When Vivienne came to her senses, she was slumped against a cot, one leg stretched out before her with something warm on top of it. She shook her head to wash away the sleep, but her head throbbed painfully in response. As she pressed both hands to her aching head, a voice penetrated the mist enveloping her brain.

"You had better not pull something like that again. Insolent girls will be properly punished." To Vivienne's disgust and utter horror, a strange man wearing the uniform of a Dragoon was sitting across from her, her scraped up leg across his lap. Though it was her calf that was scraped, he had his hands clasped around her bare thigh. Instantly repulsed at the feeling of his hot hands in such an inappropriate place, she tried to squirm away from him, but he dug his fingernails hard into her leg, making her gasp sharply in pain and cease her struggling. Vivienne's chest tightened when the man's pupils dilated with an obvious desire. Just as Vivienne was about to scream for help, the swaying of the tent flaps caught her eye and Colonel Tavington entered the tent. Vivienne was surprised to feel her chest relax at his presence. Or maybe it was just the fact that she was safe from the man holding her leg.

"Private Roth! Leave us." Tavington snapped authoritatively.

"But sir - " Roth pleaded, clearly not wanting to go.

"You clearly cannot control yourself, Private. Get out of this tent," Tavington said through tight lips. As Roth began to leave, Tavington caught his arm and hissed into his ear, "Touch her again and there will be consequences." Roth knew better than to argue with this and reluctantly obeyed, leaving Tavington and Vivienne alone in the tent. Tavington sat across from Vivienne and put her leg in his lap before she could resist.

"I'm to see that your wounds are tended to. Best you don't resist." This will all be worth it, Tavington thought as he reluctantly bandaged the scrape on her shapely calf, craving to run his hand all the way up her leg. His touch was feather light. Surprisingly, Vivienne sighed and slumped back again, giving in. Tavington thought this a good time to try talking to her.

Excluding whores of course, a woman would not willingly sleep with a man unless she felt she knew him a bit first. Tavington knew this from experience, and he didn't want to rape the girl, but there was no harm in manipulating her, toying with her a bit. She was a challenge he could definitely triumph in. Tavington glanced up at the girl, who had her eyes closed. Already she seemed to feel safe with him. Even bruised and pale-faced from exhaustion, she was still stunningly beautiful. His efforts would be worth it.

"I never did get your name," Tavington said as if they were chatting over tea. Vivienne was too tired and sore to be stubborn.

"Vivienne," she murmured. He looked up at her, pausing in bandaging her leg.

"Colonel William Tavington, leader of the First Dragoon Calvary." She nodded slightly to show she had heard him. Feeling bold, he took her hand. "It is a pleasure indeed to meet you, Vivienne." He kissed her knuckles charmingly, his eyes never leaving hers, and she pulled away in surprise, fully awake now. Vivienne's anger rose as she processed what he was trying to do.

"Your pleasure is not in meeting me! Do you really find me so stupid? I know exactly why you brought me here and I shall not now, not ever sleep with you or any other man here." Her eyes burned furiously and her leg shifted in his grasp. To her outrage, Tavington seemed to barely register what she had said, his face calm.

"How do you know I don't simply want someone to talk to? The other soldiers make dreadful companions, you know." He held her leg in place, keeping his eyes on her smooth, pale skin, aching to confirm that the rest of her was as perfect. Vivienne was silent. Her knuckles burned where he had kissed them. She could still feel his lips, impossibly soft for a man of his type. Tavington spoke again. "You won't miss your home." Vivienne was taken aback. How dare he?

"Of course I will - do! Home is where my family is!" she spat defensively, trying again without success to move her leg out of his lap. If her mouth wasn't so dry, she would spit in his face. With a scoff, he replied,

"Family - a mother, who is controlling and uptight, and a daydreaming oaf of a father. . . Neither have your best interests in mind."

"What - how do you know all of this?" Vivienne was too confused to be outraged. Tavington glanced up at her briefly before going back to her leg, nonchalant as ever. "Before joining the King's army as my aide de camp, James Wilkins lived near you and knew your parents well. I probably know more about your family than you do."

"Oh really? And just what is it that you know?" Vivienne kept her anger under control with some difficulty.

"Your father cares more about his books and artifacts than he does about you, and your mother schemes to find you a rich husband, no matter how old or cruel, so she and her husband can live comfortably the rest of their lives. Quite terrible when even the neighbors can see this."

Vivienne was silent as his words reverberated through her mind. He was lying, he had to be lying. . . Tavington took advantage of her reaction and drove his point home.

"The future your mother has lain out for you is hardly one that will suit you." He paused slightly, his voice lush "You desire adventure, something different than the same view from a balcony for years." Vivienne was stunned into silence once again, shocked at the accuracy in his description of her feelings. "I am much the same way. We shall get along quite nicely." With too much of an information overload to say something cheeky, she fell into silence.

Something about him intrigued her. He was dangerous, she knew that much, and she felt he was baiting her, would seize her the moment she fell into his trap. But perhaps the man's behavior was a cry for help. Perhaps he had never known kindness or love and sensed she could provide both? Did he want to love her? Suddenly Vivienne was furious with herself. Tavington had burned her house down with a smile in his eyes and she had thought maybe. . . ?

What a joke! Vivienne found she had once again been caught up in her romantic fairy tales, but now it was time to be realistic. Resolving to resist his blue eyes and apparent charm, Vivienne closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep off the pain of her injuries and ignore the reluctant pleasure of Tavington's warm hand on her leg.