Devil's Playground

He sat in the study that had been provided for his use, idle hands...devil's playground...

But he was the devil, wasn't he?

That's what they all said. Nevermind, that they called him 'The Butcher.' He knew that to be true.

The Butcher.

And...

The Ghost.

He was one.

The other man...

The Ghost.

So be it then.

Tavington sat with his eyes closed. Thoughts prevailed upon his time. Thoughts he usually chose to push aside...chose to dismiss as nonexistant.

But tonight...oh tonight, he could not push them aside, or dismiss them. No, these thoughts were too intriquing. Too blissful to call nonexistant.

Catherine Cornwallis.

The daughter of the man who commanded him. Daughter of the man who could be the end of his military career.

But yet...

Tavington sighed deeply. No worries now. No problems.

No Lord General here.

Frowning at this, William Tavington, known to all as 'The Butcher,' allowed his thoughts to turn to Catherine. What he wouldn't give to have her. To take her to his bed, ravage her over and over again.

What he wouldn't give.

Time enough for that to happen. Time enough to woe her into his arms. He could wait. Patience was not a virtue for Colonel Tavington, but still...for Lady Catherine Cornwallis, he'd wait.

But not for too long.

As he sat there thinking...craving and wanting...he sighed again.

Then he smiled.

Smiled at what he could do to her. What she could do to him. The feel of her hands moving over him...the taste of her mouth, her lips...

Again he smiled.

Again he allowed these thoughts to overtake him.

Desire was dangerous for a man like him.

But he desired her. Wanted her. Craved her.

Needed her.

Perhaps...oh just perhaps...taking her to his bed...stripping her naked...tasting her...kissing her roughly and deeply...then...

Oh then...crushing her into the mattress...sliding deep into her...feeling all that he knew would eventually belong to him.

And only to him.

Tavington opened his eyes slowly. There was now a strange, far away look in those blue eyes. War put that look there. But Lady Catherine Cornwallis put another look there...

Lust.

And not bloodlust...no, not this time.

This time, it was pure lust. Pure desire, craving, wanting...

Lust.

Tavington smiled coldly at this thought.

Take her to his bed.

Ravage her over and over...

...until she begged.

For more.

And, he would give it to her.

He would enjoy her.

And to hell with what her father said.