by Connie Mason
Dill smiled. “Same as you. I fell at Jonesboro and had Sergeant Jones bring me here.”
“I had no idea Aimee was nursing two invalids.” His admiration for her escalated by leaps and bounds. Not that he wasn’t already utterly besotted by her. “Thank God your wound isn’t serious.”
“I fully expect to join the war again soon, if it isn’t over before I return. Have you heard? Atlanta has fallen and Sherman has vowed to march to the sea. The end is in sight.”
“No, I didn’t know. I fell before I learned what happened in Atlanta.”
“I doubt you’ll have to worry about the war, Captain. Your wound is serious; you’ll be shipped north to recuperate. Captain Birch said he would inform headquarters that we are at Tall Oaks, and I assume someone will come for us soon.”
Dill left shortly afterward, shooed away by Aimee, who had cautioned him about remaining overlong and tiring Nick.
The sun playing hide-and-seek through the leaves of the huge oak tree on the front lawn made dappled shadows on the porch steps. Nick sat in a dilapidated rocker on the wide veranda, enjoying the fresh air and waning days of summer. A week had slipped past since Nick opened his eyes and was welcomed back to the world by Aimee and Brand. Since then his slow but steady progress had heartened Aimee. He was able now to descend the stairs with her help and walk to the porch. He was still weak and would require many weeks of rest and care for his lung to heal properly, but he was well on his way to a full recovery.
Aimee appeared on the porch, and Nick smiled at her. “Sit beside me.”
“I’d think you’d be tired of seeing so much of me,” Aimee teased.
“Never. Aimee, I’ll always be grateful to you.”
“There’s no need, Nick; I couldn’t let you die. No more than I could turn Lieutenant Dill away when he needed help.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you no longer hated me.”
Aimee grew quiet. Her voice was barely audible when she said, “I never hated you, though Lord knows I tried.”
“You could have fooled me. I wasn’t exactly endearing. I hope you believed me when I told you I never realized you were a virgin that first time I took you aboard the Dixie Belle. And I did try to look for you afterward, but you had disappeared from the face of the earth. I truly believe it was fate that brought us together again.”
“I—I’ve forgiven you for that night on the Dixie Belle.”
“And for taking you against your will during the time I was at Tall Oaks? I wanted you fiercely, sweetheart. So fiercely I made you believe I’d send you to prison if you didn’t let me make love to you.”
“I hated you for that.”
“Is that why you ran away from Tall Oaks?”
“That’s one of the reasons. But nevertheless, I enjoyed making love with you. But in truth, I really don’t hate you. I still don’t like the idea that you are a Yankee, but I can no longer find it in my heart to hate you.”
“What do you feel for me, Aimee?”
Aimee wasn’t ready to admit yet what was truly in her heart. She had to be certain first how Nick intended to use the information. If he was fishing for an admission that Brand was his son, he’d have to wait until he proved he wasn’t interested in taking Brand from her.
“You know I care for you—otherwise I wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to find you on the battlefield.”
“You care for your pet, or a friend. I hoped for more than that.”
“I’m sorry, Nick, I—I’m not prepared yet to give you more than that.”
“I don’t believe you, Aimee, but for now I won’t press you. What I truly want is for you to tell me the truth about Brand. By now you must surely realize that I have reason to suspect he’s my son, conceived that night aboard the Dixie Belle.”
Conflicting emotions warred inside Aimee. She wanted to blurt out the truth, to admit that Nick was Brand’s father, but the burden of not knowing how Nick would use that information was too great. For now it was enough that she considered telling him in the near future.
“Nick, I—” Her words were cut off when Brand came running from the house and perched beside Nick’s chair.
“How are you feeling, Nick?” he asked cheerfully.
“Better, now that you’re here,” Nick replied, meaning every word. A bond had been established between him and Brand. A bond that would never have been severed no matter whose son Brand was. Couldn’t Aimee understand that? But if Brand was his son, he wanted to be responsible for him, provide for him, raise him to be a Drummond.
“I’ll leave you two,” Aimee said, grateful to be relieved of answering Nick’s query. One day she’d be ready to admit the truth, but not yet, not before she had Nick’s promise that he wouldn’t take Brand from her.
Aimee’s biggest worry during the following days was the swift depletion of provisions. The flow of Confederate soldiers stopping at Tall Oaks had ceased, but Aimee had generously shared their food until little remained. The supplies that Dr. Bellows had sent home with her were nearly gone, and she wondered how she would feed Nick, Brand, and Lieutenant Dill.
Dill took some of the burden from her when he proclaimed himself well enough to rejoin the war. Three weeks after he had been brought to Tall Oaks suffering from a bullet wound, he left for Atlanta. He still limped somewhat, but the wound had healed sufficiently for him to ride.
Unfortunately his leaving did little to alleviate the shortage of food. Aimee and Savannah barely touched what they prepared, leaving most of it for Brand and Nick. Nick made amazing progress. He was now able to walk completely around the house before shortness of breath forced him back to bed. Finally one night, he asked Aimee to sleep in the bed beside him, but she promptly refused.
“Nick! You can’t believe you’re well enough for—that!”
“I merely want you beside me, sweetheart. Is that asking too much?”
“Much too much,” Aimee said adamantly.
“Please, Aimee, I’ll rest much easier with you beside me. Besides, we have no idea when someone will come to take me to Atlanta.”
That was true. Aimee was surprised no one had showed up yet to escort Nick to a hospital in Atlanta. For him the war was all but over, and they both knew it. Once in Atlanta, he would be promptly shipped north to recuperate. That might well mean they would never see each other again. It was that thought that finally made her give in to his demand.
Careful of his wound, Aimee slipped into bed beside him. Brand was already asleep, and Savannah had merely stared at her in disapproval when she told the former slave she would be spending the night with Nick. To make certain Brand wouldn’t burst in on them in the morning, Aimee carefully latched the door to Nick’s room. Nick’s arms went around her immediately. It felt wonderful. She snuggled down comfortably, perfectly satisfied to spend the night in companionable closeness. She closed her eyes, willing her body into slumber. She was nearly asleep when she felt Nick’s hand stroking her breasts.
Her eyes flew open and she flipped over to look at him. “Nick, you’re in no condition for this.”
“I’m not going to do anything, sweetheart,” he promised. Concealed by the darkness, the green devil in his eyes danced with wicked delight. Satisfied, Aimee settled back down. When Nick’s hand slid down to her stomach, she quivered in anticipation of his next move. She knew she would never allow him to make love to her, but it had been so long since she had felt his hands on her that she savored the caress.
“Take off your nightgown, sweetheart; I want to feel you naked next to me.”
“I don’t—”
Even as she spoke, he inched the nightgown upward over her breasts and held it there until she raised her arms so that he could lift it off. “There, that’s better. I wish you’d left the lamp burning.” As it was, he had to be satisfied with the pale moonbeams bathing her body in shades of silver and gold.
When his hand slid down between her thighs, Aimee gasped and said, “What are you doing?”
“No, Nick, it’s not necessary; my pleasure can wait until you are well.”
“Let me do this for you, sweetheart.” His finger eased inside her, and her protest was lost as he carefully raised himself above her and kissed her hungrily. “I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I opened my eyes and saw you bending over me in the field hospital.”
He kissed the damp corners of her mouth, her ears, her chin, the sensitive hollow of her throat. Though he hadn’t his usual stamina, he still had the power to turn her insides to mush.
“You’ll hurt yourself,” Aimee said, fearing he’d do himself irreparable damage.
“Don’t fret over me; just lie back and let me love you. There are many ways to love a woman, and I promise this won’t hurt me in the least.”
His mouth continued downward to the tips of her breasts. Taking the throbbing peaks in his mouth, he suckled her as he were a babe, taking great pleasure in her response. Another finger slid inside her while his thumb massaged the tiny bud of femininity nestled within tender folds of moist flesh.
“Nick!”
“Do you like that, sweetheart? Don’t hold back; enjoy what I can do for you.”
“But you—”
“Don’t worry about me; it makes me happy to give you pleasure.”
His fingers slid deeper, stretching her as he worked them inside her. He felt her wetness against his fingers as they slid effortlessly in and out. The rhythm of his thumb and thrust of his fingers drove her higher and higher, until she was gasping for breath, until stars filled the room and she soared to reach them, until she shattered into a million pieces and cried out with the force of her climax; Nick didn’t remove his fingers until she lay quiescent beneath his stroking.
“Go to sleep, sweetheart. Dream of the day I’ll join you in that world where I’ve just taken you. Maybe one day soon you’ll learn I mean you no harm, and tell me the truth about Brand.”
His words fell uselessly into the darkness. Aimee was already asleep.
Chapter 13
Two days later, visitors arrived at Tall Oaks. It was midafternoon. Nick and Brand were both napping. Aimee was in the garden scrabbling in the dirt for the last of the potatoes and beets, and Savannah was in the kitchen lamenting the lack of fresh meat She had shot a rabbit yesterday, but it was small and had already been consumed. Today’s dinner was to be a meatless stew of whatever vegetables Aimee was able to scrounge from the garden. If they had money, Savannah thought glumly, she could hitch the old swayback horse to the wagon and ride to Atlanta. But chances were food wasn’t any more obtainable in the city than here at Tall Oaks, with or without money.
Savannah heard the riders first. She rushed to the back door, warning Aimee. Grabbing the shotgun and handgun kept always in readiness, Savannah joined Aimee, and together they walked around to the front About a dozen mounted men rode down the driveway. They wore blue uniforms. Aimee watched in dread as they halted a few feet away. No officer was among them, the highest-ranking man being a sergeant Were they sent to fetch Nick? she wondered, somehow doubting it. If they had been sent from Atlanta, they should have known Nick couldn’t have ridden a horse after sustaining such a serious wound.
“Are you the owner of this here plantation?” the sergeant asked. He stared down at her from the height of his mount, eyes narrowed, grinning at her with slow relish. Aimee cringed at the way he was undressing her with his eyes.
“I’m Mrs. Trevor,” Aimee said. “What is it you want?”
“We’ve orders to burn everything left standing. I reckon that includes this here house. You have five minutes to get your family out.”
“No, wait!” Aimee cried. “You can’t do that. There’s a Union officer upstairs recovering from a serious wound.”
He hacked and spat with a crudeness that disgusted Aimee. “You expect me to believe that?” He turned to his men ranged behind him. “All right, boys, hop to it.”
The men dismounted. One produced torches from a canvas bag while another lit them with a sulfur match. “You’ve been warned, lady; you’d best get your family out of the house.”
Her eyes blazing defiance, Aimee raised the shotgun while Savannah took aim with the pistol. “Move and you’re dead. There’s a small child inside the house, and one of your own captains. No one is going to fire Tall Oaks.”
The sergeant grinned malevolently. “Says who? Maybe we’ll have a little fun with you after we’re through since you’re so disagreeable.” Then he lunged, catching the shotgun by the barrel and shoving it aside. It discharged harmlessly into the air. Savannah suffered the same fate. But Aimee’s shot succeeded in awakening Nick.
“Maybe we’ll have fun first and fire the house later,” the sergeant said as he grasped Aimee and held her immobile against him. The feel of her soft body prompted another more urgent need. Several of his men nodded avid agreement
“Don’t touch dat chile!” Savannah shouted as she struggled with her captor. She was rewarded with a clout to the head that knocked her senseless.
“Savannah!” Aimee was terrified when Savannah fell to the ground. Even if Nick had been awakened by the commotion, what could one man do against so many?
“She ain’t hurt none, lady,” the sergeant said. “And neither will you be hurt if you give us what we want. You sure are soft.” His huge hands kneaded her breasts, then moved lower to probe her belly.
“Take your filthy hands off her.”
A dozen heads turned toward the voice. Nick stood in the doorway, pistol drawn, his expression fierce. Somehow he had put on his uniform, and only Aimee realized what the effort must have cost him.
“Who in the hell are you?”
“Captain Nicholas Drummond, Federal army. Who are you?”
“Sergeant Wayne Purdy, Federal army. How do I know you’re telling the truth? You could have stolen the uniform off a dead soldier.”
“Unless you want to face a court-martial, I suggest you and your men withdraw. Mrs. Trevor has given succor to wounded Federal officers and doesn’t deserve to have her home burned.”
“Orders are orders, Captain, if that’s what you are. We’re to leave nothing standing. Sherman believes that before the war can be won, the spirit of the people must be broken, and that means burning their homes and crops.”
“Not this home, Sergeant Purdy. I have orders in my chest upstairs preserving this house from destruction as long as it’s occupied by Union troops.”
“I don’t see no troops,” Purdy said sullenly.
“What do you think I am?” Nick returned coolly. His face was drawn and ashen, and Aimee feared he’d collapse before he could persuade the soldiers to leave.
“Aimee,” Nick continued. His voice was strong even though she knew his energy must be depleted. “Go upstairs and bring down the orders I mentioned to Sergeant Purdy. They’re in my chest in a leather pouch.”
Purdy made no objection when Aimee sidled around him and scurried inside the house to do Nick’s bidding. The man might doubt Nick’s claim, but obviously he had enough sense to look at the proof. Disobeying an officer was no light offense, and harming one was enough to send him before a firing squad.
Aimee returned a few minutes later, having found the pouch with the orders. Nick removed them and handed them to Purdy. “You can read, can’t you?” Nick asked disparagingly.
Purdy slid Nick a baleful glance, then frowned in concentration as he perused the orders. Truth to tell, his education was sadly lacking, but he could make out enough words to know that Nick had been telling the truth. Tall Oaks plantation was to be spared the torch. At least as long as troops were still in residence. Whether or not one man constituted a troop was debatable, but Purdy decided not to force the issue.
“If you’re really Captain Drummond, I’m sorry for doubting you,” Purdy said, not entirely convinced.
It wasn’t so much the burning of the plantation
, but Purdy sure as hell wanted the woman. He and his men could easily overpower the man claiming to be a Union officer, but it was bound to come out sooner or later that he and his men had harmed an officer. Purdy planned on a career in the army, and one little incident like this could destroy that career. The woman wasn’t worth his hide.
Nick leaned against the doorjamb, at the end of his tether. Beads of cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and he fought desperately to conceal the weakness that was slowly draining his body of what little energy remained. Only Aimee recognized Nick’s struggle to remain upright and in control. One inkling of weakness and the men confronting him might decide to challenge him.
“I suggest you mount up and ride out,” Nick said tightly. “When you return to Atlanta, you can mention my name at headquarters and I’m certain they’ll confirm my identity.”
“Yeah, well, maybe we made a mistake,” Purdy acknowledged, shifting uncomfortably.
“Tell them I’m recovering from my wound as well as can be expected,” Nick added for good measure.
The moment they mounted up, Aimee was on her knees beside Savannah, who was just beginning to stir. There was a knot the size of an egg on her forehead, but otherwise she appeared unhurt. Aimee helped her to her feet and steadied her as the men mounted and rode away.
“I’m all right, honey,” Savannah said groggily. “Are dey gone?”
“Nick convinced them to leave,” Aimee replied. She glanced over at Nick and gasped in alarm. “Nick!”
His head was bowed, the gun held loosely in his fingers, his arm extended downward as if he could no longer bear the weight. His body was slumped against the doorjamb and he was perspiring profusely. “I’m all right, Aimee; just let me rest here a moment.” She watched fearfully as he slowly fought for control of his weakened body. She breathed a sigh of relief when, after several moments, he pushed himself away from the doorjamb.