Demelza started to protest again, and then went suspiciously silent.

"Hush, my angel," Captain MacNeil warned distantly, "else you'll wake the house. Just this once, thy sweetness," he paused awkwardly and Ross could hear only an attempt at speech from his wife, and then a quiet chuckle from his old comrade, "let yourself be seen and not heard, won't you?" it was breathlessly chortled out and swiftly followed by a startling tearing noise and a muffled shriek from Demelza.

It was this moment that Ross' senses all managed at last to fire in unison and he decidedly twisted the doorknob, swinging it open ahead of him and striding in, not entirely sure what he planned to do or say, except violently remove the interloper from his discomposed wife. When his gaze settled upon the interrupted, only one pair of eyes was able to settle on his entrance with the due shock; Captain MacNeil, yet Ross looked instantly to Demelza.

Demelza was at an odd angle beneath the other man, such that he could not see her face, for her head lay far back and hung sideways off the edge of the bed, pushed further still by the strong hand of the captain, hand pursed tightly and threateningly around her jaw, two fingers pushed into her mouth to curb her tongue. Between the two there was a stretch of the fabric of Mistress Poldark's party dress, a large section of the bodice torn away in Malcolm's hand to reveal a single pale breast in the dimly lit room.

From outside, he had suspected things were out of hand, but in but a moment the Captain MacNeil had escalated quickly – deftly, even – to trap Demelza so firmly. Ross froze in horror for a moment as the door swung shut again, his hair wild over his eyes and his face shadowed with vitriol, and a second later he was upon the other man, hands gripping the back of his shirt and hauling him backward with a shout of fury.

MacNeil swung an arm and an elbow hit Ross in the ribs, but in a swift swing he unbalanced the tipsier man and threw him headlong to the floor, winded.

"Ross!" Demelza's voice cracked as she threw herself upright, dazed but suddenly aware of her rescue. She was all askew but appeared none the worse, if a little exposed. She grasped at the remaining chunk of her bodice and yanked it upward to clutch at some dignity, but he could see her cheeks were burning brightly now that the colour was returning to her face. "I'm that glad you came," she exhaled shakily, and raised a hand to her mouth in shock.

He still had the back of MacNeil's shirt, which was unbuttoned and not long to slip off, but he regarded her with trepidation and took silent stock of the distance they had fallen from grace. His jaw tensed up, but he let it loose to ask her, "Are you alright?" as tonelessly as he could, for he knew he could not control the timbre of his voice for much longer without screaming.

She made to respond, even as she became reddened and tearful, but was interrupted by a croak from MacNeil.

"Poldark," he realized, with no small amount of horror, but he quickly wiped it away and his face slackened into distaste.

Ross' eyes flashed furiously, but then he grit his teeth in a near smile. "MacNeil," he responded icily, "What a strange thing to find here in my wife's room. Here, let me help you up."

He made to speak, but Ross yanked him up to sit by his now bedraggled linen shirt, catching him under the arms roughly before releasing his hold and taking a step back. Ross did not know if MacNeil expected it – he certainly should have, they knowing each other as they did – but as soon as he released the shirt, giving the impression of amicability, he swung back a leg and kicked his old friend as solidly as he could in the stomach. Demelza jumped where she sat on the bed.

MacNeil recoiled, only to find it unbearable to lean back against the pain, and instead rolled aside to grip his aching solar plexus.

"You are no gentleman, sir," Ross stooped to the scot, an uncontrollable vengefulness coursing through him. "Tell me, is it your custom to try your luck with a comrade's wife when you see the opportunity?" he bit out furiously, lunging forth and grabbing a good few locks of the man's red hair, tilting his head and dragging it back, making the stomach ache worse.

MacNeil gasped and ground his teeth, and looked so pitiful for a beat that the Poldark captain hazarded the idea of mercy. A moment later, he peered up at Ross and sniffed hard, grunting out sourly, "It is easy to forget the comrade when the opportunity is so readily offered," and when he spoke there was red running between his teeth, his tongue bitten to bloodiness, not that Ross needed any help to see red.

Ross snarled and reared back his fist to knock the incise man unconscious, but the house was rousing to the commotion and he could hear footsteps thumping down the hall. He hesitated to glance to the door, and a second later, a hard cranium smashed into his nose and he went reeling backward, stopping only barely upright when his back hit the bed post almost hard enough to snap it – but thankfully it held and he kept his footing, a hand climbing to grasp at the site of impact.

"Ross!" Demelza hissed fearfully, clambering on one hand to the foot of the bed near him, but her eyes danced anxiously to Captain MacNeil gaining some footing of his own and rising to full height steadily, though swaying a little and aching already.

Clearly this was unacceptable to her husband, and with renewed rage, the Captain Poldark charged low as the scythe sweeps the barley and thrust his shoulder against his ex comrade's barrel, meaning to take him once again off his feet and return him to a rightful lower position, whereby Ross was sure he intended to beat upon the man until he could beat no more. He failed in his mission, blood dripping off his chin, and Malcolm retained his footing by grasping upon the dresser, his elbow knocking candles and a carafe of port onto the floor, shattering.

The disturbance was more than their hosts could bear, and the door swung open again upon the image of Captain MacNeil gripping desperately at the dresser as Ross managed to get in one, then two, then three good punches to the interloper's head and neck – some did not land where intended, and quickly Ross corrected his error by grabbing hold of the fabric of MacNeil's nightshirt and aiming instead for his bruised gut again.

"I say! What the devil is going on in here!" it was Sir Hugh, and with a moment more to think on it, Ross might have been further angered by the intrusion. As it was, he had his hands full. At the least, Sir Hugh was of no stature to separate the two brawlers at his age, and all he could do was gawp and shout in distress as more of his home was mislaid when Ross swung his foot toward MacNeil's, only to snap the leg off the dresser instead of tripping his foe.

"Ross, come away!" Demelza yelped, still perched on the bed but gathering a pillow to clutch to her chest for discretion as Sir Hugh did glance her way and see more than he ought. Oh, the scandal would be fretful and unending, she thought.

"Comport yourselves! I implore you to cease!" Sir Hugh yelled as loudly as he could, but it did not carry much weight except to alert more attention, Demelza guessed.

The dresser fell over, driving the two men away from it, staggering amongst themselves, grabbing and jabbing. Demelza could see spatters of blood in the air between them, being spat by both parties, but could not tell which side struggled more until they crashed into side of the vanity and the mirror, slotted into it, wobbled precariously and the light of the fire flickered in its reflection.

"Fire!" Sir Hugh cried out, ignored by the two men grappling.

Judas, the candle that had fallen had set the curtain alight, and the flames took hold quickly, razing upward toward the ceiling. Just as the lighting in the room changed under the bright blaze, the door swung open again and two servants rushed in to take stock of the situation.

"Put out that fire! No!" Sir Hugh recanted as soon as he'd spoken, then threw an arm and pointed at the two captains, just as the mirror finally snapped off its manhandled housing and tumbled forward, shattering upon their feet. "Gah! Stop them! Stop this! Purport to be gentlemen, will you! This is most unseemly!" he was furious, but it was still the lesser fury in the room.

A.N.: 2 or 3 more chapters to go, just wanted you guys to know how long a story it'll be. Wanted to mash the MacNeil and the Adderley situations together and see an angery Ross being all violent and protective because why the fuck not ;) glad you guys are enjoying it, it makes me so sad the Poldark Fanfic community is so small :'( i wanna read more stories of elizabeth marrying ross when he gets back from the war and then him meeting Demelza... *le sigh* i have a day off tomorrow so if i get more than 3 reviews on this i'll post the next one ASAP. I hate to hold chapters ransom but reviews do stoke my creative fire ;)