Surrender to the Fury

by Connie Mason

  “You’re despicable!” Aimee spat. “Gar isn’t my lover—he never was! I saw him for the first time in years that day I entered the woods to pick berries. If you had asked me, I would have told you, but you were ready to believe the worst.”

  Nick’s heart soared in sudden elation. Could Aimee be telling the truth? “Your love life has little bearing on what I think. It only became my concern when you seduced me in order to steal secret information. I might never have known you read those dispatches if I hadn’t discovered a peach stain on one of the papers. You were picking peaches the day I found you in my room, weren’t you, Aimee?”

  Aimee groaned. Foiled by a damned peach stain! She’d wondered how Nick knew she was spying. “I—I wondered how you knew.”

  “What?” He wasn’t listening. He was occupied elsewhere, thinking of her opulent lips and gorgeous eyes. Of the creamy expanse of skin visible beneath the thin material of her nightgown. His head began to pound, and a rush of hot blood swelled his loins. He forced his thoughts past the dull pounding in his head and his aching loins to the matter at hand, but he couldn’t recall what he was going to say.

  All he could think about was a defiant little chin, pouting red lips, a small, elegant nose, skin as pale as a white carnation. Eyes as warm as molten honey, aslant under arched blond brows fringed by thick lashes. The truth slammed into his gut like a steel fist. No matter what she was or what she did, she had become a sickness in his blood.

  He wanted Aimee Trevor.

  He wanted her now.

  Forever.

  He wanted Brand to be his son.

  Aimee gazed into his eyes and quickly read his desire. When he looked directly at her in that special way, she almost forgot to breathe.

  “Colonel Brooks placed you in my custody, Aimee. I talked him out of sending you to prison. I did it for Brand’s sake and … and because I couldn’t bear the thought of you dying in a northern prison. For the duration of the war you’ll remain under house arrest. But if you deliberately provoke or defy me, I’ll have no recourse but to send you away. And I also expect you to be properly grateful.”

  Aimee’s temper flared. She knew Nick expected her gratitude, and she was grateful, but not enough to let him use her for sexual gratification.

  “Did you hear me, Aimee? You’re not going to prison.”

  She gave him a hostile glare. “I heard, damn you. Does that mean I’m required to bed with you?”

  Nick grew rigid. Clenching his fists, he declared, “You were more than willing to bed with me when your precious Confederacy demanded it.” Then he turned abruptly and marched from the room. Unfortunately for Aimee, he wasn’t angry enough to forget his duty. He locked the door behind him.

  Chapter 7

  Aimee was shocked the following morning when Brand flung open the unlocked door to her room and bounded inside. Excitedly, he told her that Captain Drummond said his mama could leave her room, but not the house And she’d still be locked in her room at night.

  Aimee was elated. It was a small concession, but enough to send her spirits soaring. Being confined to one room had led her to depression and crushing boredom. Freedom of movement, no matter how small, offered a slim hope of somehow escaping from this intolerable situation.

  Savannah was ecstatic when Aimee appeared downstairs after Nick had left the house that morning. They hugged and cried and talked for hours. Savannah scolded her fiercely for getting involved in the nasty business of spying, but Aimee was too happy to allow Savannah’s scolding to dampen her spirits. Being prevented from seeing Brand whenever she pleased had been bitter punishment, and being released from the stifling prison of her room was wonderful.

  “Maybe you oughta thank Captain Drummond for lettin’ you outta your room,” Savannah suggested.

  “If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be in this position,” Aimee snapped bitterly. “I’ll be damned if I’ll thank that Yank for taking over my home.”

  “We ain’t starvin’,” Savannah ventured.

  “I’d rather starve than rely on Yankees for my well-being.”

  “You don’t mean dat, honey. I ain’t seen Brand look so fat and sassy since he was a babe.”

  Aimee knew Savannah was right, but she’d be damned if she’d grovel before Nick Drummond. The man already had a profound and compelling hold on her senses. What more did he want from her?

  Nick Drummond wanted Aimee body and soul, wanted her with a need that was staggering.

  He wanted her in his arms and in his bed. He wanted to believe that Garson Pinder wasn’t her lover, that she had responded to him in a pure outpouring of emotion. He wanted to believe Brand was his son.

  Each night, a feast of sensual visions tormented his dreams. The innocent act of walking past Aimee’s bedroom door before retiring was an exercise in self-control.

  One night, driven by a force that had battered him relentlessly both day and night, his control snapped. He had tried, Lord knows he had tried, to stay away from Aimee, but he was a flesh-and-blood man, not some damn saint.

  He burst into her room without knocking, startling her awake. He closed the door with his foot, holding the lamp high so the light fell on her. Aimee sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  “Is something wrong? Is it Brand? My God, Brand is sick!”

  “Brand is fine, Aimee,” Nick said, carefully setting the lamp down on the nightstand. “Nothing’s amiss.”

  Aimee eyed him warily. His shirt was wrinkled and unbuttoned to the waist, his hair was mussed, and he looked as if he’d been engaged in some kind of struggle. But it was his eyes that held her captive. They glowed with a savage inner fire. Devil’s eyes.

  “If everything is all right, then what are you doing in my room this time of night?”

  “Surely you have some idea.”

  Two red flags of anger bloomed high on her cheeks. “No!”

  “I see you understand. I promised myself I’d stay away from you, but—I can’t Dammit, Aimee, I can’t even put a name to what I feel for you.”

  “How about lust,” Aimee returned sarcastically.

  “Lust has a lot to do with it, but I think it goes beyond.”

  Aimee uttered a squawk of protest as he settled down on the bed beside her and gathered her into his arms.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  “I can’t think of a single reason why I shouldn’t make love to you. You enjoyed it the last time, I know you did, even though your purpose was to seduce me into believing you innocent of spying. Dammit, Aimee, I can’t even think straight anymore.”

  “There are many reasons why I should resist you,” Aimee protested. “The first and foremost is that we are enemies.”

  “Enemies by day, lovers by night. So be it; I can live with that. What I can’t live without is the sweetness of your response, the heat of your body. Let me love you, sweetheart. And in case those aren’t reasons enough, just remember that I have the power to send you to prison.”

  She felt his heat, his passion, his raw desperation and determination. The need in his green eyes made her blood sizzle. She was hot, she was cold, she was both at once. And to her everlasting regret, she did want him.

  When his mouth pressed down on hers and his tongue parted her lips, she could reason no more. She absorbed the moist warmth of his kiss and felt the rough journey of his hands over her body. She felt her nearly threadbare nightgown drifting downward past her shoulders and hips, and the sensitive peaks of her naked breasts brushing against the thick mat of black curls covering his chest. She felt as if she’d been struck by lightning when he took her nipple into his mouth and began to suckle. She groaned. He turned to her other breast as his hand slid down between her thighs. She didn’t react against the intrusion but let out another groan louder than the first.

  “I love to touch you like this.” His fingers rubbed against the hidden nub between her legs until she was slick with moisture. “And I adore the way you respond to my touch despite the fact tha
t you profess to hate me.” One finger eased up inside her. “You’re all passion and fire, sweet and hot. I hope your husband appreciated you.”

  Beau never knew me like this, she thought. Only you have the power to move me, and it frightens me.

  The tension inside her was driving her wild. She rotated her hips against the pressure of his fingers and felt him slide deeper inside.

  “I know you want me, Aimee.” His fingers moved in a circular motion until she was moaning nearly nonstop. “Tell me, Aimee, tell me you want me.”

  She gritted her teeth, burying her head in his shoulder. “You—bastard—”

  He reached out and caught hold of her hair, bringing her face close to his. “Tell me.” His fingers moved with greater urgency, piercing her deeply, withdrawing, returning again, and all the while his thumb did wonderful things to that sensitive, throbbing place between her thighs.

  “Yes, dammit, I want you! Are you happy now?”

  “You’ll never know how much.” Raw desire roughened his voice. He paused only long enough to fling off his clothes before moving atop her. But instead of thrusting into her as she expected, he bent and kissed the fragrant valley between her breasts. Then his mouth slid slowly downward, skimming over her belly and thighs to press moist kisses on that exquisite place where his fingers had been only moments before. His tongue parted the tender folds, and Aimee arched upward, exploding with sweet agony.

  “Nick! You can’t!” His response was to grasp her hips and hold her in place while his mouth feasted upon her. Her protests turned into soft whimpers of delight as his lips and tongue drove all thought from her mind. Her hands touched his shoulders, urging him on as she arched into his mouth, demanding more and receiving it.

  Aimee teetered on the edge of ecstasy, driven by the wet heat of Nick’s tongue. The fever of passion raged inside her, hot and wild. She cried out his name, relinquishing her hold on reality as she dropped into a pit of splendor and agony.

  Nick waited until the final tremor left her body before sliding upward to cover her. She was slick with sweat, and he licked the salty moistness from her nipples as he thrust deeply inside her. He moved slowly, languidly, wanting their lovemaking to last forever.

  “Put your legs around me.” His voice was harsh with desire, thick with urgency.

  When she did, he let out a low growl, sliding even deeper insider her. Her tight heat surrounded him, squeezed him, made him want to splash his seed inside her immediately.

  “Oh, God, don’t move! Not yet.”

  It took several minutes of deep breathing before his control returned and he could fully savor their joining. When he found he could continue without erupting, he thrust into her again and again. Aimee felt her body responding to his rough passion, answering it with a renewed hunger that left her dazed. Pleasure curled her insides. Like a wild animal she clawed his back with her nails as heat spread upward from her toes to her loins.

  Then she felt Nick’s belly tighten and the hot rush of his seed as it splashed against her womb. His last thrust brought her the release she sought, and she screamed his name. Nick’s kiss absorbed her cry, mingling it with his own growl of completion. He collapsed on top of her, too weak to move, too content ever to let her get away from him. His head rested in the sweet hollow of her neck. His breathing was still ragged and shaky. So was hers. That gave him profound satisfaction.

  As soon as her hold on him slackened, he rolled to his side, taking her with him. Aimee’s, soft curses brought his mood to a skidding halt.

  “What is it? Did I hurt you?”

  “You damn blue-belly bastard!” Aimee snarled. Sudden, remorseless fury replaced her euphoria. “You’ve taken over my home; must you demand my pride? You’ve left me nothing, nothing …”

  “God help me, Aimee, for I can’t help myself. What does it matter whether I’m wearing blue or gray? If you’d allow yourself to think about it, you’d realize that what we have just experienced goes beyond hatred. The war is nearly over; it’s time to let go of prejudices.”

  “Prejudice? You think what I feel for you is merely prejudice?” She laughed harshly. “You have a short memory, Nick Drummond. Have you forgotten the Dixie Belle? Or what happened that night?”

  For a moment Nick looked puzzled. “My memory hasn’t failed me, sweetheart.” He flashed her an impudent grin, hoping to diffuse her hatred. “How could I forget the Dixie Belle, or the magnificent way in which you repaid a gambling debt? It was an extraordinary experience, one that lingered in my memory far longer than I would have liked.”

  Aimee shook with indignant fury. “You Yankee bastard! I was a virgin! Did it never occur to you that I might be innocent?”

  “Dear God, how can that be? I would have known if you were an innocent.”

  “You were so consumed with lust that my state of innocence escaped your notice,” Aimee accused hotly. “You took me with callous disregard for my feelings. Then you left the next morning without a word.”

  “I assumed that was what you wanted. Lord knows it was difficult leaving you, but you were a professional gambler, for God’s sake, and I never expected to find an innocent in my bed. I thought your naïveté quite charming, but considered it an inborn trait of—”

  “A whore,” Aimee spat, completing his sentence. “You thought me a whore.”

  “Perhaps I did at first,” Nick admitted, “but that’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say an inborn trait of a very good actress. That was a long time ago. Don’t you think it’s time to forgive? You could have told me you were an innocent.”

  “Would it have made a difference?”

  “I’d be lying if I said yes. Five years is a long time to recall details, but if I remember correctly, I was so hot for you, I’d probably have taken you no matter what you said. But can’t you put aside your hatred for me? I’d be loath to leave here knowing your hatred followed me wherever I went.”

  “You’re still a Yankee, but if you left here tomorrow, I might not hate you so much,” Aimee suggested hopefully.

  Nick sighed. “That’s impossible, and you know it. I’m here until my superiors decide to send me elsewhere.”

  “Then keep away from me until that happens.”

  “That’s impossible.” His voice was faintly apologetic but determined. “I sincerely wish I could honor your wishes, but to do so would take more control than I’m capable of. I’m going to keep on making love to you, Aimee Trevor, until I’ve sated myself with your sweetness—which might take forever—or I’m ordered to leave. And since I have the power to send you to prison, I suggest you submit to the inevitable.”

  A shudder passed through Aimee’s slender form. “Am I to be your whore?”

  Nick frowned. “I’d much prefer to think of you as my lover.”

  “And I prefer to think of you as a bastard.”

  Nick smiled ruefully. “Now that the air is clear between us, we can settle down to what’s important.” He grasped her roughly, pulling her into the hard contours of his body. “God help me, but I want you again, Aimee Trevor.”

  His hot kisses seared her lips, her throat, the peaks of her breasts. Frightened by the response he never failed to incite in her, Aimee tried to pull away, but he quickly subdued her. His kisses fell like searing brands over her body, his tongue finding sensitive places she never knew existed, suckling, stroking, until she writhed beneath him. She could feel the core of her winding tighter and tighter, ready to spring at any moment. Suddenly she was mounted atop him and he was spreading her legs, sliding inside her and urging her to ride him as she would a wild stallion. Throwing her head back in sublime surrender, she rode him furiously, teetering on the crest of sensation, hovering between sanity and madness as she sped recklessly to her final destination.

  She recalled nothing after that. The words she screamed when waves of ecstasy broke over her might have escaped her memory, but Nick placed them inside his heart to take out and examine at leisure.

  Life w
ent on at Tall Oaks. Nick rode out on patrol nearly every day. Though Aimee could hear the thunder of guns, the line of battle did not approach Tall Oaks. Sometimes Nick remained out overnight, and when he did, he nearly always left Lieutenant Dill in charge. The good lieutenant treated Aimee with the respect due a lady, but he didn’t trust her. Nick’s orders that Aimee be restricted to the house had remained in force, and no amount of pleading had swayed either him or the men left to guard the house. New dispatches arrived at Tall Oaks frequently, and they were too important to fall into enemy hands. But something Nick mentioned during supper one night lifted Aimee’s spirits as well as reinforcing her resolve to escape the devastating hold Nick had on her senses. Enemies by day, lovers by night. No statement had ever been closer to the truth.

  Nick had mentioned to Lieutenant Dill that the Rebs, under General Hood, were setting up defenses in Atlanta, and Sherman’s army was poised to cross Peach Tree Creek, the only natural obstacle between the Chattahoochee and Atlanta’s northern defenses. Grant believed that capturing Atlanta would mean the death knell for the Confederacy. The city was full of arsenals, foundries, and machine shops, and it was also the junction of four major railways, which were needed to supply the Union army.

  The conversation that night made Aimee more determined than ever to escape her prison. With the Confederate army nearby, she, Brand, and Savannah could easily reach the safety of Confederate lines. Once behind friendly lines, she’d no longer be subject to Nick Drummond’s sensual control. His almost nightly visits to her bed left her confused and bitter. His powerful hold on her senses had made her life a shambles, nearly destroying her in a maelstrom of passion that reduced her to mindless ecstasy.

  She hated him.

  She wanted him.

  Aimee discussed her plans to leave Tall Oaks with Savannah one night while they were preparing supper. She was surprised when Savannah showed little enthusiasm.