll say it again, for the last time, Banastre, we don't have to try everything we read in that damned book!"

He stared at her for so long and she glared right back, utterly outraged.

"I'll leave," Electa said, sounding vastly disappointed. She pressed her hands to the floor and pushed upward, rising with grace. She gazed down at Beth, her fingers caressing her lips. "Are you sure?" She asked. "I think we could truly enjoy one another. I wouldn't tell anyone, you can trust I'd be very discreet."

"You will leave Miss Alden, and you will not come back. Not ever!" Beth hissed up at her. She slid back on her bottom until there was enough room to push herself up from the floor. She had to use the table to support her, she had no where near as much grace as Electa. The jade could hold her alcohol far better than Beth, it seemed. "Get. Out."

"Very well," she curtsied, Beth couldn't tell if it was mocking or not. Banastre was on his feet also. His movements were slow, heavy with reluctance as he reached for his great coat.

"I'll escort you out, Miss Alden," he said.

"Yes, do," Beth waved her hand, dismissing them both. She was furious and wanted no part in any of this. She glared at their backs as they crossed the room to the double doors. Banastre would likely see the woman to the porch, then have a man take her down to camp. He'd return soon and they'd have to discuss… this. Beth wanted no part in that, either. In any discussion at all for that matter. She jerked the doors open and marched up the stairs without a backward glance, storming up to her room. It did not take long for Nancy to undress her, Beth had been sleeping naked lately - with Ban's body warming her she hadn't needed her shift. It just got in the way, she kept having to take it off every time they began to couple so she'd long since stopped wearing it.

"Lock my door on your way out, Nancy," she said as she climbed into her bed. "The Colonel will be sleeping in his own chamber tonight." It occurred to her as she stared into the blackness, that her thoughts earlier had served as a prophecy of sorts. She would never have another happy reunion again, even her ones with Banastre were now smeared.

"I am so dreadfully sorry," Banastre said for the hundredth time. He stood at the entrance of Electa's tent, after having escorted her all the way down in the rain on his horse. Rain sheeted down now, rivulets running down his helmet and down his face.

"I never get to see you anymore," Electa complained. She moved about the tent, lighting tallow candles. "And now I'll be left wanting for the rest of the night," she said, coming to stand before him, hallowed from the glow of light behind her. "I'd had such hopes for this evening when you came for me. It was going along so swimmingly, too. I so wanted to be in your bed."

A small boyish grin tugged his lips. He was angry, so angry with Beth. But Electa's complaints amused him. "For me?" He asked her. "Or for her?"

"Both," Electa replied, and her answer set his soul on fire. She swayed toward him, stopping just within the tent flap. "Will you return to her now? Will I get neither, am I to be deprived completely?" He cupped her face with his wet leather gloves and as he edged her deeper into the tent, he began kissing her.

"You'll not be deprived of me," he said, his lips at her neck. She tilted her head back with a sigh, not seeming to care that he was soaked. He coaxed in a heated voice, "tell me what you wished to do to her. Describe it precisely," he commanded as he tore off his great cloak. Her fingers were already moving from one gold button to the next, working nimbly down the front of his Green Dragoon jacket to open it.

"Explore her," she replied, fixing him with her black eyes. "Touch her bosom," she held his eyes and said, "suckle her nipples." Very deliberately, she raised her hand to her mouth and slipped the two fingers that had explored Beth's quim, gliding them across her tongue. "Taste her sex. I guess this is all I'll have of her. Such a pity," Electa pouted.

"Dear God," Banastre gasped, tearing her skirts up her legs. He shucked off his coat, edged her backward to the pile of blankets on the ground and they fell into a heap atop of them. He reached between their bodies, pushed down his breeches and edged her legs apart with his knees. As he angled himself for entry, he said, "keep going. Tell me what you'd have done with her, had she not refused." He entered her with one stroke and began thrusting even as she continued to describe what she would have done in the lascivious encounter.

"I'd have kissed her all over," Electa gasped, her fingers digging into his backside. "Oh dear Lord, how I've missed you! I'd have laid her back on the floor, she'd be completely naked, her quim bared to me. I'd have laid on my stomach, stretched out before her, my hands would have held her thighs open and my mouth…" She met his thrusts, gasping as the imagery bought her perilously close to orgasm.

"What would you have done?" Banastre panted in her ear.

"Tasted her. While you watched. I'd have licked her, my tongue flicking her clit. I know how to do it, Ban. She'd have loved it, had she let me. Oh, she tasted so very fine!" She licked at her fingers again but Beth's taste as all gone now. She seized Banastre's neck, thrusting her hips frantically, their bodies moving with such force their words could only be grunted out, "do you… do it… to her? Do you… tongue her?"

"Every… chance I get," he responded. Electa made a mewling sound and she crashed her lips to his, her tongue entering his mouth so decidedly, flicking over his and he knew she was desperately trying to explore the place that had supped at Beth's quim so often. It drove him wild. The assault continued and then she drew back.

"I'd have mashed my quim against hers," she panted and Banastre groaned, his body hot all over, his groin like a furnace. "And rubbed my clit against hers until we both flying for the stars!"

Banastre came loudly with the vision in his mind, of the two women grinding themselves against each other. Oh, if only Beth had been willing! He kissed Electa, who was frantically pumping at his cock, her fingers clawing his back. She arched and he felt her come.

Both were panting quietly now, well pleased with one another and entirely spent. He pulled out of her body and kissed her nose gently. "Our little secret?" He asked her. She smiled and nodded.

"I don't want to upset your lovely lady even further," she said. "You never know, she might change her mind. Perhaps she'll be more curious after she'd had a chance to think about it."

"One can only pray," Banastre dropped back onto the blankets and stared at the canvas ceiling. It was strange, being both disappointed and restored at the same time.

At length he returned to the house and up to her room, only to discover that her door was locked to him. He tried the doorknob but it rattled against the lock rather than swinging open. He stared, shocked. She'd never locked him out before, she was still very clearly angry with him.

It was an old-fashioned mechanism and after working his key in her lock just so, the door finally swung inward. He closed the door and crossed over to the bed, where he eyed her in the dim light. She lay far too stiffly to be sleeping, though she did not say a word, did not acknowledge his presence, though she did not dress him down for breaking into her room so that was something. He undressed, then climbed into bed with his very cold mistress. He was the one who'd been outside in the freezing cold, while she'd been tucked up in the fire-warmed room beneath a pile of blankets. Yet, somehow, she was colder than he. Her back was to him. He sidled close, pulled the blankets she'd tucked under herself out from beneath her, then pulled her unresponsive body into his arms. She did not turn over to face him, she lay still as stone as he tried to cuddle her from behind. He snuggled into her as best he could, he pulled her hair back to kiss her neck. She was awake, there was no doubting it. "I'm sorry if I made you cross," he whispered against her ear. "I just thought you would like it - you know, because you liked those scenes where Fanny was watching and she is always so affectionate with Emily and Louisa and Harriet. And she did all those things with Phoebe. I thought you'd -"

"I've already said," she ground out and he could tell her teeth were clenched. "We don't have to try everything in that book, Ban." She suddenly turned to face him, hauling herself over bodily. "Fanny watched two men as well, do you remember? She climbed on that stool and peered over that wall and she saw them together. She watched while they kissed and undressed each other, while they fondled one another. She watched while one bent the other over that table. You'd not want to recreate that scene, would you, simply because it was in her book? Or perhaps you do," she cocked her head, a vengeful smirk on her lips. "Should I call in Lieutenant Whitty in?"

"That is not funny, Beth," he snapped, jerking away from her. He whirled over onto his back, furious.

"Oho! The shoe is on the other foot now! What's the difference?" She asked, pushing herself up until she was sitting. "You'd have been content enough if I'd agreed to this and allowed Miss Alden to stay."

"The differences are night and day, I assure you," he spat over his shoulder. Then he rolled onto his back to confront her. "I only want to recreate the scenes that arouse us both. Do not deny it, Beth, I've been inside you when you read from the book and there hasn't been a single scene that hasn't gotten your juices flowing. Except the one where Fanny is whipped and that other one with the two men." She glared back, lips tight. He pushed his point. "I only want to explore the scenes we both enjoy! Things Fanny herself loved doing. Must I remind you that Fanny was outraged over what she saw those two men doing? She was infuriated enough that when she woke from that faint, she tried to alert others to find those ganymedes. Fanny was not aroused by those men. You were not aroused by them and I assure you," his voice had risen until he was shouting at her, "I certainly was not!" He tried to mollify his tone, there were people sleeping in the house and he didn't want anyone to know he and Beth were quarrelling. Softly, he said, "you and I were both very much aroused when Fanny was watching from that closet while Polly and her spark screwed one another on the chaise and Phoebe fingered Fanny in the corner. I was trying to replicate a scene you enjoyed, Beth."

"That wasn't it at all," Beth gasped, ashamed that she had indeed enjoyed those scenes, and the others following, where Fanny was showing a deep closeness with some of the other love-girls in the bawdy house she lived. "It was Fanny watching that fellow Polly was coupling with that I liked, I enjoyed reading Polly with her spark - not Fanny's being fingered by Phoebe, during!" Her face flushed crimson at being forced to admit it. "Oh, forget it. I don't want to talk about this," she turned her back on him. "What made you think I'd enjoy sitting there watching you flirt with that woman, is utterly beyond me."

"My intention was not to make you jealous," he snapped. "I just thought…" She was stiff and closed from him, there was no point continuing this. He dropped back against the pillows, miserable and wishing he'd never bought Electa up from the camp. "Eh. Never mind."

He wasn't sure if she slept at all, she was silent as the grave the entire night, not her usual soft, rhythmic snoring. He certainly didn't sleep. Two hours before dawn, there was a hasty knock on the door. Not once during the night had he and Beth embraced, the blankets had been pushed between their bodies - Beth's doing, when he tried to touch her again, tried to coax her to forget their quarrel. He shoved back the blankets and went to answer this latest summons. Midnight missives were becoming commonplace. He threw open the door and snatched the parchment from the Private's hand. Beth was sitting up now, he moved to the bed, gazed down at her. She was giving him that look again - the 'I am still angry, I do not forgive you and will hate you for the rest of my life' look. He sighed.

"It's Cornwallis," he said. "I'm instructed to make haste, Burwell has been sighted. I am to leave my baggage and move swiftly," he said. She understood what this meant - if the baggage was to be left behind, so too would she be. The Dragoons and the infantry would leave, with only a scant few troops remaining to protect the baggage train. It wasn't the first time he'd been parted from her but it was the first time he'd leave directly after a fight. There was no time to make up, none whatsoever. He had to make ready to leave. Now. And he did not know when he'd see her again.

"Then go," she shrugged, laying down again and pulling the blankets up around her like a shield.

"Will you truly let me leave you like this?" He asked. "Without so much as a farewell kiss? My love?" He called to the unyielding bundle. He climbed up onto the bed, on his knees, he edged over to her. He peeled the blankets back to reveal her face. She looked as angry as before, her dark eyes held as much feeling as obsidian. "Not even a kiss to sustain me?" He pleaded with her. "What if I'm killed out there?" If anything, she looked angrier. But when he leaned down to brush her lips with his, she did return the kiss. "I love you," he said to her. When she said nothing, he coaxed, "I know you're angry. You can shout at all you like when we're together again. But Beth, you have to say it too. Please -"

"I love you," she said sullenly and he heard the 'but I'm so damned angry with you', that she left unsaid. It would have to do. He kissed her again, she returned it again but she broke away first and turned over. This was all he was going to get from her. He heaved a sigh and began to dress.