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St. Georgia and the Dragoon	By : Tigerrr Category: M through R > Patriot, The Views: 3194 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Patriot, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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*****DISCLAIMERS******Not mine, unfortunately.

A/N: Here goes
another chapter of mindlessness...

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Colonel William Tavington nudged the bodies with a boot as
he lifted his hands to remove his helmet, and then glanced back over to where
the woman was sitting under the watchful eye of Wilkins � she seemed to be
having some sort of fit. Women.
They saw a dead body and immediately became useless for anything other
than being bedded�he snorted in disgust.
It had been quite a surprise to see a half-nude woman running from the
trees and up to him, though � most women stayed as far away from him as they
could manage. Cornwallis had told him to
get information from the silly bint, so he tucked his helmet underneath his arm
and started towards her, one hand idly caressing the hilt of his sword � he
couldn�t keep from feeling a cruel satisfaction when her eyes widened
apprehensively. �Bring her,� he said
disinterestedly to no one in particular, waving a hand towards a nearby tent,
and Wilkins directed the startled woman inside.

�What are you going to do to me?� she asked warily.

In response, he merely rested his eyes on her until she
looked away in confusion�for a colonial, she really wasn�t all that bad, he
thought. A scandalous choice of clothing
to be sure, but it suited her. She had
long black hair, tangled with bits of twigs in it, and extremely pale skin that
obviously bruised easily � her cheek was turning a deep shade of violet, and he
wondered if she had a bruise from when...he jerked his mind away from the
contemplation of her bottom (she had
been a pleasant lapful, all things considered) and returned his attention to
questioning her. �Name?� he asked. She
mumbled something. �Pardon?� He leaned
forward just as she launched herself at him, hissing and clawing like an
oversized cat. He caught her easily and
flipped her against the table, pressing against her to hold her down � it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact
that he simply wanted to be close to her again � while she wriggled against him
and demanded her release. �Stop now,� he
sighed. �Just tell me your name, and
what you�re doing here.�

The fight slowly ebbed from her small frame and she pushed
at his chest. �Fine. Let me up � you weigh about 10 tons,� she
complained. Grudgingly beginning to
talk, she crossed her arms over her chest again and stared at his sword. �My name is George Hampstead. And I am not
a spy.�

His eyebrows rose.
�George. No woman gives her
daughter a man�s name-�

�It�s short for Georgia, okay? I don�t like that
name, so people call me George.�

�Fine�Georgia. What are you doing here?� He found that he rather enjoyed the sound of
her name; the fact that it was irritating her was just a bonus.

Her shoulder slumped as she continued. �I was shopping with Cass- that�s my sister �
and I bought this ring. When I opened
the box, some kids ran into me and I dropped it�it used to have four pieces to
it� she lifted her hand to show him two small bands of silver fitted together
on one of her fingers �and when we picked them up, somehow we were dumped into
that forest and men were chasing us � we got separated,� she ended in a
whisper, her green eyes rapidly filling with tears. This greatly alarmed him�after all her shows
of spirit, Tavington felt decidedly odd witnessing her despair and he covered
it by lifting her hand in his on the pretense of studying the ring. �What�s your
name?� she asked hesitantly and he looked back up at her, still holding her
hand.

�Colonel Tavington, His Majesty�s Green Dragoons,� he said
formally, his thumb moving idly over her knuckles.

For some reason, she looked as if she might faint. �Does �Colonel
Tavington, His Majesty�s Green Dragoons� have a first name?�

�No.�

�Well. Can I�ask you
a question?� she asked almost timidly � he dropped her hand in disgust. And so
she turns out to be yet another shrinking female�lovely. �What year is it?� Fantastic
- not shrinking, but mad as a loon.
He told her, and watched her clap her hands over her mouth in horror�really;
this one belonged in a play house in London. Her next words confirmed it. �I�m from the twenty-first century.�

He sighed in exasperation.
�Yes, I suppose you are. And I
also suppose that, in your �time,� men can fly and have been to the moon,� he
said derisively.

Georgia
had an odd look on her face, almost as if she were trying not to laugh. �Well�yes.�

Tavington stared at her as Bordon ducked into the tent. �Enough; I don�t have time for this. If you wanted to be a part of the baggage
train, you might�ve just said as much and saved me from having to listen to
this ludicrous flight of fancy.�

�I can prove it!�

�And how, pray tell, can you do that?�

�My pack! I have things from my time in my bag.�

�And where is this bag of yours?� he inquired archly. Her
face fell as she admitted that she had lost it.
�Fancy that.� She responded with
a word he�d never heard before, but if he wasn�t familiar with the word itself,
he understood the spirit behind it all too well. At
least she�s no longer about to burst into tears, he thought with relief as
he motioned Bordon over. His captain
murmured that another young woman had been found and was currently being
questioned by Wilkins. They left the woman
to be supervised by two privates who were doing their best not to stare at her
bare limbs, and walked over to where a tall woman wearing the same sort of
scandalous attire was talking anxiously to Captain Wilkins. This
must be her sister, Tavington thought � they didn�t look much alike. This one was much taller, had extremely short
brown hair, brown eyes, and was very thin, a stark contrast to her sister�s
lush curves. Aaaaand that�s enough of
that. He shook his head to clear it
of such thoughts � it was high time he visited the local �den of iniquity� if
this is what resulted in a comely woman�s sudden appearance in the camp.

Intense questioning yielded the same answers Georgia
Hampstead had given, and Cassandra was a great deal more forthcoming and pleasant,
though no less shocked than her sister at finding that she was in the
�past.� Of a certainty, the two had
planned this so that they would have corroborating stories. Tavington had to speak sharply to Wilkins,
for the man was too busy staring at the new arrival to pay attention to him, to
take both women to the others in the baggage train and leave guards with them.

He smoothed back a strand of hair that had come loose from
his queue and left to report his findings to Cornwallis � he found the general
eating while O�Hara fluttered around behind him with a supercilious expression
on his face. �My lord,� he greeted,
inclining his head respectfully. �I have
questioned the women � both maintain that they are from�from the future,� he
finished lamely, seeing his leader sigh heavily and set down his spoon while
O�Hara smirked. �I�ve found no evidence
that they are, in fact, spies�I questioned them thoroughly, and-�

O�Hara cut him off with a conceited smile. �Thoroughly, Colonel? I do hope they�ve not
been irreparably harmed, since we all know of your�thoroughness.� Cornwallis looked up in apparent agreement,
frowning.

�My lord, they�ve not been harmed,� he protested
indignantly. The two officers looked at him, disbelief etched plainly upon
their faces. When he told them that the
women were being taken to the baggage train and placed under guard, O�Hara
slyly suggested that they might visit the women to investigate this claim. �As you will, General.� More officers were filing into the tent; they
gave him looks full of disdain as they passed him, obviously hoping he was
there for another public dressing-down.
After being told that his �normal� conduct would not be tolerated (he
bit the inside of his cheek in anger when one of the newly arrived officers, a
lieutenant by the look of him, tittered without reprisal) he was
dismissed. Bordon fell in step with him
while he was angrily thinking of some way to teach the young snot a lesson he�d
not soon forget and the captain, always eager to keep his leader�s honor
intact, happily began suggesting ideas when asked about the aide.

***********************************************************************

After being escorted to another section of the camp, George
embraced her sister happily, relieved that Cass seemed to be unharmed. The sisters swapped stories; when they had
been separated, Cassandra had hidden from the searchers until she had felt safe
enough to come out of the tree she had climbed up in. �Luckily, I was found by some very courteous
soldiers � are we really in the
1770s?� Cass asked plaintively.

George looked around at the other women who were gathering
into groups to whisper and point to them.
�Yeah, I think we really are� did you just say, �courteous�? Oh, that�s right; Colonel Hot Pants was
already here in camp with me.�

Cass stared. �Who?�

�Tall, dark and arrogant � didn�t he question you?�

Her sister laughed, running her fingers through her short
hair. �Colonel�Tavington, I think his
name was? Yes, he thought I was a spy or something. Good looking enough, I suppose� nice ass. You
gonna go for him? I like that Captain Wilkins, myself.� She stretched her arms above her head, making
their guards� eyes almost pop out of their heads when her midriff was revealed. The watching women gasped in shock and drew
closer together, whispering fiercely.

�Wilkins? When
there are so many British boys running around everywhere? You�re insane�and I�m
not �going� for Col. Whatshisface � too pompous.� But he does have a nice ass, and is gorgeous
as all get-out. �Let�s go introduce
ourselves; I�m going to get really tired of those women gossiping about
us.� They walked over and began talking
to the incredulous women while the two Privates glanced at each other uneasily
and shuffled their feet, but allowed the conversation as they had just been
charged with making sure that the women didn�t escape. Shortly the genuinely friendly and easygoing
sisters had struck up several friendships and while some of the women were
naturally skeptical about their claim to being from the future, others of a
more superstitious nature believed them.
�I don�t suppose we can convince any of the men to go looking for my
pack?� George asked wistfully as one of their new friends brought them �decent�
clothing � if they thought for one minute she was going to wear a bonnet, they
were sadly mistaken.

Cassandra laughed as she pulled on a skirt over her shorts,
admiring the look in a mirror. �Probably
not, though I could ask Michael�Captain Wilkins,� she explained to her sister�s
quizzical look.

�Oh, that�s nice. Two
seconds after being thrown in the past and almost killed by hillbillies, you�ve
progressed to a first name basis with one of our captors.� I
wonder what Tavington�s first name is.
�And speaking of them, look.� George pointed past the young men guarding
them (they were obviously delighted to be privy to some �girl talk� as well as
the illicit thrill of watching them try on outfits) to a line of horsemen
approaching rapidly.

Irma, one of their new acquaintances, stood hastily and
smoothed her skirts with a nervous motion and called out a low-voiced warning
to the other women. �Dragoons!� The
sisters were surprised to see the others hurriedly fixing their hair and scrubbing
at their faces before lining up with anxious expressions. �What are they doing over here?� George heard
another woman ask. �We�ve done with laundry
already. It�s not even dusk..!�

The horses thundered up and she looked up with no real
surprise to see Colonel Tavington heading the column and looking down at her in
apparent disapproval. �I see that you haven�t been provided with decent
clothing yet.� His cold eyes flashed over to Irma, who swallowed hard. �You will stay here with the other women; you
will, under no circumstances, attempt to escape or mix with the other
officers. I trust I have made myself
clear.�

George just couldn�t help herself from answering, �Decent
clothing? Well, I asked for a spiffy little uniform just like yours, but they
didn�t have one ready�� she saw anger beginning to replace disdain on his face
and continued when she noticed the other Dragoons behind him grinning and
nudging each other at her impudence.
�And as much as I adore being stuck among the �womenfolk,� I was
actually planning on playing cards, drinking and swearing with the other
men. But, since the Almighty Captain
Tarleton says that I can�t, I don�t have much choice but to obey.�

Suppressed gasps swept the line of women, and she thought
that if he hadn�t had gloves on, she would have seen his knuckles turn white as
he gripped the reins. �That�s Colonel Tavington, you impudent, ill-mannered-�

�Ah, I�m immune to flattery,� she said quickly, with a wink
to the astonished Bordon who wasn�t sure whether to frown or smile back at her
� he settled for looking disapproving when Tavington swung around in his saddle
to glare at him. George frowned in
surprise when the Colonel�s eyes narrowed calculatingly and reached into his
uniform jacket for something�when he pulled out a coin and flipped it to her, she
caught it and frowned at it. �What�s
this for?� she asked.

His lips curved in a callous smile and snickers sounded from
the other Dragoons. �Do be sure to show
her the way,� he told Irma before wheeling his horse and motioning the others
to follow him. The Dragoons trotted off
after each had surveyed her with laughter in their eyes � well, Michael Wilkins
was busily staring at Cassandra so he was the only one who didn�t look at her.

�What was that all about?� she demanded as they rode off,
looking at the coin. The women shuffled
their feet and looked anywhere but at her.
Irma reluctantly told her that it was �pre-payment� for an �assignation�
and her resultant screech of indignation and rage nearly caused the guards to
misfire their rifles in surprise. The shifting wind brought the sound of male
laughter to their ears. �How dare he? I can�t believe him,� she
fumed. �I�ll fix him so he can�t flip a coin at anyone.�

The other women looked at her in shock. �Miss Hampstead� you don� want to make him
angry with you,� Nancy Travis said anxiously.
�He�s�he�no, you don� want to make him angered.�

�And why not? Has it ever occurred to anyone that he needs
to be put in his place?� George demanded.
�Oh, shut up, Cass.� Her sister
was laughing so hard, she was clutching her stomach.

Nancy
leaned forward conspiratorially. �His
name the colonials gave him, miss. He�s
earned it ten times over, has he, The Butcher.�

George felt the first stirrings of unease. �That�s�that�s his nickname? I don�t suppose it�s because he likes a good
side of beef. No? Didn�t
think so. Does�does he really
expect me to go to his tent?� she finished in a whisper.

Irma stepped in at this, shooing the guards out
officiously. �Mayhap he does, mayhap not
� if I were you, I�d be there right about now. He�s not the worst sort, really�just a bit frightenin�, is all.� She hushed another woman who called
out a suggestion as to what made him so frightening when she saw George pale
slightly. �Seems to me, he likes you;
usually doesn�t come over here with his men at all. None ever speak back to him as you�ve
done�but be careful how much sass you give, Georgia,� the other woman
begged. After giving the Privates
directions on how to find Tavington�s tent, they led
her off to it.

She stared at the
ground, scenarios running through her head � would he beat her, then rape her? Or
would it be the other way �round? George
drug her feet but was hustled onward by the two privates who were clearly
anxious to get her there so they could leave as soon as possible � Tavington
inspired terror in the least of His Majesty�s soldiers, and they had heard of
several Generals who were made uneasy by his presence. Captain Bordon had a strange look on his face
as she came up to the tent, and he motioned for her to enter. �Colonel Tavington is away, Miss, but he left
word that you were to�tidy up.� George
ducked into the tent to see a first-class mess � was she really expected to
organize all this? Items were strewn all
over the place; it looked as if a bomb had gone off.

She angrily rounded on Bordon. �I�m supposed to clean up after him? You�ve
got to be kidding!� The captain sighed
and left her to it, shaking his head. Why his commander had suddenly turned his
normally neat and clean tent upside down and inside out earlier made a lot more
sense, now.

George echoed Bordon�s parting
sigh, albeit with a more disgusted flavor to it, and began to pick up after
Tavington. It would figure that he would
turn out to be an untidy psychopath. She
organized the papers, put the books back in their places and began to dust idly
before spotting the white undershirt and picking it up to inhale his scent (she
looked around before doing so, of course � it wouldn�t be good for her image to
be seen sniffing his clothing) deeply.
He smelled�good. Psycopath or not,
she wouldn�t mind sniffing the original, instead of huffing his shirt. She raised her head at this thought, coming
to a realization.

Somewhere, the most beautiful bastard she�d ever met�didn�t
have his shirt on.
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St. Georgia and the Dragoon