xxxDISCLAIMERxxx - Not mine, not making any money, please don't sue me.

A/N: I'm not sure what Bordon's first name is supposed to be, so I made something up. If anyone can tell me what his real name is, please let me know so I can correct it.

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Georgia put her plan into action a week later, when her aching backside had healed enough that she was able to actually sit down. She still had possession of his pants and the shirt she had swiped from his tent and managed to steal a spare vest from Bordon, as well as a hat and uniform coat from a careless young Dragoon who had left his things hanging from a tree branch. Thanking her lucky stars that the colonel was apparently still so angry with her that he didn't even want to lay his eyes upon her, she crept out of the tent she shared with her sister and out to the horse lines where she picked out a rather placid-looking gelding. She hadn't been able to steal a saddle or saddle blanket, but knew how to ride bareback so that didn't present any problems…she led the horse over to a convenient tree stump and climbed on, passing the sentries on guard duty and acknowledging them with a nod.

Urging the horse to a trot, she tried to remember which direction they had come – over the course of weeks the British army had moved a few times, so she retraced their steps. Sure is a lot easier and faster on horseback, she thought with a grin. Now I can get my stuff and leave that asshole behind forever. Her smile slipped off of her face slowly as she remembered the vivid dreams she'd been having lately about "that asshole." She had woken more than once with the almost overpowering need to find him and make the dreams sweet reality. He infuriated her to no end, that was true; but lately there seemed to be something in the way he looked at her, a hidden promise lurking in those gorgeous eyes…the slight quirk of the corners of his sensually-curved mouth when she talked back to him.

The thing was, how could a man who committed such brutal acts truly care for anything? And could she care for him, beyond the intense physical attraction? On the outside, he was every woman's dream – she'd never seen a more beautiful man and doubted she ever would – but a rattlesnake had better manners as well as a sweeter disposition. She had a decided penchant for "Bad Boys," but it never turned out well (Eric absconding with all her money being only the latest example) for anyone involved, because her "Save Him From Himself" instinct would kick in, and William Tavington would win the "fixer upper" grand prize. Why should she go through all that misery again for a man who just recently started looking at her as if she were a particularly creamy éclair and he was on a diet? It would most likely be the most mind-blowing sex she'd ever have and completely ruin her for other men, but it would only be trouble in the end.

She recognized the large area of pasture that had been their last camp and smiled, that much closer to her goal. It was nearing midday when she reached her destination and she began to sing to herself; softly at first, then more loudly when she didn't see anyone else around who might be a threat to her. George was belting out Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On" – complete with the requisite chest-thumping action – as she scanned the roadside for the exact place she had emerged from the forest, completely unaware of the two riders behind her watching every move she made.

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"Don't you think we should let her know we're following her, sir?" Bordon asked his commander curiously.

Tavington wore a slight smile on his face as he watched the woman in front of them pounding her chest with a fist, nearly unseating herself. "Far be it from me to disrupt such an impassioned musical performance – she certainly is odd, isn't she, Bordon? I suppose we'll need to thank her sister for informing us of her…journey…so quickly." He glanced over at the captain in time to see the other man smooth a hand over his uniform nervously and correctly divined the reason for the unconscious reaction. He lifted a corner of his mouth when Bordon glanced over. "I believe Wilkins has been courting Miss Peyton…totally unsuitable, of course. We might have to do something about that, yes?"

Bordon reddened and smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle out of his sleeve. "Perhaps, sir. But…the fact remains that they are both, ahh, mad."

"Yes, unfortunately that seems to be true. We can only hope that once Georgia finds what she believes will plead her case and comes to the realization that she is not from wherever she says she's from, this will communicate itself to her sister as well. With any luck, their peculiar madness will lose its grip. What is she doing?" Tavington asked as, ahead of them, the faux-Dragoon began moving her arms in a strange fashion whilst chanting something that sounded like "Why em see yay". I'll never understand that woman, he thought, shaking his head.

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At last, George thought she saw something familiar and slid off of the horses back with a relieved sigh, rubbing her sore backside. Pulling the 'borrowed' helmet off, she hung it on a nearby branch after tying the reins on it, then she walked into the forest to look for her things. She had naïvely thought that it would take roughly ten minutes for her to find her only proof of belonging to a different century, and when her search was in its second hour she began to panic. Slow, measured steps became a wild rush and she scrabbled frantically in piles of leaves, desperately seeking her lost possessions. Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she finally slumped in defeat against a rotting tree trunk. "I'll never get home," she whispered to herself despairingly. Sliding down the tree to collapse in a pile of leaves, she put her head in her hands and wept.

The sharp sound of a snapping twig when weight is put upon it effectively jerked her out of her 'pity party; and she froze in remembered fear of what had happened to her last time. This time there won't be any colonels around to come to the rescue, so you'll have to save yourself, Georgia Lee. The sound came again, closer this time, and she leapt up to run. In her headlong flight, her foot was snagged by an exposed tree root and she fell flat on her face, wrenching her ankle painfully and slamming her nose against the ground. "Whatever are you running from?" Came the patronizing drawl that was the coup de grace to her ego. This was perfect, just perfect. She started to snarl something back at him, but yelped in pain instead as he freed her foot from the root and began to work her boot off to inspect the damage. "It's generally good practice for one to watch where one's feet are placed," Tavington commented airily.

George tried to push herself off of the ground and only succeeded in rolling herself over onto her back, trying to ignore the sharp pain in her ankle and nose. "Oh, I'm bleeding," was the first thing she could think of to say when she saw the almost-concern in his face as he looked down on her. Tavington held a cloth to her face immediately and she took it from him, ignoring his advice to tilt her head back. Once the blood flow stopped (she had to tilt her head back) she lowered her head and looked at him suspiciously, suddenly aware of his arms supporting her. "I'm fine now." Batting away his hands she stood cautiously and tried to will away the fresh pain in her ankle, taking a few halting steps before crying out in pain… the colonel muttered an oath and lifted her into his arms to carry her back to the road. "But, my things! I have to get them," she protested, wiggling in his arms.

"You don't have to do any such thing…now, not so loud. We don't want any colonials leaping out at us when I can't get at my sword easily," he said sternly. She clamped her mouth shut and clung to him – she wouldn't put it past him to drop her – while he strode to the waiting horses, carrying her easily. After balancing her on the horse carefully, he mounted and took her into his arms again while Bordon came up to them with a relieved expression on his face to greet her. "Back to the old campsite I think, Bordon," he told the captain who nodded solemnly and mounted his horse. The way back was slow and George was grateful that he didn't try to jolt her unnecessarily – the abrupt lack of fear made the adrenaline leave her system as quickly as it had entered it and she wilted in his arms, suddenly exhausted…he lifted one arm to support her and she pressed her forehead against the warm skin of his neck. He felt warm, strong and, strangely enough, comforting and she quickly dozed off against him.

She woke suddenly to feel hands on her leg and struggled reflexively until she remembered where she was and who she was with. Propping herself up on her elbows, she looked at the colonel, who knelt beside her legs wrapping a cloth soaked in cold water around her swollen ankle carefully. "You shouldn't have run from us," he reproved mildly as he tightened the cloth – it made her gasp with pain even though he was clearly being as gentle as he could.

"I thought you were those…men," George admitted with a blush that he didn't see; he was still securing the compress around her leg. "Were you following me the whole time?" she continued in an annoyed tone to help offset her embarrassment.

She relaxed against the saddle pad that had been placed behind her – by Bordon, she had no doubt – as he related how worried Cassandra had been. "She rousted me out of a meeting with the Lord General, thinking you had, as she put it, 'run away.' Why did you go? Do you still think you're from another time?" He listened solemnly to her explanation, and Tavington shifted to sit beside her. George's words trailed off at the sight of his profile, framed by the red and gold of the sunset. "Georgia, I believe that you believe that you're from the future, but why not let that be enough? Isn't it enough that you're here now?" he asked in such a plaintive tone that she couldn't stop her hand from reaching out to touch his cheek.

Her heart began to pound as he covered her hand with his own – for once he wasn't wearing gloves – and leaned into her touch, easing closer. Unconsciously she wet her lips with her tongue and saw his eyes flick down to her mouth. "C-Colonel Tavington," she stammered as he took her hand from his face and held it in his own, stroking his thumb across her palm.

"You may call me William, if you wish," he said huskily, sliding ever closer to her until she could feel the heat radiating from his body. She licked her lips again, her eyes drifting to his lips this time, and felt short of breath when he slowly leaned forward, offering her a chance to duck away…at this point, she wouldn't have done so in a million years and her eyelids fluttered closed in anticipation of his kiss when the spell was broken by Bordon's return. She could have laughed at the captain's embarrassed expression if she hadn't been so irritated at the interruption. Tav-no, William, was favoring his subordinate with a piercing glare while she scooted away to a 'safe' distance.

"Sorry, colonel," Bordon mumbled, flushing and trying to avoid the officer's eyes. "The horses are secured for the night, and a small complement of Infantry has been brought to stand watch as you requested, sir. They…they didn't find anything in the woods either." A look of relief at temporarily escaping his commander's wrath settled on his features when William leapt up to issue orders to the small group of Redcoats that could be seen through the trees. "Miss Peyton was very relieved to know that you were unharmed. Well, not precisely unharmed, but…well. She sends her regards and told me what needed to be done for your ankle," he told George, still fidgeting nervously until she told him to relax and confirmed that William had already done what was necessary to relieve most of the swelling. George took the opportunity to get to know him better, and found him to be a very affable and extremely polite man. They talked about their families and when his commander began walking back towards them, he surprised her by leaning close to murmur something to her. "Miss Hampstead – Colonel Tavington will most likely ask you something tonight, or in the next few days…say yes." And with that, he straightened as William ducked back into the small clearing and pretended not to notice as the other man looked at him curiously.

They ate food that had been brought back from the main encampment, since it would be folly to alert any Rebels to their presence by hunting and firing their pistols. George ate thoughtfully, wondering just what Bordon had meant...surely he wouldn't propose marriage to her! No, she ruled that out immediately with a snort that caused her to clap a hand over her sore nose and made William look over at her inquiringly. "I'm fine," she said ruefully. Bordon wore a knowing look on his face that made her long to slap the information right out of him – she gave him a dirty look that only made him smile and go back to rubbing the mud from his boots. The fire was built up again and George submitted to the colonel's ministrations once more as he checked her ankle…she shivered from the feel of his fingers on her skin and he looked up at her, a smile tugging at the corner of those kissable lips. I'm feverish, that's all there is to it. I've caught some 18th century virus and now all I want to do is throw him into a hayloft and have my way with him. "It's cold out here," she explained, lying through her teeth.

"Georgia, may I…?" He shook his head. "No matter. Take this," he said, pulling off his uniform coat and handing it to her while pressing her back to the ground gently. Their faces were only inches apart as he leaned over her, and a strand of his hair came loose from his queue to fall on her cheek. Reaching up slowly, she tucked it behind his ear and looked up into his eyes, pursing her lips ever so slightly in permission. He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her with a sweetness that left her lightheaded – when he drew back to look at her and gauge the success of his forwardness, she surprised him by grasping him by the ears and hauling him back down to her.

Unfortunately right before their mouths met a second time, Bordon was in full cock-blocking mode and cleared his throat loudly as he came back by the fire, informing his commander that he had brought blankets with him. He simply met the murderous glares leveled at him with a slight smile, motioning to a spot on the far side of the fire. "I've set up a bed for you just there, colonel." He pointed and didn't move until his commander did, then set up George's bed a short distance from his. "You'll thank me later," he whispered with a smile. George scowled at him and rolled over on her side with her body humming with unfulfilled desire – damn it! Hours later after tossing, turning, and unable to get comfortable, she finally surrendered to the urge and began to crawl as quietly as she could past Bordon. She inched past trying not to breathe but when she glanced over, she saw that he was wide awake, very amused, and looking right at her.

"Damn it!" she hissed, pounding the ground in irritation. Under the captain's watchful gaze, she scooted back into her blankets and hauled them up to the bridge of her nose, glaring at Bordon over them. He laughed softly and rolled back over to sleep.

Morning came so suddenly for her that she swore that she had just closed her eyes when William shook her shoulder gently. "Time to leave," he informed her. "I'll take you back on my mount; you'd just fall asleep in the saddle if we left you on your own." Indeed, she was asleep against him the moment he turned the horse back onto the path, his arms coming around her tightly. She was irritated anew at being awakened again when they reached the camp, and at being the center of the Dragoons' grinning attention when she was conveyed to Cassandra. Her sister ran to her with a cry of relief, embracing first her and then the two officers – William looked startled, but Bordon turned a startling shade of pink and was out of the tent like a shot. Cassandra turned to the colonel for a full explanation of events and when he said, "I believe she's sprained her ankle," the rest of the Dragoons erupted in hoots and cheers, slapping their commander on the back jovially – he swiftly stopped the outburst with a venomous glare and ordered the rest of them out of the tent.

He stayed to watch Cassandra tend to her, and lingered when her sister left the tent in search of something that would serve as gauze wrap. "Georgia," he began, fiddling with his plumed helmet.

She sat up. This was it; she'd find out just what Bordon had been talking about. "Yes…William?" She found that she greatly enjoyed calling him by his first name – it made them seem that much more intimate. After their kiss the previous night, she had quite forgotten her previous misgivings and was more than ready to get to know the handsome colonel better.

He swallowed and looked down at his boots, then up again at her. "May I…court you?" he blurted.

George looked at him in disbelief. "Wasn't that what you've been doing? Though I can't say that a girl is romanced by being publicly humiliated," she said mockingly. He seemed to wilt slightly under her sarcasm and she remembered the gossip she had heard regarding his set-downs at the hands of Lord General Cornwallis…Colonel William Tavington was a proud man and he wouldn't have taken the oft-discussed dismissals well at all. She still thought he was impossible, but if he actually was swallowing his pride and admitting his attraction to her by asking this… she was loathe to add to the destruction of his self-esteem in this way.

She was unaware of the time she had spent just looking at him, thinking about this and not speaking when he dropped his head and turned to leave. "No, William, wait," she cried, and he turned back to her, obviously looking as hopeful as he dared. "Yes, you may, um, court me. If I can have a kiss to seal the deal?" she teased. His answering smile, the first she had really seen, was like dawn breaking as he approached her.

William bent his head to kiss her when he stopped suddenly. "Shite. That's what Bordon was banging on about – how did he know?" She silenced him by dragging his head down and kissing him soundly until they both heard Cassandra's shocked intake of breath. George released him and pushed him to the tent's opening.

"Get out of here – your Dragoons have been shamefully neglected and miss you terribly, I'm sure." She was pleased to note the foolish grin on his face as he took his leave of them and turned to explain all to her incredulous sister. "…so I think Bordon was acting as a chaperone or something," she finished. "Isn't Wilkins with you?"

Cassandra frowned. "No, we're not seeing each other any more…apparently he thought I was going back with James – Captain Bordon – and figured he'd pass the time with Nancy Travis. In my bed, no less. We're all set up with the other officer's wives now."

"Oh, good heavens, Cassie! You're after Bordon now? I suppose he's good looking enough, but….desperate much?"

"Look who's talking – the last time I checked, you couldn't stand Tavington. Now you're dating…or whatever. I certainly didn't think that shoving your tongue down his throat convinced him of your dislike," Cassandra sniffed. "Besides, James is a true gentleman. You were right about sticking to the men with accents."

George laughed at her sister and lay back on the cot. Dreams of William Tavington made sleep thoroughly enjoyable.