BAMF!

Lucy wandered into the tent city where the obvious double-takes made her take pause.

"Hello boys, I know you don't see gals much but please carry on with your role-playing or whatever it is. I come in peace." She waved towards the men. Some of whom, were in the middle of shaving or polishing muskets.

Lucy was looking one way but not foward which is why she collided into a tall body. Though that wasn't saying much, plenty of people were taller than she was. She looked up and saw a young man with curly red hair and a grimace on his weathered face "Ello miss, take a wrong turn somewhere?" His accent was heavily British, pretty good for a reenactment buff.

"Ello govenah" Lucy mocked back but she stopped when the man was clearly not amused "Nevermind, take me to your leader." She raised one hand up as if talking to Roswell dwellers. While she was busy poking fun at the man she didn't see the three others that had formed a wall behind her, their arms folded across their chests. Lucy did turn then and smiled sheepishly "Ok, maybe making fun of you wasn't the smartest thing to do. Stupid me."

None of the men smiled nor did they appear to find her annoying Rachael Ray cuteness appealing. They looked pretty damned pissed off for being distracted from whatever it was that they were doing. Clearly, these were some serious buffs. New approach.

"Listen, I fell off of my horse, hit my head, and I'm pretty sure my back is covered in blood that came from my bleeding scalp. I'm not in the mood to participate in your game, I tried being nice but....." a hand clamped over her mouth and she was pulled into the body of the redhead. She tried to speak through the hand but she stopped when hot breath hit her ear.

"Miss, we don't know exactly who sent you but we can wager that it was The Ghost. Only he would be so brazen as to send a woman into one of our camps. He is certainly misguided about our chivalry." There was a chuckle from all four men and Lucy got a sinking pit in her stomach. These were not only actors but some seriously delusional ones who'd probably get real authentic in a heartbeat. She felt a callused hand brush over her collar bone and down her arm.

"She dresses like a man but this material is odd. For riding horses mayhaps?" One voice said.

"She looks like a Spaniard with her coloring. They let their women do all sorts of immoral behaviors." another said.

"The Spanish have no quarral here with us right now. Why would they align themselves with the Ghost?

"Perhaps she is not with the Ghost."

"That's for the Colonel to decide."

Lucy had closed her eyes so she had no faces with the voices. She just knew that if they were planning anything nefarious, they'd have one hell of a fight on their hands.

"Gentlemen. What are you doing?" a richly accented voice sounded out. Deep and masculine and terrifying. The arms let Lucy go and she stumbled into the center of the circle of men. She turned and looked at whose voice caused her freedom.

At first, he seemed unimpressive. Barely six feet tall and wearing a British uniform, though clearly he was in charge. He had non-descript brown hair tied back but it was his eyes where the real impression was. They were blue as the sky and cold as a glacier. He was handsome in that older British actor way like Alan Rickman or Gary Oldman. Those blue icicles slid over Lucy and she almost shrunk back. This was a hard man. The kind you read about in Jane Austen books, not to be trifled with nor to be underestimated but Lucy was betting that this man was no hidden romantic behind a visor of cool. He'd kill you and use your bones to make furniture with. Lovely. Lucy was unsure of her next move. Her first impulse was to run but when she eyed the pistol-thing on the hip of this man, she rethought that maneuver. She'd seen enough movies to know that you couldn't outrun an aimed bullet even it was from a muzzle-loader.

"Where are you from, girl?" He asked sternly not taking his eyes off her face.

"Here. I'm from here. I was out riding my horse and I was thrown. A raccoon." Lucy muttered.

The man smirked "You were thrown by a raccoon? You are small, my dear, but not that small."

Great, a sarcastic. Lucy hated sarcastics "No. A raccoon caused my horse to throw me. I hit a tree." She raised her hand up and touched her head. She showed bloodied fingers to the man "see?"

An elegant eyebrow raised and he sighed "Take her to the medical tent, clean her up, and bring her to my tent for interrogation."

"Interrogation?! Now wait just a minute, you jerk. You will certainly not be interrogating me. Let me go back to find my home or I will call the cops on you!" Lucy wailed. Instant regret when a sword flew out from a holster and landed on her should, the blade aimed at her neck.

"That will be quite enough. You will do as you are told or I will cut that irritating head from your body. Am I clear?" There was nothing waivering in his tone. Nothing to suggest he was anything but serious.

These were some seriously geeked out guys.