Surrender (47 page)

The dining room was both comfortable and elegant, and the buffet by the table was laden with silver serving dishes. There was a great deal of food prepared, as if they’d planned for the arrival of their son’s ship. Risa sat with David and James to eat while Minea came and took Jamie upstairs with her own little ones to settle in. Then Teela returned with baby Mary, and after Risa had complimented her new little sister-in-law, Mary was taken upstairs with the other children. Conversation was light and warm at first while she told the older McKenzies all she knew about their son, Brent, daughter Sydney, and their cousins Julian, Ian, and Tia.

Teela shivered and crossed herself, looking down as a little sheen of tears touched her eyes. “If we can all just survive it …” she murmured. “But our grandson, James! He’s beautiful, isn’t he? Now, if we can just keep him here.”

“Teela!” her husband warned. “That’s a decision Risa will have to make with Jerome.”

“There’s no chance of Jerome staying here,” Risa said bitterly. She was pushing food around on her plate now. She looked up, wondering if Jerome had brought her here to leave her. A nice safe place for an unwanted wife and child. She was out of harm’s way—and out of the way where she could cause harm. “Where is he?” she inquired quietly.

“Tending to the ship,” David supplied.

“He’ll come back later,” Teela assured her. “Why don’t you get settled? Jerome’s room is upstairs. We’ve had a crib brought in, and I took the liberty of bringing a few things to the wardrobe there—”

“A few things!” James interrupted. “Neither Sydney nor my wife ever missed a fashion trend, I assure you.” He smiled at his wife. “In the midst of war,
Godey’s Lady’s Book
manages to make it here—to the swamp!”

“I have never been ruled by fashion!” Teela protested. She smiled. “Well, we can dress, when need be. But it’s so very hot … cotton is best around the water in any case. Come, let me get you settled.”

It was a strange afternoon for Risa. Jerome’s room was unique, reflecting his heritage. There were many Seminole artifacts: pipes and headdresses, little dolls,
knives, and colorful mats. There were also exceptional prints by Audubon and others. The bookshelves held fiction and nonfiction. His wardrobe and drawers were filled with civilian clothing, casual workclothes, and more elegant attire from a time gone by. He had grown up here. His window overlooked the sea in the distance, and a sandy beach, and she thought that at sunset, the view must be exquisite.

His bed was a large, handsome four-poster, the carving European. The spread upon it was deep maroon knit and matched the draperies. As the sun began to set, she saw the colors of twilight, and how beautiful it was, and she wondered if he would ever forgive her long enough to sleep with her here, or whether she could forgive him.

Suddenly restless, with Jamie fed and sleeping and the household quiet, she felt she had to get out. Downstairs, James, who sat in his den working near a log fire, studied her thoughtfully, then spoke. “You’ll find a brackish pool down the path, surrounded by white sand and pines. It belongs to the family, and it’s a beautiful place if you choose to swim. You’ll not be bothered there.”

She followed the trail. The pool was some distance from the house, but when she arrived, she was delighted. The landscape was crimson, gold, and pink. Wading birds played in the shallow water, beautiful white creatures with long elegant necks and skinny legs. The sand stretched out, white and pure, but bathed in the pink of the sunset. She stripped off her stockings and shoes, and put her toes in the water, and it was deliciously warm. After a moment she stripped off her cotton day dress, laying it carefully over a log. In pantalets and blue-ribboned chemise, she walked into the shallows, about to dive and swim.

“That’s all? That’s all that you’re taking off?”

She spun around. She hadn’t realized Jerome had been at the cove, leaning so still and silently against a pine. Barefoot, shirtless, his breeches rolled high, he looked at her from across the sand, arms folded over his chest. She trembled inwardly, longing to run to him, but knowing that she couldn’t do so, since he had branded her a traitor.

“I’m very, very careful as to where I discard all my
clothing these days,” she informed him, crossing her arms over her chest as well.

He arched a brow. “As you should be.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I would tan your hide were you to be careless.”

“Ironic—when it appears your hide is so well-known.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Never mind.”

She turned away, moving along the waterline. She gasped when he caught up with her, spinning her around. But she eluded his grasp and backed away from him angrily. “Quite frankly, I can’t believe that you’ve brought me here.”

“The location of my father’s house is not exactly a military secret,” he said dryly.

“So if it were, you would not trust me.”

“Should I?” he demanded after a moment’s careful thought.

“If you think not, why am I here?”

“Because I married you.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Because I betrayed you.”

“More than once, it appears.”

“Oh! This time, too?” she demanded furiously. “I hit myself in the head and ran off to the Yanks?”

“Perhaps you asked them to come—and they believed they were doing you a favor.”

“They probably were doing me a favor, but I didn’t have the sense to realize it.”

“You fought them?” he inquired skeptically, his eyes very dark. “That’s why I had to run you down on horseback as well? You could have cost us both our lives.”

“I didn’t know who you were!” she shouted, frustrated. “I’d already been attacked, I—oh, this is a worthless conversation!” she cried angrily, tears stinging her eyes.

His jaw was locked; he continued to stand rock-hard. No quarter given. No hint of emotion in his eyes. “The point is, I am continually betrayed. And each time, you’re near.”

“I never betrayed you, but
damn
you! I am sick to death of this. I am innocent!” she insisted, and she suddenly felt as if she had simply had it—he didn’t listen, didn’t give her a chance. “Oh, but I could kill you!”

She had lost her senses, she knew, but it didn’t matter. She went flying across the sand, pitching herself at him with a furious impetus. He was unprepared, and she brought them both crashing down into the sand. He landed hard, and she was glad for a single moment of victory. But then she panicked because it had been a long time since they’d been with one another, so close. And she was so very hurt, angry, emotional, hungry …

She was touching him. Her hands were on his bare chest. Her limbs entwined with his. Her breasts were crushed against him, and she could feel the heat of the sun on his flesh, feel it burn from him to her. The fabric of her pantalets was far too thin where she lay against his thighs. His eyes touched her in a way that created a stir of both passion and fury within her, and her instinct warned her she desperately needed to escape before she succumbed. “Stop it, let go, let me up—”

“Mrs. McKenzie, I might remind you that you tackled me, madam!” He looked slightly amused and slightly dangerous. There was a warning glitter in his eyes. She tried to rise, but he wrenched her back.

“McKenzie, I said, let me go—”

“And I said that you brought about this situation!”

“Then, I’m sorry! Let go. I mean it, I hate you. And I’m tired of being blamed for what I didn’t do. And you can just go right to hell and take all your Rebel friends with you. I will never forgive you. I don’t know just who the hell you think you are, but you’re a fool, and you’re going to get yourself killed. And I don’t want to be around when it happens. I didn’t put you in prison, but I should have, and I wish that you were there now, and I wish that—I wish you’d let me go!”

Again, she tried to rise. He tried to hold on. His fingers curled around the material of her chemise, and as she moved, the material gave. She jumped back, holding the torn piece of fabric over her breast. “How dare you, how dare you touch me! Look what you’ve done, and you have the nerve—”

“Look what
I’ve
done?” he demanded, jumping up as well, and circling her as she tried to back away from him.

She wasn’t quick enough. In a split second he’d caught hold of the garment, and ripped it in half.

“Wretched—Rebel!” she exploded. She started to pummel him, but before she could do much harm, he caught her wrists in a vise and she decided to retreat. In her struggle she lost her footing, and fell, crashing into the water. It suddenly seemed an ideal means of escape. She wrenched free and started to swim; he caught hold of the fabric of her pantalets. Gossamer thin, they ripped to his touch. And his hands were on her bare flesh, dragging her back.

She struggled wildly against him, only to discover the fire burning within herself. Her nipples brushed against the crisp hair on his chest, and hardened. Heat seemed to spear through her, rake up her thighs, rest between them. He captured her in his arms, and she felt him moving, walking to the embankment. He laid her on the damp earth, he fell atop her, fingers laced with hers, breathing ragged as he raised his weight above her, staring into her eyes. “Damn you, damn you!” he swore.

“Damn you! I’ve done nothing!”

“Have you changed sides?” he mocked.

“Have you?”

“Do you care?” he demanded passionately. “Right this minute, right now, do you care, do you give a damn?”

“No!” she whispered, then slammed a fist against him. “Yes!” she choked out. “Yes, I care, because I didn’t—”

“You didn’t betray me. I know. I—think.”

She stared at him, suddenly silent, wary. “What?”

“Maybe you didn’t plan on my capture. And maybe you didn’t plan on my men or my ship being taken.”

She blinked furiously. Tears dampened her cheeks. “You mean that you believe me?”

“Yes.”

“But you accused me—”

“You’ll admit that you looked very suspicious—especially, since you are an avowed Yankee.”

“Yes, but …”

“But what?” he demanded.

She couldn’t tell him that she’d never hurt him because she loved him. Couldn’t risk her heart, pride, and soul. Not yet. “Do you … trust me?” she asked him.

“Yes, I do. But someone around you is trying very hard to destroy me.”

“Most Yankees probably want you dead—or in Siberia.” Someone. Someone other than her. She felt an exhilarating warmth, an explosion of pleasure in her heart. He believed in her, trusted her, wanted her. Not that he’d exactly apologized … yet.

He sighed, obviously frustrated. “No, I think it’s more than that. I think someone has a personal vendetta against me. Someone close to you.”

“Not my father, Jerome! Not my father!”

He rose, walking away from her. She felt the cold breeze wash over her, and she thought that he had forgotten what they were doing. He hadn’t.

He shed his breeches.

And that was when she saw it. The birthmark Janine Thompson had described for her.

She was on her feet instantly, heedless now of the fact that her pantalets and chemise had fallen off her in tatters. Naked as a sprite, she reached for a fallen palm branch, holding it as a club as he turned back to her, puzzled.

“Damn you, what now? You’re going to take me prisoner again—with that as your weapon?”

“What now?” she cried angrily. “You
do
have a birthmark!”

“Yes, I have always had it. Put that ridiculous thing down!” he ordered, striding toward her.

“No! Get away from me!”

“What is the matter with you now! I try to apologize, confess to you that I may be wrong, and you—”

“Go back to your fiancée!”

“Fiancée?” he repeated, incredulous.

“She told me—she told me about your birthmark. I hadn’t even seen it. Oh, I could endure the fact that you were the enemy—I was an idiot and I fell in love with you anyway—and I could even understand that you might suspect me of treachery, but I can’t, I won’t, endure
this, I just can’t. If I didn’t care, maybe I could, but I do—”

He was walking purposely, menacingly, toward her.

“Don’t come near me!” she insisted again, taking a swipe at him with the palm branch.

He’d had enough. He made a leaping dive for her that brought them both tumbling back down. He jerked the branch out of her hand, threw it aside, and pressed her into the earth with his weight, cupping her cheek with his hand.

“No!” she protested weakly. “You are a savage Rebel wretch, taking every advantage, forcing me—!” she cried.

He smiled. “Only when I need to,” he assured her, and kissed her.

She struggled beneath him. But his lips formed over hers, his tongue ravaged and plundered, and his body sent a burning flame and fever sweeping into her. She had to think to regain the fight when his mouth lifted from hers.

“Don’t! I mean it. I’m telling you—”

“Did you say that you loved me?”

“No.”

“Yes, you did. But you’re one damned jealous Yank.”

“Would you get off of me? I’m going to call your father!”

He laughed, totally amused by that. “I think my father has probably been here in a similar situation. No help there. No, you’d best listen to me. I was never engaged to Janine. I read it in the papers, the same as you did, but you were the enemy. You learn in warfare never to give your enemy the advantage. And as to being with her … we weren’t married, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t with her. Because you ruined the entire concept of other women for me. Dear God, it’s a wretched war, and I should have enjoyed the advances of a beautiful woman, but I couldn’t. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re just so incredibly good.”

“Oh!” she gasped, trying to writhe away again. “That may be worse—”

“Why? Because it’s as if we were made to be
together? Because, for your information, Madam Union-Forever, you’ve done things to me that I can’t explain, made me feel things I’d never felt. Damn you, I’m in love with you, and you may be the mother of my son—and my wife!—but I didn’t want to love you. You are the enemy, and I was so afraid of being made a fool by you that I made a fool of myself instead. You will get this straight!” he stated, for she still stared up at him blankly, “I was never with Miss Janine Thompson, but I damned well intend to be with you now!”