The British Are Coming

Part 4: Verbal Battles & Mending Kisses

"You mustn't get frustrated with yourself," you encouraged Thomas, whilst he cursed lowly at his failure to make it to the door. You held tightly to his waist, his arm slung around you, his fingers brushing slightly against your neck with each precarious step. It took everything in you not to shudder at the unoffending touch. The scrape of his fingertips against your skin seemed to light a fire inside of you. Each nail that dug into you for balance only fueled the desire that threatened to overcome you. You had to maintain some decorum, some sort of separation must remain between you two. Soldier/civilian, Old World/New World, Doctor/patient. But nothing else. Except, you weren't a doctor were you? But he was, before the war took him. Sweet Sam, always tending to others, so selfless and compassionate. You only hoped you could ever live up to your husband's legacy.

"Why do you seem sad?" Thomas said to you, tearing you from your thoughts. You turned to him, arm still propping him up about the waist, your face so close to his. Too close, you thought. You quickly looked away, blushing uncontrollably. Those eyes of his did it again. The way they stripped you of any resolve, leaving you feeling naked and exposed. You took a deep breath and blew a loose strand of hair from your eyes before clearing your throat.

"We should get you back to bed", you said stiffly, ignoring his question. You gently turned him around, secretly elating in the sensation of his muscles moving beneath his clothing. His breath hitched and he grunted with painful effort, but all you could possibly think was if he sounded similar during lovemaking. You bit your lip to suppress any more sinful thoughts from surfacing. It felt like they would simply overflow at this point.

"Damn!' Thomas cursed again, swaying against you. He took the next step overzealously and nearly fell out of your arms.

"Careful, soldier," you said with a smirk, steadying him upright once more. "It will take time before you're able to march all over us colonists again," you continued bitterly.

His brow darkened, apparently displeased by your comment, but you didn't care. It was British cannons that killed your Sam when all he was trying to do was tend to the wounded.

"You really do think we're all monsters, don't you?" Thomas sighed, taking his next wobbly step.

"I really do think you should let us live in peace," you retorted.

"I wonder if that's what Sadie's people thought too," he shot back, cutting his eyes so smugly at you. Your own narrowed as you turned to face him.

"Don't presume to know anything about me or Sadie," you replied irritatedly. You felt your cheeks blush again, but this time with rising anger.

Thomas softly chuckled while shaking his head dubiously.

"Your hypocrisy is quite amusing, I must say. You act like this land is yours, but clearly there were those before you."

"I was born here," you declared a bit louder, "This is the only home I've ever known. I didn't come here and try to snatch it up for gold and glory." You spat out those last few words with disdain.

"Come now, you don't think your family got here without some blood on their hands," those eyes of his only grew with more arrogance
"Don't be so naive, darling."

With that last endearment, you haughtily let go of him, fuming at his accusations.

"You can get back to bed yourself!" you shouted. Thomas looked startled.

"Wait," he reached out to you, stumbling forward. His hands desperately grasped the air, finally latching onto your dress and sending you both tumbling to the floor.

Your back smacked the hardwood with a thud. Thomas landed on top of you with a gasp, but swiftly braced himself with his palms.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly. Your eyes fluttered open to find those deep, dark orbs staring right back at you. They were filled with genuine concern and at first glance, any anger you had towards him washed away. In its place, you felt a mounting desire as your body grew very aware of the weight of him. His stomach pressed against you. His hips were flushed with yours. It took everything in you to remain still and not react to the intoxicating contact. Secretly, you imagined spreading your legs and letting him to sink deeply to your core. A blush of shame surfaced on your cheeks.

"Yes," you answered meekly beneath him. He only watched you, making no move. You swallowed loudly.

"Please get off of me," you said softly. Your voice sounded strange to you, like it was rid of all certainty.

"You know I can't do that," he said, his eyes had that cheeky twinkle to them. Your heart thundered uncontrollably in your chest as his smile widened.

"That is, I can't manage to stand on my own," he continued, watching you closely. You knew he could see you fluster and you were certain he enjoyed it.

"Of course not," you agreed, your tone stronger now. He was infirm and needed assistance, you told yourself. That was all.

You leaned up onto your elbows, mindful not to disturb his bad leg as you shifted beneath him. Thomas made no attempt to move, only remaining in the same position that brought your faces too close together.

"I remember your kiss," he said suddenly. You froze, locking eyes with him.

"Wh-what?" you stammered. Your heart returned to racing.

"That first night, when you brought me here," he stated, his lips held a cocky curl as he spoke.

"I was- you were in agonizing pain...and not lucid," you protested, squirming beneath him, "I was - I was only trying to distract you whilst I set your leg."

"Surely there are other ways," he asked raising his eyebrows in question.

"Let me up," you demanded, mortified that he was aware that even transpired.

Thomas held your gaze for a beat, then rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. You quickly got to your feet, brushing your skirt off and fidgeting with the rest of your dress, anything to avoid looking at him.

"No need to be upset, darling," he reached his arm out to you. Heaven help me, you thought with a sigh, before getting him back onto his feet.

"I only wonder if that particular remedy is in short supply," he whispered as you guided him to bed.

"Or is there a chance I'll get any more."