Chapter 11

"Kristina! Gracious child, you've gone and ruined your new dress!" The lady that stood at the door was young, mid thirties, with two arms sticking powerfully across her chest, her heel making a light rattling sound against the hardwood floor. The girl stood across from her, her shoes muddy, her dress torn at the side and wrenched in dirt. She profusely tried rubbing it off, but to no avail. She looked up to see an outreached hand, and the woman laughing.

"Come child. It's time to eat."

She awoke too fast, her head throbbing wildly.

"I said you better eat something." She looked to the man the voice belonged. She was outside, her body propped up against a tree; a warm fire crackled beside her, and a blanket hung over her worn body.

"Evan." She stated.

"Glad to see you don't have amnesia." A smile. What did it mean? She peered around, her eyes not quite adjusting yet. Everything appeared hazy and blurry but as far as she could tell, no one else was in sight.

"Forgive me, but I'm a bit confused." She noticed the hoarseness of her voice, and she coughed.

He blew on a spoonful of soup, and drew it up to her lips. She willingly accepted it. The hot fluid tingled a bit, but tasted heavenly.

"As you should be. I don't quite know what I'm doing." There was a slight crackling in his voice.

She sat in thought, trying to replay what was said the last time they spoke to each other. Oh yeah, they hadn't spoken at all. They had kissed. Her eyes fell back on him. He was facing her, though his eyes were transfixed somewhere far from reality.

"They told me you were a traitor, aiding the enemy. I saw Captain Doyle shoot at you. I didn't know what to think really. At first I was angry. You had lied to me, that whole time I exposed my beliefs you were secretly working for the Americans. Then I realized you have seen with your eyes what the British did to these Americans. You probably had comrades die by the hands of your father. And after that I couldn't blame you at all. Captain Doyle was in an uproar, saying things I dare not utter again. When I saw you on the battlefield, my mind was made up. I may be a soldier in His Majesty's army, but I am no savage, and I would not let tyrants hurt the innocent."

She couldn't believe this. "So now you'll be hanged as a traitor as well."

"If that is my fate, then so be it. I will die a civilized human being." Though it hurt her mouth, she smiled.

"You can fight on our side, Evan. Help the cause of freedom. You can't possibly have a life with the British ever again."

"Miss Doyle, I have pondered that question for the past few hours, and I cannot in my right mind abandon my duty as a soldier. I serve His Majesty, and to retreat from his service, it will, it will disgrace my country. I cannot do that. You live here, Kristina. My home is across the Atlantic. Even though I do not agree with this war, Britain is still my home." Her heart quickened, her eyes closed.

"If you return they will kill you. You will be labeled a traitor, a disgrace. Is that how you want to end your life?"

He bit his lip, looking away. "Of course not. But I am a soldier." She looked away to roll her eyes. Men were so dim-witted it was impossible to believe they could walk and talk at the same time! Evan is so imprudently honorable, while Gabriel so irrationally ignominious. Her father was hotheaded, rash, and a culmination of disheartening things. It seemed no man could ever not be so obdurate.

"It will be because of me that you die. I cannot accept that. Don't be so foolish" Her voice was rising, her fists clenched. She felt his hand on hers, and she trembled slightly, of not for his impulsive plan, but for those eyes he had, which were now transfixed on her and her only.

"Evan, you just saved my life. You will kill me if you return to those bastards." His head now coiled to where her hands were on her lap. His arm took her hand, and he held it up to his face, his eyes closing. He kissed it gently. She felt cold to him, but soft, nonetheless. So soft.

His lips were warm on her hand. All pain caused by her head injury vanished, and her tense limbs lessoned their hold. Each kiss felt tender and passionate, and she found her mouth opening, long breaths escaping. Slowly, she put her arms around him as he kissed her bare shoulder, then her neck. His breathing was rapid and loud. His band around his hair loosened, and strands of hair fell on her shoulder. She gripped it tightly as his lips moved their way unto her cheek, then her mouth. It was fiercer than before. No hesitations, no awkwardness. He started unbuttoning her blood stained tunic, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was transfixed on the vibes he sent. The way he kissed, the way he gently caressed her back. It was like he knew what she wanted. She found herself ripping off his jacket, then his tunic beneath. Still, nothing seemed awkward. His body was still tan from the summer before, still toned from a soldier's workout. He wrapped her body around his, still kissing her like there was no tomorrow.

It was pure ecstasy. She felt alive inside, and she could not tell reality from fantasy. She didn't want to.

It wasn't until he started undoing his pants that her eyes opened. Reality flashed in front of her once more. Was she really about to give herself away to this man? Was he the right one?

This isn't right, her mind screamed. Her body thought otherwise. She vowed she would lose herself to the man she loved. Did she love this man before her?

The answer was not known. 'And not knowing is not yes', she thought.

"Damn", she said aloud, accidentally.

He opened his eyes, looking up into her face. "What is it?"

She pulled herself off him, quickly buttoning up her shirt. "I'm sorry Evan, I can't, we can't just…it isn't the right time. I- these circumstances produce such wild thoughts that just aren't-"

He sighed. "If your not ready, I understand. Perhaps I am not what you are looking for to begin with."

His statement made her eyebrows lift. He did not have a nasty undertone, but an enlightened one. "I know not what you mean."

"My feelings for you are true. You, on the other hand, have a heart that goes in so many directions right now I doubt you can make up your mind. I see the pain in your eyes, Kristina. You crave solace in all things around you just to comfort your strong heart."

Her head started pounding again. "I guess I am complicating my life a bit more right now." A new thought entered her mind, though she wished it away. "What- what happened to my father?"

"I know not. I carried you as fast and far from the battle before turning back to see what had happened."

She gulped. "Who won?"

"You bloody Americans, of course. Quite a brilliant scheme, I might add. The look on Cornwallis' face- well, you wouldn't want to know."

"Am I to assume, then, that you wish us victory in our cause?" She smiled, but noticed his faded quite quickly.

"Victory in freedom, yes. Victory over the killing of many a good British man, I will not say. Remember, dear Kristina, every war has its price. Not all the enemy is bad. At least, I hope you don't think that way. I'm not bad, however I am the enemy." Her pupils darted left and right, trying to find in herself the reasoning behind his statement. Slowly, realization hit and she nodded.

"You have given me much to think about, Evan Tavington."

He took her hands once more. "Rest now. Tomorrow I will take you back to your countrymen."

"And where will you go?"

"To my fate", he proclaimed. To your foolish death, she thought, but dare not utter something so cruel. Here was the man who had traded his life for hers, and she was supposed to sit back and let him? She had to think of something, and fast. Sleep, it seemed, could be the only source of help right now.

***

Light had not yet reached the border to the end of the world, where the sun usually rose to greet the morning air. It was then that she woke, then that she planned on waking. His body was but a few feet away. His horse whinnied, and she put up one finger to shush it.

The fire had died some time during the night, and a chill rang up her spine. Strands of her blonde hair fell on her face, and quickly she redid it back. "You may be an honorable man, Captain Tavington, but I will not let you be stupid," she whispered.

He moaned quietly, turning over. Her head continued to hurt fiercely, as if a rock was hitting it over and over. She paid it no mind. She packed up his things, securing it tightly on his beautiful chestnut bay. By then she noticed him stir.

She sat down next to him. "Good morning." He said with a husky voice.

"Aye, good night." With one swift motion she flung her elbow squarely into the side of his head, knocking him unconscious for a good few hours. "Forgive me" she whispered in his ear as she stumbled to put his limp body on the horse.

Before she could think twice of her plan, she charged the horse forward, bearing east towards the battlefield.

A few hours later she knew she was close. The stench of blood had fouled the air, and she coughed and held her nose. Soon she reached the clearing, and she gasped. The field was a sea of red. British and Continentals both flooded the field with their bodies, as soldiers looked for their friends and wounded. The American flag hung high over King's Mountain, and she couldn't help but feel sick.

The horse wanted to stop, but she kicked it forward. It took all the will she had to keep her eyes focused ahead as the horse awkwardly tried stepping over bodies of young and old. Tents were straight ahead, bearing the American symbol. Perhaps Jane and the others will be there. Perhaps the Martins will be there.

"LADY KRIS!!!!!!!" she heard it distinctly, though the figure was running from over four hundred feet away. She urged the horse forward, never feeling so joyous.

She dismounted quickly and embraced her friend in a hug. "Jane we did it! The Americans defeated the English! For now, anyways."

Her friend didn't let go. "What's wrong?"

"You bloody tell me what's wrong! Gabriel came and told us that you had been captured by the British. I thought you were dead, you wench!" Never in her life did Jane ever speak to Kristina with such an equal tone. She had always presented herself inferior, though the two knew better. This wanted to make Kristina laugh, but she held it in.

"You silly child, I'm obviously not dead. Honestly, you think I can't escape from the British? You HAVE gone mad." For the first time Jane looked to the horse.

"Is that-"

"Yes. Now help me, I have to get him restrained in a tent before someone sees. I stripped off his jacket, so no one will think him a Redcoat." Her friend raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. As soon as he was assembled inside, they reentered the outside.

"I will go tell the girls that you are alive and well." She started to run off, but turned back. "Lady Kris, I may advise you to tell the Martins you are back. The younger was in quite an uproar when he saw you being taken away."

"In an uproar?"

"More like crazy, insane, you name it. I've never seen him so…so outlandish."

To this she smiled. "Oh, that's just because you haven't known him that long. I will go tell them." Jane nodded, and left.

The rows of tents seemed long, and no one seemed to notice her amid the injured men. But somehow, word must have spread, perhaps through Jane, because in minutes she saw a man coming towards her, looking most disheveled.

He stopped nearly three feet away from her, and she didn't know what to think or do. His shirt was off, showing his bandage to his side. It had gotten bigger. A swell appeared on his cheek, and she realized she, too, probably had one. His eyes were so wide she thought they'd burst, and his lips never wavered.

She tossed the dirt with her foot aimlessly, willing him to make the first conversation. He made no such move.

"Well, I'm back."

"Is that all?" he barked. Okay, maybe she was the one to start the conversation. But suddenly she became angry. Who was he to bark at her?

"Is that all? Yes, fine, that is all, if you cannot muster to say anything else."

He sighed heavily, and he no longer spoke with aggression. "Forgive me, I do not want to shout again. But honestly, Kristina, you had…you had me worried."

"You, worried over me?" she haughtily replied.

He scratched his neck. This wasn't going at all like he planned. "Get off it. I saw you being carried away to the Redcoats. You know it scared me."

To this she could not reply, so he continued. "I was about ready to go track you down but it seems you need no rescuer." To this she smiled, and so he did too.

"I wasn't taken to the British, Gabriel. A Captain, a friend, I'm not sure you met him"

"Humph"

"Or maybe you have- Anyway, he saved me and brought me into the woods to hide. He was going to bring me back here and give himself up to the British- some type of duty to the king or whatnot, so I knocked him out, brought him here, in hopes that the Britsih think we captured him, not him betraying his country. So you see, really I was never in any real danger."

He coughed in surprise. "You really are a piece of work, Miss Warwick." She bit her tongue and looked down. "Well, I supposed I better see this soldier fellow- what is his name?"

She froze. She had forgotten what his name meant to Gabriel, what it should mean to her.

"Evan."

He was bewildered by her informal answer, but could not think of anything to reply to it. No, something darker was filling his mind that he dare not discuss with her yet, until the time was right.

She could not tell him his last name was Tavington. Gabriel was rash, and would not listen to anything she said about how different nephew and uncle were. She had to keep it from him.