by Connie Mason
“Then I’ll try not to like him,” Brand said loyally. “But you won’t be mad if I talk to him sometimes, will you?”
“No, darling, I won’t be mad, but I’d prefer you stayed away from him. He’s far too busy with the war to concern himself with you.”
“But how can I learn if he’s a bad man or a good one if I don’t talk to him?”
Aimee ground her teeth in frustration. “He’s a Yankee, isn’t he? Enough, Brand; you make my head spin with all your questions. Hop into bed, son. I’ll look in on you again before I retire.”
“Yes, Mama.” Though he acquiesced dutifully, Brand was far from appeased. His mother just wasn’t making sense. Her answers, usually so forthright and honest, had been brief and confusing. He knew she was troubled, that she didn’t want the Yankee soldiers on their land, but there was no denying that the captain had provided a meal for them tonight the likes of which they hadn’t seen in months. For the first time since he could remember, he was going to bed with a full stomach.
Aimee took her time returning downstairs for her confrontation with Nick. The allotted hour had long since passed and a tiny smile tugged at her lips when she thought of Nick pacing the small study waiting for her to appear. He might be the enemy, but she was far from being conquered by him. He probably felt a certain smugness about the wanton way she had responded to him those long years ago, but in her heart she knew she had merely been paying a debt of honor. Her passionate response was something she hadn’t counted on or expected. She placed no special importance on the event or the act, except as a means of repaying a debt. Nick Drummond was an experienced man proficient in the art of love, and she had been too inexperienced to resist.
Squaring her narrow shoulders, Aimee sucked in a fortifying breath and rapped lightly on the study door. The room hadn’t been used since Beau had left in ’61, and it rankled her to think that a Yankee was now making it his. Without waiting for a reply, she opened the door and stepped inside. A single lamp burned in the small room, creating dancing shadows on Nick’s broad back. He was staring out the window into the darkness, hands clasped behind his back, feet planted wide apart. She shifted impatiently from foot to foot and cleared her throat twice before he turned to acknowledge her.
“You took your time.” His hooded eyes glowed emerald green in the flickering lamplight. His brooding features revealed nothing of his thoughts.
Dear God, why did he have to be so handsome? “My son needed me. What is so important that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
“I’ve duties to perform tomorrow and a company of men to deploy on their various missions.”
She looks so young, Nick thought, and so fragile. Had her marriage been a happy one? he wondered. Had her husband found the secret that unleashed the passion in her exquisite body? He wanted to think he had been the only one to taste the full flavor of the magnificent fire that dwelled inside her, but he realized how unlikely that was. She probably had many lovers before and after he met her.
“This won’t take long, Mrs. Trevor—Aimee,” Nick said. He was more tired than he cared to admit, and his weariness showed in the deep lines trailing outward from the corners of his eyes and mouth. War was hell; he wished it were over and all the senseless killing ended for all time. “Would you care to sit?”
“I’ll stand.” Aimee felt safer standing—somehow he seemed less intimidating.
Nick nodded. “Very well. First I have a few simple questions to ask. From the looks of your son, I’d say you married almost immediately after our meeting. How old is Brand?” Nick knew the question was irrelevant, but some devil inside him prodded him. A preposterous notion had formed in his brain the moment he saw Brand, and he needed more information before he discarded it He knew how unlikely it was that their one night together had produced a child, but something in the boy struck a responsive chord in him.
Aimee froze. Did Nick suspect? “What’s Brand got to do with anything? Leave him out of this.”
“Humor me, Aimee; I’m merely being inquisitive. After all, we are old friends.”
“Acquaintances but hardly friends. But if you must know, I met Beau shortly after—after our meeting. He swept me off my feet and we married a few weeks later. Brand was born nine months after our wedding. He’s just four years old. He’s big for his age, but Beau was a big man. Are you satisfied?”
“Was your husband dark?”
Dear God, would he never be satisfied? “Yes, he was dark.”
Nick’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. He had no idea what he wanted to hear and wondered vaguely if Aimee was being truthful with him.
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said. “While my men and I are here, I’ll expect you to remain within the boundaries of the house and yard. No one from the household will be allowed to go into town. Vital information will arrive by messenger from time to time, and I must ensure that utmost secrecy is maintained.”
“Vital information to whom?” Aimee inquired haughtily. “Are you accusing me of being a spy?”
“I’m accusing no one. I’m merely issuing a warning. I won’t tolerate disobedience.”
“And I won’t be dictated to. You’ve taken over my home, turned my companion into your slave, asked me personal questions that are none of your business, and now you accuse me of being a spy. I want nothing to do with you or your men. The sooner you leave me in peace, the better.”
The hard lines in Nick’s face softened and a slow, thoughtful smile spread across his handsome features. “We don’t have to be enemies, Aimee.” Her animosity was so real, Nick could almost touch it, yet there was more than hatred between them. There was something live and palpable that danced around them like spikes of white lightning.
Aimee held her breath as Nick walked toward her—broad of shoulder, hard and lean, undeniably male. An unwanted memory of that hard body naked and pulsing with raw, lusty energy pounded the breath from her lungs.
His eyes traveled down the length of her. “You’re still exquisite. I remember—”
“No, don’t! Don’t remind me of that night! I can’t bear it.” Turbulent emotions twisted Aimee’s gut. Those hours spent in Nick’s arms had cast her from heaven into the violent paradise of damnation. She was thrust from girlhood to womanhood in a matter of hours.
“I never wanted to hurt you in any way,” Nick said softly. “We shared something special that night.”
Aimee closed her eyes, and when she opened them, Nick was standing so close that his warm breath fanned her cheek. “Let me take away your anger.” His arms swept her against him, his gentle hands stroking her back as he would a hurt child. “Finding you again is like a miracle. I want you as much today as I did five years ago.”
“What we shared was lust,” Aimee spat in disgust. “That’s all it ever was.”
“Perhaps. Shall we test the theory?” The intensity of his voice sent a jolt of awareness surging through her veins.
Before she could fling back a retort, his mouth closed hotly over hers. Aimee’s struggle was short-lived as she surrendered to his kiss, for a brief moment reveling in sensations she’d never felt with Beau. Nick’s arms tightened. The fever of lust raged through him. Licking her lips, he nudged them apart with his tongue. He curved his tongue around hers, drawing it deep inside his mouth. Then he dipped his head and lightly licked the slender column of her neck, down into the cleavage between her breasts.
When his hands grasped the taut mounds of her buttocks, pressing her into the incredible hardness of his body, Aimee suppressed a shudder of pure joy. This couldn’t be happening! She hated Nick Drummond too much to respond to his passion. Her feet left the floor as Nick lifted her high into his arms, burying his face into the sweet fullness of her breasts. She smelled and tasted delicious; he wanted to devour her.
“I want to love you, Aimee,” he rasped into her ear. “I want to recapture that moment five years ago. I’ve not forgotten, you know.”
His words brought her plumm
eting back to earth. He had forgotten her the moment he walked out on her. The fire that had heated her blood in a moment of weakness was replaced by cold fury. Men like Nick Drummond took and took, and gave nothing in return. She wanted him out of her life before he discovered Brand was his son. He wasn’t the type of man who was easily fooled.
“I wouldn’t let you love me if you were the last man on earth,” she said ruefully as she fought to free herself from his embrace.
He gave her a derisive laugh. “You could have fooled me. Judging from your response just now, I’d say you haven’t forgotten how wonderful it was between us once. I certainly haven’t.”
“I forgot you the moment you left me aboard the Dixie Belle,” Aimee lied. Color rushed to her cheeks, brushing the fragile, almost translucent skin like rose dust. Her lips were red and swollen from his kisses, and Nick thought her the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And the most charming liar.
“I don’t believe you. No one could maintain a hatred for five years unless they thought about the object of their hatred during that time.”
“Damn you, Nick Drummond, let me go! I’d rather bed every man in your company than submit to you.”
Nick froze. Abruptly he released her, his green eyes dark with fury. “Do you hate me so much?”
“Yes.” She felt his gaze on her and stepped back. “You’re not wanted here. Take your men and leave my family in peace.” Her eyes were dark and stormy as they raked him with contempt.
“Is that why you responded to me just now? Because you can’t stand the sight of me? Or is it because you’ve been without a man for a long time?”
His mocking words were deceptively calm as he reached out and dragged her against the hard wall of his chest. He seized the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled, lifting her face to his while he lowered his face to hers. His kiss was not gentle, but a bold, insolent assault on her mouth that left her shaken and frightened. His hands found her breasts, and Aimee gasped in outrage as he rolled the nipples between forefinger and thumb before pressing slowly downward. Her skirt rose inch by inch as his hands slid underneath and skimmed the satiny flesh of her inner thighs. Her moist warmth enticed him as he drew closer to that private part of her that he longed to explore. Then his fingers reached inside her pantaloons, touching her intimately, bringing a sigh to her lips.
Never had Aimee experienced such overwhelming helplessness. Her body was no longer hers to command; a cheating Yankee rogue had stolen her mind and her will. Yet she knew that if she submitted to Nick Drummond now, she’d lose the most important battle of her life. She had more pride than to let Nick seduce her again. For Brand’s sake she had to preserve her hatred for the man who could shatter her life.
“Please, don’t do this to me.” Her quiet dignity must have made an impression on Nick, for he immediately turned her loose.
“Forgive me, Mrs. Trevor; I had no reason to assume you’d return my interest.” His eyes chilled her: two chips of clear emerald green. “I’ve let my imagination run away with me. I deluded myself into thinking you wanted me as much as I wanted you. From now on my behavior will be nothing but circumspect. You may leave.”
Her eyes full of distrust, Aimee scooted around Nick, fleeing the room as fast as her legs could carry her. Another two minutes with Nick Drummond and he’d have reduced her to a blathering idiot, begging him to make love to her. How could she hate someone so thoroughly yet at the same time be aroused by him? She thought she was rid of the man five years ago. For all she knew, Nick Drummond was married and had a house full of children. That notion brought her thoughts to a skidding halt. Married? For some odd reason that assumption brought an uncomfortable jolt to her senses.
She tossed restlessly in her sleep, but the howling wind outside did not awaken her from the vivid reality of her dream.
He shut the door behind them, enclosing her in a private hell of her own making. The room was illuminated by lamplight. He turned the key in the lock and smiled at her. Soft light played against his handsome features, and she noticed the strong curve of his broad shoulders and his muscular frame. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. When his lips met hers, she had an inkling of just what these next hours would be like. He whispered in her ear, telling her how beautiful she was, how desirable, how badly he wanted to be inside her, that he was going to make it wonderful for her. He wove his hands into her hair and kissed her again, holding her face steady while he nuzzled the high curve of her cheekbone, her ear, the slender curve of her throat. She trembled when his hands found the fastenings on her dress, releasing them, pushing the bodice down past her breasts and unlacing her corset. His lips brushed the pale globes and she nearly collapsed. He touched the tip of his tongue to an aching nipple …
No! Aimee bolted nearly upright in bed, her face bathed in sweat, shaking, remembering things she thought she had purged from her mind long ago, each aching detail a haunting memory that singed her conscience.
Dappled sunlight streamed through the window, and Aimee knew she had overslept. After she had left Nick the night before, she’d had a difficult time falling asleep. Usually Brand was the first one up, and she wondered why he wasn’t in her room pushing her to get up, or why Savannah had allowed her to sleep so long. Sounds of activity floated up through the window from the yard below, and Aimee grimaced when she thought of the unwelcome guests occupying her property.
The delicious aroma of coffee enticed her from the rumpled bed. Another of Nick Drummond’s peace offerings? They hadn’t had real coffee at Tall Oaks in ages. In fact, they no longer had parched corn or any other substitute. Her stomach rumbled. These past months Aimee had learned to live with the gnawing hunger that continually twisted her gut. She tried to exist on as little as possible in order that Brand have enough to fill his stomach.
Starvation had them backed into a corner when Nick Drummond rode to Tall Oaks yesterday. But it would be a cold day in hell before she would acknowledge that he had arrived just in time to save them. His arrival had made a shambles of her life despite the fact that his being here almost assured her of having food on the table.
Aimee paused at the bottom of the steps to gaze out the window. Numerous tents dotted the south lawn where men were busily engaged in all kinds of labor. She couldn’t remember when there had been such a flurry of activity at Tall Oaks. Certainly not since the slaves had left. She started to turn away when something caught her eye, and she spun around again to peer out the window. She nearly fainted when she saw Brand standing on the lawn raising his arms to Nick, who was mounted on his horse. Then Nick bent down, lifted the lad, and swung him up before him in the saddle. He hugged the child and laughed in pure joy when Brand squealed in delight. Then Nick set his horse in motion, holding Brand with one hand while guiding his horse with the other.
Brand loved horses, but all of the decent stock at Tall Oaks had been confiscated at the beginning of the war. What the Confederate army left behind, the Union army quickly seized for their own. All that was left to them was one swaybacked mule fit only to pull the dilapidated wagon in which they rode to town when they still had money to pay for purchases.
“De captain seems mighty taken with Brand.” Savannah had entered the foyer and stood behind Aimee, wondering what had captured her attention so thoroughly.
“Brand is a child; he doesn’t recognize the enemy,” Aimee said shortly.
Savannah bent her a measuring look. “I don’t like dem Yankees any better dan you do, honey, but I sure appreciate havin’ a full stomach. Captain Drummond, he don’t seem a bad sort, as Yankees go, and you should see de food dem Yanks carted into de kitchen dis mornin’ when de wagon from quartermaster done arrived. I don’t think dey mean us any harm.”
“Don’t sing Captain Drummond’s praises to me, Savannah,” Aimee sniffed. She definitely wasn’t pleased by Savannah’s sage observations. In her eyes Nick Drummond was a devil. “And I don’t want Brand becoming attached to that Yankee. Try to keep him inside as m
uch as possible.”
“Dere ain’t no way to keep dat chile from goin’ outside with all de activity goin’ on,” Savannah snorted.
“Nevertheless, we must try.” Her voice was grim with determination and something else Savannah found puzzling. Aimee’s light brown eyes were dark pools of rage as she opened the door and hurried outside.
“Where you goin’, honey?”
“To get my son,” Aimee replied over her shoulder as she slammed the door behind her.
Savannah clucked her tongue and wagged her head from side to side as she headed back toward the kitchen. “Dat chile sure is stubborn,” she said to herself. She’d seen Aimee through many moods throughout the years, both good and bad, but never had she seen her so obsessed with a man was she was with Captain Nick Drummond.
Nick tightened his grip on Brand. The little imp was a joy to be around; someday he hoped to have a son just like him. It had only been since the war that he had even considered marriage and children. Seeing men die had instilled in him the need to leave a little bit of himself behind when he left this earth. Perhaps he would have children when he married Regina Blakewell, the daughter of General Andrew Blakewell. He had been more or less forced to propose to Regina since her father had caught them in a compromising position. In order to protect his career, which could be ruined by one word from the general, he had done the “gentlemanly” thing.
No date had been set for the wedding, since times were precarious at best, but Nick supposed they would marry after the war. No great love had emerged in his life, and since he despaired of ever finding Aimee Fortune, he had agreed to marriage out of hopeless remorse. Had he been able to find Aimee five years ago … But that was another story, another time, and nothing could change the course of fate.
Nick’s thoughts skidded to an abrupt halt when he saw Aimee heading straight for him. Her teeth were clenched, her stubborn jaw raised defiantly, and her eyes were dark with fury. He reined in his horse.
