Grace awoke late on her first morning as a married woman. As she rolled over on the satin sheets of the bed she saw that Tavington was already dressed. His new uniform was fastened tightly to his body - the fabric still too coarse to leave any give. His hair was pulled back securely in its leather thong.His sabre, as usual, was at his side, hung on a thick leather belt that radiated a dull sheen in the late-morning sun.

'Finally awake.' he said with some disdain. Actually he was glad that he had had chance to dress before she awoke. It was one thing to sleep with a whore and then return her to the gutter, but it was quite another to share a bed with a lady; the smooth skin of her arms and legs within reach, and her calm, regular breath resounding through the room. It made him feel somehow exposed.

Grace was also uncomfortable. Her cheeks coloured as she remembered the events of the night before.

'Are you going back to battle?' she asked irritably.

'Unfortunately not. Your Grandfather seems to think that a marriage requires a period of furlough. One week actually.' He spoke lightly watching Grace carefully for her reaction; he was pleased to note the slight panic in her eyes.

'But Colonel,' she protested, 'do your men not require you to lead them? Surely you cannot be spared for so great a period?'

'That is hardly your concern,' he said dismissively. 'Now get up and get dressed.'

Grace hesitated for a moment. She did not like the way that he spoke to her and was reticent to leave the safety of the covers. She was still wearing her chemise, and, despite her experiences of the night before, she had never been so undressed in the presence of a man before.

Sensing her hesitation he abruptly wrenched the sheet from the bed. He raised his eyebrow in reluctant admiration at the sight which met him. The silken chemise clung to her body like a second skin - her nipples standing erect in the cool breeze that rushed through the manor. The low cut neckline revealed an ample cleavage and pale skin, delicate like the wings of a butterfly. Last night Grace had turned off the lamp before undressing; now he realised that if she had not she would have had a second, even more frantic, taste of his body's ardour. He felt his erection pull at his trousers.

'Your modesty is beginning to bore me, my dear wife,' he said drily, amused at the anger which flashed through her dark eyes. 'If you are not careful I will correct it by making you strip naked and stand so until your blushes have ceased.'

Grace jumped up from the bed and, forgetting that she was half dressed, stood with her face inches from the Colonel her pale face flushed with humiliation. She did not care at that moment that he loomed at least six inches over her.

'I would rather be handed to the colonial army than strip for you, Sir,' she said fearlessly, forcing every syllable of the sentence to display a vicious contempt.

A flash of fury flickered through Tavington's eyes. His ears throbbed with recklessness. How easy it would be to lift his sabre and slice the chemise from the girl, carrying out his threat; to throw her small frame heavily on the bed and satisfy again the lust he felt - lust that surprised him now as it had the night before. However, he did not want to take the girl in such an uncontrolled manor. He knew that it did not bode well to act rashly on the strength of such impulses – it would reveal too much. Instead he forced his blood to cool, smiling with mocking at the furious girl, contenting his anger by grabbing her chin roughly in his hand so that she was forced to look directly into his piercing stare.

'Don't tempt me,' he said slowly, his fingertips probing the yielding skin. He paused for a few moments as if considering something. 'I will excuse the ignorance of that remark,' he went on, condescension heavy in his tone. 'Now get dressed. You will meet me in the dining room in precisely half an hour.'

Tavington turned to leave, but he hesitated before he got to the door, looking back at Grace with a dangerous glare. 'Mark me, Grace, I will not excuse you again.' He fingered the jewelled hilt of his sabre so that Grace's eyes fell towards it. With that he left the room.


Several hours later and Grace was being forced to endure the droning voice of her governess, Miss Hinny, as she instructed Grace, Eliza and Jane in the art of needlework. Grace had been surprised when Tavington had insisted that she continue her learning. After all now she was married there seemed little need for a governess. But after a silent breakfast he had informed her that she was still to take lessons with her cousins.

At first Grace had protested, more out of habit than anything else, but then she had begun to see the perks of such an undertaking. It would give her time away from Tavington whilst he was on furlough and it also offered her the opportunity of escape when he had returned to battle. Regrettably she would not be able to attempt to elude her governess whilst Tavington was near by. As he had delivered her to Miss Hinny, and much to the apparent amusement of Eliza, he had instructed her firmly that she was not, under any circumstances, to leave the parlour. He had implored Miss Hinny to get word to him at once if such a thing was too happen: "For Grace's safety of course", he had added, his eyes betraying to Grace his insincerity. Of course Miss Hinny had been only too delighted to offer the Colonel her assurances.

So here Grace was; her clumsiness and her restlessness causing her to jab her unprotected fingers with the needle frequently as she attempted to embroider an apple tree onto a cotton panel caught tautly within a wooden frame.

'So, Grace,' Eliza said, as Miss Hinny left the room to retrieve some more dye for the thread, 'how is married life so far? The Colonel appears to have fallen quite deeply for you – he certainly did not wish for you to come to any harm whilst he attended to his business.' Eliza's voice, for once, was filled with amusement and her forehead smooth of wrinkles.

'Oh do be quiet,' Grace said irritably. Eliza smiled knowingly, taking her reticence to discuss her husband as proof that Grace had enjoyed the wedding night.

'Just think, Jane dear,' Eliza went on, 'Any week now it could be one of us who has cause to blush in memory of our wedding night.' Grace was just about to retort that she indeed had not blushed when her eyes fell upon Jane who seemed not to be taking the slightest bit of notice of her sister's speculations. The more she thought about it the more Grace realised that she had not heard her cousin speak a word since she had arrived. 'Did you hear me Jane?' Eliza prompted, 'I said …'

'I heard you,' Jane snapped, silencing the older girl abruptly. Grace was puzzled. She had expected that of the two it would be Jane who would tease her mercilessly about her marriage to Tavington.

'She's been like that all morning,' Eliza whispered to Grace conspiratorially, some of her seriousness returning. 'And she disappeared from the reception without warning. Father thinks that she is sickening for something.' Grace looked closely at Jane. In fact she did look as though she might be ill. Her round face had a pink tinge to it and her pale eyes were bright; her hand appeared to shake slightly as she pushed the needle in and out of the fabric.

It was at this point that Grace remembered Tavington's remark to her as they ascended the staircase: Isn't that your cousin? he had asked. At the time Grace hadn't been certain that it was not Jane caught in an embrace with one of the Redcoat rogues, and now she was almost sure that it had been.

'Jane – are you ill?' Grace asked, hoping that there was some other explanation for her unusual behaviour.

'Just mind your own business Mrs Tavington,' Jane retorted with a strange vehemence. Grace was just about to protest when Miss Hinny reappeared with the dye quietening her.


Colonel Tavington paced the manor with some frustration. Immediately after depositing Grace he had sought an interview with Lord Cornwallis. He wanted to know the plans for the shipments of munitions and gold – amongst which was most likely the dowry he was to receive for accepting Grace's hand. They were arriving from England later that week and he was frustrated that he would not be involved. He had the vague feeling that the militia may try to intercept the delivery and he wished to offer his advice on the matter. Unfortunately when he had approached General 'O Hara to arrange the meeting he had stopped him even gaining entry to the chambers.

'No, Colonel Tavington, Lord Cornwallis has given instruction that your are not to concern yourself with military matters for at least another day.'

'But Sir,' Tavington had protested through pursed lips, knowing that O' Hara was delighting in his exclusion. 'I do not think you understand. The 'Ghost' …'

'Nor are you to speak of the "Ghost", Colonel,' O' Hara interrupted immediately, a gleam of amusement in his pale blue eyes.

'But the shipments – I do not think that the lines are prepared sufficiently for attack.' Tavington spat impatiently, 'It is my belief …'

'Hold you beliefs right there, Colonel,' O' Hara had then said more severely, his powdered wig twitching on his head, 'lest you forget to whom you speak. I am the Brigadier General and you will address me as such.'

Tavington had coloured slightly from the rebuke. In the heat of the moment he had forgotten to address O' Hara with the proper deference. He placed his hand behind his back and withdrew slightly.

'Forgive me, General,' he had said through gritted teeth, fighting hard to force each curt word from his lips, 'I merely wished to express concern …'

'I have heard your concern, Sir.' O' Hara had interrupted, feeling satisfied with the demeanour he had forced from Tavington. O' Hara had listened time and time again to Tavington's thinly-veiled insolence and was glad that he had been given the chance to finally reprimand it. He had decided to do the job properly.

'Now here mine,' he continued. 'I am concerned that your arrogance allows you to believe that the Dragoons will not function without you. Your words seem to suggest that Lord Cornwallis's army cannot protect its shipments without the "advice"' - he spat the word - 'of a Colonel.'

'That was not my intention, General,' Tavington had muttered, his face crimson at the General's reprimand - privately he thought that that was indeed the truth of it.

'Good - for I assure you, Colonel Tavington, that his majesty's army functioned very well before your appointment and will do so long after your eagerness for glory leads you to your death on the battlefield.'

O' Hara had then looked back down to the papers on his desk as though they had not spoken. When the Colonel had lingered, trying unsuccessfully to find the words that would make O' Hara reconsider, he had looked up and said in his crisp, clipped tone

'You are dismissed Colonel.'

Tavington had had no choice but to bow and leave the General's office, his anger at the point of explosion. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen O' Hara smile to himself before turning back to his work.

It was this, then, that made Tavington fume now. He did not dare to push any further for an early reappointment to the field lest O' Hara took it upon himself to persuade Lord Cornwallis from it. Nor did he dare to approach any of the soldiers positioned around the Manor for news of the war. He thought it likely that O' Hara, if he wished, could show this as a direct violation of his orders.

Tavington was not used to having free time and he was at a loss at how to fill it. He began to regret his decision to relinquish Grace to her governess - but he had made an agreement with Cornwallis to aid her conversion to a lady; and besides which he found he enjoyed making her do that which she so passionately hated. Eventually he decided that a ride may ease his frustration. Since he had found Grace with Cornwallis's horse, Othello - the finest stallion that he had ever laid eyes upon - he had desired to take him for a ride in the brush. He imagined with somevanityjumping him over the creeks and tearing him through flatlands, creating a storm of terracotta dust in their wake.

Resolved he made his way back towards Lord Cornwallis's chambers in order to request the use of his Othello through his foot-soldier. As he approached, however, he heard something that made him draw back into the shadows. The door to the General's quarters was thrown carelessly open, and within it he could hear the angry voice of Joseph Cornwallis.

'You mock me, Sir,' Joseph said, his voice shaking with rage.

'Come now Joseph,' Lord Cornwallis replied, 'I do not mock you.'

'Then my men do.'

'Your men do not mock you.'

Tavington thought that the general spoke to his son like one would to pacify a child. He moved closer, stepping with deft quietness on the wooden floor.

'They speak of me behind my back. They whisper that you protect me from my duties. Even Colonel Tavington ridiculed me for my lack of engagement …'

'Colonel Tavington is a unique example Joseph. He is blood-thirsty. He thrives in battle. It's in his very nature to fight the continentals from the front line.'

Tavington was pleased at this assessment of his character. Joseph seemed even more incensed.

'And why should an officer not fight from the front line?' he said indignantly, pounding his fist on the desk, his brown eyes filled with passion. 'Is it not a man's duty to accompany his men to the battle where he has ordered them? I would be proud to fight from the front line to serve my king and my country.' Cornwallis sighed. He had hoped that his plan to keep Joseph away from battle would not be discovered by his son, who was as headstrong as an ox when riled, and proud and honourable along with it. Though such qualities did not displease Cornwallis - in fact he had a great admiration for the way in which Joseph conducted himself – nevertheless they were going to prove bothersome if he was resolved to keep his only living child from battle.

'Joseph, there is more to war than killing - I thought I taught you that,' he said reasonably.

'You did father. And I am not bloodthirsty like Tavington – I am notdesperate to feel my blade rush through a man as he crumples before me. But I will not be the coward you would make me. I must insist, General, that you reposition me – or I shall be forced to retire my post in disgrace.'

Joseph stood formally now, his hand behind his back and his eyes directed towards an imaginary sky-line as he waited for his General's decision. He had no desire to desert, but he had to make his father see the seriousness of his position. He could not hope to lookhis menin the eye if he was not able to fulfil his duty to the hilt. Every derision of his name cut through him like the blade of a sword and he would not rest until he had bloodied his uniform with honour.

Tavington felt a grudging respect for the young lieutenant. He had thought Joseph a coward – but it seemed that it was his father who had prevented his firsthand engagement with the enemy.

Cornwallis tapped drummed his fingers on the desk absentmindedly. He knew that Joseph had his back against the wall. He did not but doubt that his son would keep his word - and though he did not wish his son to be killed in battle nor did he desire him to be shot as a deserter. He watched him carefully for a few moments.

'Very well, Lieutenant, I will consider the matter.' James beamed. 'Until I reach my decision you will remain at headquarters.'

'Yes, Sir.' James said, saluting his father with zealous precision.

'Very well, you are dismissed. Be sure and dine with us tonight.'

'Yes Sir!'

As soon as he heard the dismissal Tavington crept silently away from Cornwallis's office, his plan for a ride abandoned. Slowly an idea had begun to form itself somewhere deep in his mind and he went to the drawing room to retrieve some brandy so that he could think on it further.

Thanks for the speedy reviews on chapter 12! Hope you enjoyed this one …