Tavington was in the camp, nearby the Fort. Bordon was finishing his report as the Colonel poured them both a glass of whisky. They raised their glasses and smiled. They were interrupted by Doctor Mackenzie entering their tent.

"Colonel Tavington, I was just dropping by to give you some news of Mrs Tavington. Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all, please, speak."

"The young lady has no broken bones. The bruises were extensive, but are already fading away. If she is careful and put the oil I gave her, the scar on her thigh will lighten and should be less visible. That's a strong little woman you have there."

Tavington raised an eyebrow; a scar on her thigh? He didn't noticed yesterday, nor this morning. The doctor took he leave on the officers. Bordon proposed a toast to Lady Charlotte well being and safe return.

"We should catch the ghost any time soon. The raid in Pembroke will make him come out of his way," Bordon said.

"Yes, for tomorrow, prepare only thirty men for a patrol. The rest of them get a day of rest. You will be in charge. I want to make sure Charlotte is okay."

"Yes, sir."

Tavington rode back to the Fort to find Charlotte brushing her wet hair. She struggled with undoing the knots, as always. She turned around as he entered the room. He winced when he saw the yellowish color on her face. She stood up and found her place in his arms. He leaned in for a soft kiss.

She asked how was his day, as she resumed trying to tame her hair, sitting down at the vanity. He went on to tell her a few lines of his day, as he took his jacket off and untied his vest. He took the brush out of her hand, and took a handful of hair, starting to brush the ends first.

"Doctor Mackenzie told me you were a strong little thing."

"I guess so. Since I can handle you brushing my hair, I would say the same," she laughed as she gained back her hairbrush from his hand.

"It's good to hear you laugh. I was really worried about you. I did everything I could to find you, and only faith brought us together."

"I'm sure you did. I never doubt it. You occupied every thought I had in those few days."

"Lily?"

"Yes?"

"I want to see the scar on your thigh."

She gasped; how could he know? He would always know everything. He kneeled down next to her and run his fingers softly over her fabric of her nightgown, probably just above the scar. She looked down, couldn't stand his gaze.

She sighed and lifted the hem of her gown to show him the M shape scar. His eyes widened. Martin had marked his wife. He took several deep breaths to try to remain calm; she didn't deserve to see his anger, she had had enough.

"The doctor told me he gave you an oil to put on it?" She nodded. "Give it to me."

She fumbled around the different bottles she had on her small desk. She found the right one and opened the lid. He took it from her hands and poured a bit of the liquid on his fingers. Delicately, he rubbed the scented oil on the scar.

She put her hands on the each side of his face and kissed his forehead.

"Why didn't you tell me yesterday?" He tried his best to hide the bowl of anger he had in his stomach.

"It didn't seem to be the best moment to tell you such a thing. Not in Pembroke, nor in the tavern when you saw my bruises. I saw in your eyes how upset you were. I didn't want to add fuel to your anger. I was afraid of your reaction if I would have told you right away."

"You were afraid of me." He didn't ask, but stated a fact.

"No, you are twisting my words."

His eyes narrowed. She was afraid of him, he thought. After all he did for her, all the moments they had share. His jaw clenched. He stood up and looked at the window.

"William, you know I am not afraid of you. Don't you remember how I chose to marry you?"

"Tell me again, dear."