When Vivienne finally opened her bleary eyes, she was lain across Tavington's cot. Her limbs, including her bandaged leg, were spread out and her mouth tasted as if she had been sucking on a newly polished boot. Squirming, she turned her head into his pillow and tried to sleep again. The smell of soap mixed with leather and something spicy filled her nose. So this must be what Tavington smelled like - she knew she'd sniffed this scent before. There was no trace of the Colonel. Vivienne rose and peeked out the tent flap. Right outside, a group of soldiers were passing around a flask and laughing raucously. Rather early in the morning to be drinking. . . She caught a few words about whoring in town that night and immediately closed the tent flap. Hopefully they had forgotten about the "prize" Colonel Tavington had brought back from his pillage. Tavington wasn't with them now, but she had a good bet he would be tagging along that night, since he hadn't touched her yet. And men had "needs." Vivienne wrung her hands, desperately trying to discover his motives. From the way he had been looking at her, he desired her quite strongly - why hadn't he just raped her?
The laughter continued outside, sending shivers down Vivienne's spine. She wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and hugged her knees to her chest, feeling more vulnerable than ever before.
Benjamin Martin was instantly curious after Jack Peterson's report of the prostitute's attempted escape from the British camp. More spies were sent to find out what happened to her and had nothing to report but that she was being held in Tavington's tent, most-likely against her will. When the question of rescuing her was raised, Benjamin shot it down, suggesting they should wait and see what would be done with her next.
The weeks passed and Vivienne remained unharmed. But she was far from comfortable. Despite it being summer, the nights grew bitter with cold - and the cold crept right through her thin blanket. Vivienne spent the nights shivering so hard she was exhausted by morning. After many sleepless nights, Vivienne was becoming desperate, feeling she would trade her soul for a crackling fire. She lay curled up in a ball one night, wanting sleep, begging sleep, but her body was shivering too hard to relax. Her eyes darted about for something to stop the trembles of cold. What was warm? A candle would be no help, and the thought of stealing Tavington's blanket seemed much too dangerous - there was no telling what he would do if he woke. She found herself looking to Tavington's sleeping form, wrapped up in blankets. Body heat. . . She could - No, she would not resort to that. . . but how badly she wanted to stop the shivers. . . Reluctantly making her decision, Vivienne rose and crept silently towards Tavington's cot. There was just enough room for her. She slipped under the blanket beside him, her back to his. It wasn't enough - she still shook uncontrollably. Forcing aside her aversion to him, Vivienne turned over so she was facing his back. She cuddled into Tavington, his warmth spreading throughout her body. Satisfied at last, she slept.
Tavington woke early next morning, his body warmer than usual. Something was around his stomach. He looked down and found a pair of slim, pale arms wrapped around his waist. Confused, he looked over his shoulder to see Vivienne curled against him, still breathing deeply with sleep. Unable to hold back a smirk, he turned his body so she was now facing his chest, her arms still around him. He pulled her a bit closer, so they were pressed together from forehead to feet. She mumbled something in her sleep and wrapped her arms around him more tightly. He resisted a chuckle and closed his eyes once more.
Pleasant warmth engulfed Vivienne when she opened her eyes. She breathed in deeply, so very relaxed. A smell filled her nostrils - something familiar. Clean leather and spice. . . wait. . . Now Vivienne was awake. She held back a squeak as she found herself cuddled into Tavington's chest. Her body was pressed tightly to his; she could feel every inch of him. Feeling her personal space so grossly invaded, she tried to put some distance between them. Vivienne couldn't move. Even in his sleep, Tavington had an iron grip. She strained to escape, but she was too close to draw enough power to push him away. Eventually surrendering, Vivienne sighed in frustration and flopped back against him. She definitely wasn't going back to sleep now.
Tavington waited several more minutes before giving in. He opened his eyes to see her staring right back at him.
"Got cold, did you?" he quipped. She narrowed her eyes.
"Please release me. This is extremely improper." He complied, keeping a straight face as he watched her stumble out of the blankets. Soon, he rose as well, dressing quickly and leaving the tent. Vivienne was careful to keep her back to him, as her cheeks were burning in embarrassment. She gripped her ratty blanket, twisting it as hard as she could. It was much better to be cold than to be warm next to that scoundrel.
She left the tent to wash in the stream without peeking out first to make sure she was alone. Ten feet away, three soldiers elbowed each other, nodding in her direction. Frightened, Vivienne pretended not to see them and started walking towards the stream. Bad move. They were following her farther and farther away from camp, leering and gaining distance quickly. Anticipation gleamed in their eyes as they got closer. Vivienne's heart pounded in utter panic as she descended the hill, unable to control her feet anymore. She looked about for a weapon-
"Gentlemen! I believe you are being missed at the meeting?" Tavington sat atop his horse at the crest of the hill. The soldiers stopped, angrily turning around to meet Tavington's icy glare of disapproval. As they trudged past him, he leaned down, grabbing the shoulder of one of them. "You will learn your place, or answer to me." He released the man, shoving him forward. Tavington looked back up to meet Vivienne's frozen face. He gave her a curt nod, then turned his horse and trotted away.
Vivienne stood still for several moments, bewildered. He followed his roguish performance earlier with this act of . . . concern for her well-being? So far, this was the only kind thing he had done, but would it be the last? Was it some kind of message? No. For goodness sakes he was toying with her mind again. Vivienne would not be swayed so easily. Impress me, she thought obstinately, knowing it could never happen.