Part 1. He Deserved It

(Back to Mary's POV)

The next morning, I rose early, even before William. Braden was still asleep and I did not wish to wake him yet, so I took a book from the bookshelf in our quarters and read.

About twenty minutes later, I heard movement behind me; there was the soft sound of footsteps just behind me.

"Leave me be." I said in a soft, deadly voice.

"Mary please.."

"Please what, Colonel!" I hissed, trying to keep my voice low so as not to wake Braden.

"Mary, I'm sorry."

Any control I had possessed left me; I reached out and struck William hard across his face.

"After what you have done that is all you have to say for yourself! Colonel, you have a son who needs his father! Don't you understand that by doing what you have done you are putting yourself at risk even more! You may be the best soldier on the field so far, but there is no promise that that will always be the case much longer and you know that! And what would your men do without you! Sure, you have Capt. Wilkins, but he isn't nearly as reliable, and God only knows if Bordon will pull through! The odds are not in your favour."

Suddenly Braden awoke and began crying. I picked him up and held him until he had calmed down a little and then fed him. Then I handed him to William.

"Watch your son. I need some time alone."

I quickly dressed and then left the room. I went downstairs and into the library of the estate on the first floor and sat in one of the armchairs, staring absentmindedly out one of the windows, allowing my thoughts to take possession of me.

"Lady Tavington.. Lady Tavington is that you?"

I turned to see Miss Jayden standing in the library entrance.

"So it is. I apologise if I'm intruding. I'll leave if you wish me to."

"No, you may stay. However, I do wish for you to address me by my first name. I'm not quite as formal as the colonel when it comes to being addressed by people."

Miss Jayden nodded.

"Thank you, Mary. In that case, you may do the same."

I nodded.

"You seem upset; is everything alright?" Brielle asked.

"No, nothing seems to be going well at the moment, but I do not wish to talk about it." I replied. "How is the captain?"

"In pretty nasty condition. He took a knife to the gut, so he'll be off duty for quite some time, however, he will survive.

I stayed overnight, watching him yesterday; he didn't come around until about one this morning, and has been in horrendous pain ever since."

I nodded.

"Well at least he's alive."

"How is the colonel? He didn't look too well yesterday."

"Just a bullet wound. He deserved it." I replied shortly.

"Oh…" Said Brielle, looking slightly confused. "Well, um, alright then. I have to return to camp. I'll see you later Mary."

Part 2. Blood Red Rose

Again, I was left alone to my thoughts. I was angry with William, or at least I thought I was angry with him. I wasn't angry at what he did; it may have been wrong, but too much had happened to me to allow much sympathy for the patriots. What I thought I was angry at was the fact that William was putting himself more at risk than he already was.

I stared out the window, realising that I wasn't angry. But then, what was I? My thoughts were obviously not of me if something happened to William, but of Braden.

I sighed placing my head in my hands. I was confused. Was I worried, concerned, or both? And if I was any of these, why had they never shown at this length before? I knew William was a harsh man, especially when it came to military matters, so why was it bothering me now that he was acting this way!

I hardly spoke to William the rest of the day and evening, not because of anger but because of confusion about how I felt.

The next morning I awoke alone in the four-poster. In William's place was a rose next to a piece of parchment that had two words written on it: I'm sorry.

I took the rose in my hand, carefully running my fingers along its velvety petals, which were a deep blood red, which darkened even more until it was black on the edges and near the stem.

I closed my eyes, but tears came anyway; my hold on the rose tightened until the thorns bore into my palm and blood ran from my left hand.