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The very moment the group arrived back at camp, Vivienne was thrown into a tent with a single cot on the right side. Tavington stood over her, his expression unreadable.

"You will remain here for the time being," he said, all traces of a smile gone as he exited through the swinging tent flaps. Vivienne had half expected to have her dress ripped away and be thrown naked into a frenzy of soldiers, but luckily it wasn't so. . . yet. She sank down against the small cot and hugged her knees, too shocked to cry. She was angry that her life, so close to being perfect, had been ruined just like that. Even if she escaped with her virginity intact, no one would believe it. Her handsome stranger would never sweep her off her feet, there would never be any children playing in the courtyard. . . Vivienne put her head on her knees and closed her eyes, releasing a shuddering sigh. When she opened her eyes again, something glittered at her from beneath the cot. A surge of hope coursed through her as she lifted the thin sheet and saw a small knife winking at her in the candlelight, obviously tossed there ignorantly. Thanking her lucky stars for the knife owner's carelessness, she tucked the knife into her garter - a plan already forming in her mind. Tavington seemed sharp, but this knife was sharper - as was her wit. There might be a chance she could escape now. . .

****

Benjamin Martin stared into the fire, his hands clasped in his lap, the men of his militia around him chatting and drinking. They all assumed their heroic leader was tired - after all, his body appeared to be rather relaxed, but that assumption was entirely false. Benjamin Martin glared into the flames. They were mocking him, twisting and turning before his eyes to assume the shape of Colonel Tavington's sneering face after he shot Thomas.

"Stupid boy. . . " Thomas had run ahead, desperate to save his brother. . . Benjamin's hands squeezed together to keep him from shouting out in rage. Every day since that awful man had killed his son and ruined his life, Benjamin Martin wanted to put his hands around the filthy Colonel's throat and wring him until the last drop of his pitiful life melted into the dirt. . . but Benjamin was biding his time. A man such as that deserved a well-thought out and painful death. Benjamin closed his eyes, imagining how the colonel would look at him with bulging eyes, begging for mercy. No, even that would not be enough. If only the damn bastard had a family. . . but how could he? There was no room in his cold bleak heart for anyone. Benjamin glanced up at his cheerful men, breaking out of his trance at last. His oldest son, Gabriel, glanced Benjamin's way and smiled softly, as if he knew what was going through his father's head. A surge of determination coursed through Benjamin at the sight of his son - He and Gabriel would think of something together. Tavington would suffer and die, Martin just hadn't figured out how it would happen yet.

****

Tavington walked into his tent later that evening. The girl was sitting on his cot, looking strangely relaxed. She gave him a seductive smile as their eyes met.

"Back so soon?" she cooed. Tavington was uneasy with her sudden confidence. He no longer felt in control of the situation, and he liked to be in control. When he didn't reply, she lay back on her elbows, thrusting her chest forward (which Tavington certainly noticed). "So, what is it you are planning to do with me?" he looked at her warily, still silent, suspicious. "I assumed you all would attempt to take advantage of me the moment we arrived." She made sure to stress the word 'attempt.' He snorted.

"Attempt? My dear, you could hardly hold back even one of us." This was the answer she was looking for.

"Try me," she said, licking her lips ever so slightly. Vivienne seemed to be a better seductress than she had thought. A predatory gleam entered Tavington's eyes.

"If you insist," he murmured so quietly she barely heard him. He was at Vivienne's side in a moment. He took her wrists and pulled her to a standing position, his blue eyes scrutinizing her face. Vivienne felt her composure fading - his arctic gaze seemed to see right through her - he knew her intentions. Their faces were inches apart, breath mingling. If she didn't succeed. . . Vivienne forced herself to be calm, gluing a smile on her face beneath half-closed eyelids and shoving her anxiety back down. She had never killed someone, had never thought she would have to. . . You can't break down! As his fingertips pulled her face closer to his, Vivienne realized how difficult it would be to pull this off. Refusing to give up, she put her hands on his shoulders before he could kiss her and pulled him down to the floor. Vivienne's back dug painfully into the bed as Tavington's full weight hit her - he had not expected to be yanked to the floor. Taking advantage of his brief confusion, Vivienne pressed her body to his and let her right hand surreptitiously drift toward her hip. Looking at him warmly from beneath her eyelashes, she lifted her skirts - then drew the knife out of her garter and was about to drive it into him when he caught her wrist in a flash. He pulled back, and that condescending smile was aimed her way once again.

"Impressive effort, but you must realize who you're dealing with here. I was not named Colonel on a whim." Plucking the knife from her grasp, he sat back on his haunches - leaning just far enough away so she could scramble into a sitting position. Then he swooped in, pressing the flat of the knife to her throat. "Since it seems you don't know the rules here yet, I shall forget the attempt you made at my life. I advise you not to try it again." He stood up, looking down at her. "Now are you going to behave, or shall I have to tie you up?" Though defeated, Vivienne was relieved she had emerged from this unscathed and said nothing, refusing to meet his eyes. He appeared satisfied and turned his back to open a trunk near the middle of the tent.

Vivienne was mystified. Her expectations of this man had been blown away. Tavington was cleverer than she had originally given him credit for - and he was physically strong as well. Now there was no telling what her fate would be. If they wanted to rape her, wouldn't they have done it already? Maybe they still wanted to, but were planning something far beyond the limits of her imagination. Vivienne shivered, feeling more vulnerable than ever. Pictures drifted into her mind, horrible pictures. Why did she always assume the worst?

"That is where you shall sleep." Tavington's voice shook her out of her thoughts as he pointed to a blanket at the opposite end of the tent. Feeling a blush coming on, Vivienne fought it down.

"I shall be sleeping with you?!" she said incredulously, her voice rising to almost a squeak.

"Not with me, unless, of course, you would prefer to. You have that blanket all to yourself."

"And how am I to know you won't take advantage of me in the night?"

"You don't." With that, he slipped off his red jacket and put it into the trunk, revealing a loosely-fitted white shirt. As he proceeded to take off his boots, Vivienne felt rather awkward just gaping at him as he undressed. She tried to look away, but when he removed the white shirt, her stare was drawn to him again. She had never seen a bare-chested man before - and though she hated Tavington, she rather liked his muscular body.

She was even more angry now. He was taunting her with his nonchalance. Tavington noticed her staring at him, but appeared to not care as he lay back on his cot. His still form convinced Vivienne to curl up on the blanket, realizing how tired she truly was as her body relaxed right away. Her exhaustion proved more powerful than her paranoia of being raped and she was soon asleep, breathing softly.