Chapter Six

Disclaimer: I only own Patricia, nothing else.

A/N: There are some strong 'suggestive' comments in here, but you can handle that... right?

So the group stayed like that, hidden in the forest, for a few nights.

Tavington and O'Hara had created a fire pit in the center of the clearing. Lark had been aiding to Patricia, and was usually seen boiling water in a small pot to cleanse it of bacteria, before throwing in bundles of herbs and making dinner.

Tavington's newest project was to make a small hut or tent of some kind to keep out of the rain with. The weather the last few days was warm, but too many warm and humid days in a row foreshadowed rain.

The church had completely burned down, and the fire was out. Although the group knew this, from taking peeks at it in their spare time, none of the dared to go out side the clearing, because the rebel militia was still around and guarding the village.

Finally, one day, Tavington couldn't bear it anymore. "There are pieces of unburned wood in that church, some of them very big," he said, "I'm going to go get some of them. We might be able to use them for a -"

Patricia, who had made an almost full recovery, stamped her foot down and said, "No."

Tavington glared. "And why, may I ask, can I not?"

"Do you think I want you going down there and getting pumped full of grapeshot?" she retorted.

There was a pause, and Tavington sighed, "Fine."

O'Hara and Lark could sense, being the good friends they were, the growing... hmm, what was it? Passion... or tension? Well, the newlyweds hadn't had any time to themselves, so either way, it was best they be alone.

"How about we go and get it?" Lark asked.

Another pause.

"Go ahead," said William.

Lark, taking O'Hara by the arm and grinning coyly, whispered to him, "They need a break from us... Don't you think?"

In a few minutes, they were out of sight.

Tavington looked at Patricia, and she noticed he was staring. "Yes?" she asked.

A pause.

"I believe our minister never got the chance to let me kiss you," he said, quietly.

Patricia smiled. "Well, we can't have something like that happen and stay like that, can we?"

Tavington wrapped his arms around her waist. "I think not."

He kissed her, his hand trailing through her brownish-red hair, as she did the same, her arms around his neck. She kissed him deeply, clinging to him. As they parted, she mouthed, "I love you."

He stared at her, then kissed her again, with an intensity deeper than the first, and she matched it.

There was a pause, as they gazed into each other's eyes.

"I'm yours," Patricia said, and Tavington replied, gently, "Will you regret that when I'm done?"

A grin.

"No."

Twenty minutes later, as they were getting dressed, Patricia started acting... oddly.

She began stumbling around, dizzy, and then, she keeled over.

"Patricia!" cried Tavington, and ran to grab her before she fell. He caught her, and felt her head. She didn't have a fever...

She vomited.

He lay her against a tree, giving her more water. She gulped it down, then smiled weakly and said, "I've got something to tell you..."

He squatted next to her, listening intently.

"Remember that first night I... spent with you... when you rejected Lady Cardian?" she asked.

He nodded. (How could he forget that?)

"Well," she coughed, "I've been holding your child ever since. I'm three months pregnant."

A silence, while the words snapped across the clearing like a whip.

Tavington looked at her stomach. Now that he noticed, there was a small bump forming. And he had always thought she had only gained weight...

"My god, Patricia..." he muttered.

She smiled.

There was a silence, and he embraced her.

The crackling of leaves and branches predicted Lark and O'Hara, and the prediction was correct. The couple came in, carrying large pieces of unburned wood. They stopped and stared at Tavington and Patricia.

"Bad time?" asked O'Hara, ready to leave again.

Tavington smiled and got up. "No, not at all," he said, "In fact, you're right on time for the good news."

Lark threw the boards of wood towards the edge of the clearing and dusted herself off. She helped O'Hara unload them, too. "Yes?" she asked, sitting down.

Another pause.

"Patricia is with child."