Ivy and the boys are in the cellar," she whispered "asleep, I hope, and there's a British captain in my bed. I was going to shoot him if he woke. Must...be something to this prayer business."I bent and kissed her, sliding my hand inside her coat to hold her full breast, running her hard nipple through my fingers and feeling her pounding heart. Over her fancy nightshirt, she was wearing the Redcoat-officer's jacket I had given her on the day of the battle. She pushed me back out the door and eased. My own nasty little tale of debauchery is one that I know I should feel ashamed of, but to be honest, like these other storytellers, I feel very little remorse. So, with some trepidation, and a certain sense of “me too,” I began to write my own confession. Chapter Two. You could say I have a bit of a predicament. I'm happily married, well sort of, well I'm married anyway and before all this started I thought I was happy. I love my kids and surprisingly, given all you are about to read, I do. More

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