Chapter 15 Bordon At His Finest

A group of men and women congregated around a militiaman in the Rebel compound at Fort Carolina. He had only been in the compound for a month and already had a reputation as arrogant and a braggart. His name was Davis, a former Colonial officer of low ranking.

The crowd listened as he told of his militia exploits and complained of the Rebel's treatment at the hands of the British. He loudly proclaimed his zealot principles as if trying to mesmerize potential followers. After awhile of this, he turned his attention to ranting and raving about pacifists and his opinion of how they 'meddled' in this war. The man had seen that Melanie Prescott was also a captive there at the fort and he seemed to want to use her to make an example out of.

"Prisoner," the militiaman spat. "She's no captive. Why, she is given special treatment. The girl's ensconced in the main house there and has free run of the fort. They even allow her out of it once in awhile—accompanied by men, that is. She's probably taken up with some of the British officers here."

A woman with a gentle voice disagreed. "But she is a pacifist. She wouldn't do that."

"M'am," he continued, "I can assure you that she is no pacifist. That was a front that her family put up. They worked closely with the British and favored them, wanting to compromise all that we fight for."

The lady spoke again in a tone implying shame. "Oh, we mustn't talk ill of the Dead." Despite Miss Prescott's preferred treatment, this woman had felt sorry for her that she'd lost her whole family and didn't think it proper to speak badly of the Prescotts now that they were gone.

"Then I'll only speak of Miss Melanie Prescott," the rebel retorted. "Did you all know that her fiancé was hanged because he was a spy?"

The group around him gasped in hushed tones, for this was not a well known fact.

"Think about it, folks," he beseeched. "She most likely knew all along what he was doing and probably helped him."

The rebel zealot went on. "How do we know she isn't a spy like he was? She is allowed to come down here as she pleases. Maybe she is spying on us for the British?"

Davis watched the crowd around him. He could see that he was stirring emotions and swaying opinions. "Or maybe she got herself hurt intending to get into the fort. She ingratiated herself to the officers. How do we know she isn't spying against them and getting messages out to our side?"

He continued. "You should watch yourselves around her and keep an eye on that girl. She can't be trusted as her family couldn't. Maybe she is being paid by both sides and is playing us all against each other."

Feeling the growing frenzy and confusion within the group about him, Davis was pleased that his words might be turning people against pacifism and pulling them over to fighting purely against tyranny. "After all, Miss Prescott did lose her land and home to His Majesty. Maybe she's prostituting herself to the British to regain her lands or to win her freedom? Perhaps just to avoid interment in a camp like this."

"But we don't know any of that for sure," a man objected.

"True," Davis agreed. "But I do know what I have heard from reliable people such as my fellow soldiers and folks such as yourselves. I am convinced that she is a spy and worked alongside her fiancé as one. She now works alone. I can only speculate as to what her motives are and which side—or both—she is working for."

A few yards from the crowd, a recently captured Colonial Regular Army Captain stood watching and listening to the crowd. His subordinate, captured along with him, joined him after venturing closer to the crowd. The young Colonial lieutenant wore a smirk on his face. His commander returned the boyish grin with a look of confusion, as if the young officer knew a secret.

"Captain Larsen," he began, "Do you recognize that man?"

"Voice sounds familiar," the Captain answered. He squinted and looked harder at the crowd, focusing on the raving rebel in the center of them.

In a moment, his face lit up as he raised his eyebrows in recognition. "Yes! He's a deserter from our unit, isn't he? What was his name?"

"Sergeant Davis, Sir," the young man replied. "Max Davis."

"Yes, that's right," agreed the Captain. "Didn't we hear that he fled to the militia?"

"Yes sir. The extremist part of the militia."

The Captain sighed in frustration. "Antics perpetrated by that group is why the British are so hard on us and our families," he pointed out in disgust.

The Captain went on. "Lieutenant Egan, I'm going to see that when we leave here, that man goes with us. I'll drag him out if I have to, and in front of a Court Martial. These deserters need to learn a lesson about duty and allegiance."

The Colonial Captain Larsen and Lieutenant Egan sauntered over to the crowd gathered there, and calmly made their way into the middle of it. They met eye to eye with their deserted officer.

"Well, Sergeant Davis," the Captain jeered, "we meet again. I see you're spreading lies—as usual."

"Not lies," Davis corrected. "I'm informing these good people of the truth. And you ARE NOT my commander anymore."

"Yes. I remember. You deserted," hissed the Captain. "You joined the militia where there's less structure and no rules to follow; where you can fight how and when you please." Davis' former commander looked down on the man.

Davis struck back. "We're fighting against the same enemy as you!"

"But not as gentlemen and with questionable tactics," the Larsen pointed out.

"It's a fight just the same," argued the deserter.

"I beg to differ," disagreed the officer. "Your undisciplined style of fighting reflects on all Colonials. Your tactics are the reason why we are treated so harshly. Good Provincial soldiers are paying for the militia's misdeeds!"

"There are no misdeeds in war," stated the former sergeant, "especially where the King is concerned.

"Nothing wrong?" asked the captain, his tone a little louder now, trying to press a point. "Then what do you call killing innocent citizens, loyalists, and pacifists who want nothing to do with the war?"

"All those 'citizens' aren't innocent," retorted Davis.

"Do you take that judgment into your own hands?"

"Someone has to!"

"Well, then Davis," the captain began, "I'm making a judgment now to make it my responsibility to see you court martialed for Desertion—and for the murder of innocent citizens—which might as well make you a traitor!"

With that remark, a punch was thrown by Davis. It hit the captain square on the jaw. He returned the action with a sharp jab to his former sergeant. Then, all Hell broke loose. The soldiers that had gathered began fighting Davis' fellow militia friends, and other prisoners tried to break up the fight, knowing full well their British captors wouldn't tolerate it and would punish them all.

Just outside the compound fence, Lord Cornwallis was milling about talking with his dragoon officers. All conversation stopped and heads turned in the direction of the fracas.

A clearly irritated Cornwallis ordered, "Break that up!"

At that, Tavington, Bordon, and some of the nearby Dragoons and infantrymen went in to stop the altercation between militia and regular Colonial army. The Redcoats promptly stopped the fight, immediately separating the two factions.

"Take them to the cells to cool off," Bordon shouted. He walked behind the men as they were hauled away, making his way back out of the compound.

Near the gateway, Smithers, Bordon's informant, stood by. As Major Bordon neared, the man made his way to him, stopping him. Out of earshot of the other prisoners and officers, he said in a low inconspicuous voice, "I know what started the fight."'

Alex narrowed his eyes at the man. He was in a foul mood today and was already tired of dealing with Colonials, prisoners, and officers.

Why do I give a damn what started it? General Cornwallis would have done well to let them fight it out and finish each other off!"

"Major," Smithers insisted, "something was said before the fight that you should know about."

Although Bordon liked his job as intelligence officer for the most part, he tired of having to pull fact from fiction out of all the mundane little things he saw or heard. It sometimes left his head aching and mind spinning. He was not in the mood for this today. Yet, Smithers had come forth before with some important information, so Alex knew he had to listen.

The Major took Smithers by the arm roughly, dragging him out of the compound, trying to make it look as if the man was in trouble and was being taken away. When the other prisoners glimpsed this, many of them dispersed and quickly hid, afraid it may happen to them as well.

Out of sight of the compound, Bordon and his ward ducked into a shed. Alex closed the door behind him, wanting their conversation to remain private.

"You will tell me everything, Smithers," Bordon growled, pressing the man to get immediately to the point.

"Your little Miss Prescott is a spy."

Major Bordon spun on his heel and looked back at the man. His eyes were as round as saucers, glittering with anger and disbelief. His jaw fell open as he stared dumbfounded at Smithers.

"Go on," coaxed Bordon, still amazed. He suddenly felt lost, wondering how he could have overlooked this important information or at how well it had remained a secret.

"The militia man was a deserter," Smithers began. "He was bragging to a group of prisoners about militia beliefs and tactics. He said that Miss Prescott's dead fiancé was a spy that had been caught and hanged by the British. That man, Davis I believe was his name, stated that her pacifism was a disguise. She is a spy, but he wasn't sure which side she is with, or if she's playing both sides."

Then, Mr. Smithers went on to detail some of the other words and the fight. He gave as many details about the parties involved as he could remember. But, Bordon hadn't heard a word of it. He was seething at the thought of a spy in their midst.

Saying nothing more, Bordon gave a couple of coins to Smithers and hurried him out of the shed. Outside, he passed the man off to an infantryman to have him escorted back to the compound. He tromped back toward the main house, practically running down two of his men. Then he turned back and shouted to them.

"Gwynne! Nichols!", he hissed, "You are to find Miss Prescott and bring her to my quarters IMMEDIATELY! She is to be bound!"

"Yes sir," they obeyed. They could tell their commander was angry about something, but didn't stay around to ask questions.

As Bordon continued his march back into the house and his room, his blood boiled. Damn! How could we be so blind? We brought a spy in, nursed her back to health, and she lives to tell our secrets. Shit! She must know everything by now: the layout of the fort, our positions and defenses, our numbers, EVERYTHING! And she's most certainly passed the word out to her contacts by now. Damn it!

Bordon acknowledged nor spoke to anyone he passed, fuming with rage. He never stopped to think that the information may be erroneous or to try and substantiate it. When he heard the insinuation of a spy near, he went through the ceiling and automatically went on the defensive. To him, this was an accusation that had to be treated seriously.

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Once back in his room, Alex paced the floor furiously as his mind ran in circles trying to assess and handle the situation, reviewing the facts he knew of Miss Prescott in his head. His rage grew with each passing minute as he impatiently waited for his men to bring the girl. Alex wasn't sure if he was angrier at himself for letting this important detail go past him, or for trusting the poor little sick girl who was really a spy.

Suddenly, his mind went back to the past. To him, she was just like most of the other women he'd cared for. She was conniving and manipulative, playing with His Majesty's officer's trust to get something she needed.

As an intelligence officer, Major Bordon knew that deceit was part of this job. He often had to deceive people to get information, or employ others to do the deceiving for him. And, he had to put up with deceit from the other side, so much so that he felt sometimes that he had to wade through it. He abhorred it, perhaps because he dealt in it all the time. But, he absolutely loathed deceit by women, because of his past hurt and pain at the fairer sex's hands. This haunted him, gripping him tightly, and now biased him against Miss Prescott.

Alex Bordon resolved to use every tactic he knew to draw information from her quickly, no matter how brutal or scheming. He would get to the bottom of this right away and get her to sing like a canary immediately. He'd scare the answers out of her if he had to, and intimidate her in to stopping her covert activities.

And, if it were confirmed that she was a spy, he would make her pay dearly.

A few moments later, two Dragoon privates brought a bound and startled Melanie into Alexander Bordon's chambers. Melanie could tell by the scowl on his face that he was upset about something, filling her with dread.

She stood near the door apprehensively as the Major dismissed the privates. Gwynne and Nichols were secretly disappointed for they liked witnessing the Major's interrogations. They found it fascinating watching Bordon at his finest.

"Sit down Miss Prescott," Bordon said firmly, pulling the chair out from his desk for her.

She wasn't sure what was going to happen. First, the girl felt that she had been questioned enough times since she had been at been at the fort that there wasn't anything else they could ask. Secondly, the thought of being paraded about again sickened her.

Boldly, she spoke up. "Major, I don't know what else you could possibly have to ask me," she paused then continued. "And I don't wish to be put on display again."

"Quiet, Rebel bitch!"

Melanie stood mute and stunned, having never been called such a name before. She could feel her throat constricting and tears starting to form, but held them back.

"Sit down," ordered Bordon.

She swallowed hard and sat down, trying to catch her breath. What was the problem, she wondered?

Bordon glared hard down at her. He crossed his arms in front of him and said nothing, his eyes cold as steel.

She fidgeted nervously under his stare. Melanie found it hard to meet his gaze.

"YOU…..are a spy," he accused, arching an eyebrow at her.

Shocked, Melanie's jaw dropped. "What?"

"You heard what I said," he sneered.

The girl shook her head in disbelief. "But I'm not," she professed her innocence. "I…but….I….my family…." She was so taken aback that she could only stammer.

Suddenly afraid, Melanie stopped trying to talk, took a breath and composed herself. She tried to get control of her mind, which has been set to spinning by Bordon's accusation.

"I'm not a spy, Major," she explained. "Me…My Family…we weren't involved with the war except in the effort to stop it."

"It only looked like you weren't involved for you hid behind your pacifism," Bordon charged.

"No…. we didn't," she asserted, trying to keep her panic under control. Melanie feared that with the accusation of being a spy, she would end up like Peter had.

"I know all about your fiancé and why he was hanged," he stated. "No doubt you were working right alongside him."

She brought her bound wrists up to her head, covering her mouth with her hands, still unable to believe Bordon's accusations. "I wasn't," she swore. "I found out by accident that he was a spy, only a few weeks before he died."

Alex said nothing and continued to intimidate her with his silence and narrowed eyes. Melanie was desperate.

"You have to believe me, Major Bordon," she pleaded emphatically, rising to her feet.

"SIT DOWN!", he commanded with a firmly clenched jaw.

Afraid, Miss Prescott sat back down. She looked at the floor for a moment, trying to think of what to say or do to make him believe her.

After a moment of awkward silence, Melanie could come up with nothing to say to sway the man. He must have assumed I was a spy since I was engaged to one. Maybe he heard a rumor. Maybe someone accused me falsely, she thought.

Tears came to her eyes. She let unguarded words pour out.

"I had no idea what Peter was doing. I thought he was an Aide De Camp for General Washington. He didn't tell me what he was doing, for he knew I'd worry. When I found out, he refused to tell me anything, saying it was better for me to remain ignorant of any of his activities, for my own protection and to prevent any trails leading back to him. His family didn't even know what he was doing."

She broke down completely, sobbing hard. Grief over Peter's death, which she thought she was over, flooded her heart.

"I never found out how he was discovered," she wept. "I don't know if he was accused, or caught in uniform, or what."

Melanie sniffled, then sucked in a breath. She continued, her tears starting to ease a little.

"The last time that I saw him before he died, he told me that he feared that people would accuse me of conspiracy because of my relationship with him. He was afraid it would hurt my family's reputation and efforts for a peaceful resolution. Peter thought the war would end soon, and we'd marry afterwards, when he wasn't a spy anymore and things were safer."

"Relax, Miss Prescott," he cajoled, the anger in his voice seeming to ease. "You're not in any trouble yet. But I will have to look into this further. I'm sure you understand that this revelation is very disconcerting to a man in my position. It's my job to find these things out."

Melanie said nothing, only shaking her head to show that she understood. She eased a bit, feeling that she was not in immediate danger. And, she believed that Major Bordon would check into the accusation, and if he was really as good an intelligence officer as reputed, he would find that she was innocent.

Bordon turned and stepped toward the window. The girl was relieved not to have his menacing stare at her anymore. She wiped tears from her eyes and cheeks with her bound hands.

Alex turned back to her with a face conveying no expression. Melanie looked up at him quickly, then back down at the floor. She had romantic feelings for this man. She felt shy under his stare, and nervous when near him. The girl wanted to do nothing but look into his blue eyes for a long time; just study them quietly. But she knew that would create ideas, so she avoided his gaze.

Bordon changed the subject and boldly broached another. "You are very pretty, Miss Prescott. Hard to believe you have no suitor." His voice dripped with sincerity and curiosity.

Melanie felt timid and uneasy, but could not help saying how she felt. "It's very hard to have a suitor when you are imprisoned."

The corners of Bordon's mouth curved into a slight smile. His manner turned cordial, almost playful.

"So tell me, Miss Prescott," he began as he took a step closer to the girl, "have you any romantic yearnings for anyone since your fiancé's unfortunate demise?"

Drawing in a surprised breath, Melanie felt a stir of emotions. She felt a bit of sadness as she missed Peter. Suddenly, she felt embarrassed, not wanting to admit that the man she faced was the object of her affection. Melanie felt fear as well, and she felt a flush of shyness course over her. What if he knew? What if he could tell that she liked him?

Wanting to blurt out that it was he, yet too shy to do so, as well as not ready for him to know, she answered as best as she could. In a steady, cold voice, she stated, "That is none of your business. I'm sorry, Major."

"Ah, but I believe it is", he corrected in a smooth voice. "I make it my business to know everything that goes on here in the fort since that is my primary function. And I happen to know that you do have romantic desires toward someone, and he dwells within this fort."

Melanie began to fidget nervously in her chair. She tried to contain herself as best as possible. She didn't know what to say.

Alex continued. "I know that he wears a uniform. I also know that he is one of the officers. Ah, but which one, I wonder?"

She closed her eyes, trying unsuccessfully to will away the emotion which was beginning to betray her.

Cocking his head to the side, his eyes sparkled warmly as he looked at her. As soon as she looked up at him, she looked away again.

"And who is that man, Miss Prescott?", he coaxed in a voice laced with honey.

Squirming in her chair, Melanie found it hard to resist his sudden charm.

Alex went on. "Why, I would think that you would like to declare your desires for this man so that he might have the chance to return your feelings," he persuaded in a low, alluring voice.

Melanie found herself swimming in his sweet charm, a side of this man that she had not seen before. She was falling even harder for him now, wondering if he may have feelings for her, as well.

He circled her slowly as she sat in her chair. She flinched slightly as she felt his fingers in her hair, tussling softly her blonde curls.

She felt a heat racing across her skin. Melanie could not bring herself to look at Bordon, who now stood behind her. She felt as if his eyes burrowed into the back of her, seeing the very truth of her feelings hidden deep in her soul.

"And just who is this man that you have your eye on?" His voice was gentle and seductive. He admired her beauty as he stood behind her, thinking her form just as attractive from the back.

Conjuring up a little boldness, Melanie decided to test the water. She tried teasing him back, but the words came out of her drenched in obvious nervousness.

"You are an intelligence officer," she stammered timidly, "You must already know who it is."

Alex, still behind her, bent his form and leaned down to her. Close to her ear, he whispered, "I just want to hear you say it."

With this, Melanie felt that he must already know, whether he'd been told or if he figured it out on his own. She felt safe now, at ease to confirm his suspicion.

She swallowed, and held her breath an instant. Melanie closed her eyes and revealed her heart.

"It is you," she relented, in a shaky voice. Time stood still at that moment, as if Miss Prescott could no longer sense what was happening around her.

When she opened her eyes, Alexander Bordon stood before her, a look of smoldering desire on his face. She looked down again quickly, unable to look into those eyes, feeling trapped in something frightening.

"Yes. I know," he revealed in his deep voice. "You are very beautiful, my lady."

He loomed above her, making her feel very vulnerable. She felt that her emotions had already stripped her of all dignity.

"And just what is it you want from me?" he asked softly in a voice heated with desire.

"I want you to return my feelings," she stuttered in a shy little voice.

The Major knelt down in front of her. Melanie was still looking down, too timid still to meet his gaze. He leaned in very close to her, which sent a noticeable charge of excitement through her. Alex could tell she was nervous, yet raging with desire to make known her emotions for him.

Alex put his lips close again to her ear. Melanie trembled as she felt the heat radiate from his skin. She was aroused when she felt his breath on her neck and ear. Closing her eyes again, the girl felt breathless.

"Ah, your feelings Miss Prescott," he whispered sensuously against her ear. "And what are they toward me?"

"I am…. in love…. with you," she admitted in a frightened whisper. Melanie still could not look at him. She was too afraid, now that he knew her true feelings.

Pulling back from her, Alex caressed her cheek with his fingers, making her shudder. Desire was making her near insane. She felt a desperate need for this man.

"Look at me," he coaxed seductively.

Melanie slowly raised her eyes, which now locked with his. She felt helpless and lost.

"What is your deepest desire from me?" asked Alex. He did not take his eyes off hers.

Melanie felt that he must love her as well. Still, she hesitated. "I can't say," she replied. "It's not proper." With that, she looked down again, feeling ashamed that she had even insinuated something so intimate.

"You may tell me," he persuaded gently, "I must know." His voice was filled with an urgent pleading.

Still looking down, Melanie closed her eyes and revealed her deepest desire. "I want us to know each other as a man and a woman," she paused, embarrassed, then went on, "as a husband and wife would."

She felt so dirty having said that, but yet felt as if a weight had been lifted off her back. She was ashamed to have admitted something considered improper for casual company to discuss.

With his fingers under her chin, he softly guided her head up to look at him. "No. Look me in the eyes, my dear," he compelled.

Melanie looked up at him and for the first time, held his stare. She felt lost in his gaze and longed to keep looking at him. She studied everything about his face: his sensual mouth, his manly cheeks, his strong jaw, the lips she had just felt so close to her ear and then her own lips. She noticed the light freckles, ever so faint, that rested on his cheeks and nose. Mostly, it was his eyes, vividly blue with desire.

Melanie felt that she was his slave and she would probably do anything he asked her now. She'd fallen hard for the man, and was hopelessly lost to him in only a matter of moments.

Alex brought his lips close to Melanie's. She pined for them to finally touch hers. She thought she would explode if he didn't kiss her soon.

"And what would you like from me now, my lady?," he asked, his voice full of passion.

"A kiss…..Your kiss," she confessed in a wanton whisper.

He hovered close to her lips for a moment. Alex then pulled back from Melanie, watching her, clearly under his spell and vanquished by his charms.

But a minute later, he surprised her when his demeanor turned cold. He stood up and loomed ominously over her as she looked up vulnerably at him.

In his commander and interrogation voice, he declared, "My dear Miss Prescott. I am afraid that I do not return your emotions. You see, I am a soldier, an officer, and a commander. We are at war and I have my hands full of it. I do not have time for silly romantic entanglements with young girls. And, decorum prohibits officers from consorting with prisoners. Shame really. Pity. It would have been nice to have laid with you one night, tasted your wares and sampled your sweetness."

His sudden haughty aloofness caught her off guard. She couldn't understand what was going on. She had been under the spell of love one moment, and now he had turned on her. Melanie was too shocked to say anything, only wanting him to go back to his affectionate demeanor of only a moment ago.

Major Bordon continued on in a firm, emotionless voice. "Why, Miss Prescott, certainly you have heard that it is against regulations for officers to be intimate with prisoners? Therefore, I regret that I cannot consummate this relationship. I have no more questions. Good day, Miss Prescott."

A confused Melanie just sat there, feeling a twisted mixture of pent up frustration and deep disappointment. What was he doing to her?

Bordon marched to the door and opened it. "Guard. You may return Miss Prescott to her room. Thank you."

With that, she was ushered out of his room, still in a state of confusion.

Alex shut the door and leaned back against it. He smiled a wicked smile, then laughed to himself. He marveled at his tactics. He didn't confirm if she was a spy, something which he doubted now, but would check into it tomorrow. He had toyed with and intimidated her, playing a cruel game with her, having known of her feelings for him.

Yes. Bordon had resolved that no woman would ever master him again. He was proud that he made a lady, for once, bow to his strain. He was now holding the leash that would help him release the pain of his past.

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Back in her room, Melanie was still in shock, trying to figure out what had just happened. Having been released from her bonds, she sat down on her bed numbly, idly wringing her hands. She tried to sort out the thoughts that flew through her mind and the emotions that tugged on her heart.

I don't understand, she thought. Why did I do it? Why did I tell him? I should not have let him know my heart. I was such a fool. I was silly to think he would return my feelings. Why would he want a simple colonist Plantation girl like me? He probably has a cultured, beautiful, titled English lady back home.

She laid back on her bed, rolling on to her side and curling up into a fetal position. Her mind continued to run as her eyes welled with tears.

Why did I fall for Major Bordon's charms? Why do I like a man like him? I hoped he would like me. For a moment, I thought he did love me back. Oh, woe! How could I be so foolish?

Oh, if only Peter was here now and the war was over….