Soon, they arrived in the encampment and she was taken down the horse, her arms still tied together. She felt scared, but she was determined not to let it show. She was shown her way into the camp to a rock by a fire, where she was told to sit. She could hear the men talk about her and said degrading things about her.
A man first joined her by the fire. He was probably about her height or a bit taller than her, his clothes were dirty and he smelled alcohol, even though it was barely afternoon. He leaned forward and smelled her hair. She tried to move away from him, as this man kissed her neck. She was shivering from fear, but was trying her best to hide it. She stood up, push the man and kick her in between his legs.
"Rollins! Let her be." Benjamin Martin intervened. He saw her kick her assailant and he looked at the officer at his side.
"Jean, Maybe we should enroll her into the militia, she has fighting skills better than some men I know. Surprising for a woman this small."
She raised her hands, in a defensive position as the men came closer.
"Where did you learn to speak French as good as you did with your maid?" Said the other gentleman, obviously from France.
"My nanny was French and had a daughter around my age. Florence and I always talked French since I can recall."
"Well, you could easily pass for a Frenchwoman. My name is Jean Villeneuve. You may settle in here, you'll be saying with us for a moment."
The day passed and she sat there alone. Nobody talked to her, no one else troubled her. She had no idea if Florence made her way back to the fort, or if William learned she was kidnapped. He would be completely devoured by anger, she was sure if it.
The night felt and she was cold, shivering. To sit closer to the fire, she had to sit down on the ground. She anticipated the night, men were already drinking. Benjamin Martin came to sit with her and brought her a bowl of soup.
"I am afraid I won't be able to eat with my hands tied. But thank you, I appreciate the gesture."
Benjamin decided to untie her; she wouldn't risk doing anything stupid. She rubbed her wrists; the rope had let purple marks on her delicate skin. The bruise on her face was already turning dark. They ate their soup in silence; Benjamin was still trying to figure out this woman. She was elegant, well educated, probably better born than Tavington. She showed a very headstrong and incompliant character. What on earth was she married to the Butcher? From what he knew, patience didn't seem a quality Tavington possessed. He was still thinking what would hurt the most Tavington to pay him back for the death of his son, Thomas. Just killing her would probably not be enough. He would start by seeing the colonel's reaction when he'll learn the kidnapping. One of his men had infiltrated the dragoons and would report his reaction. He still had to think his plan for her through.
She was given a blanket for the night. She laid on her side, but couldn't bear to close her eyes. The high emotions of the day got to her and she felt into a dreamless sleep.
In the middle of the night, she was awaken by her skirts being raise to her thighs. She was pinned down by three men and she couldn't move. They gagged her to muffle her screams. The man kneeling between her legs got out a knife. Her eyes widened with fear, as she felt a vivid pain on her thigh. She felt blood falling down her leg as the knife cut her skin. 4 notches were carved, and as fast as they arrived, the men left her alone. Tears were falling down her cheeks as she was sobbing. She dared to look at her thigh and she saw the letter M who would scar her body. Martin said to Tavington back at the fort he wanted her for himself. He would start by this marking, just like livestock.
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