I don't own The Patriot
A/N: First, thank you to all of your wonderful reviews thus far. I would like to add that things get a little steamy later in the chapter though nothing too revealing.
Eyes fluttering open, Catherine found herself lying on the bed of her chamber. The last thing she remembered, and felt, was that hot poker stick burning into her skin and those cold, blue dangerous eyes staring at her as he carried out the deed. How ever she had wound up back in her chamber was something that she did not know. She shut her eyes and lifted herself in a sitting position. Hissing through her teeth, she looked down at her arm and noticed that it was wound with a bandage. Even though the fabric served its purpose, it was slightly stained with blood. "Ow," she whispered through the pain that shot up her arm.
Her voice didn't go unheard as her maid, Briar, looked up from her embroidery and immediately walked over to her with a glass of water in her hands. "Ms. Smith," she said as she arrived to the side of Catherine's bed. "Thank Heavens you're awake!" she placed the rim of the glass towards Catherine's lips as she tilted her head back and allowed the water to soak her dry throat. Some of the water stained onto the blue dress and the sheets of the bed, but Briar made a mental note to change them later.
Catherine let out a cough and wiped the water from her lips. "What day is it?" she asked.
"The fourteenth of January," Briar answered her, "you've been asleep for the past three days."
That's why she felt her head feeling heavy the moment that she lifted her head from the pillows. Looking down at her arm and the memory that had crossed her mind, she believed that the torture that she had gone through had been the cause through all of that exhaustion. She ran a hand over her eyes and tried to push that memory out of her mind. She wanted to forget everything about it but the pain that she felt on her arm served as a remembrance of what had happened.
"What ever happened to you Ms. Smith?" Briar asked, holding the glass of water in her hand in case Catherine needed any more of it. What Briar remembered those past three months was how infuriated James Wilkins was as he carried Catherine over to her chambers. She had never before seen him in such a state of emotion and he was extremely adamant towards Briar in notifying him the moment that Catherine awoke.
To her question, Catherine only shook her head. "This war happened," she answered as she lowered her head and stared down at her fingers. This war that has torn everyone apart. Never did she think that her life would take such a turning point...and for the worse. It wasn't just her life that was affected by it all, she was aware of that, but in her situation all she could do was think about herself and her survival. She felt that she didn't have anyone else to turn to anymore. She couldn't rely on Briar, she was only her maid, and she certainly couldn't rely on Cornwallis no matter how much hospitality he had shown to her. The only person who was left was James, and he had shown where he stood the night that she was being tortured. It may had seemed like a blur in her mind, but she recalled him just standing there as Tavington burned her arm with that poker stick. Why hadn't he stepped in and stopped him from doing it? Why had he just stood there and watched it happen?
Briar made no other comment to Catherine's response. Taking a deep breath, she rearranged the pillows behind Catherine to ensure that she was comfortable enough. "Shall I get you something to eat?" she asked in which Catherine responded with a shake of her head.
She was feeling more exhausted than she was hungry and all she wanted to do was just lie in her bed and remain there until...until this whole war was over and her life could get back to normal. Wishful thinking Catherine thought to herself. Her life was anything but normal now. "Get some rest Ms. Smith," Briar said to her, "Captain Wilkins will want to see you."
"What?" Catherine said as if she hadn't heard her correctly.
Briar didn't know what the situation was between them and, as curious as she may be, she felt it wasn't any of her business to interfere. "I am just following orders Ms. Smith. He was adamant in wanting to see you when you awoke after he bought you here."
Catherine shut her eyes and fell back on the pillows behind her. Taking a deep breath, she pushed away and resentment that she felt towards his lack of actions in helping her through that torturous event. A part of her wanted to refuse his presence whilst another part of her wanted to see him after all of that. He hadn't been the one torturing her, though he still could've stepped in and helped her. A sigh escaped her lips as she sat up in bed, "alright Ms. Parsons. He can come."
Three days. It had been three days ever since James had been such torture being inflicted upon Catherine. Damn him he thought to himself and rested the tips of his fingers onto his forehead. Damn that man! Why had he been such a coward in refusing to step in and help Catherine? Never did he think that Tavington would do something so brutal! Then again, the colonel was known for his unpredictable behavior and his use of brutal methods. However, James questioned himself as to why he had not reacted. Had he been too afraid of what was happening to Catherine that he couldn't react or did he not want to show Tavington about his affection for Catherine? Be that as it may, Tavington's words were enough to make James realize that he was aware of what was happening between them. What made it more unnerving was the fact that James didn't know what the colonel was going to do.
These past three days, James had done everything that he could to avoid Tavington. During their meetings with Cornwallis, he had avoided any eye contact and refused to show up for any of the raids that the Dragoons carried out. His only excuse for that towards Cornwallis was that he needed some rest to recuperate for their future battle against the colonists. It was a pathetic excuse, he knew that, but he didn't know how he would react if he was in the same tent with the colonel. Just thinking about him made his blood boil and if given the opportunity, he would've killed him right then and there. However, he knew that there would be consequences if he killed a superior officer. Why couldn't Catherine just have said anything to him? Anything to have stopped the colonel from punishing her like that? Then again, Tavington wasn't one to have kept his promises, he had shown that back in Pembroke.
James drank the last drop of brandy in his glass cup when he heard a set of heels making its way back to the parlor. He stood up on his feet and noticed Briar appearing by the doorway.
"She has awoken," Briar said to him.
"How is she?" he asked her.
"Fatigued," the maid answered him.
He didn't blame her for that. "I can see her later in the afternoon," he said to her.
"Actually, she would like your presence," Briar said and waited for him to follow her back to the chambers.
Thank God James thought as he followed the maid down the hallway and towards the chamber where Catherine was. "I would like to remain with her for a few. I do not wish for her to be disturbed."
Briar slowly nodded her head to him. "Of course." With those words, she lightly shut the door behind him and her heels echoed down the hallway.
Now it was just him and Catherine and what he saw in front of him, was someone who had lost any determination that she had left. He immediately walked over to her and took a hold of her hands in his. "Thank God you're awake!" were the first words that left his mouth after the past three days.
Catherine didn't respond to his words right away. All she could do was stare at him with that look of resentment in her eyes. Resentment of him for being so cowardly in stopping the colonel from hurting her, of the fact that she had to suffer through all of this, that she had been so weak, and that she had slightly lost her trust in someone whom she deeply cared for. Whatever anger she had left in her, she suddenly felt her eyes well up with tears and she lowered her head.
Letting go of her hands, James wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her close to him.
Her body shuddered from the sobs that she tried to keep at a minimum volume but there was too much pain that she had endured through these past couple of months, both physically and mentally. She threw her uninjured arm limply onto James's back and bunched her hand into a fist, gathering as much fabric as she could from his shirt as if she was clinging onto him for her life. Save me from all of this! she wanted to scream at him. Though no words came out of her mouth, but only sobs.
James hands moved around her and his hands cupped her face, making her looked up at him. "I am so sorry," he said as he felt her tears upon his thumbs, "I am sorry that you had to endure that."
Sorry. A simple word that wasn't potent enough to heal that injury that had damaged her skin. 'Sorry' was not nearly enough to bring back the happier times before all of this. What could James do anymore? It wasn't as if he had the power to make all of this go away. This was a reality that they were all living in, for better or for worse, and there was no skipping it. Catherine sniffled as she looked at him, finding as much courage as she could to at least say something to him. "And I am sorry..." she paused, not knowing how to continue that sentence.
That I had ever met you.
That I never listened to my parents about you.
That I ever let myself love you.
That I still love you.
She lowered her eyes once more, refusing to make any eye contact with him before any words escaped her lips. She couldn't hate him for what he wasn't capable to do. He had warned her before of what the colonel was capable of doing to people. If her memory was correct, she had seen hesitation in James the moment that Tavington gave him the poker stick to inflict the pain upon her. It hadn't been from James, it had been from Tavington.
"...that you had to see me like that," she whispered as she finally raised her eyes and looked up at James.
"Never again," he said and he grabbed a hold of her arms and held them possessively. Never again would he allow that to happen, and he hoped that another incident like that never came.
Catherine flinched towards his strong hold and he apologized, forgetting that her arm was still wounded from that poker stick. How certain are you? she wanted to ask him. "Does he know about us?" she found herself asking him.
That was something that James had questioned himself these past three days. It is no question to where your loyalties lie Captain...Such a pity. Those were the exact haunting words that James tried to dissect in his mind. It was no question where Tavington had stood with his words. He had seen it from how James had reacted towards Catherine and how he was tending to her when she was about to faint. The hell with it! James thought. The hell with him! The hell with it all! "I don't care," he said as he took a hold of Catherine's hands.
Those words surprised her. They had been in secrecy and all of a sudden, James was willing to let that all be exposed. "James!" she exclaimed, "what do you-" her words were interrupted as he leaned forward, only inches away from her face. "You can't mean that," she whispered as she looked at him. "It's dangerous."
"We have been living in danger ever since this war started," he whispered back to her as if anyone was eavesdropping in their conversation, "and I'm tired of it. I'm tired that I have to evade every contact that I am able to have with you, that I can't have you ever since I bought you here."
It was very frustrating for her as well. After the both of them had rekindled their relationship with one another, they had to be careful. It was almost as if they weren't in a relationship at all! "Me too," she agreed as she willingly felt herself inching forward. When she did so, her lips made contact with his and she pulled him closer to her.
The hell with it! James thought once more and deepened the kiss that they shared. He threw his arms around her and pulled her close, crushing her body into him as he fervently kissed her. His lips traveled for her lips, to her jaw, and then to the nape of her neck.
Catherine felt herself indulging into those kisses as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back when he kissed her. She returned his kisses with ones of her own as her lips traveled from his lips, to his cheek, and then to his own neck.
James shuddered when she did that, but it was nonetheless delightful. How much he had craved for this moment alone with her. Finally! No Cornwallis. no O'Hara, no Dragoons, and certainly no Tavington. As they kissed, his hand traveled from the curls of her hair to the buttons of her dress. His fingers tangled with the buttons in the back of her dress as he undid them before he gently undressed her of the many layers of garments.
Catherine had never believed that they would be able to get to this moment. They had been close at the library many nights ago, until James had stopped her from any further proceedings. Now the time had finally come and they could commemorate this moment that they had been deprived of. She reached reached forward and took a gentle hold of his cravat and pulled him down until their lips met once more and their fingers intertwined with one another.
They had started something and they were both determined to finish it. He was finally hers and she was finally his.
Finally.