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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.

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*****DISCLAIMER***** I don�t own anything.

A/N: Here we go
again�*sigh*

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

George and Cassandra settled into a routine during the next
few weeks � George would be haled off to perform odd jobs simply because it
struck Tavington�s fancy, and Cassandra was more or less left alone, though she
opted to accompany her younger sister and help her with her �duties,� which
often included being in the vicinity of the other Dragoons. Not to mention watching with thinly veiled
amusement when George and Tavington�s indomitable wills clashed violently. The latest fracas had been after George had
cajoled one of the colonel�s subordinates into revealing his first name � the irritated
Dragoon was now the butt of many jokes, and had nearly pistol-whipped the young
woman after being called �Willy� in the presence of an extremely amused
O�Hara. Their verbal wars were already
the stuff of legend, and even the officer�s wives had come to take a look at
the woman who would stand toe-to-toe with the fearsome Tavington and not back
down an inch. The other Dragoons always
had a kind word for George; they had long since realized, even if the couple in
question had not, that the two were perfectly suited for each other�the fun
part would be when their commander finally figured it out.

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

Tavington swirled the wine in his glass, leaning back in his
chair periodically to glance out of the tent flaps at his men, who were
gathered around a small fire talking and laughing in low tones so they would
not disturb him. He could be comfortably
ensconced in a billeted room where he was waited on hand and foot by the lady
of the house, but ever since he had left England and his family behind, he
preferred to live as the soldier he was � he may have been born into the
aristocracy, but his father had squandered his birthright and what he was now,
he had fought tooth and nail to achieve.
Not for the first time, he wondered what Georgia Hampstead was doing �
lately she had taken to spending time in the quarters of the officer�s wives,
who found her something of a curiosity; their �pet madwoman.� He secretly suspected that they were also
overjoyed at the ease in which she infuriated him, often in the most public
venue she could find�she was no doubt advising them how to create similar
results with their husbands.

Georgia
was the greatest of enigmas � he couldn�t predict what would spill from her
lips if her sister gave him a fortnight�s notice of it. Lately he had been catching himself staring
at her; admiring the graceful arch of her neck, watching how the sun caused
blue-black highlights to touch her hair when the light was just so�and even a
blind man would concur that the latest fashions fit her to perfection, never
mind the fact that she wore a pair of men�s breeches underneath them. He thought that they were most likely his, as
he�d noticed a pair missing along with one of his shirts � the thought of her
wearing his clothing, her bare skin caressed by the same fabric that had
touched his body�it was not entirely unpleasant. The other officers no doubt thought him
soft to allow a mere woman to harangue him (and she had come perilously close
to meeting her doom, taking such liberties with his name), but the truth was
that he enjoyed their confrontations, and sometimes took pains to arrange one
for the sole purpose of seeing anger light her green eyes to a glowing emerald,
and a flush to settle most becomingly over her pale complexion.

After draining the remaining contents of the goblet, he
placed it on his writing desk and eased back in the chair to prop up his boots
on a nearby chest while he put his arms behind his head and thought about the
upcoming patrols his Dragoons would conduct the following day. There had been more reports of �The Ghost�
and he intended to chase the rumors down to their source � it was just a matter
of time before he put an end to the man once and for all�

A sound caught his attention and he looked over to see the
tent flaps opening to admit�her. Georgia�s ebony hair hung loose
about her shoulders and down to her back, framing her rather impressive
bosom. �What are you doing here?� he
started to ask, but she put a finger to her lips quickly. Behind her, the men were still gathered
around the fire as she slipped inside, drawing the flaps together. �Georgia, I don�t think-� He was silenced
once more as she swayed up to him and placed her finger on his lips, trailing it down his neck while she smiled and moved to
perch on his knee. Tavington�s hands
rose to encircle her waist as she looked down into his eyes, desire making the
blood run hot in his veins. He leaned to
kiss her but was stopped again by her fingers on his mouth and the sound of her
laughter.

�William,� she purred as she moved to straddle his right
thigh, mischievously offering him a flash of the breeches she was wearing
beneath her skirts. When her right hand
began to slide down to his hip and then progress in slow circles between his
legs, he thought he might faint for the first time in his life; he was already
so hard that it pained him, and he bit his lip when her fingertips brushed
teasingly over his crotch. He stared up
at her, scarcely able to breathe as the torturous caresses continued and Georgia smiled down
into his face before leaning to place small, sucking kisses on his neck.

When he thought he would run made with the sensations she
was creating, she disengaged from his throat to give him a sultry look and tilt
her head, offering her flesh to him. He
breathed her name and kissed the hollow of her throat, gently biting and
tasting her skin while she moaned invitingly.
He felt her opening his breeches, and then the cool night air was upon
his heated flesh � when, a split second later her hand curled around his
achingly erect shaft, swollen from her previous teasing, he groaned into her
shoulder and bucked his hips. Then she
was murmuring something to him, but he was beyond hearing�all he could think
about was the stroking of her hand and the ecstasy surging through his
body. �A bit faster, love, that�s�oh,
that�s�yes,� he sighed, his hand
covering hers in demonstration. He
leaned back as the pleasure began to crest, her voice urging him on, and�

�He hit the ground with a crash, jerking back into startled
wakefulness. Breathing hard, he stared
blindly up at the roof of the tent and made no move to climb to his feet; not
even Bordon�s appearance - he had charged into his tent at the sudden loud
noise � served to bring him back to himself.
His captain ran to his side and looked down into his face
anxiously. �Sir? Sir! Are you hurt, Colonel?�

Tavington blinked suddenly, his eyes focusing on the other
man. �No�I was just�thinking.�

His second-in-command nodded. �Very good, sir.�

As he turned to leave, Tavington sighed and began to sit up,
extracting himself from the ruins of the chair.
�If I ever needed to fall on my own sword, you would make sure I didn�t
miss, wouldn�t you, Bordon?�

�What?�

�Bring me another chair.�

�Right away, Colonel Tavington.�

When the erotic dreams continued the following night and
gave no signs of relenting and leaving him in peace, Tavington began to pay
closer attention to the young woman who now haunted him in every aspect of his
life, and cunningly created more opportunities for them to interact. And if she noticed him paying particular
attention to every hand gesture she made, she never mentioned it aloud.

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

�I can�t believe him!� Georgia screeched, walking stiffly
into the tent she shared with her sister.
She was prepared to loose more invective against the object of her
everlasting ire when she stopped short at the sight of Cassandra holding hands
with Captain Wilkins and smiling up at him.
Her sister immediately stepped back and pretended to fix her hair, and
George glared at Wilkins for no other reason than the fact that he was
currently wearing his Dragoons uniform.

�Excuse us a moment, Michael,� Cassandra said, blushing
slightly as he kissed her hand and left, keeping as far away from George as he
could possibly get and avoiding her eyes.
�A little warning would be nice, you know,� she complained. �What happened to you?�

George huffed, �I don�t want to talk about it,� and after
two unsuccessful (and painful) attempts to sit down, she opted to fling herself
facedown on her cot and scream into the blankets, her face bright red from
anger and humiliation. �I want to go home,� she informed the coverlet, adding a
thump to the lumpy mattress for emphasis.
William Tavington seemed to be always
there these days; she would turn a corner, open a door, attempt to steal a
cannonball or two and who would always appear, but Colonel Bastard? Well, she did
give the cannonball back � she had simply wanted to see how heavy it was�not
that he had believed her,
anyway. Lately he had taken to staring
at her silently � she had even seen him inspecting her hands for some strange reason � but when he did open that mouth of his to speak, he was as infuriating as ever
and deserved every single trick she could play on him.

Today, that had been placing a handful of burrs underneath
the saddle pad on his horse � the horse had been unharmed, just irritated
enough at the pricking to buck wildly when his rider had seated himself � and
had laughed uproariously when Tavington had been violently thrown two times
before he had realized what was happening and removed the burrs. As his had all occurred under the watchful
gaze of Lord General Cornwallis (not to mention a full column of Infantry), he
was suitably pissed off enough to haul her over his lap, draw his saber, and
spank her with the flat of the blade.
She had always thought that he looked strong and athletic, but there was
nothing like a good thrashing to make a girl realize that some people were
actually much stronger than they already looked. To add insult to severe backside injury, he
had lobbed her easily into a nearby watering trough and then rode off without a
backward glance. Which was too bad,
since he could have learned the 21^st century gesture for �farewell.�

Now as she stared sullenly at the canvas wall of the tent, a
plan came creeping into her head. Once
she felt able to move around and sit without pain (she thought it would be a
while; Tavington was always more enthusiastic when fully roused), she would
steal a uniform and a horse, and go find her backpack � they had tried and
tried to duplicate the accident with the rings to no avail. George now thought that if she retrieved her
things from wherever they had landed in her flight from the forest, perhaps
then she and her sister could go home where they belonged.

She decided that Cassandra would have to fend for herself
when her sister broke into her thoughts with �So how was the spanking?�

A shift of position,
and her sibling was treated to the �farewell� gesture, too.

�He wouldn�t have tossed you into the trough as well if you
hadn�t bitten his leg, you know.�

Yes, she was on her own. �Go to hell.�

�I think I�m already there � have you seen the latest latrines? Ew.�
A sigh, and then: �I�m bored,
what shall we do?�

George scooted around carefully to face her. �Let�s make voodoo dolls � is there any red
and green fabric handy?�

Cassandra came over with a brush to fix the tangles,
laughing. �You�re too hard on him � he
likes you, I can tell he does. You do bring all this on yourself; he�s just
responding to the negative energy sent his way, sister dear. Can you tell me, and honestly, mind you... that you won�t miss him if we manage to get
out of here?�

George grumbled into her forearms, wincing as Cassandra hit
a tangle. �Let�s not talk about him,
okay? He gives me indigestion. Besides, what about you and Wilkins?� She was relieved when her sister began
talking about the captain and cataloguing his many attributes; she let Cass�
words wash over her while she thought about her earlier question. Would she miss Colonel Asshole? Not at all.

She resolutely ignored the tiny voice in her head, calling
her a liar.
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St. Georgia and the Dragoon