Author's note for this chapter: Please bear with me (or with the writing that is)—there is a Hessian that appears in this chapter with a heavy German accent, so I have written the lines said in that accent. So you'll see misspellings and words that may make no sense. Try speaking the lines aloud as you read them and hopefully you'll hear the accent coming out.
Chapter 33 Deliverance
Little did Miss Prescott know, but the rumor mill had begun to spin wildly even while she was still being assaulted by Colonel Burwell. The young and green privates stationed as guards outside of the commander's tent had not quite learned the art of discretion. Those men heard Melanie cry out during her unwilling orgasm. They immediately snickered and commented to each other, then told dozens of others as the duty shifts changed during the mid assault.
One of the privates told the sentry taking his place, "Listen to that! The colonel is with Brutal Bordon's whore, and she's living up to her name!"
Unfortunately the sentries had mistaken her continued wails for mercy and bellows of pain and sorrow as cries of pleasure. The word spread like wildfire across the camp that "the pacifist's daughter was showing old Harry Burwell a good time", even before the incident was finished.
Burwell's aide-de-camp Zeller's tent was next to his commander's. He, too, had heard the cries of passion.
When the colonel emerged after attacking Melanie, he immediately sought out his adjutant. He quickly found Captain Zeller in the mess tent sitting with Sergeants Cline and Kinney. Cline and his men, some seated nearby, were having a late supper after coming in from patrol. Kinney was conferring with Cline, as his unit was leaving for patrol. Some of the departing men milled about, as well, waiting for Sergeant Kinney to finish up.
Commander Burwell sat down with these men and was brought an Ale. He listened for a moment to the men finishing up. When there was a lull in the conversation, his adjutant took to the opportunity to question his superior.
"Did you get much information out of Miss Prescott," asked Zeller.
"No," the officer answered flatly. "It turned into a pathetic bargaining session." The officer embellished the truth, thus continuing the forward motion of gossip.
"It's shameful what some women will do to obtain their freedom," Zeller commented.
The Sergeants and their men nearby listened intently, their interest piqued by the fact that he spoke of Hayden Prescott's daughter. The indecency of the talk further stimulated the interest.
"No. No freedom for her," Harry Burwell stated. "I deemed her fairly quickly to be a turncoat. I don't bargain with traitors."
The commanding officer took a sip of his spirits, then continued conversing. "She continued making advances even after I told her she would not be freed," he lied.
"She had no reserve for decency," Cline questioned innocently.
"No. I think she's become a loose, amoral strumpet. After all, what can be expected from a woman who shares a married Redcoat officer's bed!?"
Kinney entered the conversation. "You're right. She is Brutal Bordon's mistress."
"Pity," Burwell added. "I knew her family. They were good upstanding Christian citizens. They'd be ashamed of her were they still alive."
"She's probably worked her way through all the British commanders," Cline smirked.
"And no doubt she will work her way through our officers if we keep her here much longer," sneered Burwell.
The whole group broke out in a raucous round of laughter. Burwell spoke again when the snickering abated. "This war wears men down. However, it does have its moments of pleasantness." The men shared yet another laugh over this comment.
As the men in the mess tent went on speculating about Miss Prescott's supposed choices of bed partners and further slandering her character, Colonel Harry Burwell smiled inwardly. He knew he had just successfully planted a fertile seed of gossip that would grow rapidly and continue to be cultivated. He was quite satisfied at knowing the word of her "seduction" would go into the camp with Sergeant Cline's returning patrol, and would travel outwardly across the countryside with officer Kinney's departing patrol. After all, people loved to gossip—especially of fallen women.
A satisfied Burwell rose to excuse himself. "I am sorry to cut the honor of your presence short but I need to confer with young Zeller." With that, he left the mess tent accompanied by his adjutant.
They strolled the short distance toward the subordinate's tent. After entering it, he gave instructions to Zeller in a low voice. "Captain, make sure that word of the incident in my tent this evening is leaked to the intelligence channels."
"Yes sir," Zeller dutifully answered. The aide-de-camp understood the high value of propaganda in wartime.
Burwell went on. "Make it known that Miss Prescott is a seductress of highest skill. Make certain that word of this gets to Major Bordon and all the other Redcoat officers. That should sufficiently harass them. They won't trust her at all."
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Melanie Prescott had given into exhaustion, finally falling asleep after anxious moments awake most of the night. The girl couldn't get to sleep, worried that Colonel Burwell might exact more of himself on the helpless woman.
It felt as if she'd only been asleep for a few moments when she was roused awake by the aide-de-camp Captain Zeller. The young woman quickly cleared the sleep from her head, pushing her tired body up to a sitting position. She was leery now of all the colonials and decided she'd best be on her guard around them.
"Miss Prescott, you're leaving momentarily," informed the adjutant. "A private will be in to escort you out."
The officer checked her bonds, making sure they were still secure then left her alone in the tent. As she watched him leave, her mind wandered again, unsure of what was in store for her.
After another moment passed, a uniformed private appeared as promised and guided her out of Burwell's tent. Once outside, the private was stopped and given a parcel and piece of paper. He held Melanie's arm securely while studying the small package and paper.
As she stood waiting, the girl stole sideways looks to try and ascertain her situation. She noticed two covered wagons and a buckboard parked just yards ahead. With another glance, she noticed familiar faces that she had seen in the camp and during her kidnapping and knew them to be Colonel Martin's militia. She estimated that there must have been about thirty or so militiamen with horses milling about near the wagons.
A moment later the private was hustling her along again toward the awaiting wagons. Again the girl looked nonchalantly at the men and noticed Colonel Martin nearby, perusing a map. He stood conferring with a couple of men, and she noticed the young blond haired man that had kidnapped her was among them. She had come to find out after being in camp a few days that this man was Corporal Gabriel Martin, Benjamin's son. As she walked past the buckboard, she noticed that it was loaded with supplies. While passing one of the canvassed wagons, she noticed three men waiting in it who were bound. She discerned quickly that they were prisoners.
Then they reached the second of the covered wagons. The girl was helped up into it and seated amongst some crates and bundles in the wagon. Another woman, bound as well, was already in the wagon, looking bored. She shifted as Melanie crawled in amidst the supplies, barely enough room for two prisoners among all the boxes and sacks.
Melanie looked out the back of the wagon in time to catch Martin folding the map and making hand gestures to his men. The girl surmised that Benjamin's militia had been assigned the task of escorting this small supply and transport convoy. She saw the men mounting their horses and taking up strategic positions interspersed amongst the three vehicles.
She soon heard Martin give the order to move out and the carriage lurched along with a jerk. The girl noticed that the militia man walking directly behind their wagon had his pistol out and ready to use, watching the ladies with astute eyes. Melanie did not have the strength to try an escape, but she was always watching out for possibilities.
Miss Prescott kept a watch out the back of the wagon, sighing in relief as she watched the colonial camp become distant, then disappear. She did not speak to the other prisoner, who had been equally as silent. Melanie tried to arrange her body a little better amongst the cramped wagon as she heard the woman muttering in foreign language, most likely cursing the situation. The girl recognized that the other lady was speaking German.
Curious to see if the other prisoner knew anymore about their situation then she did, Melanie coaxed the woman, in her best broken German, to talk to her.
"Nein sprechen deutsche," Miss Prescott said, hoping the woman understood. This got the other prisoner's attention for she looked strangely at the girl.
"Nein sprechen deutsche," Melanie repeated. "Um….uh….sprechen sie Englisch?"
"Ja," the woman answered.
"Mein deutsche nicht gut," Miss Prescott struggled with the words.
The German woman nodded with a smile. "Ja…I vill speak English."
"Danke," Melanie replied with a smile. "Thank you."
After an awkward silence, she carried on. "I'm Melanie Prescott." She pointed to herself. "I'm a colonial."
"Ah, yes," the German girl replied. "I am Sophie Kestler."
"Are you with the Hessians," asked Miss Prescott.
The Kestler woman hesitated, not sure if she should answer or not. Melanie saw her apprehension, and while not wanting to divulge too much about her own situation, she wanted the other prisoner to ease and tell her anything she knew.
"It's alright. I'm a Loyalist," Melanie lied, holding up her bound wrists. "I was caught with the British; the Redcoats." Knowing that the redcoats and Hessians were allied in this struggle was a fact she hoped to use to her advantage.
"Ja, I vas vith de Hessians," Sophie answered, her accent thick, but able to be understood. "De colonials dink I am a spy."
"Yes, me too," Melanie chuckled. "I was caught with a Redcoat officer." The girl decided to keep some of the details vague, or as falsehoods, not knowing this woman.
"I vas captured ven I vas …….how you say…gone from de soldiers."
Knowing she struggled with the English word, Melanie volunteered, " You were separated from the men? Lost from your camp?"
"Ja! I became separated during a battle," Miss Kestler replied. "De militia men picked me up and put me in deir jail."
Melanie surmised that the Hessians Sophie was with were ambushed in camp or on the road. The young German woman must have gotten separated or left behind in the skirmish.
After a moment of silence passed in which the two women sized each other's situation up, Melanie spoke again. "Do you know what they are going to do with us? Where they are taking us?"
"I dink dey are taking us to deir prison."
Melanie cringed for this was what she was afraid of. The girl wondered where the prison camp was, and if Alexander's intelligence network may know of it. Maybe there would be a rescue from the camp if the young woman could get word out to the redcoats.
Miss Prescott smiled at the woman, wanting to end the pleasantries and try to look for any familiar landmarks out the back of the wagon. "Well, it seems we are in trouble simply because of the men we keep company with."
"Ja! Men! Soldiers!," Sophie spat with obvious contempt. "Vere are dey ven you need dem de most?!"
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The two female prisoners continued to banter off and on in the back of the wagon as it rolled along for a couple of hours. It had started to rain steadily and they were glad to be under cover of the canvas instead of riding a horse in the elements as were their guards. Sophie and Melanie had noticed holes in the material on both sides of the wagon. They were able to look out through these rips and watch the landscape pass by.
Soon the steady swaying of the wagon combined with the rain on the canvas lulled an exhausted Melanie to sleep. She had stretched out as best she could and pillowed her head upon her bound arms laid upon a crate.
Miss Kestler woke Melanie a couple of hours later when the convoy stopped for a short rest and food. The two prisoners were given bread and some milk, and were thankful to get it. They weren't allowed out of the wagon except for a quick break to relieve nature. Soon, the train was on its way again.
The two women kept each other entertained during the afternoon leg of the journey taking turns telling of funny things that happened in their youths. Then Melanie took quick lessons in German, asking Sophie how to say certain phrases in the language. Miss Prescott didn't know if she would retain the lessons, but it was another way to pass the boring time riding.
Finally, after hours of riding the train stopped for the night. The militiamen seemed extra vigilant during this time, watching all the prisoners closely for any escape attempts. They were only let out of the wagons for short periods at a time before and after supper in order to stretch their legs and take care of nature's urges.
After a meager dinner, the ladies bedded down for the night in the wagon as best they could. The temporary camp built around the wagons seemed to quiet quickly, all desiring rest soon after the long day's journey.
Melanie and Miss Kestler were roused awake early the next morning by the sound of militia men disbanding tents and packing supplies. A quick breakfast of bread was served and the convoy was soon on the road again.
By mid morning, the sun was out and warm—no sign of the rain that had soaked the group the day before. As Melanie and Sophie watched out the back of the wagon, it came to a sudden stop. Both young ladies immediately began to look out the holes in the canvas at the surrounding countryside.
On Miss Prescott's side, she caught sight of Benjamin Martin outside their wagon still on his horse. He was conferring with a couple of men. Though speaking in low voices, Melanie was able to hear part of their conversation.
"The scout spotted a small detachment of Redcoats on this road," he said in a low voice. "They should meet us head on before too long. A couple of covered wagons and a few men. We shouldn't have a problem with them—sounds like we have at least twice the number."
As he turned his back to the canvas, his words became muffled and Melanie missed part of the conference. She strained to hear more, maybe gleaning something that would help her get away, though still quite hobbled by her foot lashings.
"Let's move these wagons over into the woods there," Martin instructed in a subdued voice, pointing toward a thick patch of trees. "Not too far in so that we can move quickly again, just enough to hide them from the road. Have your men take up positions until I signal. Just get the Redcoat wagons and their weapons and let the soldiers run. They're harmless without their guns and knives."
Melanie continued to watch out the hole in the canvas and listen intently to whatever she could overhear. She noted that Martin did not seem agitated, but that he acted rather calm about the approaching British.
"The Redcoats use this road quite frequently, so let's be quick about our business and get this done as fast as possible in case there are more in the area. The sooner we turn off this road and get on another path, the safer we'll be." Martin was done giving directions for the small group quickly dispersed. Soon the wagon jolted forward and moved into the glade.
The two women noticed as they peered out the canvas holes that they were now hidden in the woods, but yet still close enough to have a partial view of the main road they were just on.
Melanie had relayed quietly to Miss Kestler what had been said, and both women had an unspoken glimmer of hope, though not knowing what to expect, but happy that the British were nearby.
Miss Prescott and Miss Kestler sat quietly peering through the ragged tears of the canvas, eager to see what transpired. They could not see much from the wagon's hidden vantage point in the trees, the foliage obscuring some of the view. The two prisoners could only partially make out Colonel Martin, now standing alone in the roadway.
In a moment, they heard marching of what they guessed was only a few men. The two women also observed the sound of a wagon, maybe two. The anxious girls wished they could see more.
Before the sound of the approaching wagons and marching had stopped, Melanie was already sizing up the situation around her. She noticed that a guard had been left just outside the back of their wagon, and the driver was still seated in front. The young woman thought that if the sentry were to become distracted, she could flee the wagon. Her poor feet were still painful, but she would bear the pain for a few yards if it meant getting back to British custody.
Finally the wagons and the marching stopped, pulling Miss Prescott's attention back to the action out on the main road. She and Sophie strained to see what was going on while equally as focused on listening to the sounds of the confrontation.
"This road is closed," the women heard Martin announce with authoritative calm, "These wagons now belong to the continental army."
Melanie shifted to another hole in the fabric, trying to see more of what was going on. She could through the trees, a small group of uniformed Redcoat infantry, she guessed. The girl thought the officer in front of the small group of British looked young. Through the tree branches, she caught the familiar flash of a polished pistol, gleaming in the sun. It looked as if it was held high, ready for a strike.
"Ready arms!," the female captives heard a deep voice command in a shout.
They then heard a loud whistle, and rustling in the grass and trees all around. Miss Prescott could see a few more of Martin's men with him in the roadway. As she shifted to yet another hole in the canvas, she was surprised to see that there were more Redcoats than she'd originally thought.
The two women then heard metal scraping and guns cocking as the heard the same young Redcoat from before command, "By twos!"
Melanie glanced back toward the rear of the wagon and noticed that the guard assigned to watch them was still at his post, but very preoccupied with what was going on with his fellow militiamen. He looked poised to join in the fray. Miss Prescott concluded that this was not going to end without a fight.
Martin's voice drew her attention back toward the main road. "Sergeant, there's no need for you and your men to die. Leave the wagons and go," the militia colonel offered insistently.
The two young women then clearly heard the angry voice of the British officer countering back. "THIS is the King's highway and I advise you and your men to make way," he warned without flinching. Immediately after that, the girls heard material rustling and what sounded like more feet skittering along the dirt. From their vantage point they could not see that more Redcoats, hidden in the two covered wagons, jumped out of the vehicles and took up positions.
In an instant of quiet tension, in which everyone faced off against one another, Melanie heard distantly, the stern command of a male voice. "Charge!"
Almost immediately, Sophie and Miss Prescott heard Martin shout in a panicked voice, "Fire. Retreat!"
With that, all Hell broke loose. The noise of men's shouts and gunfire was deafening. Both women instinctively ducked down in the wagon, weary of any stray bullets that might make their way through the canvas covering.
As Melanie huddled on the floor of the wagon, she heard thundering hoof beats, thinking it sounded like dozens of horses. The young woman had heard that unmistakable sound frequently before. She became giddy when she realized that a cavalry was now involved. The girl hoped it was Redcoat horsemen.
After another moment, Miss Prescott saw that their wagon guard had disappeared. She motioned this to her German companion. Both women immediately took advantage of this and scrambled to the back of the wagon.
As they did, the wagon lurched forward suddenly knocking both women to the bottom of the vehicle again. The carriage traveled forward quickly, leaving the women reaching to grab the sides of it, needing something to hang on to. As they looked to the front of the wagon, they saw the driver slumped forward, then fall from the wagon. The women's next thought was to jump into the driver's seat and grab the reigns.
Before they could, the wagon crashed into a large tree, knocking both women backwards again. Almost as quickly as the collision, the wagon tipped over fast, landing on its side. The overturning tossed Melanie out the back of the thing. She landed hard in the dirt on her left side, leaving her stunned. Though she felt pain up and down her side, she managed to push herself up to sitting. It was only then that she realized the vehicle had overturned.
Melanie regained her composure quickly and looked for Miss Kestler. She saw the German girl still in the wagon, under some crates. Miss Prescott reached into the wagon and moved the broken crates, took Sophie's hand and pulled her out. Melanie was relieved when she could see her companion stand and move with no serious injuries.
The two female captives quickly took hands and ran from the woods while the fight was going on. Then they hugged each other, realizing they had to split up.
"Gut reise!" Melanie called, hoping these were the correct German words she learned yesterday.
"Viel Gluck!" Sophie shouted back to her new friend.
Miss Prescott half ran, half hobbled with a body full of pain toward the main road, where she found some brush to hide in. From there, she watched the fracas for a minute, partly in disbelief that she was free, partly to take a moment' s respite from the pain. From her hiding place, she saw her former captors, the militia men, vastly outnumbered by the British. The girl sighed when she saw dozens of the familiar red British infantry jackets. Then tears of relief welled in her eyes when the girl recognized the red and green jackets and black breeches of Tarleton and Tavington's legions.
The girl moved with no fear from the bushes to a small grove of trees which was closer to the fighting. She looked frantically for any familiar dragoon faces. As she looked, her hand went under her skirt and ripped her petticoat. Though dingy now from some ten days or so of being dragged about, it was white and would do. All she needed was to draw attention to herself.
Melanie looked through the dust and smoke from the weapons, trying to spot someone she knew. The girl especially looked for Alexander. She couldn't just wander out into the middle of the fight for she'd get hurt. The young woman just needed to see someone and get their attention.
After a moment, she spotted Colonel Banastre Tarleton fighting from his horse. He had just swung his sword, cutting down some rebel when she decided to make a run for it. The girl hobbled out from the bush, swinging her makeshift white flag wildly, and calling his name, although she doubted he could hear her.
The officer instantly caught sight of her, cocking his head curiously at a woman running toward him surrendering, not recognizing her. Always curious and happy to see women, he rode his horse out of the fight and toward the woman. As he got closer, he realized that the girl was Miss Melanie Prescott. His eyes rounded and mouth dropped open, very surprised to see her in the middle of a skirmish.
Melanie breathed a sigh of relief, realizing he knew it was her. She smiled up at him as he looked down from his horse, offering his hand to her. The girl took his hand, and climbed up with his help as best as she could. Once seated behind him, she held on to his waist. With his characteristic wit, he shouted over the din back to her, "You never know who you're going to meet in a battle." The girl grinned and laid her head against the back of his shoulders, resting secure and relieved.
She closed her eyes as the man rode to a safe place away from the battle. He spied Lieutenant Kidwell, Sergeant Scott and a couple of privates. The commander handed the girl off to the men with instructions to get her to safety. While the skirmish raged on, the decision was quickly made that Lieutenant Kidwell and the two privates would slip out of the fight now and rush the girl back to the fort. Since all the high ranking officers were fighting, should they all fall in battle, then Lieutenant Kidwell, the fourth officer in line after Tavington, then Bordon, and Wentworth, would be ready to take the helm and already had the grooming for it.
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Melanie had fallen asleep, overtaken completely by exhaustion, leaning back on young Lieutenant Kidwell as she rode in front of him upon his horse. He woke her up just before they rode through the gates of Fort Carolina.
"You're home," the young officer said softly.
Melanie smiled, saying nothing as tears welled again in her eyes. She was relieved to ride through its gates.
Word spread quickly that the girl was home causing the household, and fort for that matter, to go into a frenzy. Miss Prescott was carried upstairs to Bordon's room where she relaxed on the bed. A doctor was brought in to check her over and begin the task of binding her many wounds. General O'Hara visited briefly, informing her that she would be debriefed by he and Major Bordon as quickly as he returned.
Miss Bridget Kilpatrick came into the room for a happy reunion with her friend. She would then stay with the weary young woman for the next three hours or so, when the dragoons, with prisoners in tow, arrived back at the fort.
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"The men are here," Bridget said from her place at the window to where Melanie sat across the room.
Miss Prescott, who had actually managed to calm down a bit in just the last hour due to Miss Kilpatrick's presence, began inexplicably trembling. She wanted to get up and join her friend at the window, wishing to see her beloved Alex, but seemed frozen to her chair.
Outside, Major Bordon quickly dismounted, racing into the main house, wanting to find Melanie. He had been informed hours earlier on the battlefield that she had been rescued. Captain Wentworth generously offered to take Alexander's job of processing the newly captured prisoners so that his commander could be at his mistress' side immediately.
Once on the second floor, Bordon burst into his own room where he found Melanie and the Irish servant nearby. Alex moved across the floor to where his lover sat to hug her, but she brushed him off. He pulled back from her, looking puzzled. Though this disturbed him, he did not take it personally for in his experience from working with prisoners, whether recently captured or rescued, they were sometimes distant or standoffish initially, often trying to reconcile in their minds the traumatic ordeal they'd just been through.
"Don't," Melanie said shakily. "I'm sorry, Alex. I'm just….I'm sore all over."
He accepted her apology with a silent but understanding bob of his head.
"I'll leave you two alone," Bridget announced, excusing herself. She disappeared quickly through the door.
Alex, assuming that Melanie would be debriefed by himself and General O'Hara later, desired her to open up to him in private about what happened. He needed to hear it directly from her, without the formality of an interview with the officers.
The major knelt before her, looking her over. She looked horrible to him, and assumed quickly and correctly that she'd been through a terrible time. He took in her torn and stained clothing, and dirt smudged face. The officer looked over the many cuts, bruises, and other assorted injuries about the young woman's body.
Bordon thought that if he could get her to explain about her injuries, that she'd talk indiscriminately to him. "How did you get hurt?"
Melanie pointed to a bruise on her jaw line and the very visible remnants of a black eye. "Um, I was slapped and shoved about," she began slowly, looking downward. "You have a leak in your intelligence here at the fort."
The officer lifted an eyebrow in curiosity, eager to hear about it. From experience, he knew that some information would leak out unintentionally, but not a lot. They should be able to prevent most outflow.
"Apparently the whole countryside knows about us," Melanie informed, apologetically.
Bordon bristled at that revelation. While he would intentionally have some rumors leaked, their relationship, which he had been ordered to keep discrete, was not supposed to be one of the intentional leaks.
"They called me 'British whore' and 'Redcoat slut' as they hit me. They know I'm 'Brutal Bordon's' mistress and they accused me of being a turncoat."
Melanie continued, talking in a measured cadence, still in an apologetic tone. "The…uh…Colonial regulars and militia don't have much use or like for each other. They used me as an excuse to fight. I was tangled in the middle of one of their brawls," Miss Prescott indicated as she pointed to her black eye and jaw. "A hard square hit knocked me right out of the fray, thankfully."
Alexander then pointed silently to the scrapes on her arms and legs, visible through her torn and tattered skirt.
"I tried to escape," she answered. "Everyone was distracted during that fight, so I fled. I made it out onto the main road. A French officer took me down, scraping him and myself up in the process. He then brought me back to the camp."
"And then, my feet." At that point in the conversation, Miss Prescott raised her legs, resting her freshly wrapped feet on Alex's thighs. He could tell the dressings were new and began to unwind one of them. Melanie winced aloud as he did, which caused him to be more gingerly in the task. Once unwrapped, he perused the soul of her foot to reveal freshly opened tears coupled with bruising and swelling.
"That was my punishment for escaping," Melanie said in a dejected voice.
"They flogged you?" asked Alex as he rewrapped her foot carefully. He was all too familiar with foot whipping as it was a punishment some British officers favored to dole out to the insolent.
"Yes. With a dressage whip that cut like a hot metal wire," the girl replied. "They hobbled me. I only began walking days ago."
After an awkward silence, the girl still feeling uncomfortable, Melanie spoke again. She used her right hand to making a sweeping motion indicating her left side. Her left ankle and wrist were both tightly bound. "This happened hours earlier during the battle. We were waiting in a wagon hidden off the road. Our driver was killed. The horses reared and ran and the wagon crashed into a tree. It flipped over and tossed me out the back clear. I landed hard on the ground on this side. The surgeon says there are not any broken bones, just severely sprained."
Miss Prescott stopped talking as she drew into herself with a shiver. She crossed her arms in front of herself as if cold, looking down at the floor.
Bordon let her have her moment's reprieve as he mulled the words of her ordeal over in his head. He could sense that Melanie hadn't told him something. The officer wanted her to bring up whatever she might be leaving out, but after another moment of silence, he realized he would have to prompt her to disclose the omitted happenings.
"Is that it?" he asked calmly.
Melanie shook her head 'yes', remaining silent. She could not make eye contact with him. The body language of her still being drawn into herself implied some insecurity to him.
"There's something you're not telling me," Alex said directly. "What else happened?"
She was silent again, eyes still cast downward. The girl glanced quickly and nervously up at Bordon as if stealing a look at him. The instant he caught her and their eyes locked, she shifted them down to the floor again hurriedly.
Alexander, standing again, put his fingers under his chin, raising her head to look him in the face. Melanie winced as he did, her jaw still sore from being slugged by a rebel fist.
"Tell me," he insisted in that deep authoritative voice that sent shivers through the girl.
Melanie closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "I heard about the incident in Charles Towne with you and your men….and that widow woman. I know all about it now. I heard how she wouldn't cooperate and that you and the other officers had your way with her."
Alex said nothing, neither wanting to confirm or deny anything. He let the girl go on revealing things.
"That rebel woman that you all forced yourselves on," she continued in a shaky voice, "that widow is a Burwell. She is Colonel Harry Burwell's sister."
Major Bordon was taken aback by this, but did not show it. He kept a stone like façade. He remembered at the time of the incident that his source in Charles Towne could only tell him that the widow woman had a close relative that was a high ranking officer in the Continentals. Only her first and last name were known—not her maiden.
"Colonel Martin of the militia told me that Burwell ordered my kidnapping," she said. "Two nights ago, I was taken to Commander Burwell's tent. He wanted to meet with me."
She stopped short, not wishing to go on. The young woman started making up excuses, not wanting to disclose any further details.
"Um….I'm so tired, Alex," she lied hesitantly, "I'd like to lie back down—"
"Melanie," he said in an irritated tone, "what happened?"
The girl closed her eyes again in dread, not wanting to tell her lover the truth. The young woman rubbed her forehead with her hand, which then dropped to cover her mouth. She was trying to stay stoic and not dissolve into tears. Melanie wished she could distance herself somehow from her own emotions and just remember things with no feeling at all.
The young woman closed her eyes, not wanting to look Alex in the face. She spoke in a low, trembling voice. "I was raped."
Bordon closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath when she revealed it. The puzzle pieces fit together now: she'd been taken, then assaulted in revenge for the incident with Burwell's sister. Alex rubbed his own head with his hand and heaved a heavy sigh. He felt bad immediately that Melanie had suffered for something the Dragoons had done.
"By who," he asked. He knew, but Alexander needed confirmation; he had to hear her say it.
"Colonel Burwell," replied the girl in a sad and quivering voice. "Three times. Twice with himself."
Melanie looked up to see a stunned look on Bordon's face. This caused her to crack into tears.
"And the third time?!" Alex questioned in a demanding tone.
"With…..with his…..knife handle," the girl stammered.
Major Bordon's blood boiled instantly. He thought it horrible that Burwell used Melanie for his revenge; Alex would rather the man have come after the Dragoons. He said nothing more to his lover and stormed out of the room.
It took a moment for Melanie, wrapped in her own sorrow and shame, to realize that Alexander had left the room. She knew him too well and knew where he was bound for. The girl jumped from her seat and raced into the hallway despite her painful injuries. She leaned over the banister and saw Bordon stomping across the large, open gathering room toward the door.
"Colonel Tavington! Colonel Tarleton!," she shouted, "General O'Hara! Please stop Alex! He's going to take on the whole rebel army by himself! Please, please stop him! Don't let him go! Don't let him do it!"
The two legion commanders and their superior were milling by the doorway discussing the day's events when Miss Prescott called to them, sounding alarmed. They saw a determined Major Bordon headed their direction, so they barred the door.
"What's the problem, Alex old boy?" Tarleton questioned, trying to lighten the mood.
"Where are you going, Bordon?" asked Tavington.
"To kill Colonel Burwell," answered Alex in a threatening manner.
"Why would you want to do that," William asked, trying to keep things under control, knowing something terrible must have happened. He did his best to diffuse his aide-de-camp's sometimes brutal temper.
"He raped her," Bordon answered his superiors through clenched teeth. "He did it to get revenge. That woman in Charles Towne that we were….rough with. That is his sister."
"Be that as it may," Colonel Tavington said, "I need you too much right now to let you go murder a colonial officer—as much as I'd like you to do it."
"Please, sir," Alex pleaded, still trying to push himself through the men blocking the door, "at least let me challenge him to a duel."
"Bordon, listen," William began trying to calm his adjutant, "I can only imagine how you must feel and it is plain that you are furious. But I can't spare you at the moment, and besides, Miss Prescott needs you here with her now."
Alexander was still fuming, and William still trying to soothe the man. "Bordon, if you see him on the battlefield, I will personally clear a path for you to get to him. Then you may do whatever you want to the man and I'll look the other way."
Colonel Tavington continued. "If we capture him, which we will make one of our priorities, then you may castrate or kill the man right then and there with no resistance from me, you have my word."
"Go back upstairs to Miss Prescott," ordered General O'Hara firmly, yet out of compassion for the couple. "We will expect the two of you to join us in thirty minutes for interrogation of the incident."
Bordon bobbed his head quickly, then headed back upstairs. There again, he found a sublime Melanie, quiet and withdrawn, staring sadly at the floor. He knelt down in front of her, feeling awkward and horrible that another man had assaulted her; that he couldn't protect her from it.
Alex took her hand and looked at her, sadness in his eyes. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you when you needed it. I'm even more sorry, and I regret that you had to pay the price for our actions."
Melanie said nothing for a moment then squeezed his hand as she broke down in tears.
"I thought I'd never see you again," she sobbed hard. "I thought I'd never see you."
The officer drew her body to his where the two embraced after so many days apart. Melanie wept hard against his shoulder, letting out the sorrow and shame of the last few days, finally safe and secure in the comfort of Alexander's arms.
****************************
A few days had passed since Miss Prescott was returned safely to Fort Carolina. In that time, Alexander Bordon had been patient with his lover, not making any advances for intercourse toward her, knowing her situation had been horrid. However, his patience and resolve to give Melanie her space were wearing down, and he fought his lust hard.
This particular night, a few nights since the girl came home, Alex sat up wide awake at 2:30am. The major got up, leaving a sleeping Melanie alone in his bed. He paced the floor for a few minutes, then looked out the window. The officer soon climbed back into bed and willed himself to go back to sleep, but he could not. He tossed and turned a few times, then lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling.
After thirty minutes or so of this restlessness, he rolled over to face Miss Prescott. The major ran his hand softly up and down her body, then succumbed to lust. Alex began kissing and nuzzling the young woman's neck softly as his hand caressed the body he'd missed so much.
The girl roused after a moment of this, keeping her eyes closed as she relaxed in the sensations she had not felt in so many days. After a minute of his tender kisses and feathery touches, Miss Prescott opened her eyes.
"I'm sorry," Major Bordon whispered, his breath on her ear, "I couldn't sleep anymore."
"Obviously," Melanie murmured back, feeling his arousal against her thigh. She slipped her arms around his body, then allowed him to take her in his. She returned his kisses slowly and gently.
"We don't have to if you're not ready," Alex spoke softly against her lips. The officer hoped silently that she was ready to receive him.
"It's alright," his lover assured, "I am ready." With that, she paused to kiss him ardently, glad to taste his tongue in her mouth again.
She pulled gently out of the kiss and looked up at him. "I want you now, Alex."
The overjoyed and relieved major kissed her hard as he ran his hand up her leg, pushing her night gown up. He thrust a finger inside her, pleased to find her already wet.
"Oh….ah..," she gasped as his finger sank into her. "Oh," she breathed again, clearly a sigh signifying great relief for the girl.
Bordon kissed her jaw and her ear, then trailed wet kisses down her neck. "I'm going to have you all over this bed," he said lustily against her neck.
With that, the officer and his lady went about getting to know each other again properly.
*************************
In the dark, early morning hours in Bordon's room, the time seemed to fly by. The couple, still reacquainting themselves with each other, had not realized that some ninety odd minutes had passed. The two did not stifle their throes of passion during their long awaited coupling.
Melanie was on her knees at the end of the bed with Alex behind her. She propped herself up on the large footboard at the bed's end, holding on to it with whitened knuckles as the officer plowed himself hard in and out of her from behind.
"Oh, Alex,…oh my God, you feel so good," Melanie cried breathlessly. She reveled in her officer's attention, certainly making good on his promise to 'have her all over the bed', having already had the girl in several positions in different directions and spots on top of the thing.
The young woman tempted Bordon's resistance to completion when she moved backwards against him, meeting each of his thrusts with her own. The view of her body from behind, her soft bottom rocking against his, and his hands on her shapely hips nearly drove him insane.
"AH….MELANIE!...", Alexander called out in passion, "Oh God…mmm...I've missed you so!"
Meanwhile in one of the rooms adjoining Major Bordon's, the Green Dragoons' third officer tried to get back to sleep but was unsuccessful. The boisterous euphoria of Captain Wentworth's superior officer and his lady had awoken him. After listening to it for what he thought was an eternity, he risked insubordination to let his commander know how raucous their coupling was.
The young officer got out of bed and moved to the wall shared with Bordon's room. He knocked insistently upon it, then shouted somewhat apologetically, "Uh…sir…I can hear the two of you through the wall."
Bordon, trying to concentrate on the matters at hand, shouted back at the young man as he kept on thrusting, not missing a beat. "Then don't listen, Captain!"
Alex hammered into Melanie a few more times then yelled again at Wentworth. "AND THAT'S AN ORDER!"
Young Gregory Wentworth said nothing back, opting to crawl in bed, where he pulled a pillow over his head.
During the time that the major and captain exchanged words, Melanie noticed none of it, intent on her own body's motions. She was so absorbed in her own rapture of passion that she wasn't aware of any shouting except for her own lusty cries.
After a little more of pounding himself in and out of her wetness, the major wrapped his arms about the girl's waist and pulled her back from the footboard. He moved backwards up the bed, taking Melanie with him to where his back was against the pillows strewn against the headboard. Repositioning himself to where he was sitting up, leaning back against the pillows, Alex pulled the young woman back down onto his hardness.
"Oh….mmmm," she sighed in ecstasy and relief as she sank back down on his stiffness, blissful to be on his lap and have him back deep inside her. The girl, slick with her own arousal, slid down easily.
"AH….Melanie," he breathed aloud as she did.
The young woman wasted no time resuming her cadence as she sat astride Alexander's lap facing away from him. Bordon sat back for a moment, enjoying letting Melanie take command. As she moved herself up and down his hardness, both moaned aloud the bliss they felt.
The couple's continued joyous reunion of lovemaking was taking a toll on Bordon's other neighbor in the house, Colonel Tarleton. The commander just had a horrid evening of heavy drinking and equally as massive gambling losses. So while Ban was nursing a hangover and the smarting pain of wounded pride, he was also a stallion without a mare. Indeed the popular commander's bed was empty this evening, which only seemed to magnify the riotous throes of passion coming from the next room. But even though he had a headache, he wished he was the one enjoying the amorous attentions of Miss Prescott.
From his bed which abutted the common wall to his subordinate's room, he pounded heavily on it with his fist. "Christ, Bordy! I'm trying to sleep! Either leave something for the imagination or save some for later!"
Bordon, still enjoying his woman heaving herself insistently upon him, yelled back to his superior, not caring a hint about insubordination. Annoyed, he cursed, "Go to Hell, Banastre!"
Tarleton rolled his eyes and sighed, knowing it was hopeless. He slid back down in bed, pulled the covers over his head and hoped their lovemaking would climax soon so that he could get some sleep.
Again, as the officers exchanged insults, Melanie was blissfully unaware of it. She kept the steady rhythm of rocking her body ferociously on her major's lap.
Alexander's left hand caressed her left breast from behind as his right hand held tight to her right hip, nearly bruising her. He was trying to keep her pinned down on his lap, for her exuberant and lusty riding of his member threatened to make her come off his erection completely.
"Oh….Oh…ALEX!..I'M SO CLOSE!.....Oh don't make me stop," she begged breathlessly, her completion near.
"Come for me, darling," he coaxed lustily.
That was all Melanie needed and she was done for. Instantly she moved more furiously upon Alex's lap. He kept firm hold, now bruising the girl, of her hips with both hands desperately trying to prevent himself from popping out of her womanhood at this most crucial point.
In an instant the couple came together, moaning and groaning their passion. After Alex and Melanie untangled their exhausted and spent bodies from one another, they curled up together under the covers, falling to sleep in each other's arms.
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More author's notes:
"Ja" = Pronounced "yah". German for 'yes.'
"Gute Reise!" = German for "Good journey!"
"Viel Gluck!" = German for "Good luck!"
The other German phrases are easy to figure out.
If you speak fluent German or are German and I have the above wrong, please let me know. I used a "live" source. If it isn't correct, please let me know. Thanks