Disclaimers: I don't own anything in The Patriot...none of the characters etc. Laura and Shadow are my creations. Personal fun and those addicting reviews are the only profit I gain from doing this. Nothing monetary.

Thanks to all you wonderful people who took the time to read and review. Y'all are great!

Chapter 10

I wasn't sure exactly what he would do, and maybe I'd pushed too far by walking away. But I felt some measure of safety in the command of Cornwallis that I be treated well. Tavington's own certainty that I knew where to find the Ghost was my other security blanket.

I hurried through the darkened forest, anxious to get to the camp where there were others around...where I would not be alone with Tavington. If he'd sensed the effect he had on me, and continued to come on to me the way he'd just done, I was in deep trouble.

As I barged into the open camp, I hurried to search out Wilkins. Maybe I could chat with him awhile, and keep my distance from the colonel. I found him seated with several other dragoons, Bordon included, around a fire. Each man had a plate of food. My stomach began to rumble, reminding me it was near to empty.

"Captain Wilkins." I poked him on the shoulder.

"Good evening, Miss Hanson. I hadn't seen you around. Care to join us?" He moved aside, but as I stepped into the light from the fire, he frowned. "Was there a problem with the dress?"

I shook my head. "Besides the fact that I'm not in the least used to wearing such clothes, no, there was no problem. It's lovely."

"Good." He smiled relief. "I had a hard time finding it. You're just a bit taller than most of the women I know, who are about your size otherwise. That dress belonged to my cousin."

"Be sure to thank her for me, then." I glanced behind me to see if Tavington had returned yet. He walked slowly out of the woods, his eyes fixed on me. Smiling as brightly as I could, I turned back to Wilkins. "Do you know if the colonel was able to arrange a tent for me?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's that one, right next to his." Wilkins pointed, and as I followed the line of his finger, I saw Tavington standing at the entrance to his own tent, a smug half grin on his face. So he figured I would be bothered in some way by the placement of the tent? Irksome. That's what he was.

I turned back to Wilkins, fighting to keep the quiver out of my voice. "Thank you, Captain." I was about to leave, but Wilkins reached out and took hold of my arm.

"Wouldn't you like a little dinner? Surely you must be hungry. I just filled this plate, but I haven't touched it yet."

I nodded, taking the plate of food he held out to me. "Again, thanks."

Wilkins smiled and scooted aside to make room for me. "You look tired."

I shrugged. "A little. Nothing I can't handle."

I ate the food quietly, while the men around the fire talked. Their conversation seemed a little subdued, and I assumed it was because of my presence. I hurried to finish eating, wanting nothing more than to just get away and be alone again with my thoughts. As soon as I finished, I stood.

"I'm going to turn in for the night," I said to Wilkins.

"Good night, Miss Hanson." He reached out and took the dirty plate. "I'll take care of that for you."

I mumbled another thank you, then headed to my new quarters. There was no sign of Tavington, and his tent was dark. I told myself I didn't care, that it was none of my business what he did and where he was. But even if I could not see him, I figured he might be somewhere that he could see me. I raised my head, determined to keep an attitude of dignity and pride. The Butcher would not beat me down, no matter what he tried. Having my tent placed right next to his was just one more little twisted piece of his plan. A way to control me, maybe. Ah...but two could play at this game. He'd messed with the wrong woman. A small smile twitched at the corners of my lips. Wouldn't it be the ultimate revenge if I managed to turn the tables and make him fall for me? How I would gloat once I had him eating out of my hand.

My tent was smaller than the colonel's, but I certainly didn't need anything bigger. I'd been provided with a cot, a small, rustic table and chair, and a lantern. At least I had a place to come to be alone. I threw the dress and stays on the table, and removed everything else but my own 21st century clothes. With a weary sigh, I lay down on the cot and placed my hands behind my head. At first, I thought I would lie awake most of the night, but my eyes grew heavy. The last thing I remember was thinking once again of Uncle Dave and the farm...and my big warm bed in my comfy warm room...

I awoke with a start. Noise...voices...a woman crying out. It was still dark, and I had no way of knowing what time it was. As the cobwebs disintegrated from my head, I realized the woman was not crying, but laughing. I held my breath and listened. A male voice, also laughing...and speaking slightly slurred. Tavington?

I got up from the cot and stepped outside. Sure enough, Tavington was stumbling through the camp, his arm draped around the shoulders of a rather cheap looking woman. A quick scan of the camp informed me most of the others had already gone to sleep. I returned my gaze to Tavington and the woman. They laughed loudly, obviously not caring who they disturbed. How rude, I thought. And not the kind of behavior fitting of an officer. Shaking my head, I was about to turn back into my tent, when Tavington saw me.

"Miss Hanson!" He slurred, raising a bottle with his free hand. "Care to join us?"

"Uh...no thanks." I sniggered, throwing the two a look of disdain.

"I'm sorry, did we disturb you?" Tavington peeled his arm from around his companion and stumbled toward me. "Were you already asleep?"

"Yes, I was sleeping. And you should probably be doing the same."

He laughed, then turned his head away from me, speaking over his shoulder. "She just arrived yesterday, and already she thinks she has the right to order me around."

"It wasn't an order, just a suggestion." I tried to keep the edge out of my voice. "This kind of behavior certainly won't help you find your Ghost."

The mention of the Ghost brought a scowl to his lips. "Now why'd you go and bring him up when I was in such high spirits?"

I didn't miss the fact he'd suddenly lost his drunken slur. Cursing under his breath, he turned to the woman. "Come, my dear. Let us enjoy what is left of the night."

With a casual glance back at me, he headed into his tent with his "friend."

"Good night, Colonel," I said lightly. But as soon as I was safely enshrouded in the darkness of my tent, I began to rant to myself. Was this how he carried on all the time, or was it a show for my benefit? He wasn't drunk. Maybe he'd had a bit to drink, but the alcohol wasn't controlling him.So what was his motive? Trying to make me jealous? I snorted a laugh as I fell back onto the cot.

"As if! You think way too highly of yourself, William Tavington." I shook my fist in the direction of his quarters, from where I could still hear muffled laughter. Jealous of a trampy camp follower? The nerve of him! If that was the kind of company he chose to keep, then I would do well to go find Ben Martin. Why should I care if Colonel Tavington, the Butcher, the cold-blooded murderer of my people, died a violent, untimely death? He deserved it. Maybe I'd run him through myself, and enjoy the look of shock, horror and disappointment in those cool, blue eyes. I rolled over, consoling myself with these sadistic thoughts, and somehow managed to dose off again.

I was just waking to the sounds of activity in the camp when I heard Tavington's bellow.

"Wilkins, Bordon!"

I sat up and stretched, then casually stood and strolled to look outside. Bordon and Wilkins were just entering Tavington's tent. I stretched again, then decided to give my "new" clothes another try.

I had just finished putting on all the under things, and was struggling with the stays when I heard Wilkins outside.

"Miss Hanson? Are you awake?"

"Wilkins! Bless you. Come in." I called.

He stepped in, and when he saw me, quickly turned away. "I'm sorry. I thought you said to come in."

"I did. Come here and help me with this horrid thing. I can't seem to do this by myself."

Awkwardly, he came toward me, having a hard time knowing where to fix his gaze. "I-I'm not sure I'll be much help."

"Oh come on. How hard can it be? Tavington knew just what to do."

"Well, he would, wouldn't he?" Wilkins grumbled something to himself, then took the laces from my hand. "Fine. I guess it can't be that difficult to figure out." He pulled lightly, barely tightening the thing around my waist.

"Come on, Wilkins. I'll never get into that dress if you don't pull it tighter."

With a heavy sigh, he pulled again. And again, until I told him he could stop.

"That can't be comfortable," he said, staring at my waist, having suddenly lost his shyness.

"It's not. I don't know how your women can wear these, day in, day out. I'd never put up with it." As I slipped into the dress, I questioned the captain. "What did you call me for?"

"Oh, right. Tavington wants you to go see him as soon as you are dressed."

"Fine." I pulled the comb through my hair, tied it with the scrunchy, and then followed Wilkins next door.

As I stepped into Tavington's tent, my eyes moved inadvertently to his cot. The woman from the night before lay there, sleeping, her dress tangled about her knees. I drew my lips together in a taut line, fighting the urge to scream. It was not jealousy. I was more refined of a person than to give in to that.

"Good morning, Miss Hanson." Tavington smiled, a victorious gleam in his eyes. "I trust you slept well?"

"Very well, thank you." I returned his smile and gave him an up and down scan. He was neat as a pin, face clean-shaven, his hair perfectly groomed, and his crisp, clean uniform buttoned, the lace at his throat tied just right. At least I could be sure the previous night's drunken scene had been, indeed, an act. "You seem well rested yourself. I admit, I'm a little surprised."

"Oh?" He arched his eyebrows innocently, then gave the briefest glance in the direction of his cot. "Caroline–er–Miss Aldridge didn't have anywhere to stay for the night."

"And you kindly allowed her the use of your quarters. So gentlemanly of you."

"Yes." He gave a curt nod, then frowned as he took in my appearance. "Hm. Go change into your own clothes." He looked back at his desk in a dismissive gesture.

"My own clothes?"

He glanced up, his eyes wide with feigned surprise...or concern...or something. His brows knit together into a frown. "Are you having a hard time hearing? Or am I speaking in a language with which you aren't familiar?"

"No, of course not. I just don't understand."

He leaned forward on his table and spoke again, mouthing each word carefully. "Go-change-in-to-your-own-clothes."

Fighting down my irritation, I nodded. "I understood your words, and even their meaning. I don't understand why."

"It's a good thing you aren't one of my men. If I had to take the time to explain each and every order I gave them..." He shook his head and looked at me as if I were a helpless cause.

"For once, we agree. And since I am not one of your men, please do me the courtesy of explaining your odd request. I thought it was important to you that I wear this dress."

He shrugged. "What you wear is no real concern of mine, Miss Hanson. I thought it would be more appropriate for you to dress as a woman. For the sake of the men." He turned away, obviously trying to dismiss me again.

But I wouldn't let him off that easily. "Your reason, Colonel? You still have not explained why you wish me to change."

Heaving a heavy sigh, he threw me an impatient glare. "I have some–er–errands to run, and I can't very well leave you behind." He gave me a pointed stare. "I am, therefore, forced to take you along, and you obviously are not used to riding in feminine clothes. To avoid any more possible accidents, such as your clumsy dismount yesterday, you'd better dress in your...future clothing."

I smiled and laughed at once. "See? Now was that really so hard? You could have just said that from the start, and avoided this little quarrel altogether."

"Quarrel? No, no, Miss Hanson. This was no quarrel. It was simply you being difficult."

"Whatever. I'll be right back. Thank you for your concern for my well being." I flashed him an impish grin, then hurried away before he could retort.

On one hand, it would be a relief to get out of these clothes. My own were definitely more comfortable. On the other hand, I felt there was another reason for his request. A reason that left me feeling frustrated, although I couldn't quite figure out why.

My list of modifiers for the colonel grew with each encounter. Deceptive, hateful, gorgeous, irksome, infuriating, charmingly seductive, irritating, cunning. How I hated him! How I wanted to throw my arms about him and lose myself in his embrace.

I sighed as I stepped into my tent and hurried to get out of the clothes that had been such a nuisance to put on. What next?

end chapter

Question for y'all. I don't have the movie to look at (sob) so for those of you who know, is there any indication of what time of year (season...winter?...spring?...etc.) when the church burning took place? From my memory, the wedding scene at the beach looked to be in warmish weather, though maybe not exactly summer.The scene where Billings arrives at his home and finds his wife and son dead looks a little like early spring or then early fall to me, but I just can't remember. Any help on this would be greatly appreciated. :)