Surrender to the Fury (20 page)

“Do you think of Beau while I’m making love to you?” He had no idea where that question came from, but he couldn’t help asking it.

He felt her stomach clench against the palm of his hand. “I—no.” Why couldn’t she lie to him?

He wanted to believe her, but she had lied about so many things, he was hesitant to put much faith in her words. But suddenly it didn’t matter anymore,
for the flesh beneath his hand was warm to his touch, the blond hair between her legs moist and inviting. He wanted her again. Wanted her with a desperation that gnawed at his gut.

“It doesn’t matter,” Nick said in a strangled voice. “Even if you do think of Beauregard Trevor during our most tender moments, I’ll make you forget him somehow. I’m going to love you again, and when I finish, my name will be the only one on your lips and in your mind.”

Grasping her hips, he rolled her atop him. He was already hard and throbbing as he probed her softness. Nick couldn’t recall when he had been ready to perform again so quickly. Only Aimee had the power to reduce him to raw need and gnawing hunger.

“Spread your legs, sweetheart.” She hesitated only a moment before straddling his loins. Then he grasped her hips and shoved her down hard, stretching her, filling her, bringing a gasp of profound pleasure to her lips.

Aimee lost all track of time as she rode Nick, abandoning herself once again to the frantic burst of wild rapture only this man had the power to give her.

Her enemy.

Her love.

“Nick!” Nick smiled a secret smile. His name trembling from her lips was like sweet music to his ears. For the very first time he was absolutely certain no other man filled her thoughts.

They started back to Tall Oaks a short time later. Aimee rode in contemplative silence mounted before Nick on Scout’s broad back. She had much to think about, though none of her thoughts were
comforting. She had acted the wanton with Nick, saying one thing while meaning another. She had begged him to love her when what she really wanted was to get as far away from him as possible. That
was
what she wanted, wasn’t it? To get far enough away from Nick Drummond until he no longer filled her mind and her body. Until he posed no threat to her and her son. But instead, she mindlessly offered herself to him, responded to him in ways that left her breathless with wonder and behaving like a whore.

Nick guided Scout back to the road, seeing no need to keep to the woods, where the going was much rougher and slower. With any luck they’d be back at Tall Oaks not too long after nightfall. But as luck would have it, rain began to fall shortly before darkness arrived, forcing them to seek shelter. Aimee mentioned their proximity to the Pinder plantation, where she, Brand, and Savannah had spent one night, and Nick wheeled Scout in that direction. They sheltered that night in the ruins of the ramshackle stable. Aimee didn’t protest when Nick pulled her shivering form into his arms, where she warmed immediately.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart; you must be exhausted.”

She was. But not too exhausted. “Nick, what do you really want from me?” she asked.

His eyes glowed a brilliant green. Devil’s eyes. “You, Aimee, I want you.”

They reached Tall Oaks at noon the next day. The camp was in an uproar. Lieutenant Dill was the first to reach them.

“Thank God you’ve returned. I was about to organize
a search party. We’ve received orders from headquarters.”

Nick dismounted first, then reached up to lift Aimee from the saddle. “What kind of orders?”

“We’re moving out.”

Nick was instantly alert. “We’re leaving Tall Oaks? What is our destination?”

Dill gave Aimee a wary glance. Nick realized immediately that Dill no longer entirely trusted Aimee. “I imagine Brand is waiting anxiously to see his mother, Aimee. Why don’t you go to him?”

Aimee couldn’t blame either man for distrusting her, but it hurt to be held in such blatant contempt by a Yankee. On her way to the house, she passed Sergeant Jones. He said nothing, merely giving her a scathing look that spoke volumes. After all, she had drugged him and the other men left behind to guard her. She tried to ignore the sour looks cast her way as she hurried into the house.

Brand was still a sick little boy, but it was obvious he was going to recover. She entered his sickroom to find Savannah hovering over him. When she approached the bed, he perked up immediately.

“Mama!” He held out his arms. “Where were you? I told Captain Drummond you knew how to make me well. I’m so glad he found you.”

“I’m glad, too, darling,” Aimee said, meaning every word. How could she have ever thought that leaving Brand with Nick would solve anything? She must have been desperate as well as foolish to send him back to Tall Oaks without her.

“I hope you done learned your lesson,” Savannah grumbled. “Captain Drummond was mad as a wet hen when he learned you were gone. He
wanted to look for you right away, but he wouldn’t leave until he knew what was wrong with Brand. He loves dat chile like he was his own.”

“Savannah! Watch your tongue.”

“Well, it’s true,” Savannah said sullenly. “And you’d realize it if you wasn’t so darn stubborn. I don’t think de man means you any harm, honey. Why not tell him?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aimee insisted. She turned back to her son, discouraging further conversation.

“Mama, did Captain Drummond bring you back?”

“Yes, darling, he did.”

Brand managed a weak smile. His face was covered with so many red spots, he looked like a painted clown. “I itch, Mama.”

“I’ll have Savannah mix a paste of baking soda and water to spread on your skin. That should stop the itching. Meanwhile, try not to scratch, darling.”

“I want to see Captain Drummond.”

Aimee’s mouth turned down into a frown. “I’m sure he has better things to do than amuse a sick child.”

“Don’t put words into my mouth, Aimee.” Nick strode into the room in time to hear Aimee’s remark.

“I’ll go get dat bakin’ soda,” Savannah said. She scurried from the room, unwilling to become a party to the tension crackling between Nick and Aimee.

“How are you feeling, Brand?” Nick asked as he approached the child’s sickbed.

“Not too bad, sir.” His voice quivered from the sickness that still ravaged his body.

“Your mother is here now; she’ll take care of you.”

His words sounded too much like a farewell to Brand. “Are you leaving, sir?”

Nick was amazed at the child’s astuteness. “Yes, Brand, I’ll be leaving soon, but I want you to concentrate on getting well.”

Brand appeared on the verge of tears. “I’ll try, sir. Will you come back?”

“You have my promise, son, that I’ll return.” He looked straight at Aimee when he spoke. “It may not be until after the war, but I
will
come back to Tall Oaks.”

“Don’t make promises you have no intention of keeping,” Aimee hissed.

“I always keep my word.” There was no flicker of emotion in his cool green eyes, only the confidence of a man who knew what he wanted. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have some dispatches to read.”

Lieutenant Dill awaited Nick in the study. “The orders arrived just this morning,” Dill said, handing the packet of official papers to Nick. Nick opened them immediately and scanned the contents.

“We’re to join part of Sherman’s army at Jonesboro, south of Atlanta,” Nick said slowly. “It’s the junction of four important railroads, and their capture is vital to the defeat of the Confederacy. General Sherman believes that once the railroads are disabled, disrupting the flow of supplies
and arms, the fall of Atlanta and other major cities will quickly follow.”

“When do we leave?” Dill asked.

“At dawn tomorrow. The attack is set for August thirtieth. We’ll just have enough time to meet up with the main army before the skirmish begins. While we’re attacking Jonesboro, another flank of Sherman’s army will surround Atlanta and force the Rebs to surrender the city.”

“The end is near, isn’t it, sir?”

“God help the South, Lieutenant, for I fear the end is very near. Not only the end of the war but of an entire way of life. See that the camp is dismantled in orderly fashion and prepare for our departure at dawn. I want all our spare supplies left behind for Mrs. Trevor.”

It was very late when Aimee tiptoed down the stairs. She knew Nick was leaving Tall Oaks, but knew no other details. She hadn’t seen him since that scene in Brand’s bedroom. Nor had she heard his footsteps pass her room. When she reached the study, she noted the light shining from the space beneath the door. She didn’t bother knocking but turned the knob and entered on silent footsteps. Nick was bending over a map, deep in thought. Yet somehow he sensed her presence and looked up.

“Come in, Aimee.”

“Is it true? Are you really leaving?”

She wore a flowing white gown that revealed more than it concealed. Nick nearly lost his train of thought when he recalled every vivid detail of her lush body beneath the thin cloth.

“Dare I hope you’ll miss me?”

She deliberately ignored the question. “Will there be a battle?”

“That’s something I’m not allowed to divulge.”

“What will become of me when you leave? Will someone arrive to take me to prison?”

“Is that what you fear? Being taken to prison?”

“Brand needs me.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“If you have any compassion in your soul, you’ll let me remain at Tall Oaks. I’m not a spy; I’m no longer any danger to the Yanks.”

“I’m well aware of that also. Is that why you’re here, to persuade me to let you stay at Tall Oaks?”

“I know the condition of my release. I was to remain in your custody until you leave Tall Oaks. But nothing was said about what happens to me when you leave.”

“Nothing happens to you, Aimee. By now no one will have remembered your name. I’ve already convinced the colonel you are no longer a threat to security. I never intended that you should go to prison.”

“You never …” Aimee’s temper flared. “You bastard! You led me to believe I’d be sent to prison if I didn’t become your—your—”

“Lover.”

“—whore.”

“Aimee, I meant what I said about returning after the war. There’s too much between us for us to consider parting without ever seeing one another again. We share too many memories. Then there’s Brand. I know you’re reluctant to admit it, but in my heart I feel as if Brand could be my own son.”

“No! Don’t even think such a thing! Brand is Beau’s son.”

“I don’t have time to argue about it now, but one day I’ll learn the truth. If it turns out that Brand belongs to me, you can damn well believe I’ll want to raise my own son.”

Aimee froze, all her fears returning. If Nick knew Brand was his son, he’d take him away from her. He recognized her terror and was puzzled by it. Did she hate him so much she’d refuse to marry him so they could raise their son together? Unable to face the prospect of losing her child, Aimee turned to flee.

“Aimee, wait!” He caught her at the door. “There’s a good chance I won’t survive the battle. I’ve made a new will. It’s in the desk drawer. In the event of my death, take it to my lawyer in Chicago; his name is on the envelope.”

“I care nothing for your will.” The thought of his death was too painful to contemplate.

“Nevertheless, I want your promise you’ll see that my will reaches my lawyer.”

“I—very well.” She stared at him, wanting to throw herself into his arms, beg him to love her, tell him that Brand was his son. But she feared the consequences. He’d made her his whore, stolen her heart, and she vowed he’d not have her son.

“Is that all, sweetheart? No tender good-bye, no words of remorse should I die in battle?”

“I don’t wish your death, Nick.” Her words were spoken with such profound conviction, Nick believed her.

“Then kiss me, sweetheart. Kiss me for all those wasted years before we found one another again; kiss me and make me believe you really care what happens to me.”

She stared at his mouth, at those full, sensual
lips that gave her such pleasure. He waited. Then slowly, oh so slowly, she leaned forward, touching her lips to his. The shock of their meeting sent a tingle down her spine. She memorized the contours of his lips with her tongue, savoring his taste, committing it to her memory to last a lifetime.

A long, agonized groan sounded from Nick’s throat as his control snapped. He seized Aimee, dragging her against the solid wall of his chest. He returned her kiss with all the fervor in his huge body, crushing her against him, the heat of him scorching her through the thin material of her gown. Scooping her into his arms, he flung the door open with his foot and took the steps two at a time. When he reached her room, he flung her on the bed, too aroused to bother with clothes. He released himself, shoved her skirt over her hips, and drove himself into her. Surrendering to his fury, Aimee cried out and lurched upward to meet his thrusts.

He was gone the next morning before she awoke.

T
wo days after Nick and his Federal soldiers left Tall Oaks, the ominous thunder of cannon could be heard rumbling over the countryside. For Aimee it meant only one thing. The battle for Atlanta had begun in earnest. Sherman was determined to drive the Rebs from that city, and his march was sweeping through the area, taking everything in its path. She prayed that since Nick was no longer at Tall Oaks to protect it from destruction by Union soldiers, those invading forces would be occupied elsewhere and her home considered too trivial to bother with.

As for Nick, she realized now that he had been ordered to join the battle for Atlanta and may even now be lying dead. That horrible thought sent a shudder of dread through her body. She didn’t wish Nick dead. She only wanted him to leave her son alone. She felt burdened by a tremendous guilt for not telling Nick the truth about Brand at a time when his life was in jeopardy. A man had a right to know he had fathered a child, yet deep down the fear that she might lose Brand kept her from admitting the truth even when Nick pressed her.