by Connie Mason
And thereby earned Aimee’s undying hatred.
Yet if he had had it all to live over again, he knew he would have done nothing differently. The only part he would have changed was leaving her and letting Beauregard Trevor into her life. He should have caught another train for Chicago and stayed long enough to learn where he could find her when he returned. If he had, Brand might be his son. Suddenly his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. That same ridiculous notion he had when he first set eyes on Brand came back to haunt him. Was Brand really Beauregard Trevor’s son?
Because both Aimee and Nick had awakened early, both left their rooms at nearly the same moment, meeting by chance at the head of the stairs. Aimee merely nodded, flushing as she recalled the dream that had jolted her awake at dawn’s first light. Nick grinned, giving her the full benefit of his dimpled smile. His green eyes shimmered with secret knowledge. Aimee felt like slapping him.
“Good morning, Mrs. Trevor,” he said with a hint of mockery. “I trust you slept well.”
“Just fine, thank you,” Aimee returned icily. She’d be damned if she’d tell him he haunted her dreams.
They descended the stairs side by side. “You’re up rather early, aren’t you?”
“I could say the same for you,” Aimee countered. “Are you going on patrol today?”
“As a matter of fact, I am. Dare I hope you’ll miss me?”
“Hardly,” Aimee snorted. “I just wondered if you’d be back in time for supper.”
He sent her a piercing look. Aimee tried not to flinch as his devil’s eyes probed her innermost thoughts.
“I’ll probably not return until after dark. Don’t wait supper for me. In fact, the entire company, save for a few men left behind for guard duty, will ride out with me.”
He watched closely for her reaction and wasn’t disappointed by the barely perceptible glimmer in her eyes. He had no idea what it meant except for the fact that she was probably glad to be rid of him for a time.
“Captain Drummond!”
Both Aimee and Nick turned as Brand came bounding down the stairs. Aimee winced in dismay when Nick opened his arms and Brand leaped into them as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. Then he placed the little boy on his shoulders and bounced down the stairs. He held him there until they reached the dining room. Then he plunked him into a chair and ruffled his hair in such an affectionate manner that Aimee cringed. Savannah entered the dining room almost immediately, carrying a platter of eggs from the chickens the Yanks has somehow found and installed at Tall Oaks. She placed them before Nick with a grin and a flourish.
“I hope you’s hungry, Captain.”
“I’m always hungry for your food, Savannah,” Nick teased.
“Me, too,” chimed in Brand. He looked expectantly at his mother, waiting for her to add her praise.
But Aimee was so distracted that the conversation barely registered. Foremost on her mind was the need to go to Nick’s room and obtain the information needed by Gar. Fortunately Nick was going to be gone all day, affording her the much-awaited opportunity. She pushed her food around on her plate while the men ate. Lieutenant Dill arrived and the conversation returned to business. Aimee listened carefully, but nothing of importance was revealed in the rather brief discussion of their separate duties.
“Are you going away?” Brand asked worriedly.
“I’ll be back,” Nick assured him.
“Can I go with you?”
“Well, now—”
“No!” Aimee leaped to her feet, stunned by Brand’s question. She felt betrayed by her own son.
Nick was surprised by Aimee’s unwarranted outburst. Didn’t she know he’d never place her son in danger? To Brand, he said, “That’s not a good idea, son. I’d never take you where danger exists.” Brand’s face fell, causing Nick to add, “But tomorrow I promise to let you ride Scout.”
“Really?” Nick nodded.
“If you’ve finished breakfast, Brand, you may leave the table,” Aimee said tightly. She couldn’t bear to see Nick and Brand getting along so famously. “Perhaps Savannah has a chore for you to do.”
Brand looked askance at his mother but quickly obeyed. He couldn’t wait to tell Savannah that he was going to ride Scout tomorrow.
“I would appreciate it, Captain, if you’d stay away from my son,” Aimee said once Brand had left the room. “He’s an impressionable boy who has lacked male companionship ever since Beau … left. I fear he’s far too trusting for his own good, and I don’t want to see him hurt.”
“And you think I’ll hurt him?” Nick asked, frowning.
“Good Lord, Mrs. Trevor,” Lieutenant Dill exclaimed, quickly coming to Nick’s defense, “everyone is fond of the lad. You’re accusations are unfounded as well as unjust.”
“I can’t be too careful where my son is concerned.”
“Leave us, please, Lieutenant,” Nick ordered. His eyes bored relentlessly into Aimee, but she held her ground.
Dill slid Aimee a compassionate look, then quickly departed. Nick stood behind Aimee, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. Aimee flinched beneath the strength and heat of his touch.
“I think it’s time you realized that I mean no harm to Brand. I won’t contaminate the boy. He seems to enjoy my company. Whether it’s because I’m the first male he’s spent time with since his father … well, you know what I mean, or because he genuinely likes me, makes no difference. I enjoy having Brand around. And until I leave Tall Oaks, you’ll just have to accept the idea of a friendship developing between me and Brand.”
“I don’t have to like it,” Aimee flung out.
His grip on her shoulders tightened. Aimee cried out, and Nick immediately apologized. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, but you do have a way of provoking me. I only wish …” His sentence faltered. Aimee waited for him to continue, but he remained silent. Nick had started to say that he wished Aimee were half as friendly as her son. Instead, he turned away.
Aimee felt the warmth of his hands leave her shoulders, and a sudden feeling of abandonment seized her. She turned to look at him, her eyes hooded.
“I wish I knew what you’re thinking,” Nick said slowly. “I wish there was something I could do or say to make you stop hating me.”
Aimee had no answer. They stood staring at each other, the tension between them so potent, she could almost reach out and touch it. She had never felt so alive, so vital, so profoundly moved, by another human being. Surely it was hate she felt, wasn’t it? His devil’s eyes singed her with searing flame, and she tasted his zest, his essence—his need. Enthralled by the flavor of his passion, Aimee stepped closer, inexorably drawn by the torrid warmth in his green eyes.
“Damn you to hell, Aimee Trevor,” Nick groaned, surrendering to the devils driving him as he reached out and hauled her hard against his chest.
He was so hot for her, he shook with his desire. Tilting her face upward, he pressed his mouth down on hers. His action was instinctive, uncontrollable, primal. He couldn’t help himself. Neither could Aimee as the extraordinary heat and force of his kiss made her momentarily forget her hatred. But before she could think, Nick broke off the kiss and shoved her away. Her breathing was ragged, her thoughts disjointed as she watched his angry strides carry him from the room. Dear God, how much more of this could she take?
She was so responsive, he nearly exploded the moment he shoved inside her! The mysterious lady gambler had no right to appear so naively innocent while driving him wild with all the practiced moves of a whore. He told her how wonderful she was, how perfectly she fit him. Then he thrust the rock-hard point of his erection deep—so deep. He felt her shudder, felt her mouth working wordlessly against his—he supposed in mindless passion. Then slowly, oh so slowly, he shoved himself in and out, to accustom her to the size of him—he couldn’t ever recall being so hard. After a few minutes she began to move with him in instinctive rhythm as he whispered encouragement. He stroked with erotic precision as she undulated beneath
him, shocking him with her heat and sweet response. His kiss caught her lips again and again as he rocked inside her. He panted. She cried out in response, and his answer was the hard, piercing thrust of his shaft deep inside her, touching her womb, her heart, her soul …
“Captain Drummond, there’s nothing stirring out here; perhaps we should return to Tall Oaks.”
Nick started violently. Once again he had allowed his thoughts to wander over forbidden territory. The years dropped in the face of such erotic memories, and now, with Aimee so close to him day after day, erotic recollections of that night so long ago made him wild for her. He wanted her. She knew it, knew it well. And passionate Reb that she was, she made it absolutely clear that she wanted nothing to do with a Yank who had made her his for one night and walked out on her the next morning.
“We may as well start back since there are no signs of Rebs in the immediate area, Lieutenant,” Nick responded. “Nothing is moving out there, and though I told Mrs. Trevor we wouldn’t return in time for supper, I do believe we could easily make it back in time.”
The day was half gone when Aimee was finally able to slip off to Nick’s room. Since she didn’t expect him back from patrol until very late, she wasn’t worried about the time. Savannah hadn’t allowed Aimee out of her sight during the entire morning. Either she or Brand seemed to demand her presence most of the long, dreary day. Aimee knew Savannah feared for her safety, and she couldn’t help but feel resentful. She was old enough to know where her duty lay and certainly responsible enough to accept full accountability for what she was doing. Besides, with Nick gone, being caught was a remote possibility. At the appointed time she’d simply sneak out of the house with the information she’d gathered and meet Gar. No one would be the wiser, and she will have done her bit for the Confederacy. It was the least she could do for Beau’s memory.
Her opportunity came when Savannah went to the kitchen to start supper. Aimee volunteered to pick peaches from the tree in the yard for a cobbler, and she hurried off with a pail before Savannah could respond. Aimee hurried to complete her task so she could slip around the house, enter by the front door, and sneak up the stairs to Nick’s room.
At her touch, the door to Nick’s room opened silently and she slipped inside, closing it carefully behind her. Deep shadows cast the room into near darkness, but enough light filtered through the windows to make lighting a lamp unnecessary. Aimee set the bucket of peaches down by the door and moved immediately to the chest where she had last seen the leather pouch containing the dispatches Nick had received. Sifting though the assortment of clothing, she located the pouch immediately. Her hands shook as she removed the contents. She didn’t dare steal the dispatches, for she knew Nick would suspect her at once.
Gar had told her to memorize the contents. Aimee dragged in a shuddering gasp as she quickly read the bold pen strokes. Dates and places leaped before her eyes, each designating a targeted site for attack. Aimee realized immediately that what she held in her hands was indeed something of vital importance to the Confederacy. Those attacks could be repelled once the information was placed in the right hands. But instinctively Aimee knew she could never remember all the places and dates in so short a time. Her mind working furiously, she moved to the desk, drew out paper and ink, and quickly copied down all the pertinent information. When she finished she carefully folded the paper and slipped it into her pocket. Then she returned the dispatches to the pouch and replaced it inside the chest exactly where she had found it.
Aimee had just turned from the chest when the door opened and Nick stepped into the room. He had already removed his gun belt and holster before he saw her. She stood still as a statue, her face white, her eyes wide and frightened. They stared at each other for long, tense minutes. The sight of her white hand fluttering to her breast released Nick from his frozen stance as he moved more fully into the room.
“My God, Aimee, you gave me a fright! What in hell are you doing in here?”
“I—that is—I—” What could she say? That she was spying? That she was reading his dispatches so she might take the information to the Rebs? What would he do to her? Send her to prison? What would become of Brand and Savannah if she ended up in a northern prison? More than one women spy was incarcerated for spying, and the Yanks wouldn’t hesitate to lock her away for her crime—maybe even hang her.
“Spit it out, Aimee. What in God’s sweet name are you doing here? Unless …” He bent her a narrow-eyed glance, clearly intrigued at finding Aimee in his room. To his credit, he only briefly considered that she might be spying. He hoped …
Do whatever is necessary to get that information to me.
Gar’s words came back to haunt Aimee. She was horrified at the idea of sleeping with the enemy for the purpose of spying. But prison did not appeal to her, and Brand and Savannah needed her. Instinctively she knew that Nick was a conscientious military man who took his duty seriously. He’d never allow her to get away with spying. He was duty-bound to turn her over to a higher authority for sentencing. She was so lost in thought, she had no idea Nick was standing before her until the warmth of his breath brushed her cheek.
“I’m waiting, Aimee. What are you doing in my room?” His words were quiet, controlled—hopeful—and she sensed his unwillingness to believe her capable of spying. At that moment she hated herself almost as much as she hated Nick.
Do what you have to do.
Her mouth went dry. She licked her lips. Mesmerized, Nick stared at the tip of her pink tongue as it flicked out, and his control fled. Did she know what she was doing to him?
Her words were so low, Nick had to lean forward to hear them. “I came because I wanted to—to be with you. I was waiting for you return from patrol.”
“You what! Excuse me if I don’t believe you.” Sweet Lord, he wanted to believe her. “Until this moment you’ve given the distinct impression that you can’t stand to be in the same room with me. Dare I hope your opinion of me has changed overnight? Why all of a sudden?”
Why was this so damn difficult? “I—I’m a widow.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“It isn’t right to—to want another man so soon.”
“I understand your husband has been dead nearly two years.” She nodded. “Now all of a sudden you want to be alone with me. Did your conscience suddenly leave you?”
“Dammit, why must you question my motives? Isn’t it enough that I’m here? But I can see I made a mistake; I’ll leave immediately.” Anxious now to leave, she tried to step around him.
“Not so fast, sweetheart.” He grasped her arm and swung her around to face him. “You came here to be alone with me, and I’ve never been one to deny a beautiful woman.”
“I’ve changed my mind. Coming here like this was a mistake. I don’t want to betray Beau’s memory.”
Nick went still. “Did you love him so much?” The thought of another man loving Aimee and giving her a child made him furious.
Hot color flooded Aimee’s face. Love Beau? She had been fond of him, grateful to him, but love was an emotion she had never experienced with him. They had been married such a short time before the war started, and then he went off and was killed. But she’d never forget him for the unconditional love he’d given to her and Brand.
“Beau was a wonderful man.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“I married him, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” Nick said softly, “you did marry Beauregard Trevor. And you had a son by him. But did you love him?”
Would he never be satisfied? “Yes. Dammit, I loved Beau. Does that answer your question?”
His eyes defied her. “You may have loved him once, but damn it, Aimee, when you’re in this room with me, you’ll think of no one but me. I swear I’ll make you forget him. When you’re with me, I’ll make certain you think of nothing but how I make you feel. I’m going to love you, Aimee Trevor, love you so thoroughly that what you and your husband did in bed will
seem like child’s play.”
Dismayed by his blatantly sexual language, Aimee gasped. She hadn’t planned on this encounter when she entered Nick’s room. He wasn’t supposed to be here. But she couldn’t deny the fact that his words had a profound impact on her. A surge of raw hunger shot through her as his green eyes settled on her lips. He was going to kiss her, she knew it, and nothing short of sudden death could have stopped her from leaning forward into the lure of his lips. His mouth was fire and heat and passion, demanding, relentless, claiming her completely. She whimpered in futile protest as he swept her up in his arms and laid her down on the bed.
She felt the wetness of his kisses again, his tongue seeking hers as he parted her lips and tasted her sweetness. She lost herself in the erotic hunger of his kiss, surrendered to his heat, his fire, his need. Her bodice was loosened and then his lips were at her breasts, tugging at her nipples, the heat of his wet mouth drawing them into taut, aching points. Suddenly her skirt was swept upward, and Nick caressed the naked curve of her hip, her buttocks, the inside of her thigh; at the same time he suckled her nipples with ever-increasing vigor. Shimmering waves of sweet fire jolted through her body, soaking her with the moistness of desire.
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.
