Fires of Paradise

by Brenda Joyce

  He felt a bit guilty and shoved it aside. What was done was done, and he owed Carmen very little, if anything. Besides, he could tell that she hadn't bothered to return last night, and had slept somewhere else—probably with someone else, as well. He grabbed a towel and headed outside for an early morning swim.

  He liked being up at this hour when the rest of the valley slept. The sun would be a pale sand-colored ball if he could see it, which, because of the height of the valley's rim, he couldn't. This was the one time of day when the valley was actually cool and pleasant and the few creatures who inhabited it were visible. Across the creek an antelope grazed. A pair of jackrabbits leapt out of his path. Lizards scrambled for cover before the shadow of his bare feet. Other than the few animals, there was no one and nothing to disturb him, except his thoughts.

  He didn't want to think about last night, but when he did, he was physically jolted from head to toe. He had a damn warm feeling inside, and it had been many years since sleeping with a woman had left him warm instead of cold. The sex had been as good as it could be, he suspected, between a man and woman, but what he kept remembering was other things, like that absurd compliment she'd paid him. Even now, buck-ass naked and submerging himself completely in the tepid water of the creek, he felt ridiculously pleased. He was a good father, wasn't he? He had a helluva lot of shortcomings, but that wasn't one of them.

  He wished Roberto were his son.

  He wished Lucy were the boy's mother.

  Stunned, he came up sputtering, almost choking. He wasn't just obsessed—he was losing his mind!

  Still, as he walked back to the house, there was no denying that he felt good, really good, almost like a schoolboy in love. More insanity, but the sky had never seemed bluer or the day brighter.

  Carmen was waiting for him when he returned.

  She was furious. "You were with her!"

  Shoz rubbed his hair with the towel, then tossed it aside. "What of it?"

  "What about me!"

  He pulled on a soft, worn white cotton shirt. "I guess you had a good time last night, too."

  She moved forward to slap him, but he caught her wrist. Annoyance, not anger, was evident in his expression. "Don't start."

  Carmen yanked free. "I want her out of here."

  Shoz sat down on the bed, leaning against the headboard, watching her. Carmen advanced. "I want her out of here! You said she's dangerous to us! Get rid of her!"

  "I will," Shoz said slowly. "In a few weeks."

  "In a few weeks! Get rid of her now!"

  He didn't like explaining himself to her, and normally, he wouldn't. But because he had wronged her, he supposed, he did. "I have to go to Matamoros in a few days to sell the guns. When I get back, I'll free her."

  "Take her with you! Free her there!"

  "No." It was final and they both knew it.

  Carmen paced angrily. She turned. "And tonight? Will you go to her tonight?"

  "Will you go to Pedro?"

  She blanched. "Shoz, that's crazy! Where—"

  "Carmen, don't bother. Let's stop the games. I know what you do when I'm not here, and I always have."

  She stared.

  He stood and went to the bureau, picking up a razor strop.

  "You could at least pretend that you care!" He soaped his face. "Why? Nothing's changed between you and me, and you know it, Carmen."

  She balled her hands into fists. "I'm not leaving."

  "Did I ask you to?"

  "I won't stay here with her!"

  He dipped the blade into the basin of water and began scraping it over his skin. "I didn't ask you to do that, either."

  "You're a bastard."

  "I guess so."

  "I'm going to stay with Pedro. When she's gone and you get lonely, maybe, I'll come back."

  He laid down the strop to look at her in the mirror. "Roberto stays here." She gave him a murderous look and stormed out.

  Lucy awoke at noon.

  She was scandalized. She bolted up, wondering why Carmen hadn't come banging on her door as usual to rouse her before seven. Then remembrance flooded her, and she fell back against the pillows.

  She thought of Shoz and smiled dreamily. He was heaven. Last night had been heaven. His touch was sinfully exquisite, and remembering, she felt a powerful surge of desire. Which was amazing, considering he had made love to her again at dawn, sliding into her while she was half-asleep, stroking her lazily, whispering for her to wake up. She had, and they had finally gotten it "right".

  But it wasn't just the lovemaking. It felt so good to have cleared the air about the horse theft, to have settled and shelved that particular source of tension. It felt good to have talked. She didn't think they had ever had a conversation before without anger and tension.

  And he had been very upset about her fight with Carmen, and a little amazed, if she had read him right. Lucy sobered. She hoped she would never have to use his advice, but she would certainly never forget it.

  Thinking about Carmen cast a shadow upon the day. Now what would happen? Shoz couldn't keep two women, could he? Much less in the same house. Her heart sank sickeningly. She knew in that precise moment that she was not a woman to share. She would have to fight to win. Carmen would have to go.

  She got up and hurriedly dressed. Normally she would have been up early enough to get fresh water and bathe, but not today. She thought about Linda toiling alone in the kitchen and was struck with guilt. She rushed into the hall.

  She saw no one until she got to the kitchen, where Linda was just pulling a roast hen from the oven to test it for doneness. "Linda, I'm sorry!" Lucy cried, striding forward. "Here, let me do that! Why don't you sit and cool off?"

  "Did you sleep well, niña?” Linda asked, not letting her take the pan from her as she placed it on the counter. She shook the drumstick and ambled back to the oven.

  Lucy reddened. "I am sorry ..."

  Linda looked at her, and Lucy saw that she had been sincere, not suggestive. "Yes, I did."

  "Good. Now, go and rest. It's too hot today. There's no work for you here."

  "What?"

  "El padrone has ordered it."

  Lucy stared. Shoz had freed her from her kitchen duties. He hadn't just slept with her, he had been thoughtful enough to rid her of the hateful work here. Her first reaction was to be thoroughly pleased.

  Then she watched Linda slicing potatoes, her face flushed, her dress stained and damp, and all her joy vanished. She came forward, taking the knife from Linda's hand. "I'm going to help anyway," she said firmly. "There is too much to do for one person."

  Linda smiled. "Thank you, niña."

  Some time later, when the meal was almost done, Lucy saw him outside, through the wide-open window. He was approaching the house with Roberto, strolling with that particular masculine swagger of his. Her hands stilled in the midst of their task of draining the boiled potatoes. She had to admire that semistrut. She had to admire him. He was clad in his tight Levis, with his shirt tucked in but open to his belt buckle, and she glimpsed enough form and flesh to recall just how virile he was in fact, as well as appearance.

  He saw her as well and his steps slowed. His eyes brightened instantly and their gazes held. Lucy smiled shyly. He smiled, too, then his brow furrowed and he scowled. Her heart sank a little.

  He disappeared from view as he went up the porch steps, and then the front door slammed. Lucy turned to see him hovering in the doorway.

  "What are you doing?"

  "I. . ." She found herself looking at his mouth, at his throat. His dark skin glistened where his shirt hung open, and the denim-encased bulge of his groin was overly suggestive. She lowered her gaze.

  For just a moment a brief silence came between them. "Dammit, I said you don't have to work here. Linda! I told you Lucy won't be working in the kitchen anymore!"

  Lucy interrupted before Linda could speak. "She told me, Shoz, but I decided to help her anyway. There's too much work here for one person, and I d
on't mind, truly."

  He blinked at her.

  She smiled hopefully, and saw the softening in his eyes.

  "Carmen can help."

  "Carmen never helps," Lucy said.

  "She's going to start."

  Lucy thought about how she had taken Carmen's place in Shoz's bed. "I really don't mind. And I think it's better if Carmen and I keep our distance right now. I think it's better—" she looked at him boldly and flushed "—if she stays away from the house."

  He understood her exactly, because she could see him fighting a small dry smile. "Carmen has decided to bunk with Pedro."

  Lucy's eyes widened. So he did know about her infidelities!

  "And I think you're right," he said.

  A few moments later they sat down to eat, just the three of them, Roberto, Shoz, and Lucy. Lucy did not see Carmen at all during the next two days.

  It was siesta time, and Lucy and Roberto were on their way for what had been, before Shoz's return, their daily swim. The past couple of days, Lucy and Shoz had taken the siesta together, but early this morning he had gone hunting. Lucy was humming and holding Roberto's hand. He skipped alongside her.

  The tune died in her throat as she saw a familiar gypsy-clad figure rushing toward her from the houses behind the remuda. Lucy hadn't seen hide nor hair of Carmen since the night she had first slept with Shoz. She stiffened and stopped to wait for their imminent confrontation.

  "What's wrong?" Roberto asked.

  Lucy realized she was clenching his hand. She released it, rubbing his back. "Nothing, nino, nothing."

  "So," Carmen huffed, without even a glance at her son, "the bruja thinks she is the new woman, eh?"

  "Hello, Carmen."

  "Do you really think you can possibly keep a man like that?" Carmen's gaze raked her contemptuously.

  "Yes, I do," Lucy said. The reply was more automatic than anything else, because she had tried very hard not to think about the future at all.

  "Ha! I have been his woman for five years, and I know him better than anyone. You he will tire of—soon."

  "We will see."

  "Did he tell you?"

  Lucy dreaded asking. "Did he tell me what?"

  Carmen's smile was a study in malicious triumph. "That he plans to get rid of you in a few weeks."

  "What?" She couldn't contain her surprise and shock.

  “In a few weeks! He told me the other day that he plans to free you in a few weeks. And then he will return to me— as always!"

  Lucy's heart beat thickly and painfully. "Of course I must leave," she said with dignity. "I want to go home. I want very much to go home."

  "Good! Because you will!" She turned to go, and paused. "Enjoy his bed while you can, perra."

  Lucy watched her leave, shaken. Carmen was probably lying, but she was upset—just as Carmen had intended. Worse, the issue she wanted so much to avoid had been thrown right in her face—making it unavoidable. She did have to go home, sooner or later. Didn't she?

  Of course she did.

  But later would be better than sooner.

  What was she thinking?

  And was Carmen lying, or telling the truth?

  Roberto tugged on her hand, breaking into her thoughts. "Don't let Mama make you sad."

  "I'm not sad," she said, bending to hug him. "Not at all."

  "Do you love Papa?"

  Lucy jerked back. Although Roberto was a child of six he had undoubtedly understood every word. Did he know, too, that Shoz slept in Lucy's room now? He regarded her solemnly, his eyes big and black. "Roberto, do you mind your papa and me being good friends?"

  "I'm glad Papa likes you!" he cried.

  "Your mama's not very happy," Lucy said cautiously.

  "That's because you're prettier and Papa likes you more."

  At the moment, Lucy thought. "Roberto, do you miss your mama?"

  He didn't hesitate. "I like it better when she stays down there." He looked past the remuda toward the adobe homes beyond it. Carmen was just entering one of the houses. His gaze turned to Lucy. "She can't yell at me when she's down there."

  "Some people just have a temper, Roberto. She doesn't mean it." She stroked his hair.

  His expression was far too old for a young boy, and his words far too wise. "Yes, she does. She doesn't like me. She doesn't like me because Papa loves me."

  Lucy felt a tear slip down her cheek. "He loves you very much."

  "Do you love my papa?"

  She smiled, but another tear fell. "Yes, I do. Very much." She bent to embrace him. "And I love you, too." "I wish you were my mama," he said, clinging.

  Shoz came back later that day, and despite Carmen's disturbing words, Lucy was overjoyed to see him. Yet that night, together in her bed after frenzied lovemaking more appropriate for two lovers reunited after weeks instead of hours, he pulled her close and lifted her chin. "What is it?"

  "Nothing."

  "Something's upsetting you, and don't say it isn't."

  She had learned he was sensitive that first night they had shared. Another facet of his character which, she thought, he would hide if he could. "Carmen and I had words."

  "She's a bitch. Ignore her. She's succeeded in doing exactly what she wanted, which was to make you unhappy.''

  She turned more fully into his hard, sweat-slickened body, nuzzling the crook between his neck and shoulder. "I'm not unhappy." "What did she say?"

  She leaned back on the pillows to look at him. "She said that in a few weeks you plan to free me." He regarded her steadily. "I do." She attempted a smile and failed. "I have to go home." "Yes. You have to."

  They looked at each other for a pregnant moment. Then they reached out to each other simultaneously. This time their lovemaking was more frantic than before;—and tinged with desperation.

  Chapter 33

  "Lucy?"

  There was no answer. Shoz poked his head into her room, but she wasn't there. He wondered where she had gone off to, and if Roberto was with her, because he was also not in the house. It was siesta time, the heat particularly thick and intense, making everyone and everything more sluggish and sleepy than usual. He had thought to share the siesta with Lucy. It was too damn hot to do more than sleep, and he didn't need Lucy in order to do that. He would rather not admit the truth—that it was comforting to sleep with her beside him. It was something he could become very accustomed to.

  The house was silent. He padded through on bare feet, seeking the coolness of the stone floors, his shirt hanging open but sticking to his torso. Linda was just finishing up in the kitchen, and when he asked, she told him that Lucy and Roberto had gone to the creek, probably for a swim.

  "It's what they usually do during the siesta, Padrone," she added.

  He had certainly noticed Roberto's friendship with Lucy. It disturbed him. The little boy was like a dry sponge, greedily soaking up the affection Lucy gave him. He so obviously needed a warm, caring mother. When he had first met Lucy Bragg, he would have never thought her mother material, far from it, but he had been wrong. One day she would be a fine mother with her own children—and that disturbed him as much as anything.

  He suspected that she genuinely cared for Roberto. And although the boy needed her attention, it could only be temporary, and maybe when she left, more damage than good would have been done. He didn't want Roberto hurt.

  He should tell her to stay away from the boy.

  Grim, he made his way to the river. He heard their laughter and splashing before he saw them, and a pleasurable warmth spread rapidly through him. As he came closer, he watched their antics. Roberto would dive under the water, then emerge with all the fanfare of a baby whale, splashing Lucy. Submerged up to her neck, she waited for his attack, only to spray him back. Shoz softened right to his very bones.

  It was bittersweet. She didn't belong here, not in Death Valley and not with them. With every day that passed, increasing their intimacy but bringing their separation that much closer, he knew it more. But she
looked as if she belonged. She acted like the boy's mother, and she cooked and cleaned for him and shared his bed as if she were his wife. But she was neither of those things, not Roberto's mother, not his wife, she was just an illusion of those things, and very soon she would be gone and the illusion would be reduced to nothing more than a dusty memory.

  If he dared admit it, her leaving would not just be difficult for Roberto, it would be difficult for him, too.

  "Shoz!" Her cry was happy and she popped up, smiling. "Come join us!"

  "Papa!" Roberto called enthusiastically.

  Shoz's smile faded. "Get back in the water, Lucy, dammit!" he barked. Her chemise and blouse were translucent, her red petticoat molded to her thighs and crotch. "What if one of the men saw you?"

  Lucy wasn't smiling anymore, and she had obediently sunk back down, up to her neck. "I'm always careful."

  He was mad. He was mad because she was an intruder, worming her way into his family, where she didn't belong and would never belong. He was mad because she was his, at that moment, and he had never been so possessive before—if some other man even looked at her, he would kill him. He was maddest of all because in reality, she wasn't his at all.

  "Shoz?" she asked, hurt.

  "You should know better," he said gruffly, wishing he'd been kinder. "I'm sorry."

  "It's all right." He wanted to apologize, too. But he didn't know how, so he just swallowed it. He jammed his hands in his pockets. He wouldn't interrupt Roberto's fun just for his own sake. "I'm going to lie down," he said, although he was loath to leave them.

  "Don't leave, Papa," Roberto cried.

  "Come join us," Lucy urged. "The water's wonderful."

  He wanted to, but was frankly embarrassed to horse around like some kid. The kid in him had died a long time ago; he wouldn't even know what to do if he got in that water with them. He turned to leave, not wanting to but resigned, when he was thoroughly drenched with water from head to foot.

  He wheeled and stared incredulously, water dripping down his face and into his eyes, while Lucy and Roberto erupted into gales of laughter. He tried to scowl ferociously, but failed, making them laugh harder. "What the hell?"