Surrender to the Fury (19 page)

“Aimee, you haven’t answered me,” Nick said with concern. “What did those men do to you?”

Aimee gulped and replied, “Nothing, they didn’t harm me. I escaped from them yesterday and spent the night hiding in a hollow log. They caught me again this morning, but you arrived in time.”

A certain watchfulness in his eyes left her with a disquieting sensation of vulnerability. But when her eyes didn’t waver from his, he finally seemed to believe her.

“Thank God. When I saw that man … abusing you, I was so afraid …” A glimmer of moisture appeared at the corners of his eyes, looking suspiciously like tears, but Aimee quickly discounted the idea of a strong man like Nick weeping. Men didn’t cry.

“Can you walk?”

“Yes,” Aimee replied, leaning heavily on Nick.

He searched her face, wondering if the bruises had come from wedging herself into the hollow log or if those scum had struck her. Her hair was a tangled mass, and her skin and clothing were covered with pieces of rotted wood and grass stains.

There’s a stream nearby where you can bathe before we return to Tall Oaks,” he suggested with concern. “I’ve been all through these woods in the
past few weeks and know them by heart. Would you like that?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad you trusted me enough to send Brand to me,” Nick said after a pause. “What I truly don’t understand is why you felt the need to leave Tall Oaks in the first place.”

“Can’t you guess? I had to.” The words were torn from deep inside her tormented soul.

T
he stream was closer than Aimee had realized. She knew, of course, that it was an offshoot of the Chattahoochee River, which flowed through Tall Oaks plantation, but she had become disoriented while being dragged through the woods by Rolly and Cullen.

“Let’s see your wrists,” Nick said. He held out his hands palms up, and she placed her bruised wrists in them. He inspected them carefully, his face taut with rage.

“They don’t hurt much.”

“Like hell! There’s a first aid kit in my saddlebag; when you’re finished bathing, I’ll put some salve on them and bind them.”

Before Nick had taken her to the stream, he had retrieved Scout, who was tethered nearby, and led him through the woods.

“That’s not necessary,” Aimee muttered. She turned toward the stream, uncertain what to do when she felt Nick’s hands on her shoulders.

“Do you need help getting out of your dress?” He didn’t wait for an answer but started unhooking her dress at the back.

“Nick, wait; what if someone should discover
us? What if there are more deserters hiding in the woods?”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll keep watch. But I seriously doubt we’ll be bothered. Birch and his patrol have been in the area several days now, cleaning out pockets of deserters. The scum who attacked you were probably the last. It’s unlikely any others remain in these woods.”

Nick’s confidence seemed to reassure Aimee as she slid the dress from her shoulders, removed the ragged petticoat, and slipped into the water wearing her thin shift. She waded in up to her waist, dipped briefly below the surface, and came up sputtering.

“It’s cold.”

“It will refresh you before our ride back to Tall Oaks.”

It did feel wonderful, Aimee had to admit, and soothing to her bruised flesh. For a few moments she forgot all the horror of the previous hours and the reason she felt compelled to leave Tall Oaks as she lifted her face to the sun and splashed in the cool water.

Nick couldn’t take his eyes off the sea nymph cavorting in the middle of the shallow stream. Beneath her shift, her breasts were high and softly curved, and he vividly recalled how perfectly suited they were to the palm of his hand. He wanted to throw caution to the wind and dash in after her, lift her high in his arms and press her down onto his manhood.

He wanted to throttle her for placing herself and Brand in danger.

He wanted to love her until she was giddy with desire.

He wanted …

Aimee.

He wasn’t aware that he spoke her name until she turned to look at him, her eyes wide and questioning. She didn’t speak, merely stared, as if in response to his unspoken request. He didn’t wait for her to come to him, he went to her. In moments his clothes lay in a heap next to hers. Aimee stood still as a statue as he waded out to meet her, unable to move even if she had wanted to. The blue-green of the water was reflected in his vivid eyes. But that’s not all Aimee saw in his intense gaze. She saw desperate need and smoldering desire, and something else—something that went much deeper.

Then he was standing beside her, the coolness of the water warmed by the heat of his body. She felt his breath against her face, inhaled deeply of his scent, and closed her eyes against the pain of what her heart was trying to tell her. Then her conflicting thoughts skidded to a halt as his mouth came down on hers with a fierce plundering heat. He kissed her endlessly, her mouth, her neck, her eyes, then her mouth again, ravishing her with tender kisses until he was breathless and had to stop.

“My God, Aimee, do you realize I could have lost you? I should spank you for leaving like you did, but all I want to do is love you. I haven’t been the same since I found you again. I don’t know what it is you do to me, but I do know that making love to you gives me more pleasure than I ever thought possible.”

Aimee stared past his shoulder, saying nothing, fearing the words that she might utter, fearing the
loss of her pride, her spirit, her soul. Yet when she was in Nick’s arms, she was afraid of nothing. If those conflicting thoughts frightened her, the next one terrified her. Love and hate—might not one be confused with the other?

“Say something, Aimee, say anything,” Nick begged, confused by her silence. Was she still in shock due to her recent ordeal?

She looked at him then, her eyes soft and luminous. She wanted to tell him that she had to leave Tall Oaks, that she couldn’t allow herself to love him, that her son was his son, but she couldn’t admit it for fear of losing Brand. She opened her mouth, and what came out was so shocking and in such contrast to her thoughts that she began to question her sanity.

“Make love to me, Nick.”

Nick groaned, his response to her request instant and compelling. His groin was throbbing, painfully full with his need.

“Aimee.” He kissed her, pulling her tightly against him, bringing her to her tiptoes, stripping the thin shift from her and tossing it to the grassy bank. When she responded, arching against him, he trembled with the force of his need.

She was no longer pliant and unresponsive in his arms. She was frantic and wild, throwing her arms around his neck, nearly choking him in her fervor to get closer to him. Grasping her by the waist, he lifted her until her breasts dangled above him and he could take her nipples into his mouth, suckling vigorously, making her cry out. She thrust herself against him. The water churned around them, waist-deep, as he set her back on her
feet, parting her legs and stroking his hands up the slick insides of her thighs.

When his fingers found her, she cried out, her legs trembling uncontrollably. She clutched his shoulders, her breathing shallow, her head thrown back, her long blond hair trailing in the water.

“Hush, sweetheart,” he said, his breath hot on her flesh. “I know what you want; I want it, too.”

Underwater, his fingers slipped inside her, and he felt the rippling spasms, took her wrenching cries into his mouth, feeling himself grow and swell. Then he was lifting her, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist as he came inside her powerfully, deep—so deep, she felt him touch her womb. As he braced his feet against the sandy bottom of the stream, Nick’s thrusts were hard and fast and deep, setting up such a clamor in her body, she was nearly driven frantic with it.

The buoyancy of the waist-deep water added to her pleasure as Nick drove into her relentlessly, wanting to bring her to climax before surrendering to the fury of his own. Suddenly he pulled out of her. It was going too fast, much too fast, and he was in danger of losing control. Aimee cried out in protest as he carried her, still wrapped tightly around him, toward shore.

“The pleasure is just beginning, sweetheart,” he promised her as he carried her ashore and lay her down on the grassy bank beneath the shade of a large oak tree.

She lay there in a daze, staring up at the sunlight filtering through the oak leaves, unable to focus her splintered thoughts. Then he came over her, parting her knees, nuzzling her belly, his hands stroking up and down the insides of her
trembling thighs. When his mouth touched her, she lurched wildly and cried out. It was beyond anything she had ever felt before.

Nick supported her thighs, holding them apart, feeling the sleek muscles tense and tremble as his mouth plundered her soft woman’s flesh. She screamed, jerking spasmodically as he held her down with a hand on her belly until the force of her climax abated and she lay quiescent beneath his touch.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Nick said as he poised above her. “I want you to watch us coming together. I want you to know who is making love to you. I don’t ever want you to think of your dead husband while I’m loving you.”

Aimee looked confused. Think of Beau while making love with Nick? The thought had never occurred to her. Beau was a dear, sweet man, but elicited little passion from her body. Nick was her lover, the flame that burned inside her—her enemy. Then her thoughts shattered as he thrust powerfully, lifting her hips, sending himself deep inside her. Never had Aimee felt herself so much a part of another human being.

He buried his face against her neck, breathing heavily, lost now in the pursuit of his own climax but not too enmeshed to be aware of Aimee’s escalating passion. She was quick to respond, and he strained to control his release until Aimee had reached hers. Then he was kissing her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, loving her taste, her heat. Her small cries pleased him enormously and he groaned in response, so near to bursting, he thought he would die. Suddenly he felt her stiffen, felt her muscles quiver, felt the tension in her body
release itself and burst forth in an outpouring of incredible heat. Only then did he allow his own climax to explode. And for several minutes he knew no more.

He lay atop her as his thundering heart slowed its furious pace. Never had he felt so at peace, so incredibly content. He reared up on his elbows, staring down at Aimee. Her eyes were closed, her face unreadable, making it impossible for Nick to tell what she was thinking. He eased off her, settling down beside her on the grass.

“What are you thinking?” he asked her, once his heart had slowed to a steady beat.

Aimee’s eyes opened slowly. She blinked several times, nearly blinded by the brilliant sunlight filtering through the leaves. “I’m thinking of nothing,” she lied.

“Don’t lie to me, Aimee. After what we just shared, I assumed you’d forget the hostility between us and tell me the truth for once. You were the one who begged me to make love to you.”

A dull red stained Aimee’s cheeks. “I must have been mad.”

“I love it when madness strikes you,” Nick teased. His words brought no answering smile. “Aimee, why do you continue to resist? You want me as much as I want you. Can’t you forget I’m the enemy?”

“Some things are impossible to forget. Being a Yank is just part of it.”

Nick sighed in weary exasperation, then turned on his side to face her. But Aimee still lay on her back, refusing to look at him. Gently but firmly he pulled her around until he could look into her eyes.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Aimee. Tell me why I’m a threat to you.” He thought he already knew, but he wanted to hear her say the words.

Her expression held such abject fear, Nick was almost sorry he asked.

“Aimee, I won’t hurt you. You ought to know that by now.”

“You’ve hurt me before,” Aimee said defiantly.

“Not knowingly.”

“What do you want from me?” Her cry was like a knife thrust to his heart. He had no idea she was referring to Brand, that she feared he would take her child from her if he learned he was his father.

Nick frowned, wanting to tell Aimee about his suspicions concerning Brand, but astute enough to realize that now was not the time. Her feelings were still too raw, and she was too stubborn to admit the truth. One day, he told himself, one day soon Aimee will realize that he meant no harm to either her or Brand. If Brand was indeed his son, he wanted to provide for him. And he wanted to do more—much more. Convincing Aimee of his good intentions would be difficult because this senseless war made him her natural enemy. Yet her question bothered him. Exactly what did he want from her?

He wanted her to admit Brand was their son. He wanted her to stop thinking of him as the enemy. He wanted her … love.

“Sweetheart,” he said, “I don’t think you’d like the answer to your question. Instead, I’ll pose a similar one. What do you want from me? You seem to enjoy my lovemaking, yet you profess to hate me.”

His question sucked the breath from her lungs. “I do hate you. I’ve always hated you.”

“You don’t hate it when I love you. Were you so starved for a man’s affection that any man would do? You’ve been a widow a long time.”

“You take too much for granted!” Aimee shot back in sudden anger. “I don’t need a man to make my life complete. I have Brand.”

“What about your dead husband? Did you love him so much that no one can take his place?”

Aimee’s flush deepened. “Of course I loved Beau; he’s the father of my son.”

“Is he?”

A frisson of panic shuddered through her body.

“Are you cold?”

“No.”

“Then answer my question. Is Brand really Beau’s son?”

“You bastard! Just because you’ve made me your whore doesn’t mean I was unfaithful to Beau.”

“That’s not what I’m suggesting, Aimee, and you know it.”

She tried to rise, but Nick placed a hand against her stomach to hold her down.

“Please, Nick, don’t do this to me. Your questions are leading nowhere.”