Surrender to the Fury (3 page)

The gun pointing at his middle wavered slightly.

“What do you want here? Haven’t you and your kind taken enough from me? I’ve nothing more to give.” Her voice was ripe with bitterness, raw with hatred, and Nick couldn’t find it in his heart to blame her.

“We mean you no harm, Mrs. Trevor,” Nick said softly. He stepped into a patch of sunlight streaming through a dingy window in the dim foyer and removed his hat.

Aimee drew in a ragged breath. Thick, black hair emphasized the coppery tone of his complexion, his bronzed skin dark against the stark blue of his uniform. He was much more deeply tanned and his face more rugged than when she had last
seen him. Her heart hammered against her breast when his startling green eyes gazed upon her face. They had a hypnotic power that left her paralyzed and unaware of the peculiar way she was staring at his sensual mouth, at the cleft in his square chin, at the frown that drew his brows together and shadowed those incredible eyes. Eyes saturated with a secret knowledge that brought a rush of color to Aimee’s pale face. Devil’s eyes.

Nick Drummond.

He looked older, hardened by the war, his jaw more firmly set than she remembered. His expression was determined, the lines somewhat tempered by the cleft in his chin.

Numb terror held Aimee speechless. She knew by his words that he had recognized her, though she had changed greatly during the past five years. Does he know about Brand? she wondered, desperately searching his face for a hint of his thoughts. His eyes remained carefully hooded. It took very little effort for her to hate Nick Drummond—even less for her to recall the way his loving had made her feel so long ago and the precious gift he had given her in the form of her son. Brand was the only person left in the world besides Savannah whom she truly loved and who loved her in return. She was seized by an obsessive fear that Nick Drummond had come to take her son from her. She had lived with that fear for five years and wanted desperately for Nick to leave before he saw Brand.

“You’re trespassing on my land. State your business,” she said.

“The widow Trevor,” Nick mused, still stunned at having finally found the woman who had
haunted his dreams for the past five years. He had never recovered from the guilt of leaving her so abruptly aboard the
Delta Belle
. It was unlike his usual behavior with women, but he had had a train to catch. “Perhaps you don’t remember me, Mrs. Trevor, but I recall every moment of our last meeting. Five years ago, aboard the
Delta Belle
. I knew you as Aimee Fortune. Does that jog your memory?”

Jog her memory? Dear sweet Lord, how could she forget when she had living proof of their brief encounter? On the heels of that thought came the memory of a tantalizing smile and erotic mouth that kissed and caressed her until she was senseless with rapturous pleasure.

A look of bemusement settled on Lieutenant Dill’s face as he listened to the interchange between Widow Trevor and his captain. Her thinness took nothing from her natural beauty, and Dill looked forward with delight to becoming better acquainted with her. It puzzled him that even though Captain Drummond appeared to know her, she gave no indication of having met him before. A very interesting situation, to say the least, thought Dill.

“Perhaps I did meet you,” Aimee admitted sourly. “But it was a very long time ago, and if I did, I hardly recall the encounter.”

That observation did not sit well with Nick. How could Aimee Fortune forget him when he remembered every passionate detail of their one and only time together? “I looked for you, you know, for a long time. No one seemed to know a damn thing about a woman called Aimee Fortune.”

Aimee shrugged. She wasn’t going to admit a
damn thing. Brand belonged to her, and no one was going to take him from her, especially not a damn Yank captain who spread death and destruction across the South. Who besides Savannah would testify in court in her defense if Nick took it into his head to petition for custody of Brand? She knew she was being obsessive about the whole thing, but she couldn’t help it. She’d lived with that fear for too long. “You still haven’t told me what you Yankees are doing here.” Her voice was cool and uncompromising as she kept the gun trained on Nick’s midsection.

“Put the gun down, Mrs. Trevor; we mean you no harm.”

Nick smiled in an attempt to defuse the situation, bringing the dimple in his chin into sharp focus. Even though it was covered with dark stubble, Aimee had noticed it immediately. A bitter taste of apprehension spurted into her mouth.

“I realize you’re not going to like this, Mrs. Trevor, but your home is to be used as headquarters for myself and my men.” He directed an appraising glance toward the stairs, silently speculating on how many men could be accommodated in the bedrooms above. “You need only billet Lieutenant Dill”—he nodded toward the silent Dill—“and myself in the house. The men can set up tents on the lawn. Starting with supper tonight, the Lieutenant and myself will share meals with you and your family.”

Aimee gave a bitter laugh and lowered the gun. “You’re welcome to all the food you find in the house. We’re not exactly prepared for company. You’d do well to seek accommodations elsewhere.”

Nick appeared undaunted. “In case you haven’t noticed, few plantations in the area are fit for occupation.”

“Whose fault is that?” Aimee snorted sarcastically. “You’ve taken our men, left our children orphans, destroyed our homes, and expect to be welcomed with opened arms. Get off my land, Captain.”

“The name is Drummond, in case you’ve forgotten. Nick Drummond. I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with us until such a time as we’re ordered to move on. The decision to occupy Tall Oaks was decided by those in higher authority than myself.”

“You havin’ trouble with dese no-good Yankee devils, honey?” Savannah materialized from a nearby hallway, brandishing a shotgun. She had used the weapon more than once in staunch defense of her mistress since the war had started, and she was prepared to use it again.

Nick glanced at the once substantial black woman whose flesh now hung in loose folds. “No one will be harmed,” Nick assured her, “as long as everyone cooperates. We’re occupying the plantation until further notice. See that two rooms are prepared for Lieutenant Dill and myself.”

“How dare you come in here and take over my household!” Aimee bristled indignantly, furious at Nick for issuing orders as if he owned her. “Your president freed the slaves long ago. Savannah is my companion. She was freed even before that.”

“My error,” Nick said with a hint of sarcasm. “Then
you
may see to our rooms. And our supper.”

“Like hell! I don’t grovel before damn Yankees.”

“Supper!” Savannah snorted in obvious disgust.
“Ain’t no food in dis house. Not for no Yankees. Brand gets whatever we’s able to scrounge.”

Aimee blanched. “Savannah!” What if Nick demanded to see Brand? What if … No, she decided, men had no idea about children and their ages. He’d never suspect Brand belonged to anyone but her dead husband, Beauregard Trevor. Everyone thought the lovely young bride Beauregard Trevor had brought home with him from a visit to Memphis early in 1860 was a widow with a young child. Beau had wanted it that way, and that’s the way it had been. Beau couldn’t have loved Brand any more if he had been Beau’s own son.

Beauregard Trevor had fallen deeply in love with Aimee at first sight. They’d met by chance while he was visiting relatives in Memphis, where Aimee had fled when she learned she was expecting Nick’s child. With Savannah’s help she had sold all her possessions, which were few indeed, and left the city of her birth in shame. When she and Beau had met, Aimee had already given birth and was at her wits’ end. She had little money and no prospects for a job. Savannah did what she could to earn their keep, but it wasn’t enough to support three people. When Beau proposed, Aimee briefly considered letting him continue to believe, as her few acquaintances in Memphis did, that she was a widow. But Aimee was too honest for that kind of subterfuge. Instead she confessed everything, every sordid detail of her short-lived career as a gambler and the astonishing outcome. Beau was more understanding than she had a right to deserve after her reckless behavior.

Beau still wanted Aimee for his wife and gladly
accepted Brand as his own son. They lived together as husband and wife briefly and barely got to know each other before Beau went off to war in ’61, but during those short months Aimee couldn’t have asked for a better husband or father for her son. If she never found the passion she had hoped for, the blame was entirely hers. She deeply regretted not having been a more loving wife to Beau, though he had never complained, and when he was killed at Richmond in 1862, she was troubled by the thought that he never knew how very much she had appreciated him. Her consuming hatred for one man and preoccupation with a war kept her marriage from reaching its full potential. They had barely known each other before he left, never to return. There were many, many things for which she held Nick Drummond accountable.

Nick realized Brand must be Aimee’s son, and a jolt of jealousy shot through him. The thought of another man fathering a child with Aimee made him feel strangely uncomfortable. He had never forgotten the sweet innocence of her response, even though he knew it was all pretense. But another thought intruded upon his reverie. Both women implied there was no food in the house. He knew things were bad, but surely a plantation this size had food hoarded away somewhere. The thought that Aimee and her child were starving was shocking.

“You said there was nothing in the house to eat,” Nick probed gruffly. “Are you telling the truth or have you hidden away a cache of food someplace where it can’t be found?”

“I don’t lie,” Aimee said tiredly. “What we had was stolen long ago by Union soldiers, brigands,
and deserters who took great pleasure in leaving us nothing on which to survive. If not for Savannah …” Her sentence trailed off, leaving Nick furious enough to want to seek out those men who had made Aimee suffer.

“As long as I’m here, I’ll personally see that there is enough to eat in the house. Unless, of course, I learn that you’re lying to me.” He turned to Lieutenant Dill. “Lieutenant, send a detail of men immediately on a food-seeking expedition. I don’t care how they get it, just see that there’s food for the house and troops. Dispatch a messenger to the quartermaster. The army can’t very well let us starve.”

“Yes, sir.” Dill saluted smartly as he spun on his heel and left the foyer.

“I’ll return after I check on the men,” Nick told the two women. “I’d like a bath before supper.” He sketched a hasty bow and followed Dill out the door.

Savannah, with the shotgun hanging loosely in the crook of her arm, stared at him in astonishment. “Well, if dat don’t beat all! I ain’t gonna like all dem Yankees underfoot. Mr. Beau must be turnin’ in his grave. And dat captain, talkin’ jest like he owns de place. What we gonna do, honey?”

“What can we do?” Aimee said bitterly. “I suppose we’ll just have to exist the best we can until they leave. I for one intend to keep out of the captain’s way. And I don’t want him to see Brand if I can help it. No telling what kind of ideas he’ll put in the child’s head.”

Strange as it may seem, Aimee had never revealed to Savannah the name of Brand’s father.
And Savannah, thinking it was too painful for Aimee to discuss, never questioned her. It was enough for Savannah to know that the man had callously taken Aimee’s virginity without a thought for the consequences. Not that either of them ever regretted the joy Brand brought into their lives.

“I’ll do my best to keep Brand away from dem Yankees, honey, but you know what a curious little rascal he is. The only thing good about dis is dat maybe we’ll get enough to eat for a change. If de captain can be believed.”

“I wouldn’t put too much faith in the word of a Yankee.” Aimee’s voice was ripe with contempt as she turned away from Savannah. It wouldn’t do for her faithful friend to see just how deeply she had been affected by the reappearance of Captain Nick Drummond. “And don’t you dare do anything to those rooms upstairs. The Yanks will just have to put up with a little dust. Where is Brand?”

“I put de little scamp down for a nap. He didn’t give me too much trouble. He ain’t gettin’ enough food lately to keep up his energy level. I sure hope …” Savannah turned away, her shoulders drooping. She had done her best for Aimee and Brand, but it wasn’t enough. They were all teetering on the edge of starvation, with little hope for reprieve. In a way, having the Yankees occupy Tall Oaks was the best thing that could have happened. She wisely kept that observation to herself as she trailed Aimee up the long, curved staircase that had once been the pride of Tall Oaks, but like the rest of the house, had long since fallen into disrepair.

*     *     *

Nick surveyed with a jaundiced eye the elegant room he was to occupy during his stay at Tall Oaks. The room had definitely seen better days, but its faded elegance was undeniable. The featherbed looked comfortable enough despite the layer of dust covering it and the sparse furnishings. Nick couldn’t recall when he’d last slept in a real bed. The room boasted a fireplace but little furniture. Had marauders carried it off or had it been used as firewood during difficult times? He located a brass tub behind a screen and dragged it to the center of the room. Then he perched on the edge of the bed to removed his boots. When a knock sounded on the door, he called out permission to enter. The door swung open and Aimee appeared, her lips turned down into a scowl. “Your bathwater is heated.”

“Is there no one available to do the heavy chores?” Nick asked, frowning. Aimee looked so fragile, he didn’t want her performing the arduous task of carrying buckets of water up the stairs. He hadn’t meant to be unreasonable when he had requested a bath earlier, he just thought …

“Just Savannah, and she isn’t as young as I am.”

“I’ll assign a man to help with the chores.”

“There’s no need,” Aimee said tightly. “We’ll manage.” She didn’t want to be beholden to Nick Drummond for anything.