Tavington had slept with countless women during his career. Women, he had once thought, were not as complicated as the married soldiers insisted. But that was before Tavington had been forced to deal with female hormones. He cared for Vivienne, but he did not care for her wild mood swings and strange cravings.
There had been one situation when she woke him in the middle of the night wanting to go swim in the moonlit river. She had been entirely awake, but entirely sane . . .? And how she ate these days! Anything and everything that was put before her went straight into her mouth.
To add to all that was her unresponsiveness to him. She refused to talk to him and flinched whenever he took her in his arms. At night, he would occasionally wake to the sound of her soft crying.
Tavington lost much sleep over his wife's possible insanity and wandered the British camp like a zombie.
"Have you noticed Tavington's behavior lately?" General O'Hara commented to one of his men during a patrol. The soldier being addressed nodded.
"He has been acting rather odd."
"Surely we won't find out what the cause is - that man strictly keeps to himself."
Baffled, the two men kicked their horses and rode on. Tavington was usually strict and proper and forgot nary a thing. As Vivienne's behavior continued to puzzle him, however, he had quite a time keeping his focus on the war. Tavington's new aide-de-camp, Captain Bordon, could ignore the matter no longer.
"Colonel, there is something troubling you?" Bordon blurted to his superior one afternoon, expecting a sharp insult in return. Tavington pursed his lips and turned to the Captain.
"You are married, correct, Captain?"
"Yes, sir. Is Vivienne causing you trouble?" Tavington shot him a brief look. Bordon's calling Vivienne by name was an informality Tavington was not comfortable with. He shrugged it off, trying not to obsess over such a small problem when there were more important things at hand.
"She's been acting like a lunatic for weeks. Mood swings, cravings for the most peculiar things . . . I can't bear to be in the same room with her."
Bordon was not a stupid man. He had been married far longer than the Colonel and had a fine young son. Bordon suspected he knew what was causing Vivienne's odd behavior.
"Sir, my wife acted in a similar way when . . . when she was pregnant with our son."
Tavington's whole world ground to a halt. There was no way . . .
"I have something I need to attend to. Please continue the patrol in my absence," he said over his shoulder to Bordon as he left the camp.
Bordon watched the Colonel go, a sinking feeling coming over the Captain. If Vivienne was with child, she would be tied to Tavington even more.
The Captain swore under his breath as he gripped his horse's bridle and led the beast to the grazing area. Bordon had felt a strong pull towards Vivienne from the moment he saw her but did not act on it due to Tavington's fierce shielding of the young woman from the other officers.
Bordon had come to lose hope in his chances with her until that night she had kissed him. The fact that she was attracted to him boosted Bordon's confidence. He resolved not to give up on her.
After all, if she was pregnant, Tavington would probably want nothing to do with her anyway.
Vivienne had lost weight, despite the baby growing within her. She couldn't bear keeping this from her husband, but she had refrained from telling him for so long . . .
It tore her apart, knowing she was deceiving him, but how could she go to him now? He would be far angrier she had kept this secret from him for such a dreadfully long time than because of her actual pregnancy. Vivienne was about to make the tedious climb up the stairs to the bedroom and cry her anxieties out when the front door swung open.
Tavington stood, staring at her with revelation in his eyes. She couldn't tell if he was angry. Vivienne was the first one to break the stare, her hands going for her belly, then quickly redirecting themselves to lay at her sides. Tavington stepped forward.
"Vivienne, come here," he commanded softly.
Vivienne mistook his soft voice for concealed rage and shook her head, backing away from him. Tavington sighed. There was no way around this.
"Are you," he paused, the words tasting foreign in his mouth " . . . are you carrying my child?"
Vivienne's head jerked up to meet his gaze. He didn't look to be angry . . .
Gingerly, she stepped toward him, pursing her trembling lips, and he rushed to her, taking her in his arms.
"God, Vivienne, why didn't you tell me the moment you knew?" he murmured into her hair. Her shoulders shook with her weeping and she put her arms around him.
"I knew you didn't want a child, William. I felt it was . . . my fault. I thought you would leave me." She looked up at him, her eyes red with tears. "I couldn't bear that."
Tavington's hand cradled the back of her head, holding her as she cried into him. He was shocked that her expectations of him were so low. The fact that he didn't want a child was true, but now . . . what was to be done?
He didn't want the baby, but he wanted Vivienne, needed Vivienne. Expressing his anger would only distress her further. She would need to be happy and healthy to survive carrying and birthing this baby, his baby.
"Vivienne, this baby is a blessing. How could I be upset with you?" She looked up at him in disbelief, and he felt slightly guilty for lying to her, but he knew it would be for the best. He could live with this.
"You're serious?" she asked with surprise plain on her face.
"I don't know much about being a father," he attempted a smile "But I suppose this is the only way to learn."
"William!" Vivienne kissed his cheek in a mixture of delight and relief, unable to keep the smile from her face.
"Our own family, our own - " Suddenly she broke off, her eyes wide. She grabbed Tavington's hand without explanation and pressed it to her rounded belly, hidden by her loose dress.
Stillness, then . . . Tavington felt a sudden pressure against his hand, like the beating of a tiny drum. Vivienne grinned, her smile radiant with joy.
"Did you feel that? The baby kicked - just for you." Tavington was frozen, his hand still firmly planted on Vivienne's stomach.
"We created that, you and I," Vivienne whispered, enjoying Tavington's uncharacteristic expression of stupefaction. His mind whirled. How remarkable . . . There was indeed a small life developing within Vivienne.
Tavington was oblivious to the absent-minded blankness that had crept onto his usually alert visage . . . He also failed to notice the questioning looks the men in his patrol were giving him.
Had the stress of the war fully grasped Tavington's unstable mind at last? The soldiers didn't know, but they weren't about to ask. The Colonel was always quick to hand out punishments, no matter what his mental state.
William ran the tips of his fingers along the side of Vivienne's face, tracing his fingers to the bottom of her chin to pull her lips to his.
Tavington had come home early from the camp that day, and his wife would not let him have a second to himself. She had dragged him into the bedroom the moment he walked through the door. Now they lay in bed, facing each other.
Tavington's fingers drifted down Vivienne's neck all the way to her belly, round as the full moon. He could not tear his eyes from her stomach, utterly amazed that their son or daughter was growing there, waiting to arrive and become part of their world.
Vivienne scooted closer to him, nestling her head into his chest.
"Do you think the war will be over before the baby comes?" she asked softly, curving a warm arm around his back. Tavington shook his head.
"I can't predict that," he offered, wishing he knew. "There hasn't been much news at camp lately." Vivienne pulled away far enough for him to see the confusion on her face.
"I overheard some soldiers in town yesterday saying they had just received word that the militia men are on the move. They had been attacking more British supply wagons or something. That's not news?"
Tavington blinked, inwardly pummeling himself for being so oblivious the past few days. You're obsessing over a baby. This is a war. Would you have given a second thought to the matter of a baby before all this? Most definitely not, Tavington told himself, hardening. He stood and dressed quickly.
"Where are you going?" Vivienne held the sheet to cover her as she stood as well, wanting to grab his arm. His back to her, Tavington's reply came curtly.
"To camp. I fear I've missed much information these days." He whipped his hair back into a queue and was gone.
Vivienne sighed, flopping back down on the bed. How odd it was - her desperate ache to be with William every free second he had. She wished she had tried harder to keep him back.
Seducing him usually didn't prove too difficult a task . . . Though Tavington was a much different man than when Vivienne had first met him, he had hardly been transformed into a saint. His cold military personality remained, stubbornly refusing to budge.
Vivienne thought of their child, resting her hand on her belly. Maybe with the birth of the baby she could convince Tavington to resign from the army and move their little family away some place quiet. A little house in the country with wood trim and window boxes overflowing with flowers . . .