Surrender to the Fury (10 page)

Then he touched her. Touched that part of her where her hunger centered. Stroked her where she longed to be stroked. Stroked her until she undulated to the erotic rhythm of his hand. Her eyes closed, soft gasps exploded from her, and she arched her body into his bold caress. In one of her few lucid moments she realized she was enjoying this too much, that she shouldn’t have succumbed so easily to his seduction, and she made a feeble effort to escape. But Nick had no intention of letting her go. He had waited much too long for this moment.

“Don’t fight it, sweetheart,” he whispered raggedly. “Let it happen. You can’t begin to imagine how long I’ve dreamed about this. About you.”

He held her tight and continued his sweet torture. His fingers were magical, demanding, drawing forth feelings she didn’t know she possessed. She couldn’t stop the climax. It came in great shattering waves of raw primal bliss, crashing like foaming surf upon the rocks and dashing her into tiny fragments.

The world was still spinning when Aimee floated back to reality. Nick was removing her clothes. “Did you like that, sweetheart?” He grinned wickedly. “That’s only the beginning. I’ve
waited so long for this moment, it’s difficult to believe you’re here now, in my bed, in my arms.”

“Wait! Stop!” Aimee grasped the edges of her bodice, pulling it together. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Nothing happened yet, but it’s damn well going to. Do you know how badly I want to be inside you? You were mine once, Aimee; I’m going to make you mine again. Having you come to my room like this is a miracle I never thought would happen. I’m not even going to ask you how or why you changed your mind about me, I’m just going to thank God you did.”

Aimee groaned. Was she such a good actress that Nick didn’t suspect her of spying? And if she didn’t want to end up in prison, she had to continue the charade.

But was it really a charade? Or did she want this as much as Nick did? Had she secretly yearned to savor Nick’s love one more time?

The question stormed through her mind like a winter gale. The answer nearly blew her away. She had relived those hours spent in Nick’s bed so often, in such lurid detail, that she wanted to experience his lovemaking again.

Lord help her!

The timid knock on the door startled them both. “Captain Drummond, have you seen Aimee? I haven’t seen dat chile since she went out to pick peaches, and I’m worried ’bout her.” Savannah’s voice was fraught with concern.

“Savannah! Oh God!” Aimee’s voice trembled. What would Savannah think of her?

Nick stared deeply into Aimee’s eyes and replied,
“Aimee’s in here with me, Savannah; no need for worry.”

“Damn you, Nick Drummond!” Aimee hissed through clenched teeth. “Was that necessary?”

“There’s no sense in lying to Savannah; she’s smart enough to figure things out for herself.”

There was silence on the other side of the door. Aimee thought Savannah had left until she said, “Aimee, honey, dat cobbler ain’t gonna get made if you don’t bring dem peaches.”

“I—I’ll be right down, Savannah.” The blush in her voice told a story all its own. Savannah’s retreating footsteps had all but disappeared when Aimee rounded on Nick. “You Yankee bastard! What are you trying to do to me? No wonder I hate you.”

“Can’t you be honest for once in your life? We’re both adults, doing what we want, what our hearts dictate.”

“Let me up! You heard Savannah; she needs me to help with supper.”

“She’ll manage. Dammit, Aimee, I’m so damn hot for you, if I’m not inside you soon, I’ll explode. You owe me, sweetheart.”

“Please let me go now, Nick,” Aimee cajoled.

He began tugging at his clothes.

“Wait! If—if you’re adamant about this, can’t it wait until later?”

A ragged sigh left his lips. “Very well, Aimee, until later. Will you come to my room or shall I come to yours?”

Aimee swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I’ll come to your room after I put Brand to bed and Lieutenant Dill retires for the night.”

Reluctantly he moved aside to allow her to rise.
Then, ignoring her protests, he helped her smooth out her clothes. When she turned to leave, he laid a hand on her arm. “Aimee, I’ll be waiting. Don’t disappoint me. I want you, sweetheart. You may not believe me, but I’ve always wanted you, even before I knew who you were or where to find you. And if you’d allow yourself time to think about it, you’d realize you want me, too. Otherwise you’d not be here now.”

Then he kissed her, kissed her so thoroughly, with such raw passion, it left Aimee dazzled. She turned and fled from the room, stopping only long enough to retrieve the bucket of peaches.

Oh, God, she thought, sobbing in frustration. What had she done? Loving Nick Drummond could destroy her.

T
he house was quiet. An air of expectancy pervaded the stillness as Aimee entered her bedroom after putting Brand to bed. She started violently when she saw Nick sitting calmly on the bed surrounded by a pool of lamplight, waiting for her.

Aimee chose not to appear at supper that night, pleading a headache. Not only could she not bear Savannah’s reproachful glances, but being with Nick was too painful, given her knowledge of what he expected from her later tonight. The thought of surrendering to Nick again really did give her a headache. Only this time she had no debt of honor to repay and no intention of keeping her word. The first time she ended up in Nick Drummond’s bed, she did so to preserve her honor, but there was no honor involved this time. Quite the contrary. She had spied, lied, and fully intended to renege on her promise to present herself at Nick’s door after the household was sleeping. She had obtained the information requested by Gar but felt no obligation to bed with Nick Drummond.

Her intention had been to slip into her room
and lock herself in, only Nick had astutely prepared for that. When Aimee failed to show up at supper, intuition warned him that she intended to break her promise to come to his room when everyone was sleeping. So he had sneaked into her room while she was busy with Brand.

“What do you want?” Aimee gasped, shocked to find Nick sitting on her bed in a pool of lamplight.

“Why are you avoiding me? Were you going to break your word?” Aimee shook her head in vigorous denial. “Then I’m going to love you, sweetheart,” he continued, “and nothing short of death or an enemy attack is going to stop me. It’s what you want, too, isn’t it?”

Her body screamed yes while her mind rejected the idea utterly. But no matter how desperately she tried, she couldn’t purge her memory of that night Brand was conceived. Conceived in lust, not in love.

Earlier, waiting for Aimee to come to him, Nick had paced his room like a caged tiger. He burned, he ached, he wanted Aimee with a need that went far beyond lust. He could still taste her kisses, smell the musky odor of her passion, feel her trembling flesh beneath his fingertips. If it wasn’t lust he felt for Aimee, what was it? Unfortunately Aimee’s hatred for him made it impossible to explore his feelings for her. But tonight … tonight she had admitted she wanted him, had come to his room to be with him. At first he was skeptical, then puzzled, then inordinately pleased. Finally he could wait no longer. Assuming Aimee was putting Brand to bed, he had quietly entered her room to wait for her.

“I—told you I’d come to your room,” Aimee hedged. “What if Brand should awaken and come in here?”

His answer was to sweep her up in his arms and carry her out the door the short distance to his room. He set her on her feet. “Is this better?” he teased. His voice was low and evocative. “I always aim to please a lady. I’d rather have you in my room anyway.”

Aimee quickly took a step backward, his heart nearly overpowering her. “I—didn’t Savannah tell you I had a headache?”

A lazy smile hung on the corner of Nick’s mouth. “You’re not getting off that easily. Do you really have a headache? Or are you fishing for excuses now that the moment we’ve both been yearning for has arrived?” Suddenly his face grew thoughtful and he looked at her probingly. “Could there possibly be another reason you came to my room?”

Hot color flooded Aimee’s cheeks. Did he suspect? “No, no other reason. I meant what I said.”

Nick’s smile deepened, making his dimple even more prominent. “Good. And I meant what I said. God, Aimee, you don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment. I couldn’t bear your hatred.”

He stepped forward. He was close—so close the heat emanating from him seemed to scorch her. She could almost smell the acrid scent of his arousal, taste the delicious flavor of his need. Her expression must have conveyed her thoughts, for his response was immediate and overwhelming.

“Take off your clothes, sweetheart; I want to see all of you.”

Aimee’s mouth went dry. “Perhaps we should wait.”

“No, I’ve already waited too long. You’ve bewitched me, Aimee; I’m like a kid with his first woman. I want you, now.”

The wanting within him moved her in a way she couldn’t explain. When he drew her into his arms, the taste of his kiss was bittersweet. So many nights she had lain awake tortured by memory. So many times she had dreamed about him when she knew they would never meet again. And now here he was, as handsome as ever—no, more handsome—more demanding, his need for her just as great as it had been the first time. His devil’s eyes still tormenting her.

He was her son’s father, the man she had vowed to hate forever. The only man who had the power to arouse her sleeping passion.

His lips upon hers were fervent, ardent, swiftly igniting the passion between them. She returned his kiss, eager for it, responding with a fervor nearly as great as his. Their tongues met, dueled, retreated, then met again as the kiss deepened. Panting for breath, Aimee broke away, staring at him.

His tongue moved over her throat, slowly, teasingly, gliding down the length of it, spreading fire in its wake.

She closed her eyes, reveling in his touch, gasping in delight when his wet mouth closed over a taut nipple, making a damp circle on the worn material of her dress. She heard him curse, then heard the rending of fabric. Impatient to bare her flesh, he ripped the gown cleanly so that it fell
open, exposing every delicious inch of her to his devouring eyes.

“Nick!”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll buy you another. This one doesn’t do you justice.”

Then she felt the slow, burning touch of his lips on her breast. He drew hot, wet circles on her breasts, caressing, licking, the roughness of his tongue like an aphrodisiac. Dropping to his knees before her, he continued the hot slide of his tongue downward to her stomach, pausing to sip hungrily at her navel before the searing hot moistness of his mouth moved down, down, until she wanted to scream. Sweet, hungry agony seized her as his tongue invaded a place so sensitive, she wanted to cry out.

Suddenly he was on his feet, lifting her from the ruins of her clothing, bearing her down to the softness of the bed. He knelt beside her, making love to her with his eyes. Then he was flinging off his clothes, pressing her down with his nakedness, his lips hot and hungry, smothering the tiny sounds of ecstasy that escaped from between her parted lips. His body was taut, sleek, covering hers in a way that made her aware of every magnificent inch of flesh that came into intimate contact with hers. Her entire body awakened, hungry, hot, needy, wanting what only Nick could give her. The bittersweet agony of her wanting brought with it the shattering knowledge that she had waited five years for this moment.

A soft murmur of desperation came from her lips and she arched against him. She felt the throbbing head of his shaft separate the sensitive folds between her legs and she pulled him tightly
against her, molding herself to his hard, hot length. He balanced himself on his elbows and looked into her eyes as he slowly invaded the moist tightness of her body. Deep—deeper—deeper still. A shattering sensation burst through her. A cry welled up inside her, but Nick took it into his own mouth, where it mingled with his groans of bliss.

Never had Nick known such an intense agony of sublime emotion. He’d had sex with dozens of women in the five years since he’d taken Aimee to his bed, but never had he felt such a tremendous outpouring of ecstasy.

“My God, Aimee, I can’t believe what I’m feeling,” he groaned against her mouth. “You’re so tight, so hot, so—so damn
good
. Don’t move, not yet. Not until I’m in control.”

Then she felt him move inside her, possessing her body, demanding her soul. He was moving so slowly, it was more like torture, drawing forth every sweet nuance of his possession, watching her as he thrust in and out with exquisite patience.

Then suddenly his eyes burned with wicked intention as he abandoned his slow seduction. His muscles rippled, his hips flexed, as he hastened the tempo, whirling, grinding, sweeping her into the maelstrom of unparalleled passion. In sweet desperation she clung to him, lost in his kisses, tasting him, his face, his shoulders, slick and warm.

“Nick! Oh, God, Nick!”

“I know, sweetheart, I feel it, too. Sweetheart, I want you to come with me. Now!”

He moved like lightning, then slowly, slowly, touching all of her, inside and out, stroking, coaxing,
the pulsing shaft of his body sinking deep inside her. Suddenly he went rigid, and Aimee felt the hot molten core of him splash against her womb. Then all thought ceased as her own climax rushed over her in great waves of sensation, making her oblivious to all but his warmth and the liquid heat of fulfillment

She hadn’t felt that sublime rush of ecstasy in any of those brief intimate moments she had shared with Beau.

It was wrong.

“Oh, God.” Her words came out as an anguished sob.

She felt a flush of heat as his eyes searched her face. “Did I hurt you?”

“I—no. This is wrong. Lying with you is defiling my husband’s memory. You’re a damned blue-belly, for God’s sake! And—and—”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “And what?” He rolled to his side and pulled her against him.

Aimee clamped down on her bottom lip until she drew blood. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him she hated him for thinking her a common whore the first time he had taken her, but she didn’t. What good would it do? He’d only deny it just as he had denied cheating at cards. After five years he had probably forgotten half of what had happened that night