“Henceforth, I Shall Wear a British Dragoon Uniform!”
Kathryn’s rebel greatcoat, her security blanket for months, went into retirement the day passion for their British cause overwhelmed her—the day the TRIO was born. New doors opened—firmly closing upon her former life … and she would never look back.
Sitting across the desk from one another enjoying their morning coffee, Jason held her hand … electricity tracking between them. It had been a night of little sleep, rather one of talking quietly and surrendering to rekindling passion, the healing properties of their physical love working its magic. Both glowed with vitality, neither appearing tired.
“Jason.” Kathryn’s soft voice and large expressive eyes captured his attention. “I will wear the red jacket and uniform of the dragoons from now on.” He observed her silently for several moments, his brow furrowing at the quiet determination in her tone, and magnitude of what she proposed. “We must have extra uniforms in the supply wagon,” she said, eyeing him sharply as he nodded absently, deep in thought. “I cannot foresee criticism coming from headquarters as it would be perceived as far less offensive than my colonial attire of the past. I will miss my greatcoat, however.” She paused touching the front of her coat with reverence that brought a slight smile. At his continued silence, she added, “I will be a credit to the uniform. No one will ever have cause to doubt my loyalties then.” He watched her intently, myriads of conflicting emotions coursing through him.
“Please, Jason, I do not often ask for favors. But this is something I need to do for me … for us.” Squeezing her hand gently he searched her face as he sought the correct words to begin a gentle denial. “Do you fear reprimand from headquarters?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts. “I am well able to hold my own in combat; I will bring no shame to your good name.”
“My love, hush for a moment and hear me out,” he said, taking both her hands in his. “I am not concerned with what headquarters will think one way or the other. I am well aware of your abilities. And for God’s sake, I know you will never bring shame to me, only credit and honor.”
“What then? Why do you hesitate so? I know you are sitting there trying to determine how to phrase a quiet denial, one that you hope will be convincing enough for me to accept.” At that declaration he grinned, shaking his head. She read him like an open book. “For none of the reasons you have stated, Kathryn, rather one of concern for your safety. Attired as a dragoon you will become an even greater target, and I fear …”
Quickly interrupting to prevent him from putting that fear into words, she pointed out: “Very soon we will be joining British contingencies that do not know me as yet. My rebel garb would send mixed messages as to my true loyalties … and rightfully so. Besides, if the time ever comes when I must take a musket ball, I would rather it be at the hands of a rebel while proudly wearing the uniform of a British Dragoon, than by one of our own … in error.” Grasping his hands she added softly, “As both my brother Jamie and Gabriel will probably become much more visible, I must prove beyond doubt …”
Jason shook his head starting to protest, but Kathryn was insistent. “I must, my love, for me, for you and for our daughter. Can you not feel the energy flowing between us, the vitality and the invincibility? We are as one, Jason, and always have been, but even more so now,” she exclaimed passionately, eyes ablaze. And with that dramatic avowal, Lord Cornwallis’s infamous TRIO came into being.