Surrender to the Fury

by Connie Mason

  Nick guided Scout back to the road, seeing no need to keep to the woods, where the going was much rougher and slower. With any luck they’d be back at Tall Oaks not too long after nightfall. But as luck would have it, rain began to fall shortly before darkness arrived, forcing them to seek shelter. Aimee mentioned their proximity to the Pinder plantation, where she, Brand, and Savannah had spent one night, and Nick wheeled Scout in that direction. They sheltered that night in the ruins of the ramshackle stable. Aimee didn’t protest when Nick pulled her shivering form into his arms, where she warmed immediately.

  “Go to sleep, sweetheart; you must be exhausted.”

  She was. But not too exhausted. “Nick, what do you really want from me?” she asked.

  His eyes glowed a brilliant green. Devil’s eyes. “You, Aimee, I want you.”

  They reached Tall Oaks at noon the next day. The camp was in an uproar. Lieutenant Dill was the first to reach them.

  “Thank God you’ve returned. I was about to organize a search party. We’ve received orders from headquarters.”

  Nick dismounted first, then reached up to lift Aimee from the saddle. “What kind of orders?”

  “We’re moving out.”

  Nick was instantly alert. “We’re leaving Tall Oaks? What is our destination?”

  Dill gave Aimee a wary glance. Nick realized immediately that Dill no longer entirely trusted Aimee. “I imagine Brand is waiting anxiously to see his mother, Aimee. Why don’t you go to him?”

  Aimee couldn’t blame either man for distrusting her, but it hurt to be held in such blatant contempt by a Yankee. On her way to the house, she passed Sergeant Jones. He said nothing, merely giving her a scathing look that spoke volumes. After all, she had drugged him and the other men left behind to guard her. She tried to ignore the sour looks cast her way as she hurried into the house.

  Brand was still a sick little boy, but it was obvious he was going to recover. She entered his sickroom to find Savannah hovering over him. When she approached the bed, he perked up immediately.

  “Mama!” He held out his arms. “Where were you? I told Captain Drummond you knew how to make me well. I’m so glad he found you.”

  “I’m glad, too, darling,” Aimee said, meaning every word. How could she have ever thought that leaving Brand with Nick would solve anything? She must have been desperate as well as foolish to send him back to Tall Oaks without her.

  “I hope you done learned your lesson,” Savannah grumbled. “Captain Drummond was mad as a wet hen when he learned you were gone. He wanted to look for you right away, but he wouldn’t leave until he knew what was wrong with Brand. He loves dat chile like he was his own.”

  “Savannah! Watch your tongue.”

  “Well, it’s true,” Savannah said sullenly. “And you’d realize it if you wasn’t so darn stubborn. I don’t think de man means you any harm, honey. Why not tell him?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aimee insisted. She turned back to her son, discouraging further conversation.

  “Mama, did Captain Drummond bring you back?”

  “Yes, darling, he did.”

  Brand managed a weak smile. His face was covered with so many red spots, he looked like a painted clown. “I itch, Mama.”

  “I’ll have Savannah mix a paste of baking soda and water to spread on your skin. That should stop the itching. Meanwhile, try not to scratch, darling.”

  “I want to see Captain Drummond.”

  Aimee’s mouth turned down into a frown. “I’m sure he has better things to do than amuse a sick child.”

  “Don’t put words into my mouth, Aimee.” Nick strode into the room in time to hear Aimee’s remark.

  “I’ll go get dat bakin’ soda,” Savannah said. She scurried from the room, unwilling to become a party to the tension crackling between Nick and Aimee.

  “How are you feeling, Brand?” Nick asked as he approached the child’s sickbed.

  “Not too bad, sir.” His voice quivered from the sickness that still ravaged his body.

  “Your mother is here now; she’ll take care of you.”

  His words sounded too much like a farewell to Brand. “Are you leaving, sir?”

  Nick was amazed at the child’s astuteness. “Yes, Brand, I’ll be leaving soon, but I want you to concentrate on getting well.”

  Brand appeared on the verge of tears. “I’ll try, sir. Will you come back?”

  “You have my promise, son, that I’ll return.” He looked straight at Aimee when he spoke. “It may not be until after the war, but I will come back to Tall Oaks.”

  “Don’t make promises you have no intention of keeping,” Aimee hissed.

  “I always keep my word.” There was no flicker of emotion in his cool green eyes, only the confidence of a man who knew what he wanted. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have some dispatches to read.”

  Lieutenant Dill awaited Nick in the study. “The orders arrived just this morning,” Dill said, handing the packet of official papers to Nick. Nick opened them immediately and scanned the contents.

  “We’re to join part of Sherman’s army at Jonesboro, south of Atlanta,” Nick said slowly. “It’s the junction of four important railroads, and their capture is vital to the defeat of the Confederacy. General Sherman believes that once the railroads are disabled, disrupting the flow of supplies and arms, the fall of Atlanta and other major cities will quickly follow.”

  “When do we leave?” Dill asked.

  “At dawn tomorrow. The attack is set for August thirtieth. We’ll just have enough time to meet up with the main army before the skirmish begins. While we’re attacking Jonesboro, another flank of Sherman’s army will surround Atlanta and force the Rebs to surrender the city.”

  “The end is near, isn’t it, sir?”

  “God help the South, Lieutenant, for I fear the end is very near. Not only the end of the war but of an entire way of life. See that the camp is dismantled in orderly fashion and prepare for our departure at dawn. I want all our spare supplies left behind for Mrs. Trevor.”

  It was very late when Aimee tiptoed down the stairs. She knew Nick was leaving Tall Oaks, but knew no other details. She hadn’t seen him since that scene in Brand’s bedroom. Nor had she heard his footsteps pass her room. When she reached the study, she noted the light shining from the space beneath the door. She didn’t bother knocking but turned the knob and entered on silent footsteps. Nick was bending over a map, deep in thought. Yet somehow he sensed her presence and looked up.

  “Come in, Aimee.”

  “Is it true? Are you really leaving?”

  She wore a flowing white gown that revealed more than it concealed. Nick nearly lost his train of thought when he recalled every vivid detail of her lush body beneath the thin cloth.

  “Dare I hope you’ll miss me?”

  She deliberately ignored the question. “Will there be a battle?”

  “That’s something I’m not allowed to divulge.”

  “What will become of me when you leave? Will someone arrive to take me to prison?”

  “Is that what you fear? Being taken to prison?”

  “Brand needs me.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “If you have any compassion in your soul, you’ll let me remain at Tall Oaks. I’m not a spy; I’m no longer any danger to the Yanks.”

  “I’m well aware of that also. Is that why you’re here, to persuade me to let you stay at Tall Oaks?”

  “I know the condition of my release. I was to remain in your custody until you leave Tall Oaks. But nothing was said about what happens to me when you leave.”

  “Nothing happens to you, Aimee. By now no one will have remembered your name. I’ve already convinced the colonel you are no longer a threat to security. I never intended that you should go to prison.”

  “You never …” Aimee’s temper flared. “You bastard! You led me to believe I’d be sent to prison if I didn’t become your—your—”

&n
bsp; “Lover.”

  “—whore.”

  “Aimee, I meant what I said about returning after the war. There’s too much between us for us to consider parting without ever seeing one another again. We share too many memories. Then there’s Brand. I know you’re reluctant to admit it, but in my heart I feel as if Brand could be my own son.”

  “No! Don’t even think such a thing! Brand is Beau’s son.”

  “I don’t have time to argue about it now, but one day I’ll learn the truth. If it turns out that Brand belongs to me, you can damn well believe I’ll want to raise my own son.”

  Aimee froze, all her fears returning. If Nick knew Brand was his son, he’d take him away from her. He recognized her terror and was puzzled by it. Did she hate him so much she’d refuse to marry him so they could raise their son together? Unable to face the prospect of losing her child, Aimee turned to flee.

  “Aimee, wait!” He caught her at the door. “There’s a good chance I won’t survive the battle. I’ve made a new will. It’s in the desk drawer. In the event of my death, take it to my lawyer in Chicago; his name is on the envelope.”

  “I care nothing for your will.” The thought of his death was too painful to contemplate.

  “Nevertheless, I want your promise you’ll see that my will reaches my lawyer.”

  “I—very well.” She stared at him, wanting to throw herself into his arms, beg him to love her, tell him that Brand was his son. But she feared the consequences. He’d made her his whore, stolen her heart, and she vowed he’d not have her son.

  “Is that all, sweetheart? No tender good-bye, no words of remorse should I die in battle?”

  “I don’t wish your death, Nick.” Her words were spoken with such profound conviction, Nick believed her.

  “Then kiss me, sweetheart. Kiss me for all those wasted years before we found one another again; kiss me and make me believe you really care what happens to me.”

  She stared at his mouth, at those full, sensual lips that gave her such pleasure. He waited. Then slowly, oh so slowly, she leaned forward, touching her lips to his. The shock of their meeting sent a tingle down her spine. She memorized the contours of his lips with her tongue, savoring his taste, committing it to her memory to last a lifetime.

  A long, agonized groan sounded from Nick’s throat as his control snapped. He seized Aimee, dragging her against the solid wall of his chest. He returned her kiss with all the fervor in his huge body, crushing her against him, the heat of him scorching her through the thin material of her gown. Scooping her into his arms, he flung the door open with his foot and took the steps two at a time. When he reached her room, he flung her on the bed, too aroused to bother with clothes. He released himself, shoved her skirt over her hips, and drove himself into her. Surrendering to his fury, Aimee cried out and lurched upward to meet his thrusts.

  He was gone the next morning before she awoke.

  Chapter 11

  Two days after Nick and his Federal soldiers left Tall Oaks, the ominous thunder of cannon could be heard rumbling over the countryside. For Aimee it meant only one thing. The battle for Atlanta had begun in earnest. Sherman was determined to drive the Rebs from that city, and his march was sweeping through the area, taking everything in its path. She prayed that since Nick was no longer at Tall Oaks to protect it from destruction by Union soldiers, those invading forces would be occupied elsewhere and her home considered too trivial to bother with.

  As for Nick, she realized now that he had been ordered to join the battle for Atlanta and may even now be lying dead. That horrible thought sent a shudder of dread through her body. She didn’t wish Nick dead. She only wanted him to leave her son alone. She felt burdened by a tremendous guilt for not telling Nick the truth about Brand at a time when his life was in jeopardy. A man had a right to know he had fathered a child, yet deep down the fear that she might lose Brand kept her from admitting the truth even when Nick pressed her.

  Nick said he would return, and she didn’t doubt for a moment that he would, if only to plague her with questions she didn’t want to answer. He’d as much as said that he expected to raise his own child. If he learned that Brand was his son, it would threaten her very existence. Where did that leave her? Aimee wondered dismally. Not once had she heard the word “love.” He made love to her as if he truly cared for her, but nothing was said of marriage. At least a marriage between them would allow them both to raise Brand.

  But you hate Nick Drummond, a little voice whispered.

  Aimee made a derisive sound deep in her throat. How could she hate a man, yet love him to distraction? How could she yearn desperately for his touch yet despise him?

  When had her hatred turned to love?

  In the final days of August 1864, stragglers began showing up at Tall Oaks. All were Rebs evacuating the city with General Hood’s army. Some were wounded, some merely dazed by the three-pronged attack waged by Sherman’s army against the railroads and the city, and some were just plain tired of death and destruction. Most came in search of water and food on their way to an unknown point to regroup to fight another day. Yet nearly every man Aimee spoke with seemed convinced that the South was doomed. After conversation with a Reb captain and his aide, Aimee learned just how far the South had sunk in its battle to remain a separate unity. She also had some vague idea where Nick had been sent to fight.

  “The battlefield is littered with dead,” Captain Feldon said when questioned by Aimee. The faraway look in his nearly expressionless blue eyes frightened Aimee. His face was as gray as his tattered uniform, and he appeared weary beyond endurance.

  “Is the Confederate army in retreat?” Aimee asked.

  “Sherman withdrew his entire army from the trenches surrounding Atlanta and moved against the railroads at Jonesboro,” Feldon replied in a voice fraught with anguish. “The day still could have been saved if General Hood, who replaced General Johnson, knew what was happening. But Hood thought Sherman was retreating north. The Federals could have been routed if Hood had attacked while they were changing positions.

  “But it wasn’t until Sherman sliced across one railroad and on to another that Hood learned where the Federals were. Hood sent two corps south to stop the Federals. Losses were heavy and the attack unsuccessful. The next day Sherman counterattacked and mauled us dreadfully. To avoid being cut off and trapped, Hood ordered Atlanta evacuated.”

  “Were casualties heavy on both sides?”

  “The casualties were severe at both Atlanta and Jonesboro, but Confederate forces suffered the greater loss. I heard Atlanta was set on fire and a large part of it burned. Most of the civilians had already left, but the military casualties were enormous. Both Confederate and Union soldiers lay dead or dying in the streets.”

  After partaking of the food and drink she offered, Captain Feldon and his aide continued on their way, leaving Aimee deep in thought. Was Nick at Jonesboro or Atlanta? Was he dead or alive? She was unable to dispel the feeling of dread that lingered in her heart.

  Brand recovered from his bout with measles and, for some unexplained reason, spent hours each day sitting on the porch staring down the long driveway toward the main road. When Aimee asked him what he was looking for, his response startled her.

  “I’m watching for Captain Drummond, Mama. He promised he’d return. You don’t suppose anything happened to him, do you?”

  Aimee was at a loss for words. She knew Brand was fond of Nick, but when had the Yank come to mean so much to her son? Though they were joined by the common bond of blood, she had no idea Brand would recognize those ties. If Nick perished in the war, Brand would have been denied his natural father as well as his surrogate father. Nothing in life was fair.

  On the second day of September, Brand, perched on the porch railing, spied a wagon moving slowly down the driveway. “Mama, someone’s coming!”

  Assuming it was more refugees from Atlanta, Aimee joined Brand on the porch. The food Nick had left was nearly gone, and she worried that s
he had nothing but water to offer the poor men stopping by for rest and nourishment. What little was left must necessarily be conserved for Brand.

  When the wagon ground to a halt, Aimee was surprised to see it driven by a Federal soldier. Until now, everyone who had stopped by had been a Reb. Then she recognized Sergeant Jones, and her heart thumped furiously. Was it Nick? Had Sergeant Jones brought back Nick’s dead body? She was running toward the wagon before it stopped.

  “What is it, Sergeant Jones? Is it Captain Drummond?”

  “No, ma’am,” Jones said, refusing to look her in the eye. “It’s Lieutenant Dill. Took a bullet at Jonesboro. The makeshift field hospital is so crowded, I brought him here. It’s not serious, but I feared gangrene would set in if the bullet isn’t taken out soon.”

  “Bring him inside,” Aimee ordered crisply. “Put him in his old room upstairs. I’m no doctor, but between Savannah and myself, we should be able to get the bullet out. Where was he hit?”

  “Left thigh. He lost a lot of blood, but I got it nearly stopped.”

  Dill groaned as Jones lifted him out of the wagon. “I’m sorry to be a burden, Mrs. Trevor, but I was afraid I’d lose my leg if I lay on the ground until the doctors could get around to me.”

  “It’s all right, Lieutenant. A wounded man is a wounded man no matter the color of his uniform.” To Jones she said, “Get his clothes off while I help Savannah assemble the things we’ll need to extract the bullet.”

  “Have you seen Captain Drummond?” Brand asked. His small voice startled Aimee, who had forgotten he was there as she took charge of the situation. But now she turned to Jones, waiting breathlessly for his answer. She had wanted to ask the same question the moment she saw Sergeant Jones.