As Colonel Tavington walked among the young soldiers the next morning, he found himself thinking of Vivienne, but not in the usual way. The reason he brought her back to camp in the first place was to get her in his bed. That still hadn't happened despite the daily, or rather, nightly, opportunities. Of course he still desired her, that was certainly true, but there was something behind his insatiable lust. Lately he had found himself satisfied with simply holding Vivienne, or sitting near her, not needing to hungrily touch and kiss her every moment they were together. If only it wasn't for this stupid war, he could court her properly. . .

Tavington nearly kicked himself. What was he thinking? He loved war in all its macabre glory. But, he stopped walking, could there be something else he loved more? Tavington tried to rid himself of this contradiction of his staunchest belief. How could he have been such a fool? He did not love Vivienne and would never love any woman. He would just have her and be done with the whole issue. Women, he thought firmly, are only good for warming one's bed on cool evenings.

Vivienne walked briskly into town, glad to be mailing her letters at last. She found herself startled at the large number of people in the streets. Men, women, and children were up and about, working or playing, socializing or keeping to themselves, but all were enjoying the sunny afternoon.

As Vivienne turned the corner, her eyes were drawn to several women in fine dresses standing together in a circle. A blonde young lady with her back to Vivienne seemed to be the center of attention. As Vivienne walked past them, she could see why the girl was getting so much attention - she was heavily pregnant. The blonde had a hand over her belly and was smiling shyly at the tittering women around her.

They all looked so very happy, especially the rosy-cheeked blonde with her bulging belly. As soon as Vivienne was positive she was out of sight, she stopped and curiously put a hand over her own stomach, remembering her eerie dream. What would it feel like to have a child growing within her? She shot a nervous glance back to the group of women. How she envied the blonde woman and her child, her friends . . . Vivienne swallowed.

There would be plenty of time to worry about children later. Now there were many other tasks to attend to. Her chin in the air, Vivienne strode towards the post office.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming," Tavington whispered hoarsely as Vivienne sneaked up beside him in the woods that night.

"I'm sorry, very very sorry," she insisted, taking his hands in hers. "I had to go into town to mail some letters, and the ride home took longer than I expected. Can you ever forgive me?" Vivienne had to hold back a smile. She knew he wasn't cross with her. He smirked.

"I don't know about that. I can't tell how truly sorry you are - " Vivienne interrupted him with a passionate kiss, her arms encircling his neck. Her breathing quickened as he parted her lips with his tongue, sliding his hands down her back. They fell to the cool ground at the base of a tree, Tavington on top of Vivienne, his knee between her legs. His fingers flew to the front of her dress, untying the strings that would free her body, opening her to his embrace -

"No," she gasped, looking at him intensely. "I want to save this for my - our - wedding night."

"Now or then, it doesn't matter," he replied huskily, going back to the strings.

"Yes, it does," she said, putting her hand over his across her breast. He sat up, away from her. The moment had been broken now. Tavington breathed deeply, trying to extinguish the burning desire to rip her dress off like an animal and have her roughly against the tree. She sat too, looking apologetic. Vivienne began crawling toward him, reaching for his hand.

"If you touch me now, you won't walk away a virgin tonight," he managed to say. She nodded, backing away until she sat with her back against the tree. She hugged her knees to her chest, peering up at Tavington.

"You're angry at me," she said softly, noticing the way he concentrated on the ground before him rather than her.

"Most honorable young ladies have been taught to save themselves for their wedding nights. I suppose I should be grateful I'm marrying an honorable young lady." Despite the faint sarcasm in his tone, she gave him a small smile.

"That you should. Now we must retire, it is getting late, and I'm awfully tired." With a nod, he stood, looking down at her. When she realized he was not going to help her up, Vivienne stood with blushing cheeks. "Good night, then," she said softly, before striding off towards camp.

"Good night," Tavington muttered to her back. Why had he resisted the urge to take her when the moment was so ripe? Seeing her frightened face, tense with apprehension, had only made him want to hold her close and kiss away her discomfort. The war between lust and a new feeling Tavington couldn't recognize raged on within him, threatening to push him into insanity.

He adjusted his cravat, striding slowly in the direction of his lonely, moonlit tent.