William did not sleep for the next two days, for there was much on his mind. Impending fatherhood was still far from his commitments and he still had Martin's men to keep him occupied. Luckily for him, he seemed to have the upper hand with Martin, burning several of his men's homes, forcing Martin to a brief retreat. This gave Tavington more time to plan.

Meanwhile, Molly had kept mum about her pregnancy and Tavington in turn, said nothing of it to any of his men or superiors.

Tavington and his men had just finished patrol in the early evening. He had just put Asmodeus in his stall when he returned to his tent after retrieving some tea from the mess tent, sweat on his brow from a light fever about to break. Illness had plagued the camp and William was not surprised that he had succumbed to it.

Changing into fresh clothing, William sipped at his tea, staring at the open entrance of his tent where a fire crackled nearby. Footsteps sounded just outside his tent and he blinked as Gillian stood before him at the opening.

"Sir, Asmodeus is kicking his stall door. I'm afraid he'll shred it or break a leg if you don't calm him down…. you look horrid." She said as an afterthought.

"It's just fever." He replied, getting to his feet; Gillian stopped him.

"I'll get him; he listens to me."

Tavington was quiet for a moment; then he spoke, "Why do you even bother? It doesn't take smarts to see that you loathe me. And quite honestly, I find you to be an irritating thorn."

"I have a sort of debt to repay," Gillian replied, looking down at her feet.

"And what sort of debt is this," William asked before clearing his throat painfully.

"Never mind that. I'll get your horse.," she said quickly.

Gillian left, pulling her woolen cloak around her as the wind clawed at her back. Reaching the stables, she found Molly's gelding, Gulliver, antagonizing Asmodeus in the stall next to him. The stallion reared and yelled, kicking at his stall door before lunging at the gelding. Gillian pursed her lips and made her way to Gulliver's stall. The grey horse was attempting to nip at Asmodeus' withers, pulling away just when the stallion retaliated at him.

"Gulliver! That is enough!" she raised her voice, grabbing the horse's halter and giving it a forceful shake.

The gelding snorted and pulled upward, jerking the halter out of her hand and lunged at her, nearly missing her fingers, but Gillian was not deterred. Again, she grabbed for his halter and swatted him on the neck.

"I said enough!"

Gulliver reluctantly complied, pricking his ears in Gillian's direction. "Now, let's get you out of here."

Clipping on a leadrope, she led him to an isolated stall further down the row of horses before she returned to Asmodeus, who was still making a fit of his own.

"Easy boy." she soothed, reaching out to touch him.

The stallion whinnied and reared, his hooves crashing hard to the stall floor.

"Asmodeus…" Gillian coaxed. "Calm down, boy."

Reaching for a nearby bag of oats, the woman scooped out a handful and held them out to the horse.

Asmodeus sniffed the food warily, grunting and whining.

"Come now, Asmodeus; you love oats."

Asmodeus nodded his head and after a moment, accepted the oats. Gillian smiled, patting him on the nose.

"All right, you big oaf. Your master is ill. He needs to be tended to."

Returning to Col. Tavington's tent, Gillian found William in a light sleep on his cot. Walking soundlessly over to him, she bent down and felt his forehead. He was warm, but the fever was broken.

Gillian sighed with relief. Illness had taken so many of the soldiers as of late and she honestly did not want to see Tavington become a victim of it.

Suddenly, Tavington's eyes snapped open and he grabbed her wrist in a vicegrip. Gillian yelped and he immediately let go.

"I'm sorry! I-"

"You startled me," he murmured.

"I was just checking your fever. Nothing more."

"It is hardly something to be concerned about. I'll be in the saddle by morning."

Gillian glanced over at his cup of half-filled tea.

"You didn't even finish your drink."

"It tastes awful," William complained.

"But it will help with your throat. Drink it."

Gillian took the cup and sat down on the cot, shyly offering it to the colonel's mouth. Tavington drank it and made a face, to which the woman laughed lightly before going silent. For a moment, the two just stared at one another, the firelight from outside peeking into the tent.

"I should go," she murmured.

"No. Stay." Tavington said, gently caressing the side of her face as he drew her close to him. "Stay…"

Their faces were a hairsbreadth away from each other. William could see the fear in her eyes.

"Colonel, I've never…you know… I'm…."

Tavington shushed her, ghosting his lips upon her forehead. Gillian closed her eyes as he slowly made his way to her lips, giving her a tender kiss. He pulled away when he saw that her eyes were squeezed shut.

"Gillian, I won't hurt you."

His gaze was white and dilated with desire, but there was a hint of honesty in his words.

"You won't," she asked.

"No. I won't." he assured her, slowly loosening her hair from its chignon.

Gillian shook nervously, her eyes wide, mouth parted as she breathed shallow breaths; self-consciously, she hugged herself.

Tavington shook his head, the left corner of his mouth turned slightly upwards as he pulled her arms away from her body.

"Like this," William murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Gillian looked meekly up at him, her hair falling past her shoulders as he loosened the last of her pins. She gasped soundlessly as Tavington rested his hands on her hips. Slowly, he leaned down and kissed her. Gillian closed her eyes, taking the essence of him in, still nervous. William pulled back and stroked her cheek.

"I won't hurt you," he repeated. "Relax; it is easier if you're calm."

Gillian nodded and gave him a timid smile.

"Kiss me…" Tavington whispered.

"Kiss you?" Gillian said surprised.

"Are you afraid you'll miss?" William smirked.

"That's not funny," the woman frowned.

"Then kiss me."

Gillian hesitated until Tavington gently squeezed her hips, pulling her closer to him. Leaning up, she brushed her lips against his, admiring the cupid's bow shape of his mouth. The colonel responded lightly at first, letting her taste him before deepening the kiss, wrapping his arms around her.

Gillian was lost; he was surprisingly gentle, but passionate all the same. She felt herself growing warm and pulled away, unsure of herself.

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure," the colonel replied, kissing her cheeks and forehead, easing her back onto the cot, one hand on her waist, the other at his boot as he pulled out his bootknife.

Gillian's eyes rounded in panic but Tavington shushed her with a kiss, wrapping her legs around his waist. Instinctively, Gillian arched against him and he was pleased to see desire pooling in her eyes. She tilted her head, exposing her neck to him and he gently bit and sucked at it. Gillian sighed, holding him to her as she slowly arched beneath him.

Somewhere between the heated kisses on her neck and her own desire, Gillian heard a harsh tearing sound and felt her dress falling away from her. She stared with apprehensive shyness first at Tavington and then down at her exposed body. Her skin was fair, with the light outline of a scar on her right arm; her breasts were small but pert.

Again, she wanted to hide away, but William pulled her arms away, holding them to her sides.

"Stunning, absolutely beautiful…" he murmured in her ear, stroking her from her belly to her breasts.

Gillian shivered under the warmth of his touch. Tavington met her gaze for a moment before he bent down and began to suckle her breasts. Gillian moaned and startled herself, causing the colonel to chuckle before continuing his ministrations.

The woman closed her eyes and sighed with newfound pleasure, bucking beneath him. Tavington kissed her with an increasing roughness, caressing her hip with one hand and moving the other down to cup her between her legs. Gillian drew back momentarily from the intimate touch. Even now, as tenderly as he was treating her, she could feel the strength and power of his hands as he grazed her spot with his thumb. The pleasure was hot and painful as she rose to meet him.

Just before she could release, Tavington pulled away from her and unbuttoned his breeches, taking her left hand and guiding it to him.

Gillian did not know much about the male anatomy, but she knew what was coming, and he was no little boy. She gave him a few hesitant strokes, but it was enough to make him moan in pleasure. He could wait no longer and eased her legs further apart, stroking her into a furor before slowly entering her. The woman let out a small cry and her breath quickened in fear as he reached her maidenhood. Tavington paused and pulled out.

"Please…don't," she pled.

Tavington stroked her cheek reassuringly and entered her again, stopping just at her shield and rubbing against it. Gillian shuddered and began to writhe. The colonel pulled out and instead began to stroke her. The woman relaxed, grinding against him. Tavington teased her until she climaxed, breathing deeply. William stroked himself until he released, lying down on the cot next to her, watching her chest rise and fall as she came down from her high.

Gillian turned toward the colonel, staring wordlessly at him.

"I told you I wouldn't hurt you," he said, breaking the silence.

"I wasn't sure you wouldn't," Gillian admitted. "But how am I supposed to leave? My dress is ruined."

"Take one of Molly's."

Gillian frowned.

"It's clean, and she won't mind. But for now, why don't you just rest."

"Colonel, they'll think me a whore."

"I have not taken you, and Molly's clothes are not torn. Come, rest…" he said, pulling her close. "I will not hurt you."

Gillian pulled at his open shirt, moving closer to him. He smelled like gunpowder, fire smoke, and virile male. She inhaled, kissing his chest and huddled against him. Tavington reached for a couple of blankets, draping them over himself and Gillian, slipping into a contented sleep.