by Nan Ryan
Her face flushing at the vivid recollection of their wild afternoon of lovemaking, she smiled at him and said, “You’re just in time. Dinner’s almost ready.”
Mitch glanced at her coldly and shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”
Suzanna’s smile slipped. Her heart sank. He was not going to stay. He didn’t want to sit across the dinner table from her. He had spent the afternoon in her bed, but refused to spend another minute in her company.
Mitch walked right past her, heading for the front door. He stepped outside and left without saying good-night. Suzanna took a long, slow breath and told herself not to despair. He would come around in time.
He had to.
* * *
Their heated physical affair continued throughout the long hot summer. Suzanna made herself available to Mitch anytime he wanted her, hoping that in so doing she could eventually break down his defenses and make him fall in love with her again.
Mitch’s desire for her never diminished. He wanted her often and she willingly gave herself to him. But when they were not making love, he would have nothing to do with her. He never once spent the entire night with her. He refused to share a meal with her. Or take a walk on the beach. Or go for a horseback ride. Or have any kind of human contact, save for the raw, uninhibited sex.
Suzanna made the best of it. She was never demanding, never begged or pleaded. Never scolded or nagged. Never threatened or sobbed. She was cheerful and accommodating at all times, and made it a point to never be away from the house if there was the slightest possibility he might show up.
When she was certain he would not be coming to see her—or if he had just left—Suzanna would hurry into the village to visit with the two little girls she had come to adore, Beth and Belinda Griggs. The young sisters were always delighted to see her, and were not ashamed to show it. They never failed to throw their short arms around her neck and squeeze with all their might. Suzanna loved it. She would laugh merrily and bask in the warmth of their open and honest affection.
When she was in Mitch’s arms, Suzanna repeatedly professed her love for him, determined that she, too, would be as open and honest as a child in an all-out effort to melt his hardened heart. But her sincere declarations fell on deaf ears. Mitch would not listen. He didn’t want to hear it. No matter how hard she tried, she could not seem to change the way he felt about her.
She had shared incredible ecstasy with his body, but his heart remained untouched.
* * *
September was just around the corner.
Empty trunks and valises sat in the center of the drawing room, ready to be filled with her possessions. Martha was to start the packing at the beginning of next week.
Mitch noticed the luggage when he stepped into the foyer on a sweltering, late August evening, but he didn’t comment. His expression didn’t change one whit. And Suzanna once again experienced that awful sinking feeling that had become so much a part of her this summer.
Mitch didn’t care. It was that simple. He saw the trunks and he knew she was going to leave, but he didn’t care. Which was exactly why she had to go.
Suzanna looked into his eyes, hoping to see some unguarded sign, some small signal that he did care a little. But she saw only lust, so she gave him what he had come here for. Holding his gaze, she untied the sash of the robe she was wearing and let it slide down off her arms.
When she was naked, Mitch immediately reached for her. He put a hand into her hair, gripped the thick locks, bent his head and aggressively kissed her. He swung her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. He laid her on the bed, quickly undressed and joined her there.
An hour later he left, having never spoken a word.
Forty-Eight
Suzanna was dressing to go into the village when it happened. She stopped brushing her hair in midstroke. She shivered, despite the heat of the August morning.
It hadn’t happened in years, that strange, unsettling feeling that sometimes came over her. The strong premonition of danger. A sense of fear she couldn’t account for. The kind of terrible awareness like what she had experienced on that fateful day she’d learned that Ty and Matthew had been killed.
Her hand shaking, Suzanna laid the hairbrush down and rose to her feet. Her pulse was pounding, her heart racing. Something was wrong. Something bad was going to happen. Or had already happened. She knew it. But she didn’t know what. Or to whom.
There was no doubt in her mind that something terrible had occurred or was about to occur. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.
With effort, Suzanna collected herself. She grabbed up a straw bonnet and went downstairs and out of the house. Old John Tillman was waiting to drive her into the village.
“Mornin’, John,” she greeted the old caretaker. “How are you today?”
“Jes’ fine, Miz Clements, and you?”
“Martha? Is Martha well?”
“Yes’m, she’s fine, too.”
Suzanna nodded and climbed into the carriage. She made pleasant small talk with the old servant despite her distress. As soon as they reached the village, she was out of the carriage. She went immediately to the Griggses’ fruit stand to see Belinda and Beth.
To her dismay, the little stand was closed down. No one was there. Her anxiety swiftly increasing, Suzanna turned and went directly to Meadows’ Emporium.
“The Griggses?” she said to Caleb Meadows, the proprietor. “Mrs. Griggs and the children, they aren’t at their fruit stand.”
Caleb nodded. “The little girls are sick, is how I heard it.”
“No!” Suzanna said, cold fear gripping her heart. “Do you know where they live?”
He nodded and gave her directions. Minutes later Suzanna knocked on the frame of an open door to a wood shanty that sat on the edge of an orchard. Mrs. Griggs came to the door, looking haggard and worried.
“My little girls,” she said without preamble. “They’re both real sick, Mrs. Clements.”
“I’m here to help,” Suzanna stated and stepped inside the modest, but clean, dwelling.
The two little girls were indeed quite ill. Both were running a high fever. Kneeling on the floor beside their pallets, Suzanna said over her shoulder, “Has the doctor been here?”
“No,” said the worried mother.
Suzanna shot to her feet. “I’ll go get him.” She patted the woman’s thin shoulder. “Don’t worry, everything is going to be all right.”
* * *
Suzanna spent every waking hour of the next seventy-two helping care for the sick little girls. Holding them in her arms. Rocking them gently. Pressing damp cloths to their burning faces.
When both finally rallied on the third day, she accepted their mother’s gratitude and went home, dead tired but greatly relieved.
Certain the sisters’ illness had been the cause of her frightening premonition, Suzanna gave in to a nagging headache and went to bed early. But at midnight she was awakened by a knock on the door. She knew it was Mitch, so she went downstairs to let him in.
“I know it’s late,” he said, half apologizing. “But I was here earlier and…”
“And I wasn’t,” she finished.
He stepped inside, towering over her. “I was here yesterday and the day before.”
“Were you?” she replied, but offered no explanation of her absence.
“Yes,” he said. “I wanted to see you. I wanted you.” He put his arms around her and reluctantly admitted, “I want you all the time. I want you right now.”
“Here I am.”
He kissed her and said against her mouth, “It’s been three days since…I’m not sure I can make it upstairs.”
“You don’t have to,” she said as she took his hand and led him into the drawing room.
A wide wedge of bright moonlight spilled into the room across the stacked trunks and valises, and completely enveloped the large overstuffed sofa. Suzanna took off her nightgown, tossed it aside and sat down on the sofa in the p
ool of moonlight.
Mitch fell to his knees before her, urged her legs apart, wrapped long arms around her waist, drew her to the edge of the sofa and pressed his lips to her throat.
Nibbling and nuzzling, he said, “You’re hot, baby. Burning hot.”
“Mmm,” she murmured, “hot for you, Mitch. I’m always hot for you.”
Suzanna sighed, then turned about on the long sofa and stretched out on her back.
Mitch shot to his feet and stood for an instant, staring down at Suzanna. Never had she looked lovelier than she did now, lying naked in the moonlight, his for the taking. Then he bent down and picked her up. He lifted her high in his arms, turned about and sat down on the sofa.
It was then that Mitch realized Suzanna was burning hot to the touch. She sagged weakly against him, her head on his shoulder, her body pressed to his. Beginning to frown with worry, Mitch swept his hands over her back and hips and buttocks. Her skin was scalding hot, but her teeth were chattering as though she was chilled.
He anxiously sat her up, clasped her upper arm with one hand and laid the other against her forehead.
“Suzanna, you’re feverish!” he said.
“Perhaps a little,” she managed to reply.
“Jesus!” he swore, and rose to his feet with her in his arms. “You need a doctor.”
“I’ll be all right,” she said, trying to smile.
“No! Dear God, no!” he declared, and carried her up the stairs. In her bedroom he gently laid her on the bed. “Listen to me, sweetheart, I’m sending old John Tillman for the doctor. Where do you keep your nightgowns?”
“What?” She tried to focus, but couldn’t.
“Nothing. Don’t worry.” He patted her bare shoulder, then went in search of a gown. In a drawer of the bureau he found several, neatly stacked. He snatched one up, tossed it over his arm and hurried back to the bed. Suzanna was barely conscious. As one might dress a sick child, Mitch sat her up, leaned her against his chest and put the nightgown on her. He laid her back down, kissed her feverish cheek and said, “I won’t be gone but a minute.”
Suzanna was suddenly too tired to reply. The last thought she had before losing consciousness was that the terrible feeling of danger she’d experienced three days ago had been the premonition of her own death.
Forty-Nine
“It’s scarlet fever,” said the physician after carefully examining Suzanna. He turned to Mitch. “Mrs. Clements has been helping nurse a sick family I’ve been treating. Two little girls with scarlet fever.”
Mitch was astonished. “I had no idea that she—”
Interrupting, the doctor shook his head. “I warned her, but…” He shrugged, then added, “You’d better leave now. Scarlet fever is highly contagious.”
“I’m going nowhere,” Mitch said. “I’m staying with Suzanna.” He swallowed hard and asked, “Will she…?”
“I honestly don’t know,” the doctor admitted. “Scarlet fever is a killer, no doubt about that. Only time will tell.” He picked up his black bag and started to the door.
“You’ll come back in the morning?” Mitch asked.
“I’ll stop in around noon to check on her. Meanwhile keep her as comfortable as possible and pray the fever soon breaks.”
“I will,” Mitch said. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“Shall I send Martha Tillman up?” asked the doctor.
“No. Tell the Tillmans they can both go home,” Mitch said. “I’ll take care of Mrs. Clements.”
* * *
And he did.
Mitch refused to leave Suzanna’s bedside. He stayed with her hour upon hour, both day and night. And it broke his heart that, in her unconscious state, while she shivered with chills and tossed fretfully, she talked and talked, begging his forgiveness, as if anxious to ease her conscience.
“…and my brother and sweetheart were both killed…then I lost my mother…and my home…everything…”
“Shh, darling. Don’t. It was a long time ago,” Mitch whispered.
“…and the Yankees took everything. I was alone…I wanted to help the Confederacy….”
“Of course you did. I understand.”
“I meant to deceive you. You were just another Yankee officer and…”
“Don’t, sweetheart. You must stop torturing yourself,” he murmured.
“…but I fell in love with you, Mitch. I did and I…”
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Mitch soothed, trying to calm her. “Please don’t worry, I’m here. I’m right here.”
“…they…they were going to hang me and…”
“Yes, darling.”
“General Clements…old family friend…saved me from the gallows….”
“Shh. Don’t talk anymore, sweetheart,” Mitch pleaded. “Rest, my love. Just rest.”
But Suzanna didn’t rest. She continued to toss fretfully and talk fitfully.
As her fever raged, Mitch was terrified that she was going to die. The fear of losing her made him realize just how much he still loved her, despite all that had happened. He was sorry now that he had been such a callous bastard, and he prayed that she would live so that he could make it up to her.
“Don’t leave me, darling,” he pleaded over and over as he bathed her perspiring face and body with cool water. “I love you, Suzanna. I will always love you. I’m sorry I’ve behaved so badly. I’ve been cruel and uncaring, and I’m asking you to forgive me. Please, darling. Forgive me.”
But Suzanna never heard him.
Until…three days after falling ill, and still so weak and sick she was unable to respond, Suzanna faintly heard Mitch saying that he loved her. That he was the one who needed forgiveness, not her. Somewhere in her subconscious, his words registered. At last she was at peace.
She could die in peace.
Then finally—only hours later—she emerged from the enveloping darkness. When she regained consciousness and managed to open her eyes, Mitch’s handsome, haggard face was the first thing she saw. And in his eyes, she saw only relief and love.
“Mitch,” she rasped hoarsely. “Am I dreaming or did you say you love me?”
Tears quickly filling his bloodshot eyes, he smiled at her. “Yes, baby, you sure did. I love you, Suzanna. I love you with all my heart and I can’t live without you.”
“Oh, Mitch, I love you, too, and I’ve so much to tell you,” she whispered.
“And I you. But for now, my love, rest. Just rest.”
Suzanna managed a weak smile. “You’ll stay with me?”
“For the rest of my life. I will never leave you, I promise. I love you, Suzanna. And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to make you happy.”
“I could never be happier than I am at this moment.” Then she lifted a hand, laid it on his unshaved jaw and said, “Mitch, I’m hungry.”
“Thank God!” he replied with a broad smile.
* * *
With Mitch at her bedside day and night, Suzanna survived the serious illness that had threatened her life. And during her recovery, the two of them really talked, each eager to confess and understand and forgive—everything.
By the time Suzanna was well, all the bitterness, all the distrust, all the betrayal and all the wasted years were left behind. Mitch proposed. And Suzanna accepted.
With only the Tillmans, Anna Griggs and her two young daughters, Beth and Belinda, as witnesses, the barefoot lovers were married at sunset on the beach in front of Mitch’s house.
And then, for the first time, they slept together in the same bed. All night long.
Well, actually, they didn’t really sleep.
ISBN: 978-1-4603-0791-5
DEAREST ENEMY
Copyright © 2006 by Nan Ryan.
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