Chapter 17 Living In Fear

"Ah, I'm glad you decided to join me," Banastre remarked as William stepped onto the porch.

"Yes," Colonel Tavington replied as he sat down on the step. "I find myself craving our banter after an evening of stuffy conversation at the dinner table with our favorite General." His tone was sarcastic.

"Quite boring adhering to decorum all the time, isn't it," Tarleton quipped.

"Yes," answered William, taking a slow drink of his brandy.

Both paused to look up at the star filled sky, quietly admiring it. After a moment of quiet, Ban spoke up. He sensed that something was bothering William.

"What's the matter, Willy boy?" Banastre asked in a sing song manner. "Tell old Banny what the problem is?"

William said nothing, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Colonel Tarleton plopped himself down on the step above Will's. "Did someone steal your favorite horse…..or maybe your favorite woman?"

"Hmmph!…woman," William droned absently, not realizing what he was saying.

"Ahhhh, it is a woman," Ban surmised with a crooked grin. "Out with it, Tav."

Will hesitated, not wanting to admit outright that he liked Miss Prescott, nor wanting to arouse any suspicions. But, William knew that Banastre knew a lot of the fort gossip—and was sometimes the cause of the gossip—so he might have heard something about the girl.

Tavington took another swallow of brandy and began. "I am guilty of looking the other way when my men take advantage of the female prisoners."

"Wait a minute, Tav," Tarleton said with a funny look on his face, "shouldn't you have started that with 'Bless me, Father, for I have sinned'?"

William shot a fierce look at Tarleton, then rolled his eyes. He said nothing back to his friend's remark.

"Well, was that a confession or a boast?"

"Neither," answered Will. "It was an admission of guilt."

"Well, if it makes you feel better," Tarleton snickered, "Some have accused me of the bad habit of doing the same with said female captives."

"Accusation? Try truth," Tavington retorted with raised eyebrows.

"Of course it's the truth," snapped Banastre. "I wouldn't ask my men to do anything I wouldn't do myself. After all, I've got to lead by example."

William could do nothing but sigh and sit quietly. He reclined back on the steps to listen as Banastre launched into one of his self serving, self aggrandizing, yet humorous monologues. No use trying to fit a word in edgewise. Will knew best from experience just to let Ban run loose at times like this.

Colonel Tarleton smirked, obviously pleased with his last witty remark. He took a pull of his drink, then went on offering his philosophy on life in the military to his fellow commander.

" But, the phrase 'taking advantage' is so harsh, don't you think? I prefer to think of it as smoothing the way for better relations with our enemies—or at least their women. We must show them that we're not all bad and not to be feared. No—that's wrong. The rebels should fear something. They should be afraid that we will show their women a better time in bed!"

"Here here," William agreed, toasting his fellow Colonel.

Banastre continued. "I feel that charming the female population is part of my duty. Who knows? Maybe they can convince their men that this war against us is useless."

He paused to take another sip, then added , "And teach them a few new tricks in the sack."

Tavington laughed. "You are incorrigible."

"To know me is to love me," smirked Ban.

"And all the women round here seem to do just that."

"Tavy, my friend. I've made it one of my personal goals to bed as many women in the colonies as I can. In fact, if you listen in this quiet night air, you can hear many of them sighing the name 'Banastre'." He said this light and airily, for effect.

"Yes," Tavington agreed. "I seem to remember a certain officer's mistress in Philadelphia caught in the throes of passion moaning your name." William loved to check Banastre—when he could.

"Well, there was more than mere moaning going on," Banastre added mischievously. "The truth of the matter is, if Major Crewes would have kept the dear lady satisfied, she wouldn't have strayed from his bed."

"As I seem to recall, it was you who strayed with her into his bed," Tavington corrected with a sly grin.

"She didn't exactly kick me out of the bed," Tarleton pointed out.

"Ahh, but some of these women do resist us," indicated William.

This riled Banastre, thinking in his mind that all women desired a good roll in bed, but that they all acted coy about it. "Tav, you know damn well that some of the captives welcome or even encourage our advances. Some even take steady lovers."

"Which brings me back to what I wanted to say."

"Which is?"

"I think Miss Prescott has a lover," replied William, trying not to convey any jealousy.

"So what if she does? It's not a crime," Ban defended.

"But it's against protocol, decorum…" Tavington stated his voice trailing off as he tried to think of justification as to why she shouldn't have a man in her life at present.

"I wager you're wrong," Ban said. "She's still awfully grief stricken to be partaking in activity of that nature."

Tavington sat up and leaned in toward Banastre, as if imparting a secret. In a low voice he revealed, "I smelled the scent of romance in her room today after she'd been out with my men on a mission. So, I can only surmise that she does have a lover and it is one of my own men."

"Are you sure," questioned Tarleton. "She's watched like a hawk and well guarded. But if she has bedded one of your men, what's it matter?"

Tavington started to become a little irritated with his fellow commander. He felt that sometimes Tarleton could not draw the line between being the clown and attending to his duty.

"You just admitted that you look the other way when it's done," Banastre reminded him.

"Yes, but this is different. Lord Cornwallis knew her family and seems to take it upon himself—and us indirectly—to watch out for her well being. I took his words and actions as that she is not to be touched. And, I thought my men realized as much."

Ban protested. "If we followed his orders or wishes, none of us would be with any of the captives—or any women for that matter. He looks at it as a distraction from the business of winning this war. In fact, if he had his way, there'd be no women at all around here and no jaunts to the local brothels. Think of how low morale would be? Tav, these men–well all of us—are a long way from home. It would be disastrous if the Lord General forced us or even expected us to adhere to all of the policies and protocol. If these men's physical needs aren't met, it would encourage desertion. If officers didn't take initiative, battles wouldn't be won or prisoners and land captured."

"Yes, I know you're right," William conceded.

"So why does all this matter and what does it have to do with Miss Prescott," asked Banastre. He was genuinely curious.

"Oh, nothing. I was just pointing out what I thought after visiting her this afternoon." Tavington swallowed the last of his drink, then added nonchalantly, "After all, she is pretty."

"Oh yes," Banastre agreed, a lewd smile curling across his lips. "Very pretty. If she wasn't so protected by Lord Cornwallis, I'd fancy having a go at her myself."

William felt a pang of silent jealousy within him at his friend's words. He knew that Ban Tarleton could charm any one woman right into his bed.

Banastre gulped down the last of his drink, then jumped to his feet before Tavington. He smiled down at his fellow commander impishly.

"Speaking of 'having a go'," he began, "I've heard of a wonderful brothel in Stansburg. Women there do things that one only dreams of."

William shook his head and laughed. "You are a connoisseur of whores, aren't you?"

"Not just of whores," Ban corrected with a smile, "but of all women. C'mon Tav. If we ride quickly, we can make it there in less than an hour!"

William rolled his eyes, but Ban kept at him.

"Oh, come on, William," he coaxed. "We can both have a good tumble and be back by breakfast!"

Relenting, Colonel Tavington stood up and stretched. He set his snifter down on the porch railing next to Tarleton's empty wine glass. "Alright."

As the two walked toward the barns, Tarleton went on. "I've heard they have a marvelous card game."

William bristled at his words. He not only wanted a good roll in the sheets, but to gamble as well—a bad habit for him which was worse than his carousing.

"Ban! Your mother just cleared your gambling debts!"

"I know," admitted Colonel Tarleton, "But I think luck is on my side tonight."

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The next two days, Melanie kept to her room or close by it. It was the only place she felt safe. She did not venture out much, taking her meals in her room, telling the servants she didn't feel well. The girl wanted to avoid seeing Major Bordon, especially not wanting to take the chance of ending up alone with him.

Often those two days while in her room, Melanie found herself crying. She wept sadly over a broken heart. This man, Alex Bordon, whom she had secretly fallen in love with, rejected her. She had idealized him romantically and was deeply disappointed to see the rough side to him. The girl had never imagined the dark side of the man she adored. Her heart and soul ached; she'd envisioned romance with him, and had been made to confess it. She was then treated monstrously in return.

Melanie wished Bridget was there. She needed her friend desperately now. The young woman wanted to tell her friend what had happened, hoping somehow that Bridget could make it all better. Unfortunately, Miss Kilpatrick was still in Charles Towne. The other servants could only tell the young woman that she would be gone for a few days and it wasn't known when she would return; that was up to the whims of the officers' wives whom she had accompanied.

So Melanie was left alone in her despair. She questioned if she would ever feel safe again. The girl could only guess if most men took their women to their beds in this same manner. Miss Prescott wondered if any man would ever want her now that she had been spoiled by rape.

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Nearing the end of the second day, Melanie sat curled in a chair trying to read. Still too distracted with horrid thoughts of her ordeal to do so, she closed the book and looked outside. As she gazed at the long shadows falling throughout the fort caused by the low sun she sighed.

She pined for things to be as they were: to be back at her plantation, for her family to be alive, to see Peter strolling across the lawn in his uniform, to pull fresh strawberries from the thousands of plants they harvested. The girl now detested this life in the fort, which she had resigned herself to try to get used to.

Lost in her longings, a knock pulled her from her thoughts. A bolt of fear shot through her, still skittish that every noise or creak she heard was Major Bordon coming for her. She took a deep breath, though, pulling herself together. After two days of barely having seen the man, she could only assume that the worst was over.

Melanie opened the door slowly to see Privates Higgins and Perkins standing there. She smiled slightly at them. Truth be known, she was thankful that it wasn't Major Bordon—or any of the other officers for that matter. After her ordeal with Bordon, she couldn't help but feel that everyone knew that she had been raped, as if it had been etched across her forehead. She burned with embarrassment at the thought and still wasn't ready to face or talk with any of the officers.

"Miss Prescott," Private Higgins acknowledged.

"Yes," she answered.

"We have orders to escort you to see Major Bordon."

"What?" she exclaimed with rounded eyes. "No!" With that, Melanie tried to push the door shut but was stopped by a booted foot in the doorway. Private Perkins pushed the door back open as both dragoons stepped just inside her room.

"We have our orders, Miss," Perkins stated. "Please come with us. Don't make us have to drag you along."

The way the two men droned, Melanie could tell that they were acting under orders and probably had no idea what the Major had done to her the other night. They were just the messengers. Despite that, Melanie instantly trembled, fearing the worst. She did not want to be alone with Major Bordon.

"Alright," she conceded. She left her room and walk between the two Dragoons. Melanie reasoned with herself as she began her walk hopeful that the two Privates would be present as she met with the Major.

Melanie tried to console herself as she descended the stairway to the second floor. It was early evening and many people were up and about the house still. Surely he wouldn't try anything. She even reasoned that there may be a Colonial officer here now for them to flaunt her in front of—they had been known to cross the lines into the fort under white flag. Or maybe he needed to see her with the Generals.

The girl felt confident that things were okay, until they turned the corner at the second floor landing. Melanie felt panic come over her. He usually spoke with her in one of the rooms on the first floor or their makeshift interrogation room, a small room on that same level.

"This isn't the way to the interrogation room," she objected. "I thought you said the Major needed to see me?"

"Yes Miss," Private Higgins answered. "In his quarters per his request."

"No! I refuse!," she exclaimed, raising her voice slightly. "I won't see him in his quarters!"

"You haven't a choice, Miss Prescott," Perkins stated. "It's his orders. We aren't in the habit of questioning directions from our superiors."

Melanie stopped immediately and tried to turn and walk away. Both privates caught her arms to prevent her from going.

"No! I can't! I won't!" she objected. The girl tried digging her heels into the runner carpet, trying to hold herself back.

"Come along, Miss!"

Now being forced along, she looked up and saw Colonel Tarleton leaving his room. He shot an odd look at the trio.

She called out to him as they passed in the hallway. "Commander Tarleton," she beseeched, "Please tell them to let me go. I don't want to see Major Bordon; I'm afraid of him!"

Banastre stopped in his tracks and turned around to see the girl struggling and looking back over her shoulder at him.

"Stop there," he called out. He walked over to the three and took Melanie's arm, pulling her to him and away from the two large privates. The girl was relieved. She felt safe finally.

"Where are you taking her?" asked the Colonel.

"To Major Bordon sir."

"Why?"

"His orders, sir."

Tarleton would never question another officer's orders in front of enlisted men or prisoners. He gently pushed Melanie back in between the two dragoons.

"Alright," he conceded. "Carry on." He turned to leave.

"Please Colonel," she pleaded. "Please no!" She was close to screaming now.

Ban turned back around toward the small group. "Calm down Miss Prescott. I'm sure he only wants to ask you a few questions."

"No he doesn't," she argued, trying to hold back tears. "I'm scared."

Tarleton took her gently by the arm again and pulled her away from the privates. He looked down at her with soothing eyes, trying to ease her anxiety.

"Look, Miss Prescott," he said in a low, smooth voice, "Not everything said about Major Bordon is true."

"He's relentless," she pointed out.

Knowing the girl was right, Tarleton forced a smile in an attempt to keep her at ease. "Well, he can be, but he knows the boundary line. He is not brutal to women. If he is with men, it's not without reason."

"Please go with me, then," she begged. "I'd feel better having you there."

"I can't; I'm heading out to a function this evening," Tarleton demurred.

Banastre studied the girl for a moment, who did seem awfully nervous. To him, that was not without reason. After all she'd been through and living in a strange place, it was not a wonder that she seemed so anxious.

"Miss," he continued, "I'm sure if you cooperate with the Major and answer his questions, that things will be fine."

"He doesn't want to ask questions," she interjected shakily.

Colonel Tarleton laughed. "What do you think he'd going to do? Ravish you?" Banastre kidded her, though improperly.

Melanie shook her head vigorously up and down. She wanted him to know that his guess, though improper, was correct.

The boyish faced officer couldn't help but crack a smile. He thought the girl was being absurd.

"You've been listening to too many rumors," he remarked. "Major Bordon is an officer and as such he can face serious consequences if he were to do that. I can assure you that he would not compromise his position like that. You'll be fine."

Banastre gave her an encouraging nudge back to the two dragoons. "Carry on, men."

Melanie doubted herself now. Maybe she was making much too much out of this. Certainly Bordon had taken his delight from her the other night and had no more use for her in that way. She knew that he and the other officers had their choice pick of the prettiest women in and around the fort and encampment.

The girl took deep breaths as she walked again with Privates Higgins and Perkins. She swallowed hard when they reached the room at the end of the hallway: Bordon's quarters. Melanie hugged her body tightly and shuddered as the men knocked on the door.

"Come in," Bordon said as he opened the door. Melanie dutifully stepped through the doorway behind the two dragoons. The Major did not greet Miss Prescott, nor did she greet him. She was too nervous.

"Gentlemen" he began in the tone of a commanding officer, "Would you mind waiting in the alcove at the end of the hallway until we're finished. I must ask some questions of a sensitive nature."

"Yes sir," they both obeyed. Bordon poured them each a glass of wine to take with them when they would relax and wait.

"You may have a seat, Miss Prescott," Bordon said as he gestured toward a chair in the middle of his room. She sat down cautiously, looking unsure at the floor. The girl feared meeting his eyes again.

Melanie continued to stare at the floor, hearing the men leave the room. Then she heard the door lock behind them, which sent a shiver of fear through her.

In an instant, she made up her mind that she wasn't going to stay there one second longer—at least not without someone else present. She jumped up out of her chair, knocking it over as she did, and ran to the wall. Once there, she pushed her back into the wall and watched Bordon cautiously.

"Well, it's plain to see you wish to stand," Bordon growled. He picked up the chair and shoved it back under his small table. "Suit yourself."

Melanie said nothing as she cowered against the wall, watching his every move. As he started to step toward her, she slid along the wall, feeling for the doorknob with her hand. When she got there, she turned and frantically tried to open the door, finding the door locked.

As the girl struggled with the doorknob, Bordon pounced on her, grabbing her arms. He held them tight at her biceps, just above the elbows.

"No. NO!", she pleaded as she struggled in his grip. Melanie felt him squeeze her arms harder, making her wince. His fingers pressing hard into her flesh, bruising it, made her stop fighting and let go of the door. The Major pulled her back to the center of the room, with her still resisting.

"Stand there and do not move," he ordered the girl.

Melanie froze, fighting the urge to run again, knowing it was futile. She closed her eyes.

Alex began to circle her ominously. "Must you make things so difficult? Things would be so much easier for both of us if you wouldn't resist. I should think you'd want to make it better for yourself, Miss Prescott."

All of a sudden, she felt his hand stroke lazily across her behind, even through her skirts and petticoats. She trembled as he did this, but did not move.

"It never ceases to amaze me how soft women are there," he smirked lasciviously.

Her face and skin felt hot, flushed with embarrassment. The girl also felt humiliated as this officer treated her like a whore.

As he circled a second time, he spoke again. "Take the top of your dress down," he commanded.

Melanie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stand stockstill. "I'm not a whore, Major," she protested in a whisper.

"I know you're not," he purred, "That's what makes you so appealing."

The girl felt sick to her stomach. She could feel his blue eyes burning into the back of her.

"Do it!" he snarled.

"I …ca…can't…" she stammered, near tears now.

All of a sudden, she felt the cold steel of a knife blade against her neck. She gasped, genuinely afraid. The weapon made her remember how painful her stab and cut wounds had been as she recovered from the rebel attack.

"Perhaps you need persuading," he coaxed, standing behind her holding the knife just under her chin.

"Al…..al-right," she stuttered. "I'll do it. Just please don't hurt me." Her eyes were brimmed with tears.

The Major took the knife away from her throat, yet continued to hold it in his hand as if it was a reminder to the girl. He walked back around in front of her, to face her. "Don't give me a reason to hurt you and I won't," he warned.

Alex stepped back from her, wanting to take in the whole view as she shed her dress. He watched in silent anticipation as she raised her hands to the laces of her bodice.

Melanie's fingers fumbled with the ties of her bodice as she burned with humiliation. Her nerves were shot. She tried desperately to undo the laces, but couldn't seem to make her fingers work. Her hands shook too hard as to keep them steady. She soon found that her faulty fingers were making things worse: instead of undoing the laces, she had absently woven them into a mess of knots.

The young woman panicked. "I can't," she conceded in a frightened voice. "My hands are shaking so hard and the laces are in a knot."

In an instant, Bordon was standing close in front of her with the knife once again at her throat. She shrieked as she felt the point of the knife dead center of her throat. As it pressed into her skin, she moved backwards, as if trying to escape it. The poor girl soon found herself with her back against the wall, the point of the knife threatening to pierce her throat.

This was it. Melanie was going to die. She closed her eyes and began to cry. "Don't," she cried, her voice breaking. "I'll do anything!" The young woman dissolved into tears.

Bordon took the knife from her throat and brought it down to her belly. From there, he quickly sliced up through the laces of her bodice, severing the binding cords. The movement was swift, yet not an inch of Melanie's skin had been broken by the knife.

The officer took Miss Prescott's wrist firmly and pulled her back to the center of the room.

He left her standing there as he sat down on his bed. "Now. Take your dress down slowly," he instructed.

Melanie feared for her life. As she stood in the center of the room whimpering and intimidated, her hands found their way up to her shoulders. She crossed them in front of her and slowly slipped the sleeves off her shoulders with opposite hands.

"Look at me," he commanded.

Melanie raised her eyes to look into the Major's face. She saw nothing there but wanton lust.

When the dress was finally free of her shoulders, she pushed the sleeves down her arms to her wrists and slipped them out of her dress.

The girl now stood bare breasted before the Major. She trembled and sobbed, feeling humiliated. Melanie felt dirty and loathed what she had done, as it made her feel like a trollop.

"Come over here," he directed.

Melanie shook her head in disbelief. "Oh, God no. Please don't make me."

"NOW!" he snapped.

The girl walked reluctantly toward the Major. Once there, at knife point, he forced her onto her back on his bed. Alex Bordon moved onto the bed and straddled her body, admiring her supple breasts now bared from the waist.

Closing her eyes again as the major undid his breeches, she felt sick to her stomach. "Not again," she cried silently inside. "Not again."

He gathered her skirts up around her waist and forced her legs apart with his knees. Then, he penetrated her with a swift thrust.

The young woman gasped audibly, then drew in a breath and held it as she felt the knife blade again at her neck.

"If you cry out," Bordon whispered, "I'll cut your throat."

Melanie kept quiet as the Major had his way with her once again. She cried as he pushed and swerved within her. His head dipped to her breast where he drew her nipple into his mouth fiercely. He sucked on the delicate jewel savagely, causing the woman to wince in discomfort.

Down at her sides on the bed, Melanie's fists gripped the bed linens with white knuckles. She kept her eyes closed as he thrust into her.

After another moment, Bordon climaxed and left her warm and wet. As soon as she felt his body leave hers, Melanie pushed herself up off the bed and slipped the bodice of her dress back on. She quickly pulled it closed and tried to tie the remnants of the laces back together, at least enough to shield her modesty.

She bravely wiped the tears from her eyes and face as the Major opened the door and called to Higgins and Perkins, lounging in the alcove. She heard the young privates bound down the hallway and soon were at the doorway.

"Please escort Miss Prescott back to her room," he requested. To Melanie, the privates seemed oblivious to her, as if they were duty oriented automatons, existing for the moment only to follow orders.

Melanie put her head up, trying to retain what little dignity she had left, and walked past Alex. Just as she left the room, he spoke.

"Thank you, Miss Prescott," he cajoled, barely disguising it, "It's always a pleasure."