He left her alone for almost an hour, only returning to her when he saw his troops in the distance. Once he was back in the dining room he stood in front of Rebecca, taking her chin in his hand and gripping her so hard he caused red marks on her skin glaring down at her he hissed 'why did you run?'
She looked tired 'I told you, I was afraid'
'Of whom?'
'You, your men'
'Why?'
'I rarely go into town, but I had been called in to assist with the birth of a child'
'Why did they call for you?' he enquired.
'Did you not hear what they called me in the town?'
'Yes, why do they call you that?' he let go of her face and sat on the edge of the table.
'Why do they call me witch? That is a long story'
He started to untie her 'you had better come with me and tell me the entire story then hadn't you.' He wrapped the cloak he had brought with him around her shoulders and guided her upstairs, leading the way into one of the bedrooms she saw a fire was lit in the room and a bathtub of hot water waiting in front of it. He gestured for her to bathe and he walked out of the room. She heard him outside the doors give orders to his officers and then to a servant. He said that dinner for two should be brought up here tonight and ordered that he not be disturbed.
When he came back into the room he was unbuttoning his jacket, she lay back in the hot water and watched him carefully hang up his jacket, beneath it he wore a crisp white shirt. He saw her watching him and she blushed, or maybe it was the heat from the water making her skin glow. To cover her embarrassment she sank beneath the water, hoping to wash the image of him from her mind.
Tavington sat on the bed watching her. After a while he stood by the tub and handed her towel and indicated she should get out of the water. He watched again as she dried her body and then he held out a virginal white nightgown to her. Once she was dressed in the gown he called for the tub to be removed, then they both sat by the fire, he was bemused to see that she preferred to sit on the rug by the fire rather than to sit on the fireside chair.
'So, tell me why you were called Witch '
'They do not understand me, my lifestyle and they are afraid of me.'
'They are afraid of you?' he sneered.
'Yes Colonel, is that so hard to believe?'
They were disturbed by dinner been brought into the room. Once a small table was set on the servant had left the room he helped to her feet and guided her to a seat at the table.
Over dinner he requested she continue her story.
'The day you came into town I had been sent for to help with the delivery of a baby.'
'Does this happen often?' he inquired offering her some tea.
'Only if there are problems, they fear me but ask for my help. I make potions to help heal them and then they shun and avoid me unless they want something and they call me Witch behind my back.'
'Does this not bother you?'
'No, it means that most of the time they leave me alone.'
'So why did you run?'
'I'd heard the townsfolk talk. I heard them panicking when they said the British were coming. Of course I'd heard the rumours of the reputation of your army and of you especially' she blushed.
'Ah' he nodded raising one eyebrow.
'Might I ask Colonel, why did you shoot me?' she asked looking so innocent he actually felt a tiny pang of guilt for a second.
He was caught off guard by her question 'Wearing your cloak and the way you ride, I thought you were a man.'
'Now you know I am not?' She asked quietly.
He looked over her body 'yes, I am aware of that fact.'
'Do you now believe that I am not a spy?'
'Yes actually, I do' he replied, and he was amazed that he actually meant it.
'Colonel' she said looking directly into his eyes 'I swear to you, I do not knowingly know a single member of the militia – I spend my time with animals and plants' she looked lonely 'they would never betray me, or call me names.'
'You have no family?' part of him wanted to know whether anyone would be looking for her.
'No, I have no family.'
'Is there a man in your life? Are you betrothed?'
'No, I have not found…' he heard he voice crack and she looked tearful.
'And the women in your family never marry, really?' he still found this incredible; at heart he knew he was somewhat of a traditionalist and rather old fashioned, especially when it came to the place of women.
'All my ancestors had been single women, they all had just one child, a daughter and none ever stayed with the father.'
'Have you a …' he seemed unsure about asking 'do you … have a child?' he wondered if he would hear her say yes, but hoped not.
'No' she replied, while a small voice in her mind whispered … not yet.
They chatted amiably over the rest of dinner before retiring back to the fireside. Tavington fought his instinct to not trust anyone, but he felt himself letting down his guard with this woman and he could not understand why. Then it came to him, moving swiftly around the table he grabbed Rebecca by her shoulders and dragging her from her seat. 'What the hell are you trying to do to me witch!' he snarled.
'Nothing, I have not…'
He swept everything from the table and pushed Rebecca onto the table. 'Do not lie to me' he pinned her against the table by her throat 'ever since I had the misfortune to encounter you madam you have bewitched my mind … amongst other things.'