Surrender to the Fury (12 page)

Aimee gasped in dismay. Events were taking a turn she hadn’t counted on. “No—it’s not—”

“Bind their hands, Lieutenant,” Nick ordered crisply. “I’m sure we’ll find incriminating evidence somewhere on the spy.” He thanked God it was dark. He’d hate like hell for Aimee to see how deeply she’d hurt him. In the few weeks he’d been at Tall Oaks, Aimee had come to mean more to him than he cared to admit. “You’re in civilian clothes, carrying secret information. Need I continue? Your name, Reb!”

Dill used the rope he had brought along to tie both Aimee’s and Gar’s hands behind them. Gar glared at him insolently while Aimee began to weep softly. The sound tore at Nick’s heart.

“How long have you been in the area spying?” Silence. “How long has Mrs. Trevor been supplying you with information?”

More silence.

“Very well, have it your way; we’ll get the information out of you one way or another.” He shoved his pistol in Gar’s back to start him moving while Dill prodded Aimee forward, careful not to hurt her. He didn’t trust Nick with Aimee. His captain was too damn angry right now to think straight. He had been watching Nick’s feelings for Aimee grow during the past weeks and knew how badly this betrayal had affected him.

Aimee’s weeping continued unabated as she stumbled toward the house. Nick said nothing to her, not a word, his expression unreadable. How
he must despise her. Truth to tell, she despised herself at this moment. The sentry met them at the perimeter of the property.

“Is everything all right, sir?”

“Everything went just as planned, Simpson. Lieutenant Dill has a prisoner to see to. Lock him in the tool shed until I decide what’s to be done with him. Then awaken one of the men to stand guard outside the shed.”

“And Mrs. Trevor?” Dill asked. “Is she to be locked in the shed also?”

“The Union army doesn’t mistreat women,” Nick bit out. His tone indicated that he had every intention of disregarding the way the Union army treated women as far as Aimee was concerned. He looked as if he wanted to wring Aimee’s neck and to hell with gentlemanly behavior. “Mrs. Trevor will be confined to her room until I decide otherwise.”

Dill saluted and shoved Gar rudely forward. Then Nick grasped Aimee’s arm roughly and dragged her toward the house.

“Nick, please, let me explain.”

“What’s to explain?”

“Garson Pinder isn’t my lover. He’s merely a family friend who has visited our plantation frequently.”

“You could have fooled me. Actually, I don’t give a damn what he is to you. You made a fool out of me, Aimee Trevor, and for that I can’t forgive you.”

“You can’t send me to prison, Nick. Brand needs me. What will happen to him if I’m not around to provide for him?”

His face was cold, remorseless, as if her problems were of little concern to him.

“You should have thought of that before you turned to spying, Aimee.” His words were fraught with quiet menace.

K
icking the door open with his foot, Nick placed a hand in the middle of Aimee’s back and shoved her inside. She stumbled into the room, bruising her hip against the bureau before her balance returned. Tears sprang to her eyes and she stifled the cry of pain that trembled on her lips, refusing to act a coward before Nick Drummond. She spun around to face him.

“You Yankee bastard! Untie me.”

His lips thinned, but he said nothing, turning her roughly to tug at the ropes binding her wrists. She saw the fury of betrayal in his eyes, and hot accusation. When her hands were free, he whirled on his heel and strode angrily toward the door.

“Nick—Captain Drummond, wait!”

He paused, fighting the urge to turn and look at her. “I’m in no mood for conversation.” She could tell by his tone of voice that he was teetering on the edge of his control.

“What will happen to me?”

“That’s for those higher than me to decide.”

“Brand! What about Brand? My, God, I—”

“I suggest you get some sleep, Mrs. Trevor. Right now I can’t think beyond the fact that you
used sex to manipulate me. Whose idea was it to sleep with me?” He hurled the words at her like stones. He didn’t wait for an answer as he opened the door, removed the key from the inside, and closed it noiselessly behind him. Aimee’s bravado crumbled when she heard the rasp of the key in the lock.

She rushed to the door. “Nick, please, you can’t keep me from my son. He’s all I have.”

Nick leaned against the door, desperately trying to blot out Aimee’s pleas and curses. When they dissolved into heartrending sobs, he pocketed the key and slowly walked away. He felt old and tired. Tired of war, sick of killing, disgusted with subterfuges and betrayals. He wanted to go to sleep and wake up fresh and clean, finished with the terrible business of war.

He didn’t sleep at all.

He imagined he could still hear Aimee sobbing. He wanted to go to her, hold her in his arms, tell her everything was going to be all right, promise her he’d let no one hurt her or Brand.

He couldn’t.

Could he?

He drifted to sleep toward dawn and awoke later to the certain knowledge that someone was staring at him. Instantly alert, he reached beneath his pillow for his gun. He drew in a ragged sigh when he saw Brand standing beside the bed. The boy’s hazel eyes were large and troubled. Nick could tell that the child was trying his best to fight back tears, and failing miserably. He rose on his elbow, reaching out to draw Brand down beside him. The lad resisted.

“Mama can’t get out of her room.”

Nick cursed beneath his breath, calling Aimee every vile name he could think of. Why would she deliberately put her child through such anguish?

“I know, son.”

“Did someone lock her in, sir? I can’t find the key.”

Nick closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I locked your mama in her room, Brand. It was necessary.”

“Why? Was she bad?”

“Yes, she was very bad.”

“Are you going to punish her?”

Nick flushed. “She deserves to be punished,” he hedged, not wanting to frighten the child.

“I could hear her crying. I think she wants out.”

“That’s impossible. I can no longer trust her. I know you don’t understand any of this, Brand, and I wouldn’t have hurt you for the world, but some things can’t be ignored.”

Brand’s bottom lip trembled and Nick cursed, dragging the boy close and hugging him tight. Stiffening his shoulders, Brand pulled away. “I want to see Mama.”

Nick sighed. How could he separate mother and son? Aimee might be a spy and whore, she might be rash and reckless, but he couldn’t accuse her of not loving her son. Instinct told him she was a true southern zealot who, in a moment of weakness, had allowed her lover to talk her into spying.

“Run along, Brand; I’ll see what I can do. Perhaps I can arrange it so you’ll see your mama for a specific period of time each day.” It was the least he could do for the fatherless little boy who stood in danger of losing his beloved mother.

Aimee’s tears gave way to impotent rage when
she found her door still locked the next morning, preventing Brand from entering. What harm could a small boy do? She called Nick every vile name she could think of, wishing him straight to hell. She rushed to the window, hoping to attract him in order to alert him to her plight. What she saw brought a shudder of terror to her slender form. Garson Pinder, his hands bound behind his back, was being led to one of the outbuildings. Nick entered the building a few minutes later, looking grim and determined. She preferred not to think about what would probably take place in that shed.

Just then the door to her room opened and Brand rushed into her outstretched arms. Sergeant Jones, a grizzled soldier, followed, carrying a tray containing Aimee’s breakfast.

“The captain said it’s all right for the lad to visit for a spell,” Jones said, his gaze sliding away from hers. He never would have suspected her of spying, such a sweet, pretty lady. But the captain had caught her red-handed.

“Thank you,” Aimee said with quiet dignity. “How long may he stay?”

“An hour, and he’s allowed to visit again before bedtime. I brought your breakfast.” He set the tray down on the small nightstand.

“Where’s Savannah? Am I allowed to visit with her?”

“Sorry,” Jones muttered, making a hasty exit. He couldn’t bear the wounded look in Aimee’s eyes. “The captain thought it best to keep the two of you apart, if you get my meaning.”

“Perfectly,” Aimee said tightly. Her control was
slipping, and all she wanted now was to be alone with Brand for her allotted hour.

“Captain Drummond said you were bad, Mama,” Brand said as he hugged Aimee tightly. “Why were you bad? I don’t want you to be locked in your room.”

“I wasn’t bad, Brand,” Aimee tried to explain. “I did something Captain Drummond didn’t like, and for punishment I’m being locked in my room. You can come visit me twice a day.”

“I don’t like Captain Drummond very much,” Brand pouted sullenly. “I thought he liked us.”

Aimee was at a loss for words. What could she say to a five-year-old that would explain the cruel complexities of war? Instead, she hugged him close, offering the comfort he seemed to need. But Brand wasn’t so easily appeased.

“I’m going to ask Captain Drummond to let you out.”

“I’m afraid it isn’t going to help, darling. Captain Drummond isn’t the type of man to let sentiment interfere with duty.”

“I suppose it will be all right as long as I can see you twice a day,” Brand compromised.

Aimee gulped back her tears. She had no idea how long she had before Nick shipped her north to prison. But until then she intended to make every moment with Brand count. If it actually came to separation from her son, there was an alternative, one that would virtually ensure that Brand wouldn’t suffer in her absence. She could always tell Nick that he was Brand’s father. But she would save that bit of information until the last possible moment.

Nick returned from interrogating Garson Pinder
in a vile mood. The man had refused to divulge one pertinent piece of information, nor would he elaborate on his involvement with Aimee Trevor except to smile knowingly when asked if he and Aimee were lovers. Maybe intelligence could persuade the spy to talk, he reflected as he made his way slowly back to the house. He made immediate plans to send Pinder to headquarters, where they had the means and patience to break the man. In any event, Pinder would spend the rest of the war behind bars.

That line of thinking led him to Aimee and the fate that awaited her if he sent her north to prison. A shudder of revulsion passed through his body when he recalled the horror of visiting one of the facilities that housed women spies. A woman as frail and sensitive as Aimee wouldn’t survive long in the squalid conditions that existed in most of those prisons. As beautiful as Aimee was, she’d surely be raped by guards who considered women spies fair game. That terrifying notion brought him to an abrupt decision. He motioned to Lieutenant Dill that he wished to talk with him privately. Dill dropped what he was doing and followed Nick inside to the small study.

“You wished to see me, sir?”

Nick nodded grimly. “Prepare the prisoner for transportation to headquarters. I’ll leave first thing in the morning with a squad of six men. I want you to remain at Tall Oaks and see that our other prisoner remains safely behind locked doors.”

Dill was stunned. “You’re not taking Mrs. Trevor to headquarters along with the other spy?”

“I—no, she’ll remain at Tall Oaks under supervision.”

“Do you think that’s wise, Captain? What will headquarters say about withholding a prisoner?”

“Have you ever seen the inside of a prison, Lieutenant? How long do you think a woman like Mrs. Trevor would last in that kind of squalor and misery? Not long, I’d wager. I’m certain this is Mrs. Trevor’s first offense, and I fully intend to argue the case against sending her to prison. I’m convinced she’ll be no danger to the Union now that her contact has been apprehended. What would it serve to separate her from her son at this point in the war? The South is all but defeated. I may be a bastard, but I’m not totally without compassion. No, Lieutenant, if I have anything to say about it, Aimee Trevor will remain under house arrest, under my jurisdiction, until such a time that I’m ordered elsewhere. By then, command will have forgotten about her.”

Dill did not question Nick’s judgment, but he did wonder at his motives. He knew Nick had strong feelings for Aimee, but he assumed those feelings had died a natural death when Aimee was caught spying. He suspected that intimacy was involved somewhere along the line, which would explain Nick’s wounded pride, but he could prove nothing.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Dill observed before he left Nick sitting deep in contemplation. “You know headquarters might decide against your request. They hold little sympathy for spies.” Having said his piece, he quietly departed.

Somehow Nick managed to get through the day, his mind consumed with thoughts of Aimee, how ardently she responded to his touch, how wonderfully alive she became in his arms, how easily she
had beguiled him—how eagerly she had used him and lied to him. She didn’t want him. All she’d wanted was the classified information headquarters had sent him. It rankled him to realize how far she was willing to go for those dispatches.

Supper was a dismal affair. Savannah’s reproachful looks were enough to turn the food to sawdust in Nick’s mouth. Brand was sullen and uncommunicative. Restricted to her room, Aimee was eating in solitude. It was too much. Abruptly he leaped to his feet, knocking the chair over in his haste, and strode from the room.

Aimee stared at her food, unable to swallow a bite. She wanted to know what Nick had decided to do with her. She needed to learn how long it would be before she was separated from her son. She wanted to see Nick but was too proud to ask. Then she heard the solid thread of his footsteps on the stairs and grew tense. Would he stop and let her know what her fate was to be or would he ignore her? She listened intently as his footsteps slowed when they reached her door. She held her breath, then let it out when he continued on. She didn’t know whether she was relieved or vexed. Then her breath stopped when she heard him halt and return. The key scraped in the lock and the door flung open. Nick stood in the doorway, his face set in grim lines, shoulders squared, big, powerful, menacing. So handsome he took her breath away. She winced when he slammed the door behind him.