Surrender to the Fury

by Connie Mason

“Let me help you upstairs,” she offered, moving to his side. He leaned on her heavily as they slowly made their way upstairs to his room. She helped him off with his uniform and into bed.

  “I nearly died when I saw that man’s hands on you,” Nick said. His voice was low and strident and filled with barely suppressed rage. “You were very brave to challenge so many men.”

  “It was you who was brave,” Aimee observed. “They could have killed you when they saw how weak you were.”

  “They were Federal soldiers; I seriously doubted they’d challenge an officer.”

  “But they didn’t believe you.”

  “Forget it, sweetheart, it’s over and done with. The men are gone; they won’t bother you again as long as I’m here.”

  “You won’t be here forever,” Aimee said in a forlorn voice.

  “No,” Nick agreed, “but I’ll come back. There’s so much I want to say to you, so many things to ask you. Surely you know how I feel about you.”

  “Nick, you need your rest. We’ll discuss this another time. You’re exhausted, and I don’t want you to have a relapse; you’ve come so far.”

  Aimee needed time to think. She knew what Nick was referring to. He hadn’t pressed her about Brand in several days, but she knew he hadn’t given up. Perhaps she was being overly cautious, or just plain stubborn. Perhaps the time had arrived to tell him that he was Brand’s father. He might suspect the truth, but she was the only one who could confirm it. Though he hadn’t actually said he loved her, he had told her many times over that he cared for her. She wondered if Nick cared enough about her to propose marriage once she told him about Brand. And would he do so because he wanted her or because of Brand?

  The dilemma wasn’t easily solved, but in the end Aimee decided to tell Nick the truth and pray that it all worked out the way she hoped it would. Selecting the right moment presented another problem. Since Nick was still weak from facing the Union soldiers who came to burn Tall Oaks, she thought it best to wait a few days until he was recovered from the ordeal. Perhaps she was just trying to delay the inevitable, but now that she had made her decision, her mind rested easier.

  Nick slept the rest of that day and through the entire night. When he awoke the next day, he seemed much improved and in a good humor. His good spirits were somewhat tempered when Nick took careful note of Aimee’s thinness and her fragile appearance. He questioned her closely when she brought up his lunch later that day.

  “Are you well, sweetheart?” he asked worriedly. “You look so pale and thin. Are you sure you’re eating enough?”

  “I’m fine, Nick; you’re imagining things.”

  “Have I been too much trouble for you? Nursing both myself and Lieutenant Dill couldn’t have been easy.”

  Aimee bit her bottom lip and hoped Nick wouldn’t realize she had been skipping meals so that he and Brand could have enough to eat. “You haven’t been much trouble at all,” she insisted.

  “Something’s wrong.” Suddenly his face brightened as a thought occurred to him. “You’re not—not breeding, are you? You could be expecting my child.”

  “No! I mean, I’m not expecting. It’s just—” Lord, what could she tell him?

  “What, Aimee? You’d better tell me, for I’ll find out sooner or later.”

  Indeed he would, Aimee surmised. One day soon there would be nothing for any of them to eat. “I—I haven’t been eating regularly.”

  “Why not?” Her face turned a dull red, and the answer came to him. “Of course; there isn’t enough food left to feed us all! How stupid of me. Do you have any money?”

  Aimee shook her head. What little coin they had had been spent long ago.

  “Why in the hell didn’t you say anything to me? There’s money in my belt. Not a great deal, but enough to buy food. Savannah could go to Atlanta for supplies. Bring me my belt.”

  Aimee retrieved it from where it hung over a chair and handed it to him. He drew forth a sheaf of bills and placed them in her hands. “I have little use for money; the army provides all that I need right now.”

  The need for provisions was desperate, and Aimee didn’t refuse Nick’s generous offer. “Perhaps I ought to go to Atlanta myself.”

  “No, send Savannah. It’s not safe for you in the city alone. I can well imagine the chaos that exists now.” Aimee nodded and turned too leave.

  “Aimee.” His brilliant green eyes regarded her gravely. “Please sleep beside me tonight. I have this strange feeling that I’ll be leaving soon.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Aimee nodded; she harbored the same feeling. Besides, tonight would be a perfect time to tell Nick about Brand. She had waited long enough, and come what may, he should know Brand was his son.

  A single lamp burned in the room when Aimee slipped into bed beside Nick. She thought he was sleeping and tried not to awaken him, but his arms slid around her and pulled her close. He was naked beneath the covers.

  “I thought you’d be sleeping.”

  “I was waiting for you.”

  “I’m here now; you can go to sleep.”

  “I slept almost all day yesterday and all night last night. Sleep isn’t what I crave right now.” One hand eased upward to caress her breasts. He stroked her slowly, his hand exploring each curve, his fingers examining every hollow. He rolled her nipples between thumb and forefinger and grinned when they became hard nubs.

  “If I suspected you had anything other than sleep in mind, I would have refused your bed. You’re still not well enough for what you have in mind.”

  “I’m going to prove you wrong, sweetheart.” He leaned over her, his mouth hard and demanding on hers. There was nothing of the invalid in the force of his kiss. Her mouth opened, her tongue met his, inviting him into her moist heat.

  Nick groaned into her mouth. He was definitely in pain, but not from his wound. It had been so long—too damn long—since he’d made love to her. “Touch me, sweetheart. Feel how much I need you.”

  She could not resist. Her hands splayed across the wide expanse of his chest, savoring the heat and hardness of him. Slowly her hands descended to the taut planes of his belly, over narrow hips, then almost shyly to the strength rising from a forest of crisp curls.

  “Oh, God!”

  Emboldened by his cry, Aimee grasped his member in her two hands, stroking upward, then down in instinctive rhythm. She kept it up a few moments before Nick grasped her wrists and cried, “Stop!” He had been too long without a woman for that kind of torment. “Take off your nightgown, sweetheart.” He helped her pull the threadbare garment over her head and tossed it on the floor.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” Her voice shook with the need he evoked in her.

  “You won’t hurt me, not if we do this right.”

  When his hand slipped down between her thighs, she cried out softly and pressed against his fingers. He found her moist and ready for him.

  “Part your legs. That’s it. Ahhh, you’re so warm and wet. Wider, sweetheart.”

  She obeyed blindly as his finger slid inside her. Bending over her, he licked the ripe tips of her breasts, then nipped them hard enough for her to cry out. Then he suckled them to soothe away the sharp pleasure-pain. Each tug of his lips seemed connected to that secret place between her legs where Nick’s fingers drove her wild with urgent desire.

  “Nick, oh please.”

  “Yes, sweetheart, soon. I want this to be wonderful for you.” When the pad of his thumb teased the exquisitely sensitive nub of flesh nestled amid blond curls, the blood roared in her ears.

  A shivering, convulsive release shuddered through her as Nick’s fingers continued their tender torment. “You’re so responsive,” he groaned in satisfaction.

  She was still trembling with the aftershocks of her release when Nick rolled her onto her side, placed her leg over his hips, and thrust himself into her hot tightness. Her body convulsed around him, and her climax began anew as he drove himself to his own shattering release. Loathe to sep
arate their bodies, Nick remained deeply embedded, astonishingly hard for a man who had just glimpsed paradise.

  “You make me feel strong, even when I’m weak from loving you.”

  She was still panting softly when she replied, “You are strong, Nick. I can still feel you inside. Your strength is incredible.” She made a jerking motion with her hips, and Nick responded by growing even harder.

  “I can’t believe I want you again so soon. I’ll always want you, Aimee, always.”

  His words sent her spirits soaring. They removed the remaining doubts she had concerning Brand. Surely Nick must love her if he’d always want her, didn’t he? “Nick, it’s time I told you about Brand,”

  “I’m fairly certain I know what it is you’re going to say, sweetheart, but at the moment I can’t think beyond the fact that I want you again. I’m going to love you again, Aimee, then you can tell me about Brand.”

  Still lying on their sides facing each other, he moved his hips, moaning in delight when Aimee parried his thrust with a subtle motion of her pelvis. He found her lips and kissed her repeatedly, deeply, demanding her full attention. And she responded in kind, returning his kiss full measure, opening her mouth to receive his tongue. She loved his taste, his scent, everything about him.

  “Am I hurting you?” she asked worriedly when moan after moan continued to slip past his lips. “Perhaps we should stop.”

  Nick rallied enough to say, “Stop? Good God, to stop now would kill me.”

  Aimee tried to protest further, but by then Nick had driven her beyond the bounds of reason. She was soaring. She was trembling. She was hot and cold at the same time. Her mind and thoughts were controlled by the thrust and withdrawal of Nick’s hardness inside her softness. Then suddenly she reached that place where rapture dwelled and she screamed. Nick covered her mouth with his own, swallowing her cries, replacing them with his own harsh grunts.

  It was a long time before either of them could move or speak. Carefully Aimee removed her leg from atop Nick’s hip, hoping he had spoken the truth when he said she wasn’t hurting him. He didn’t move. In the dim light cast by the lamp, she saw that his eyes were closed. She studied his relaxed face for a moment, never more aware of her love for him. He looked so much like Brand that her heart clenched painfully, and she recalled that she still hadn’t told him he was Brand’s father.

  “Nick, I know you suspect Brand is your son, and it’s true that I’ve continued to deny it, but it’s time you learned the truth,” Aimee began hesitantly.

  Nothing.

  “Nick. Do you hear me? It’s true. Brand was conceived aboard the Dixie Belle over five years ago.”

  No shout of joy. No words of reproof for her reticence on the subject up till now. Nothing. Nick was sleeping soundly. Making sweet love to Aimee hadn’t hurt him, but it had exhausted him beyond his meager enduance. He had fallen into a deep slumber within seconds after their coupling.

  Aimee hummed to herself as she skipped down the stairs to prepare breakfast. She had arisen quietly, leaving Nick in bed sound asleep. He hadn’t stirred once during the night, so complete was his exhaustion. Since there was no reason for him to arise, she hadn’t disturbed him.

  Savannah was already in the kitchen lamenting over their lack of provisions. “We got mush, honey, and dat’s about all. And some of dat fatback to fry. Don’t know what we’s gonna do once dat’s gone. If we’s lucky, a rabbit of squirrel will wander into the yard for our supper.”

  “Nick gave me money, Savannah. One of us can hitch the old horse to the wagon and go to Atlanta. I hope there’s still food to be bought in the city.”

  “I’ll go,” Savannah offered. “You already proved it ain’t safe to go traipsin’ over the countryside by yourself.”

  “It’s not safe for you, either.”

  “I’m an old colored woman; no one’s likely to bother me. I’ll leave tomorrow mornin’.”

  That settled, Aimee began slicing fatback. Brand came down a short time later, famished as usual. He made a face at the mush but managed to wolf down his portion before Aimee shooed him outside to play. It was nearly noon before Nick stirred himself and came downstairs. Aimee was nearly beside herself with excitement. There was nothing stopping her now from telling Nick about Brand. Savannah astutely sensed her mood and left the kitchen, offering to do some hunting. She took the shotgun from the corner and promptly left.

  “I didn’t mean to sleep so late,” Nick said, sliding into place at the oak table. “Or fall asleep so quickly last night.”

  “You needed the rest.”

  “I’m fully awake now and ready to listen to what we never got around to discussing last night.”

  Aimee dished out his portion of mush and fatback and took a seat across from him.

  “Aren’t you eating?”

  “I’ve already eaten,” Aimee insisted. She had allowed herself a bite or two of mush but little else.

  “Why don’t I believe you? You’re far too thin to have been eating regularly. Here.” He shoved half his portion into a saucer and placed it in front of her. “I’m not very hungry this morning.”

  Aimee picked at the mush, not really tasting it. She had far more important things on her mind. “Nick, about Brand …”

  Nick searched her face. She had his full attention now. “What about Brand, Aimee? Is he my son?”

  “Mama, Nick, someone’s coming up the driveway!” Brand burst through the door into the kitchen.

  “Oh, God,” Nick said, leaping to his feet. “Not again.”

  “What did you see, son?” Aimee said. Were the Yanks coming again to burn her house?

  “They’re Yanks, Mama. But that’s not all; there’s a carriage, too.”

  Aimee and Nick exchanged glances. “Perhaps they’ve come for you from Atlanta,” Aimee suggested.

  “Perhaps, but I’m not taking any chances. I must be getting careless. I left my weapon upstairs.”

  “I’ll get it,” Aimee offered, realizing she could make the trip upstairs and back much faster than Nick. She turned and raced from the room.

  Nick walked through the house to the front door, stepping out on the porch just as the group of six Union soldiers escorting a rather grand carriage halted before the steps. Nick knew immediately he’d have no need for his weapon, for these men were from his own company, including Sergeant Jones. Then the door to the carriage was flung open and a vivacious redhead appeared in the opening. She spied Nick standing on the porch, and a wide smile spread over her lovely features.

  “Nick! Thank God you’re all right!”

  Daintily raising her skirts to reveal a pair of well-turned ankles, she held out her hand. Two privates leaped forward to help her alight. His mouth gaping, too stunned to move, Nick watched in a daze as the woman glided toward him.

  “Regina! What are you doing here?”

  While the men stood by grinning foolishly, Regina Blakewell reached Nick and flung her arms around his neck. Nick had no recourse but to embrace her in order to keep them both upright.

  “I accompanied Father to Atlanta and just recently learned you were wounded. When Father found out you were at Tall Oaks plantation and that you were to be brought to the hospital in Atlanta, I offered to come along and see to your welfare. I’m quite knowledgeable about nursing, you know. I’ve performed many hours of volunteer work at the hospital in Washington.”

  Aimee chose that unfortunate moment to burst from the house, Nick’s gun in hand, ready to defend her home and family.

  Nick did not see her. To Aimee it appeared that Nick was too involved with embracing the curvaceous redhead to pay heed to anyone or anything. He was holding her so tenderly, gazing at her with such dazed passion, that she felt as though she was intruding upon a very private moment. It wasn’t until Sergeant Jones cleared his throat that the couple remembered that they weren’t alone. Abruptly Nick pulled away, carefully removing Regina’s arms from around his neck.

  “You shouldn’t have come, Re
gina. There was no need.”

  “No need? Of course there was a need. You’re my fiancé; we’re going to be married when this wretched war is over.”

  Aimee stood absolutely still, too stunned to move, too hurt to speak. How could Nick have made love to her with such passion if he had a fiancée waiting for him up North? How could he not have told her? Was he only pretending to care for her in order to take her son from her once she admitted he was Brand’s father? Her first impression of him had been correct. He was a cheat and a scoundrel. A man who could leave a woman broke and pregnant without a thought to her welfare.

  A total bastard.

  A Yankee.

  The man didn’t deserve a son like Brand. Thank God she hadn’t told him the truth yet.

  Suddenly Regina noticed Aimee standing behind Nick, and her blue eyes widened as she took careful note of her threadbare dress and painfully thin figure. It was obvious from her contemptuous expression that she thought Aimee unworthy of her attention.

  “Is that the widow who has been caring for you? Papa said a woman had taken you from the field hospital. I wondered why she had been allowed to do so. I must admit I was worried that your affections had tuned from me, but now that I’ve seen her, I realize I had nothing to worry about.” She turned her brilliant blue gaze back to Nick. “You look wonderful for a man so close to death.”

  Nick turned slowly, fearing the damage Regina might have done to the fragile relationship blossoming between him and Aimee. He groaned when he noted the bleak expression in her amber eyes. Why hadn’t he told Aimee he was engaged to Regina? he wondered regretfully. At first, before Aimee had come to mean so much to him, he saw no need to reveal his private life. And later, he hoped to be able to tell Regina in person that their engagement was a mistake. It was Aimee he loved, always Aimee. But now, Regina showing up was the worst possible thing that could happen at the worst possible time.

  “Aimee.” His green eyes dimmed with remorse. “I didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”

  “Whatever are you talking about?” Regina asked. Her narrow gaze slid over Aimee, then back to Nick. “Is there something between you and this—this dismal creature that I should know about?”