Surrender (24 page)

She cried out at last, clinging to him, her face burrowing against his shoulder, teeth raking lightly into his flesh, tongue delicately soothing the light nip. She couldn’t bear what he was doing. He had to cease. But he did not. His fingers moved inside her. His mouth moved over her breast, hot and wet, his tongue circled her aureole, the tip playing upon the hardened peak of her nipple.

Then he shifted, and he was full and hard within her with a single forceful thrust that burned deeply into her womb and beyond. His hands were beneath her, lifting her buttocks, pressing her ever closer to his quickening passion. She felt the damp, cushioning grass beneath her back, the night breeze licking against the soaring heat of her body. Sweat glistened their flesh. His movements became harder and wilder, more impassioned. He braced above her, body moving with a merciless, lightning speed, his eyes like cobalt pikes that impaled her as surely as his every thrust within her. She cried out, hands slamming against his chest as the sweet violence of climax seized her. The starry sky suddenly seemed to rend into shattered crystal above her and around her, breaking, falling, blurring her vision, tingling her flesh. She held him tighter as he reached his own surcease, body jerking powerfully into hers. Searing sweetness invaded her. He shuddered, holding close.

Then, abruptly, he lay at her side, bronze shoulders sheened in sweat, chest rising and falling rapidly as he regained normal breathing. The summer’s night was suddenly cool; she felt the breeze keenly on her bare flesh.

“You neglected to scream,” he said after a moment.

“You didn’t give me time. I can, however, do so now,” she reminded him softly. She shook her head against the damp earth beneath her, staring up at the sky. “You’ve no right to your anger. You
did
kidnap me! And you—”

“Abducted and ravished!” he murmured, rolling toward her. She edged away. Propped on an elbow, she watched him warily.

“This is not a private war,” she informed him.

“Isn’t it? Well, Miss Magee, I think it is. And it’s time for you to surrender or pay one hell of a price.”

She arched a brow, stunned by the venom in his words. She shook her head then, lashes covering her eyes. She was alarmed by the depths of his anger. What had caused such deep contempt? He had sought her out in fury. She should have called for help; he should be headed for a prison camp this very minute. But she hadn’t called for help.

She had capitulated to his seduction with no protest whatsoever. Fool! This was her chance. If he was captured, they might both survive the war! And God knew, his imprisonment could only help the Yankee cause.

She was about to cry out—yet he sensed her thoughts. In two seconds he straddled her, his hand covering her mouth. “Don’t even think about it—unless you want me dragging you back to Southern captivity.”

She stared up at him, tears stinging her eyes, frustration raging in her heart. She tried to bite his fingers; he adjusted his hold on her mouth.

“If your Yankee defenders threaten my sister again, Miss Magee, I can promise you that you’ll spend the remainder of the war enjoying Southern hospitality.”

Her eyes widened. He lifted his hand, watching her.

“Your sister! Someone threatened your sister?”

“Yes. Come, now—are you so surprised?”

“Indeed, I am.”

“She was nearly kidnapped in Richmond—after I received an anonymous threat under my dinner plate promising that I would die for my treatment of you!”

“Don’t you dare make such an accusation! Do you think that I would do such a thing, cause such a thing? You bastard! I didn’t send a note, and I know nothing about it. And—”

“Then my brother received a letter. Ah, but this one was signed. It was from your father. He apologized to my family for intending to go straight for my throat.”

“Just what were you expecting? I can’t help what my father feels and does—”

“You might have taken greater care when describing your barbaric treatment at the hands of a savage Reb.”

“I’m telling you that I didn’t say—”

“I can read, Miss Magee.”

A burst of anger exploded from her. “Can you? I’m not so certain! I have been warned that Southerners can be slow. Then again, sir, maybe your behavior was despicable, and maybe you shouldn’t have abducted me, or ravished me, or taken me aboard your ship! Go to hell, Captain! Go straight to hell! None of this was my making. And I’m very busy now with a war effort that wears upon everyone, body and soul—”

“You seem to be weathering it all quite fine,” he remarked dryly. “In fact, you look quite well. Exceptionally well, I might say.”

“Damn you, Jerome—”

She broke off, swallowing hard. For as harsh as his anger had been, he was suddenly touching her once again. He sat straddled atop her, balancing his weight on his haunches—and touching her, his hand gently cupping the weight of her breast. “You were too thin. I think you’ve actually gained some weight,” he murmured.

“Don’t be absurd! I’ve lost weight—” she began. But then broke off abruptly.

Her breasts were larger. Very round and full. Of course. She should have noticed the changes herself. She could only hope that he didn’t really remember.

Or know why she might seem different.

“Don’t!” she whispered in a panic to divert him. “Don’t! Don’t come with your foolish accusations and—and…”

But he wasn’t listening. He had shifted off her again. His gaze swept the length of her. He leaned low, lips suddenly against her belly.

“McKenzie—”

“What?”

“Stop it. I will not be seduced again.”

“I’m not about to seduce,” he murmured against her flesh.

“Then—”

He raised his head, and his eyes met hers. Challenging once again. “I’ve come purely to ravish!” he informed her. Then he caught her knees, one with each hand, drawing them apart. He pulled her hard toward him. She
gasped, struggling to rise upon her elbows. She was ready to argue in full measure, knowing…anticipating his intent. Yet her words died as she choked out a gasp of unwilling pleasure as a throbbing began instantly within her as he buried his head between her legs…

And ravished.

She managed a desperate protest at last, voiced in frantic whispers. Wicked, burning sensations coursed through her as he teased and provoked with lips and tongue, entering, thrusting…licking, a light touch, a hard touch. Tears stung her eyes, she lay back, writhed, twisted, all but died in his searing brand of ecstasy. Anguish, need, pure pleasure combined.

Then he ceased and rose above her, and entered her. And it seemed that he moved like the night wind, whipping through her like a storm, sweeping her into his tempest. And when he had finished, she was crying out, because she had never felt such pure, physical pleasure. And even afterward she was seized again and again with ecstatic little climaxes that gripped her, released her, and left her trembling, exhausted…staggered.

He did not move so quickly from her. He held her very close, and the night breeze cooled them both, though she refused then to respond to his touch. She groaned softly. “You must…go. I will scream; you should be in jail, you’re a madman, they’ll take you—”

“They’ll hang me. But you won’t scream.”

“Why?” she demanded weakly. She felt as if she would surely burst into tears any moment. “You’ve come with some ridiculous search for vengeance I do not deserve—”

“If you were to scream, your father might well be the one to come.”

She was dead silent. Then she inhaled deeply.

A slight smile played upon his lips. “Actually, you know, you were doing a little screaming. It was charming.”

“Oh!” she cried with sudden fury, and she tried to pummel him, lash out at him. She would have gladly taken a few gouges out with her nails. But he was prepared, and he subdued her, straddled atop her again,
pinning her arm down while her breasts heaved with exertion and anger.

He arched a brow. “No threats, Miss Magee?”

“You could kill my father. And nothing you could do or say would be worth his death!”

He smiled with a hint of admiration.

“You will pay anyway,” she warned him. “You are surrounded by Yankees.
Surrounded
. I need do nothing, and you will be caught!”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“I don’t know what you think I’ve done—”

“You know what you’ve done. I have been slandered, and my family has been threatened. I will find the truth, and I won’t be threatened.”

“Indeed! You’re the one with the threats.”

“Bear in mind, I carry out my every threat. You’ve a tremendous amount to answer for.”

“I’ve nothing to answer for! You are the one with a great deal to pay for, sir!”

“This war is not over,” he told her.

“No, it is not! And I warn you, if you do not get off of me and disappear—”

“Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

“One more time.”

“One more time?” she repeated blankly, then gasped. “Oh, you are out of your mind, you are despicable. I’ll not—”

“That’s the whole point of ravishment, isn’t it?”

She wasn’t certain if she longed to laugh, or rip him to shreds. But his eyes were dead serious; his arms were powerful around her. His tension was as electric as it had been through the night. “Once more,” he whispered.

He knew how to make love. With anger, without. From the very beginning, she had been fascinated with him. Surely, she hadn’t fallen in love, but…

But some unique thread linked them, a golden web. His eyes were like no other’s. She loved his features, his face, the hint of Indian blood in his cheekbones, in his deep bronze coloring, in his thick dark hair, just touched by hints of red.

They were bound by anger, she warned herself.

But it didn’t matter.

When he touched her, she was fire. When he made love to her, she knew that she could never want another man. And yet it was sheer fury that brought them together.

They were enemies. But she was going to have his child.

And yet…

Again, she forgot all else in the rising desire that spiraled through her. And again, the night itself seemed to explode with the sheer ecstasy he created within her, and in his arms, she didn’t even realize her fear that half the Union army could come upon them…

This time she said nothing as she trembled, drifting downward from their passion. She lay in his arms, silent, aware that he watched her in return. She wondered what he was thinking, but she didn’t ask. She knew he wouldn’t answer.

She closed her eyes, utterly spent, yet glad of him.

After a while, she opened her eyes.

He was gone.

And she was alone among the pines.

I
t was early October when Jerome stood on the bow of the
Lady Varina
, watching the movements of the ship cutting across the Atlantic to his north. Her flag was obscured; she carried several guns.

They had come from Bermuda, where not all of their promised supplies had arrived from England. It had been a long time since Jerome had been engaged at sea.

And he was hungry for action.

His time on land had proved to be far longer than he had imagined. The information he had accrued in the Union camp was helpful, adding credence to what the Confederate generals had already estimated. Summer had moved bloodily onward in the eastern theater, battle following battle, and since word had arrived that repairs on the
Lady Varina
were taking longer than expected, Jerome had determined to remain with his brother, accepting cavalry assignments. He was capable of slipping into places alone where others might not be so able. As a navy man waiting for the return of his ship, he was basically a free agent, able to be of service. He was most frequently required to run information between armies and brigades, and it was gratifying work. He was able to verify Lee’s knowledge that McClellan’s troops were moving by water to reinforce Pope. He was also well aware of the general’s plan to use Clark’s Mountain to screen his troops and deliver an attack against Pope’s eastern flank and cut the line along which McClellan’s forces intended to reinforce him and cut off the line of retreat to Washington.

Jeb Stuart’s adjutant general was captured by Pope with a copy of the battle plan, allowing him and his troops time to withdraw. The armies then faced one
another across the Rappahanock. Lee probed for a vulnerable point. In one cavalry raid Pope’s headquarters near Catlett’s Station were captured, and Jerome was with the Rebs, who were able to bring back the information that Federal reinforcements would soon increase Pope’s ranks to one hundred and thirty thousand men—to face Lee’s fifty-five thousand. Lee decided to split his army—counting on the panic that would arise if he threatened the Federal position and its proximity to Washington.

Bloody engagements followed. Groveton, Bull Run, Chantilly. Lee did not manage a decisive hit against the Federals, but he did accomplish the amazing—with his inferior numbers, he delivered serious losses on the Federals while maintaining the defense of strategic Rebel locations. He not only eliminated the immediate threat of the Federals against Richmond, he sent them back defensively to D.C.

Although Jerome slipped behind enemy lines several times again, he was not able to find Risa. He had told himself that he was not searching for her anymore. She was the enemy, and had been duly warned not to fight him, slander him—or cause others to attack his family. His obsession had been put to rest—or so he told himself. But he could tell himself anything he damned well pleased. Thoughts of her plagued him. She haunted his nights. He might heartily desire to put an end to his obsession with a woman who considered him to be a wretched savage, the worst of all enemies, but desire and determination had little effect on his longing for her.

He had remained with the Army of Northern Virginia as Lee continued his campaign. On September 15th, Jackson took Harpers Ferry, and when Robert E. Lee heard of Jackson’s success, he decided to stand his ground in Sharpsburg, Maryland.

In all his life, Jerome had never seen such fierce fighting as occurred in a little place called Sharpsburg, by Antietam Creek. Vast cornfields were mown down by rifle fire.