by Connie Mason
The cold temperatures and blustery winds of only days before had suddenly warmed into Indian summerlike weather, and Nick welcomed the change from the winter he had left behind in Washington. He made his way directly to headquarters, requesting billeting for a few nights. He was given a room in a hotel that was being used by the army to house its men. Since he hadn’t slept well on the train, he lay down to rest for a few minutes, and instead fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke, it was too late to start out for Tall Oaks, so he decided to check on his horse. Sergeant Jones had promised Nick he’d see that Scout was taken care of at the livery, while Nick stayed in Washington.
Nick indeed found Scout well cared for. He paid the livery owner for Scout’s keep but left him in the man’s charge until morning, when he planned to leave for Tall Oaks. He ate dinner at the officers’ mess and declined an invitation to visit Miss Mona’s, the best of the local whorehouses. Making love to any woman but Aimee did not appeal to him. Instead, he downed a stiff whiskey and went directly to bed, dreaming of his reunion tomorrow with Aimee.
Would she be glad to see him? he wondered anxiously. Or was she still angry with him? Had she and Brand been getting enough to eat, or would he find them starving? Tomorrow couldn’t arrive soon enough.
It was an exceptionally warm December day when Nick mounted Scout and rode off in the direction of Tall Oaks. Stuffed in his saddlebag were treats for Brand, a colorful embroidered shawl for Savannah, and a length of silk for Aimee. He knew an embroidered shawl and length of silk were frivolous gifts, but practical ones would come later. He wasn’t a poor man, Nick reasoned, and he could well afford to give the woman he hoped would be his wife some pretty things.
Since his father had died nearly ten years ago, Nick had been the head of the family, acting as sole support of his mother and sister, until his sister’s marriage several years ago. His father’s munitions plant had always made money—more so now than ever. When he went to war, he left Cliff Wayland, his sister’s husband, in charge, and the man was doing an excellent job of running the family business in his absence. So good, in fact, that Nick seriously considered selling it to Wayland, taking the money, and investing it in some other enterprise more to his liking.
Nick turned off the main road and nudged Scout down the long avenue of oaks toward the house. His eagerness must have been catching, for Scout danced beneath him excitedly. It was as if the horse recognized the path down which they traveled and was eager to return home.
Home.
Strangely enough, Nick had come to think of Tall Oaks as home. He had grown to love the place nearly as much as Aimee did. Nick pictured how it would be after the war, assuming help could be hired to run the vast acres. He envisioned it in all its former glory, with ripe cotton waving in the breeze, their pods bursting and ready for harvesting. He saw animals grazing on the hillsides, and the orchards producing bumper crops of fruit.
When he came within sight of the house, Nick saw only the tall front pillars left unscathed by the fire. Nothing seemed amiss. But that initial impression was shattered when he noticed the charred, blistered walls and remains of the roof fallen in upon itself.
“Sweet Jesus, no!”
Leaping from the saddle, Nick ran toward the gutted wreckage of the house, sobbing and calling Aimee’s name. His answer was an ominous silence. Like a madman he began tossing aside boards and charred debris until his hands were bleeding and he was grimy and blackened with soot. When he realized that the house had been burned weeks ago and was unlikely to yield a clue to Aimee and Brand’s fate, he sat down on a stump and stared dazedly into the rubble.
Were Aimee and his son alive? he wondered bleakly. Or had they perished in the fire? What about Savannah? Had the house been burned by Union soldiers or Reb deserters? When he learned who was responsible for such wanton destruction, he’d personally see that the men were punished.
“You’re too late, Captain Drummond.”
Leaping to his feet, Nick spun around. He had recognized Savannah’s voice immediately, and relief surged through him. Until he considered her words. “What are you talking about? Why am I too late?” Lord, don’t let it be what I think, he fervently prayed.
“Aimee’s gone.”
“Oh, God, no.” The cry ripped past his lips, the agony tearing him apart. Without Aimee, life wasn’t worth living. And then he remembered Brand. Had his son perished also?
“What about Brand? Is he—is he …”
“Brand is just fine. We’re livin’ in one of de slave shacks out back. It ain’t much, but it keeps us warm and dry.”
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry, Savannah, so damn sorry. How long ago did it happen?”
“Right after dat woman took you to Atlanta.”
“Thank you for keeping Brand safe for me. It couldn’t have been easy. How did you manage?” He didn’t want to think about Aimee. Not now, not when the pain was still so raw.
“We used up de money you left, and when dat was gone …” She grew quiet and lowered her head to stare at a big toe peeking out from the rags she had tied around her feet when her shoes wore completely through. “It ain’t right, Captain, it ain’t right dat my chile should suffer.” He thought she was talking about Brand.
“You need worry no longer about Brand, Savannah; I’m taking you both back to Washington with me, where you’ll be properly cared for. Though Aimee has never admitted it, I know Brand is my son.”
Suddenly Savannah turned belligerent. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere without Aimee, and neither is Brand. She’d have my hide if she knew you was takin’ Brand away.”
Tears gathered in Nick’s eyes and he hastily brushed them away with the back of his hand. “Aimee wouldn’t want her son to starve. I loved her, too, Savannah, but we must think of Brand. Somehow we’ll survive.”
“We’ll survive, but I ain’t so sure about Aimee,” Savannah replied glumly.
Her remark stymied Nick. He thought about it for a few seconds before her meaning became clear. His heart leaped in unfettered joy and he grasped Savannah by the shoulders, the intensity of his green eyes frightening her.
“What are you saying, Savannah? I thought you said Aimee was dead.”
“Dead? Lordy, no.” Her eyes rolled heavenward until only the whites were visible. “She ain’t dead, Captain, just gone.”
“Gone where?” His hands tightened, making Savannah wince in pain.
“To Atlanta. I done told her there was no work for her in Atlanta, but she couldn’t let us starve, could she? It ain’t like she’s doin’ it ’cause she wants to. Or dat she enjoys it We was all starvin’, Captain; it was de only way.”
“What in the hell are you babbling about?”
“Nick! You’re here! I knew you’d come, but Mama said you’d never return to Tall Oaks.”
Nick caught up the little boy as he leaped into his arms. He groaned in dismay when he felt the lad’s thin frame beneath his hands; he could count every rib beneath his narrow chest. With a pang of guilt Nick imagined all the suffering and hardships they had been forced to endure in his absence. He vowed then and there that neither Aimee, nor Brand nor Savannah would ever experience hunger or deprivation again. And as soon as he learned where Aimee was working, he’d make it all up to her.
“Where is your mama, son?” Nick asked, setting Brand down on his feet.
“In Atlanta. She brought us food and medicine and left again.”
“Were you sick?”
“He had a congestion in de chest,” Savannah replied. “Aimee couldn’t bear to see him suffer. Dat’s why she did it.”
“Did what?” Nick was becoming more impatient by the minute.
“It ain’t for me to say.”
“Just tell me where to find her.”
“She’s at Miss Mona’s,” Brand piped up. “I heard her telling Savannah that she was going to work in a warehouse.”
Nick nearly choked. “She what!”
“Oh, Lordy,” Savannah moaned, shaking her head i
n dismay. “Aimee would have a fit if she knew Brand was listenin’ to our conversation.”
Nick’s face was like thunder. Never had Brand seen him so angry, not even when Aimee had run away from Tall Oaks and was locked in her room as punishment. His small face screwed up as he bravely fought back tears.
“Did I say something wrong?”
Nick bent and scooped the lad up in his arms. “No, son, you didn’t say anything to make me angry with you. I’m just worried about your mama. Why don’t you look in my saddlebags; I’ve brought you some gifts.”
“Gifts? For me?” His eyes danced with curiosity. “I can’t remember when I last received a gift. I know, I think it was that horse you carved for me.” Bursting with excitement, he squirmed out of Nick’s arms and bounded over to Scout, where he proceeded to dig into the saddlebag. While he exclaimed over the treasure trove he found stashed inside, Nick conversed quietly with Savannah.
“How long has Aimee been at Miss Mona’s?” His voice sounded as if it were stretched taut.
“A week.”
A soft groan slipped past Nick’s lips. “Have you heard from her since she left?”
“No. She brought enough food to last us two or three weeks and said not to expect her for a while.”
“Why in the hell didn’t you stop her?”
“I tried. The good Lord knows I tried, but you know how stubborn Aimee is.” He did indeed. “She hoped to get respectable work, but dere wasn’t none available. She couldn’t let Brand starve, and dat’s what would have happened if she hadn’t gone to Miss Mona’s.”
“Pack up your things and Brand’s. I’ll be back.”
His face a mask of fury, Nick turned abruptly and walked over to where Brand was still rummaging around in his saddlebags. The lad was sucking on a peppermint stick. Never had Nick seen an expression of such delight on the face of another human being.
“I have to leave, son, but I’ll return soon with your mother. Then we’ll all go to Washington.”
“Leave Tall Oaks?”
“For the time being.” He turned to Savannah. “Take care of Brand, Savannah.” Then he remembered the gift he had for her, removed it from his saddlebag, and tossed the package to her. She caught it neatly. “This is for you.”
“Don’t you be angry with Aimee,” Savannah warned, shaking a finger in his face. “She done what she had to do.”
Nick mounted up. “Don’t lecture me, Savannah. Aimee is the one you should have scolded. When I find her I’ll try to contain my anger. If it’s any consolation, be advised that I won’t harm her.”
As he rode off, he wasn’t certain he could live up to that promise. He was angry enough with Aimee to wring her beautiful neck. Imagining her spread beneath men who would use and abuse her rattled him so badly, he couldn’t think straight. Even though he knew she was doing it for Brand’s sake, the knowledge still threw him into a rage. He loved her, for God’s sake!
Aimee stared at herself in the mirror, seeing a strange woman who bore her little resemblance. The woman who stared back at her had pouty lips painted a ripe red, and cheeks artfully rouged. Her eyes were outlined in black, the lids highlighted with subtle color that gave them a sensual glow. She wore a sheer peignoir that floated about her body but concealed little. A hip-length chemise beneath revealed long, shapely legs, nearly all of her breasts, and the tiny span of her waist.
Though Miss Mona had stuffed Aimee with rich food for an entire week, it had accomplished little except for filling out the hollows beneath her cheekbones and collarbone. Her body was still painfully thin but nevertheless all woman, with curves and indentation in all the right places. A pair of high-heeled slippers completed Aimee’s costume.
Aimee’s greatest fear was that she wouldn’t be able to do what was expected of her tonight.
The nearer the time came to walking down those stairs and mingling with Mona’s girls, the more panicky she became. She had tried to separate herself from everything that would take place tonight, but nothing short of death would make her forget that the moment she let the first man bed her, she would become a whore.
Think of Brand, she told herself sternly. Think of the two lives she was saving, not about her silly pride or honor. What possible good would her honor do her when those she loved were dead? A soft knock on the door jerked Aimee from her mournful thoughts. The door opened and Mona entered without waiting to be invited.
“You look marvelous, honey,” Mona gushed delightedly. “But then, I knew you would. Still a mite thin, but I’m sure my customers will be as pleased with you as I am. You’re not nervous, are you?”
“I—yes, of course I am. This doesn’t come easily to me.”
“It will get easier with time,” Mona said, her tone brusque and businesslike. “You know the rules, don’t you? You let me do the negotiating. After the details are worked out and a price agreed upon, you are free to take the client upstairs. I keep careful accounting of the earnings of all my girls. Rest assured you won’t be cheated. I don’t allow any rough stuff here, either. If a man gets rowdy or tries to hurt you, you have only to call out and one of the bouncers will come to your aid.”
“I trust you, Miss Mona; that’s not what’s bothering me. I just don’t know if I can go through with it.”
“I’m not holding you here, honey,” Mona reminded her. “If you had any other means of feeding your child, I’d let you go now, even if you do owe me money. I’d trust you to pay it back.”
“You took me in and gave me food to take to Tall Oaks; I’ll not let you down. Besides, we both know there is no other work available to me in Atlanta. A bargain is a bargain; I’ll live up to my part of it.”
“I knew you’d feel that way. What you’re doing here has nothing to do with honor, it’s survival. You aren’t the only woman driven to prostitution by starvation and circumstances beyond her control. Thank God you had the good sense to come to me, for I take care of my girls. Now then, honey, the other girls are already assembling downstairs. Men have already begun to arrive. Come down whenever you’re ready.”
Aimee remained in her room a few moments longer. She felt like vomiting but managed with difficulty to swallow the bitter taste of bile that rose in her throat. Her knees were weak and her head hurt. Yet Aimee knew she could not linger. With shaking hands she opened the door and stepped out on the landing overlooking the crowded parlor below.
A sea of blue uniforms intermingled with scantily clad girls offering drinks on trays. Some men openly ogled the girls; others were much bolder, squeezing and stroking private parts of their anatomy. None of the girls being openly caressed seemed to mind. Aimee watched as one of the men seized a girl by the hand and led her over to Mona, where a friendly bargaining commenced. Once the man explained what he wanted, a price was agreed upon and Mona wrote it in a book. Payment was tendered, and the girl led the man up the stairs. Taking in a deep, steadying breath, Aimee waited for the giggling couple to enter a room, then started down the stairs.
Nick rang the bell at Miss Mona’s house of pleasure with great impatience. His stark, intense face effectively conveyed the anguish he was suffering. He still found it difficult to believe he’d find Aimee in a whorehouse, but desperation drove people to do things they might never consider in less difficult times. According to Savannah, Aimee had been at Miss Mona’s an entire week. He shuddered, thinking of what Aimee had been forced to endure before he arrived in Atlanta.
The door opened, and declining to hand over his hat and coat to the maid, Nick strode into the parlor. It was already crowded with soldiers and a few civilians attached to the government. Nick recognized one or two of the officers present, but most of the men were strangers, which suited him just fine. The fewer acquaintances who knew his future wife was a—good Lord, he couldn’t call Aimee a whore!
Then he saw her, poised at the top of the stairs looking frightened and lost. Her face was heavily painted, and she was dressed—or undressed, as was the case—most provocatively. H
e stopped just inside the door, staring at her, noting that her thinness served only to enhance her fragile beauty.
Aimee failed to notice Nick in the crush of blue uniforms. She looked at no one in particular, keeping her eyes trained on a point above everyone’s heads. Nick watched her descend the stairs, saw the stir she created among those men present who had the good fortune to notice her, and his eyes glazed over with the fury of his knowledge that other men wanted to bed her. Suddenly staunch willpower was no longer enough to keep him from doing what his conscience demanded he do from the moment Savannah had told him where Aimee could be found.
Aimee had reached the bottom of the stairs now, pausing to gather her courage before taking that last step. Once she joined the other girls in the parlor, she had no control over what must necessarily follow. She was wild with panic, her gaze sweeping the room. Then she saw him; he was pushing rudely through the throng of men and scantily clad women to reach her. His face was stark with fury. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his eyes were so dark a shade of green, they were nearly black. Truly devil’s eyes. Aimee felt a shaft of raw, naked fear shudder through her.
Nick stopped scant inches from her, staring at her with his astonishingly level gaze for the space of a heartbeat. “Playtime is over, sweetheart; you’re leaving with me.”
Aimee’s eyes widened; her jaw worked noiselessly, but no words came out. With an efficiency of effort, Nick pulled off his overcoat, placed it around Aimee’s shoulders, swept her off her feet, and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “You’re mine, Aimee Trevor; I’ll be damned if I’ll let another man have you.”
“What’s going on here, Major?” Mona appeared at Nick’s elbow, flanked by two burly bouncers. “If you’ve made your choice, you must make arrangements with me first.”
“The hell with arrangements,” Nick said tightly. “Aimee belongs to me; I’m taking her with me. Any fool can see she doesn’t belong here.”
“Aimee is here of her own free will,” Mona said in an effort to disarm the potentially volatile situation. “I hold no girl by force.”
