Surrender to the Fury

by Connie Mason

  “Oh, God.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? What in the hell did I say now to upset you?”

  “If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.”

  “Women! The only time I can satisfy you is when I’m doing this.” He flexed his hips and thrust forward, revealing that he was still hard inside her.

  Aimee felt him throb against the walls of her tight sheath as he grew and expanded, making her aware that his hunger had been momentarily appeased but not sated. He still wanted her.

  “Feel what you do to me? We’ve all night, sweetheart; let’s make the most of it. I’ve yet to hear you say you love me.”

  “I don’t love you. I—I hate you. I hate the fact that you’re a Yankee. I hate the way you left me aboard the Dixie Belle. I hate—”

  He grasped her buttocks and held her in place while he thrust in and out, setting up a clamor in her blood.

  “I love you,” Nick said. “I love the way you respond to me. I love the way you look at me and call my name when you climax. I love the way you hate me.”

  Then he was lifting her atop him, pressing her down onto his erection, filling her deeply—so deep.

  “Kiss me, sweetheart.”

  She did, filling his mouth with the incredible taste of her.

  “Ride me, Aimee. You’re in charge; do whatever you like.”

  Closing her eyes and throwing her head back, Aimee took control, already lost in a world of sensual pleasure. When Nick lifted his head and took her nipple into his mouth, she exploded. Vaguely she heard him cry out, felt the hot splash of his sperm, then knew no more.

  “One day you’ll admit you love me, sweetheart,” Nick whispered before he joined her in slumber.

  She was awakened once during the night by hot kisses falling randomly over her face and body. At first she thought she was dreaming, until Nick’s lips and hands became so aggressive, she could no longer ignore the pounding of her blood or furious beating of her heart. Then he was thrusting inside her, bringing her the special kind of rapture only he was capable of. When she fell asleep again, she didn’t awaken until the sun streamed through the window and Nick was gently shaking her.

  “Aimee. Wake up. It’s time I left for Tall Oaks.”

  Aimee stirred, flipped on her stomach, and said, “Go away.”

  Her buttocks rising beneath the single sheet was too tempting, and he stroked them absently as he spoke. “Aimee, I’m going to speak to Mona before I leave. I’ll take care of everything, sweetheart. Sleep as late as you like. All you need do is pack and meet me at the train station before seven o’clock tonight. I’ll have Brand and Savannah with me.”

  His words succeeded in chasing the last vestiges of sleep from her. “What! What did you say?”

  “Our train leaves at seven o’clock. You have all day to make yourself ready. I expect you to be at the station on time.”

  “What if I choose not to go?”

  His lips thinned. “I don’t recall giving you a choice. But should you foolishly decide not to join me and Brand in Washington, we’ll somehow manage without you. It’s your choice, Aimee. Me and your son, or a life of spreading your legs for every man who meets your price.”

  Her reply was a sharp intake of breath. God, how could he be so cruel? Did he have no compassion? Nick was a Yankee officer, and she was a southerner with no authority. Who would come to her defense if she complained that Nick was taking her beloved son away from her without her permission? The South was in chaos, and the damn Yankees were too busy with winning the war to concern themselves with one Reb woman’s claim against one of their own kind. Nick’s offer of marriage was obviously a sham; his words of love were meant only to soothe her wounded pride. How could she marry Nick when she suspected that his proposal was meant simply to appease her—when what he really wanted was custody of their son?

  Nick watched the play of emotion on Aimee’s face, realizing he had come down hard on her, but deeming it necessary in order to shock her into realizing that her life was with him.

  “Seven o’clock, Aimee. Be there.” Turning on his heel, he stalked out the door.

  Mona didn’t appreciate being roused from sleep so early, but she pulled herself together and listened to Nick’s explanation. When he finished, she accepted payment for the clothes, provisions, and medicine Aimee had taken out to Tall Oaks without too much protest. Then she wished them both good luck and went back to bed. Girls came and went, and she wasn’t the kind to hold them back when another opportunity came along. Nor did she begrudge anyone happiness. Life had taught her invaluable lessons, one of which was to take love when and where you found it. The great love of her life had been killed early on in the war, and she had never found another to take his place. Though Lord knows it wasn’t from lack of trying.

  Nick rented a wagon to drive to Tall Oaks. He seriously doubted that Brand and Savannah had much baggage between them, but a wagon had been all that was available for rent. He wasn’t certain if Savannah could ride a horse, so he had to make do with the slower conveyance. Not that it mattered greatly; they had plenty of time to return to Atlanta by seven o’clock to catch the train to Washington. Would Aimee be there to meet him?

  He had to hope she loved her son enough to want to be with him. He couldn’t imagine any situation in which Aimee would willingly agree to be separated from Brand. He had pinned his hopes on her fierce love for her son. Marrying a Yankee might go against everything she believed in, but following Brand to Washington was something Nick could count on. Once she was with him, he had faith in his ability to convince her to marry him.

  God, he loved her. He admitted freely that he hadn’t always behaved like a gentleman to her, but Nick nevertheless realized that he had loved her forever—even when he mistook her for a whore aboard the Dixie Belle.

  Nick had been so obsessed with finding the lady gambler known as Aimee Fortune that he finally had to confess the cause of his obsession to his mother, who was thoroughly shocked that her jaded son had finally found a woman worthy of his consideration. Though the good woman had commiserated with Nick, she had finally convinced him that the reason Aimee Fortune hadn’t been found was that she didn’t want to be found. When the war came, he finally gave up the search and concentrated on staying alive.

  Then he found Aimee again.

  And learned he had a son.

  And found love.

  Brand sat on a stump staring down the avenue of oaks, waiting for Nick. When he saw the wagon turn off the main road, he jumped up and ran for Savannah. Both Brand and Savannah were standing in front of the charred remains of the house when Nick arrived a few minutes later. Brand could hardly contain his excitement.

  “We’re ready, Nick!” he called as Nick climbed down from the wagon. “Where’s Mama? You found her, didn’t you?”

  “I did indeed.” Nick grinned, swinging the boy into his arms and placing him on the high seat of the wagon.

  “How is she?” Savannah asked anxiously. Her face wore all the signs of a sleepless night—many sleepless nights. “She ain’t been hurt, has she?”

  “Aimee is fine, Savannah.” He looked pointedly at Brand then said, “I’ll tell you all about it later. Suffice it to say that it isn’t as bad as you thought. Now then, are you packed and ready to leave?”

  “We ain’t got much,” Savannah said, holding out a modest bundle neatly tied in a square of cloth. Nick took it from her and placed it in the wagon. “I also packed what food was left. Thought it might come in handy before we reached Atlanta.”

  “That it will, Savannah. I didn’t have time for breakfast. Up with you now.” He helped her climb into the wagon bed, then settled himself beside Brand on the driver’s seat. “Are you ready, son?”

  “I’m going to miss Tall Oaks,” Brand said wistfully as Nick drove the horse down the avenue of oaks. “Do you think my papa will know I’m no longer here?”

  Nick swallowed painfully. He wanted so badly to tell Brand that Beauregar
d Trevor wasn’t his father, but he knew that now wasn’t the time, that Aimee was the one who should tell him.

  “I think your papa will know that it has become necessary for you and your mother to leave Tall Oaks. Perhaps one day you will return. When the war is over and all is peaceful once again.”

  “I don’t remember my papa,” Brand said sadly, “but I’d want him to be just like you.”

  Nick’s heart burst with gladness. “Doesn’t it bother you that I’m a Yankee?”

  Brand grew thoughtful. “It did at first. I knew how much it bothered Mama and that she seemed to hate you, but you never really hurt us.”

  “I’d never hurt you, Brand.”

  “I know that. What about Mama? You’ve hurt her.”

  “Not intentionally. The worst I did was to lock her in her room, but she did a bad thing and I had no choice.”

  Lies, he told himself. All lies. Of course he had hurt Aimee. He hurt her by taking her virginity without realizing it and leaving her to bear his son in shame. He hurt her when he forced her to submit to him by convincing her he’d send her to prison if she didn’t. He hurt her by not telling her about Regina.

  “What would you think if I married your mama?” Nick asked with sudden inspiration.

  Brand chewed on that for a while. “Like Mama and Papa were married?”

  “Well, yes, something like that.”

  “Would you and Mama have a son like me?”

  “We might have children. I hope we would, anyway. But they’d never take your place in our hearts. We have room in our hearts to love many children.”

  “I’d like brothers and sisters. It gets kind of lonesome sometimes with no other children around. Would you be my papa?”

  “You can’t imagine how desperately I’d like that.”

  “Then I guess it would be all right if you married Mama,” Brand decided emphatically. “I always wanted a papa I could remember. You must promise, though, that you won’t try to turn me into a Yankee.”

  Laughter bubbled up from Nick’s throat. He was so delighted with Brand, he wanted to stop the wagon and hug him. The thought that he had missed out on the first five years of this precious child’s life made him sad. From this day forward he vowed to be the father Brand needed. And nothing Aimee could do or say would ever change that.

  They reached Atlanta in plenty of time to scour the stores still open for business for proper clothes for Brand and Savannah. It was going to be much colder in Washington, and it was obvious that neither Brand nor Savannah had suitable clothing. Savannah’s shoes were beyond redemption, and Brand’s were two sizes too small. It was close to seven o’clock by the time Nick had purchased everything they needed from the meager supplies available. Shoes for Savannah presented the biggest problem. They ended up settling for a pair of men’s boots and were glad to get them.

  Since Nick had already made arrangements with the livery to put his horse aboard the train, he only needed to drop off the wagon at the livery and walk the short distance to the railroad station. A great puff of steam and black soot bellowed forth from the engine as they approached, warning all passengers of its imminent departure. Nick purchased the tickets and waited with Brand and Savannah by the boarding steps for Aimee.

  “I don’t see Mama,” Brand said as he peered anxiously into the crowd of people boarding. Most wore blue uniforms; few civilians were visible in the nearly deserted city.

  “She’ll be along,” Nick said with more certainty than he felt.

  He had counted heavily on Aimee being unable to let her son go off without her. He prayed he hadn’t been wrong in that assumption.

  “The train is going to leave.” Brand was now truly concerned that his mother wouldn’t arrive in time.

  “She’ll be here.”

  * * *

  Aimee spent the entire day alternately cursing Nick and finding reasons to love him. On one hand was the fact that he was a despised Yankee who wanted to take her son from her. On the other was his declaration of love for her. Were his words merely lies uttered in a moment of weakness, or did he truly love her? To a man like Nick, lies seemed to come easily when they served his purpose. Aimee never truly believed he had looked for her after their night together aboard the Dixie Belle. And what about Regina Blakewell? If he loved Aimee, why hadn’t he told her he had a fiancée?

  Yet all the conjecturing in the world wouldn’t solve her dilemma. Nick was going to take Brand to Washington whether or not she chose to accompany them. He wanted his son badly enough to snatch him from her loving arms, so to speak. Then he had the unmitigated gall to tell her he loved her.

  As the day wore on, Aimee made a halfhearted attempt to pack some of the more appropriate articles of clothing given her by Mona. She chose two day dresses that weren’t too revealing, some underclothing, and two pairs of slippers. She was grateful to add a warm cloak, for she’d heard the North could be bitterly cold this time of year.

  By six o’clock Aimee was sitting on the bed still trying to decide whether she should appear at the train station and try to talk Nick out of taking Brand to Washington or do nothing in hopes that he’d relent and leave Brand behind when she failed to appear. Knowing Nick as she did, she seriously doubted he’d consider either alternative. He’d probably leave Atlanta as planned, taking her son, and promptly forget she ever existed. He had done it years ago, so why not now?

  Aimee was still wallowing in indecision when Mona appeared at the door a few minutes later.

  “Are you almost ready, honey? If you need any help with your bag, one of the bouncers can carry it to the station for you.”

  “Thank you, but the bag’s not heavy. Besides, I haven’t made up my mind whether or not I’m going with Major Drummond.”

  “Seems to me you have no choice,” Mona observed. “Before he left, the major told me he’s the father of your son and that he’s taking the boy to Washington.”

  “The man is a damn Yankee and a scoundrel to boot!”

  “You must have liked him well enough at one time.” Mona’s sly wink left no doubt as to her meaning.

  “It’s a long story, Miss Mona.”

  “And it all boils down to whether or not you love your son enough to marry the father.”

  “Did Nick tell you we were going to marry?”

  “He sure did, honey. I assumed it was what you wanted, too. You’re still welcome to stay on with me if you’ve a mind to.”

  Aimee shook her head in vigorous denial. “No, I don’t want to stay on here. It was a mistake coming here in the beginning. I’m not certain I could have gone through with it if Nick hadn’t showed up when he did.”

  Mona nodded sagely. “I kind of thought that, but I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

  “I’m still grateful to you, Miss Mona. I’m certain the food and medicine you provided saved Brand’s life. You offered help when I needed it most.”

  “My pleasure, honey, though your man paid generously for my services. Are you sure you don’t love him just a little? He certainly is a handsome devil.”

  “Love him a little?” Aimee asked, astounded. “I love him more than I ever thought possible for a woman to love a man.”

  “It’s time to board, Brand,” Nick said as he guided Brand toward the boarding door.

  Nick’s face was set in grim lines. He had gambled on Aimee loving her son more than she hated him, and he had lost.

  “Mama’s not here yet.” His voice was shrill with panic.

  “She’s had plenty of time, son. If she was coming, she’d be here by now.”

  “She’ll be here, I know she will,” Savannah said staunchly. “She ain’t gonna let you take Brand away from her.”

  “That’s what I thought, Savannah, but I guess we were both mistaken. But don’t you worry, I’ll be a damn good father to the boy. And he still has you.”

  “It ain’t de same,” Savannah grumbled as she stepped aboard the train.

  Nick lifted Brand aboa
rd and then followed. He glanced over his shoulder one last time to scan the now-deserted station, then turned away in bitter disappointment Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he caught a movement Someone was hurrying down the length of the train. His heart jumped erractically in his chest. Aimee!

  The train whistle gave an earsplitting blast, then the train jerked forward. Slowly at first, then gaining momentum, its wheels churned into motion and they began moving.

  “Aimee! Hurry!”

  She saw him then, hanging with one hand on the door rail, the other extended out toward her. She stumbled and nearly fell, then righted herself and reached out for his hand. The train gained speed, widening the gap between them. She wasn’t going to make it But she hadn’t counted on Nick’s determination. When he disappeared from the door, Aimee thought he had left her, when suddenly he appeared on the platform of the caboose. Leaning out over the rail, he reached out, grasped her about the waist with one long arm, and swept her up beside him.

  Chapter 18

  Aimee hated Washington. The dirty blanket of gray slush that covered the streets was depressing, and she couldn’t seem to shake the penetrating cold that seeped into her bones. She knew Savannah felt the same way about the dismal city even though the old woman said little about their circumstances. As for Brand, he was still too excited about his new surroundings to notice his mother’s aversion to them.

  Somehow Nick had managed to rent them a suite in a fairly decent hotel in the crowded city. Aimee would have moved into the same room with Savannah and Brand, but Nick told her in no uncertain terms that her place was with him. Then he took them all out and purchased clothes suitable for northern climes. When he informed Aimee that he was going to make arrangements for their wedding, Aimee stubbornly refused to take part in the ceremony, insisting that she would never consent to marry a damn Yankee. Her words had forced Nick to postpone the wedding.

  They had been in Washington nearly a month when Sherman presented the city of Savannah to Lincoln as a Christmas gift. Hood’s army had dug in around Nashville, waiting for Thomas to attack. When the attack came, it was a devastating knockout that almost annihilated the Rebs. It took but two winter days before the collapse finally came during a drenching rain and a gathering darkness. Christmas came and went with little celebration.