"Are we getting any closer, Andrew? It is nearly dawn."

"It is just a few minutes more ride," the young redcoat assured. When the dark-haired girl of nineteen that was riding opposite him elicited a small groan, he allowed himself a light chuckle. "Need I remind you that it was your idea to depart last night, instead of awaiting morning, Miss Cornwallis?"

"No," was Alaina's response. She had been all too eager to begin their journey after she had received the letter of summons from her father.

With the current worsening of the war between England and their rebellious American subjects, General Cornwallis had naturally been concerned for his daughter's safety. Four months ago, he had left her in the care of some relatives. Now that uprisings were becoming more freaquent and dangerous among the colonists, he wanted Alaina close. That way he would have the convenience of knowing that he could do his uttmost to prevent her from coming to harm in an attempt of the enemy to get to himself through her.

Alaina was regretting her hasty decision to leave so soon, without resting first. Her soar muscles would punish her for her haste, for the next two or three days. She shifted uncomfortably in her side-saddle postion atop her black mare, Prestine. Wearied from the long journey, both she and her companion were elated when they finally emerged from the edge of the forest. As promised, in front them stood Middleton Place. It was her father's main outpost and would now also be her place of residence for the time being.

Eagerly, Alaina and Andrew drew their steeds into a trott. Upon entering the gate and approaching the front, Andrew dismounted and took the reigns of both horses. Another soldier with shaggy blonde hair helped Alaina down. She adjusted the tight bodice of her pale blue dress as the horses were led away. Many redcoats were busy about their mornign duties. The sun had just risen over the horizon and was casting everything in a bright glow.

Once inside, Alaina was escorted directly to her father's study. General Cornwallis was not alone in the room, but in the solitary company of a soldier who was staring observantly out of one window. The gengeral himself was seated at his desk, looking rather ill tempered. He had risen when his daughter entered, closely followed by Andrew. The brown-haired soldier at the window did not bother to move or acknowlegde them in any way.

"Thank you, Brink. Your presence is no longer required," Cornwallis said looking at Andrew. The young gentleman nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. Paying no mind to the presence of the other soldier, Alaina rounded the desk and embraced her father in a hug.

"I missed you dreadfully, Papa," she said. Once she released him, he stood back to survey her, as she did him. "They are not feeding you enough. You have gotten thinner."

"And you have become even more of a picture than when I last saw you," he smiled lightly, though she could tell he was not in a mood to smile. Her green eyes sparkled with humor at his comment. "I trust you did not run into any trouble along your way?"

"Nn, none at all."

"Good, good. I suppose also that you are fatigued from your journey. I shall let you rest for a spell, and then we shall catch up over a late lunch." He patted her shoulder and went to sit back down behind his desk. "There is a room prepared for you just down the hall. Colonel Tavington will show you the one." He motioned to the man standing in front of the window.

Tavington? Tavington... The name was vaguely familiar to Alaina. Although, she could not place it at the moment. She was sure she had heard it metioned before among the colonists. As the Colonel turned around, he revealed a stern countenance and piercing blue eyes of ice that betrayed little emotion at present. He walked ahead of her to the door, barely giving her a second glance.

She followed suit. Observing his proud profile ahead of her, she suddenly realized why she knew the name. Normally being so restrained, she was however overcome by amuzement. "So you are William Tavington? The one the colonist refer to as 'the butcher'?" she blurted our wrecklessly.

He made no immediate answer. Stopping at a door to his left, he opened it, but stood in her way. He narrowed his gaze at her. "Indeed, I am whom you refer to. But you would do well, Miss Cornwallis, to remember that it is improper for a lady to address an officer in such an informal manner. Also, that it is very poor manners to speak of slights with such amuzement in your voice."

Alaina shrunk under his harsh stare. "I apologize, Colonel Tavington. I meant no offense to your person. It was just an idol observation." She averted her eyes to the floor. "Please forgive me."

Tavington stepped aside. "Yes, well...it is to be expected."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your manners would be a little lacking, having lived among the insolent colonists for four months," he stated. His tone was matter-of-fact. Alaina's cheeks flushed slightly at hearing his evalutation of her person. She, however, only curtsied and bid him a good day as she passed by him and closed the door to the room.

"What a judgemental man," she told herself as she prepared to lay down and rest. She changed out of her dress and peticotes and into a dressing gown. Taking her hair down from it's tight bun, she brushed her straight, flowing black locks smooth. What right did Colonel Tavington have to be that way to her? After all, she was a lady. No; in her opinion, it was him and not herself that lacked manners. Any man who would talk to a young lady of breeding in such a manner as that was certainly no gentleman.

She didn't even realize how much she was dwelling on such a small offense. She got into bed and drifted off to sleep with a resolve that she would later confront Colonel Tavington on his own lack of manners while speaking to the daughter of a general.

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After sleeping until an hour past noon, Alaina had a wash tub and water brought into her room. She desired to take a bath and wash away the filth from her journey, before going down to lunch. Once satisfactorily clean, she dressed in a simple pink gown with a tight bodice and white lace trim, leaving her hair down. She had surprisingly forgotten about Colonel Tavington and their little titter earlier. It was lightly raining outside as Alaina descended the stairs and entered the dining hall to find her father.

The General was seated at the head of the table, and Alaina took a seat on his left. No one had joined them as of yet. The conversation was pleasant and light as she told him of her life for the past four months. One would scarcely have believed from looking at the happy scene that a war was even going on. It was the perfect portrait of the bond between a father and daughter.

"And what of you Father? How have you faired?" Alaina asked as she finished her narration of the long ride here. She had only picked at her food, never having had much of an appetite in the first place.

"To put it bluntly, my dear, the days have been trying. Along with the raiding of several of our wagons, most containing my personal items, rumors of a man they keep calling the Ghost and his militia outwitting our troops are spreading like wildfire. On top of that, Tavington is not even competent enough to catch them; they're only a bunch of farmers with pitchforks. Not to mention Tavington's brutal tactics reflecting poorly on me." He took a sip of his brandy and watched his daughter's involuntary grimace at the mention of the name. She had almost forgotten that the man even exhisted. "I take it you are not fond of Colonel Tavington?" he inquired.

Alaina pursed her lips. "I should say not. He is..."

"...standing in this very room at present," Tavington drawled from the doorway before she could finish her sentence. Alaina was beginning to think that she was developing a knack for unintentionally insulting the man whenever he was around her. She did not look up as he continued into the room and took a seat to General Cornwallis' right. "I see your manners have improve little, even after getting the rest you required."

Alaina made no answer. It was evident to him that she was embarassed. As she stood up, so did he, out of courtesy. "I apologize for offending you yet again, Colonel. Please, excuse me." She left, having had her pride wounded twice in one day, by her own doing. Tavington watched her go.

A light drizzle was still falling outside. Not caring if she got wet or not, Alaina stepped outside. Men were still carrying on with their outside duties, and paid little attention to her. She breathed the fresh damp air and crossed her arms over her ribs. It was unacceptable to her that she had managed to besmirch her character in anyone's eyes, not once, but twice. What exactly had been the cause of her momentary falters? It was a mystery even to her. Perhaps it was, as Colonel Tavington had said, caused by her previous association with the conlonists. But what was even more...why did she care what a Butcher thought of her?

"You'll catch your death out here, Miss Cornwallis," his crisp voice sounded from behind her. Was he following her? Her hair and dress were already soaked. She turned to face him, meeting his icy, scrutinizing gaze. "It would be a terrible inconveniece for your father to have to worry about your well-fare while in the midst of a war."

Inconvenience to her father! By all means, forget about the damage it could do to herself, she thought sarcasticly. Alaina's previously calm countenance, flushed again. But this time, maintaining her lady-like manner, she bit back the retort that had almost surfaced. In truth, he was right. General Cornwallis had enough to worry about without having to also worry about a sick daughter. "You are right," she relented. On a harsher, but still respectful note, she added, "It is a lucky thing that you are here to show me my flaws." She began walking back inside.

Such an amuzing young lady. Tavington was beginning to enjoy ruffling her feathers, just to see if she could maintain her composure. It was entertaining, at least, to watch her struggle to hold her tongue. He eyed her as she retreated. Her dress clung to her, leaving little to the imagination of her form. She was slender, and her bust was larger than that of the other girls of her age. Her height was average, at least a good five or six inches shorter than himself. And her hips were the taut broad kind that added to her hourglass figure. Had William Tavington not been the ruthless womanizer he was, he would have had the decency to look away. Instead, he stared, thinking of how satisfying it would be to hear her screams as he ravaged her delicate body. Oh yes, he would love to see her cry out in mock protest as he had his way with her. He smirked to himself. It was a pity that she was off limits.