Fires of Paradise

by Brenda Joyce

  Miranda greeted them at the door, drying her hands on her apron. She blinked in surprise at Shoz, then took in Roberto standing beside him. "Mr. Cooper. This is a surprise!"

  He smiled, showing one rare dimple. "You used to call me Shoz, ma'am," he said, hastily removing his hat. He gave Roberto a look; the boy imitated his father. "This is my son, Roberto."

  Miranda smiled. "Well, then, Shoz, won't you come in? Hello, Roberto. I'll bet you would love some chocolate cookies still warm from the oven!"

  Roberto nodded solemnly.

  Miranda shooed them in. Her lucid gaze held Shoz immobile for a moment, and he had the fleeting feeling that she knew why he was here, and was not at all surprised. "You wish to see my husband?"

  Shoz nodded. He waited impatiently while she went to fetch him, his mouth suddenly dry, as nervous as an adolescent at his first barn dance. What if he couldn't convince the old man that he was good enough for Lucy? Hearing Bragg's footfalls, Shoz looked up. The older man stared. "Hello, Shoz."

  "Mr. Bragg."

  A silence fell. Miranda took Roberto into the kitchen. Derek finally gestured and they walked into his office. Neither man sat. "I've come to discuss your grandaughter."

  "Why with me?"

  "You're the head of this family, and I want to make amends. I know if I gain your approval, the rest will come, eventually."

  "You're asking for a lot."

  "I'm asking for my due. To be judged fairly. I've got my pardon now, and you damn well know I earned it. I'm a free man—and I love Lucy."

  "I see." Derek sat down, but Shoz remained standing. "I know you earned your pardon, Shoz, because I've kept in touch with certain people in Washington—just as I've kept in touch with my son and granddaughter."

  Now it was Shoz's turn to be puzzled. "And?"

  "And I learned a lot about you. Six months ago I also received a ten-page letter from Lucy. I would say that now I know just about everything worth knowing about you, Shoz."

  "And?" he demanded again. "Do you know that our divorce is phony? That Lucy is still my wife?''

  "I know about the divorce and Lloyd."

  "So am I going to get your blessing or not?"

  "You deserve a whole lot more than just my blessing," Derek said softly.

  Lucy's spirits were low by the time she arrived at the DM. She had already cabled the Pinkerton agency from San Antonio and instructed them to contact her in Paradise. She would not waste any time in hiring detectives to find Shoz. Where the hell could he be if he had left Death Valley with Roberto?

  Lucy was tired and desperately craving a bath when the buggy she had hired in Paradise finally drove her up the long, winding drive toward the big white ranch house. Despite her frustration and worries, it was soothing and peaceful to be back in Paradise, it was like a long-awaited homecoming. Lucy turned to watch the Thoroughbred yearlings in the whitewashed paddock gallop alongside her buggy, stretching out their young limbs, testing themselves, running for the sheer joy of it, and she smiled. She turned to look up at the house on the hill. Purple and white petunias spilled across the veranda in gay profusion. Lucy smiled again.

  "Lucy!"

  Lucy froze. Suddenly her pulse roared in her ears. What she had heard could not possibly be real. Lucy turned as Roberto flew across the lawn to her. She opened her arms wide. He halted abruptly, beaming but hanging back shyly.

  Shoz is here, she managed to think. "What's this?" she cried. "No hug?"

  He grinned and raced into her embrace. When she let him go, she wiped tears from her eyes. "Is your father here?"

  "He's inside," Roberto said.

  "Come on, then." Lucy took his hand. Her mind could barely grasp what was happening; elation pumped in her veins. Shoz is here. Here!

  Lucy raced through the foyer, heard his voice, and without pausing, skidded into the parlor. Shoz saw her at that exact moment. He was sitting on the sofa; he froze. Then his eyes sparked and he jumped to his feet with a glad cry she could not mistake. "Lucy!"

  Before she could move, he was on her and hauling her into his embrace. He kissed her. Lucy melted, clinging, tears of joy streaming down her face.

  He kissed her endlessly, and it became hot and hard, his tongue thrusting deeply into her mouth, his body pressing against hers hungrily. They had forgotten they were not alone, they had forgotten Roberto and her grandparents. Miranda was shooing Derek and Roberto out of the room; neither Shoz nor Lucy noticed. All Lucy could comprehend was that they were together again, finally, and God, she had missed him, missed him so much. When they finally came apart, panting and shaking, she was crying. "Where have you been!"

  "I told you to wait for me in New York!"

  They stared at each other, barely able to comprehend one another.

  "Come on," Lucy said, clutching Shoz's hand. Although they were miraculously alone, the parlor was not private enough. Barely swallowing her happy laughter, she pulled Shoz behind her and they ran out of the house.

  They ran outside and down the porch steps and to the old white swing her grandfather had built for Miranda back in 1841. Lucy's laughter finally escaped, bubbling merrily, uncontainable, and Shoz laughed, too, the sound warm and rich.

  "I went to Death Valley, looking for you." She held his hands—or he held hers.

  "Didn't you get my letter?"

  "What letter?" she cried. She was in his arms again. He was kissing her again. He was tall and powerful and male and she clung, never wanting to let go. His hands slid down her, shaking in passion; his body trembled. But so did Lucy's. He began kissing away the tears that still fell.

  Shoz suddenly broke free to put his arm around her, and they stumbled down the hill. He kissed her ear. Lucy tried to kiss his mouth, which was impossible as they slipped and tripped down the slope. "I missed you so much," he growled, his hand tightening on her waist.

  "I love you so much," she said, as he led her into the first barn they came to.

  His response was indistinct and he pushed her up the ladder. They fell into the hay of the loft, grabbing wildly at each other's clothes. He fumbled with the buttons of her shirtwaist, she yanked his shirt from his trousers and ripped it open, eagerly touching the bare, hot, hard flesh of his abdomen.

  "Hell," he said, and tore her blouse open as well. They both laughed.

  Their laughter died. Shoz pushed aside her undergarments to bare her breasts and bury his face between them. Lucy went completely still. He came up for air, then touched her, caressed her, gently, softly, then faster and faster. Lucy arched beneath him and pulled his mouth to hers. Teeth grinded, hips pumped. Shoz shoved up her skirts. She wrenched his fly open. He thrust his huge rock hardness deep inside her.

  Afterward they talked. There was so much to catch up on. Shoz found out that Lucy had never gotten his second letter, and Lucy found out why he had not come for her first, and of course, it made so much sense.

  They talked about the war. After San Juan, the government had wanted Shoz to stay in Cuba to continue spying among the rebels, but he had insisted on leaving. The war had been bloody, the casualities terribly high. He had escaped unscathed, fortunately, and he admitted rawly that a day hadn't passed that he hadn't thought of her.

  Lucy wanted to know about Carmen. Shoz had paid her well, and in return he had adopted Roberto—actually, the paperwork had been filed just before he'd left for Cuba a year ago. As far as Carmen went, and Shoz had smiled with amusement, he hadn't touched her since he and Lucy became lovers in Death Valley. Lucy was terribly pleased.

  She had dreamed of the day he would ask her to marry him again, and rectify the divorce, but she could not restrain herself. Sitting up, magnificently naked, while he lay casually on his back, head on his hands, she blurted, "I want to get married."

  He looked at her. His mouth quirked. "We're already married, or have you forgotten?"

  Her eyes widened. "Now you realize! I want us to get married again, properly. Officially we are divorced—only you and I and my parents
and grandparents know the truth. So we have to get married."

  "Lucy." He sat up, serious. "Why are you so determined to be my wife?"

  She became very still, as serious as he was, sensing the tremendous importance of the question. "Because 1 love you."

  "Why?"

  "Because you're the finest man I know." She smiled, her eyes blurring a little, wanting to chase away his dark demons once and for all. "I realized I loved you in Death Valley, when I saw what a wonderful, warm, loving father you are. But I fell in love with you in Paradise. You tried to be dark and dangerous—and you are—but you're also the bravest, strongest man I know. My mother thinks you're a hero—and so do I."

  "All right."

  "All right?" Her heart leapt. "You accept?" "I do."

  Lucy gave a cry of joy and beamed. She was ecstatic, even if he was the one who was supposed to do the proposing and even if they were already married—sort of. And to her surprise, Shoz was smiling, too, and the smile reached clear into his soul.

  Lucy dragged Shoz into the house with her and found her grandparents with Roberto in the kitchen with glasses of milk and apple pie. “We're getting married again and you're the first to know!" Lucy cried to her grandparents.

  A wide smile suffused Derek's face, and Miranda beamed. Derek came to them and wrapped Lucy in a hug. "About damn time," he said softly.

  For once, Miranda did not chastise his language, and she, too, embraced her granddaughter. "I knew it!" she cried. "I knew it from the start! I'm so happy for you, darling!"

  Derek smacked Shoz's shoulder. Their gazes met and held for one intimate moment. Miranda reached up to clasp his face and pull him down to kiss his cheek. He blushed.

  "When's the date?"

  "Tomorrow," Shoz said.

  "June," Lucy said.

  They looked at each other in gentle dismay. "I want to get married tomorrow," he said firmly.

  "We can't get married tomorrow." Lucy was serene. "Why the hell not?"

  "Because I want a big wedding—and that takes preparation and time." He stared at her.

  "Darling," Miranda said, "a big wedding would not be seemly; after all, this is either your second wedding or a renewal of your vows, depending upon how one chooses to view matters. And there was the scandal. No, it should be small and intimate, just family and a few good friends, but we can make it stunning. And you have to wait for her parents," she added to Shoz.

  He smirked, the victory seemingly his. Lucy smiled back, much too sweetly. "Oh no," she said. "I want a big wedding. In June. I always wanted to get married in June, in Paradise, right here, outside on the lawn."

  Shoz growled.

  Worriedly Miranda said, "Just how big a wedding did you have in mind, my dear?"

  ' T want at least a thousand guests,'' Lucy said with relish. "I want all of Daddy's and Grandpa's friends and half of New York Society and most of Texas. And the entire family, of course." She smiled wickedly. "I want this to be the wedding of the century—after all, it's not every day a girl gets married for the second time—to the man of her dreams."

  "Oh dear," Miranda said.

  Shoz couldn't sleep.

  He wondered if his happiness was as evident as Lucy's. She was walking around as if floating on air—and he felt the same way. Now, outside in the black of midnight, he strolled down to one of the paddocks to stare at the moon, think, and wait.

  Lucy and Miranda had done nothing but talk and plan the wedding of the century since this afternoon, and an hour ago he had left them ensconced in the library, still planning. Although he was very impatient to have her in his arms again, and he had been waiting for hours for her to go up to bed so he could sneak from the guest room to her bedroom, he had watched her animatedly conversing with her grandmother all evening with endless patience and fond tolerance. The power of his feelings for her no longer frightened him; he just had to get used to them. But the power he had to make her so happy was another thing, and watching her while trying not to be so obviously cow-eyed, he swore he would devote the rest of his life to her happiness, and gladly. That she loved him so much left him awed and breathless, but he knew she could never love him as much as he loved her. It just couldn't be possible.

  A cloud crossed the face of the moon, a chilly breeze nipped his ears, and he shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his heavy wool jacket. One of the yearlings snorted nervously and took off, tail high, white socks flashing in the darkness. The other colts bolted after him, and Shoz wondered what was making them jumpy, but he didn't hear anything.

  Like the clouds, his thoughts drifted to the future. Only Lucy would have the bravado to have a huge wedding after the scandal. She wanted an extravaganza, and now he had decided she deserved it. He could wait—as long as they were never apart again.

  They hadn't discussed it, but he wanted children, lots of them, soon. First, though, he wanted to take Lucy to Bakersfield to visit his parents, Jack and Candice Savage—he wanted to show her off. His homecoming was long overdue, and the thought of it warmed him immensely. They would go before June, of course.

  And just as it was time to go home, it was time to shed the alias he had acquired so many years ago. It was time to bury Shoz Cooper and truly leave the past behind. He was Shoz Savage, Shozkay Savage if his full name be known, the son of Jack and Candice, two people he respected and loved more than anyone, other than Lucy. He would be married in the name he had been born with, and from this day forward, he would be Shoz Savage and only Shoz Savage.

  He grinned in the blackness around him. For the first time in too many years to count, he felt free. Happy and free.

  One of the yearlings screamed in fright. At that precise moment, Shoz sniffed the acrid odor in the air. His heart clenched, he turned. Shocked, he stared up the hill at the big white ranch house. The ground floor was red and ablaze.

  Shoz ran.

  Chapter 50

  Lucy had fallen asleep on the sofa in the library. After her grandmother left her to retire, she found she was too keyed up with excitement over the wedding to even consider going upstairs to sleep. She indulged in a brandy. Soon her emotions settled, and she realized she was exhausted and drained. It was as much emotional as physical, not just from the wedding plans but from finally finding Shoz and achieving her greatest dreams. Lucy fell into a heavy, deep slumber.

  She thought she heard her grandmother calling her, but she was so tired, she did not want to wake up. When she finally did, terribly groggily, she thought it was a dream. Yet it had been so real, and Miranda's voice had been so full of fear.

  She smelled the smoke.

  And a blazing light at the window made her turn her head.

  Lucy gasped when she saw the huge old oak tree outside the French doors ablaze—the flames licking at the windows. In the next instant she saw fire creeping merrily along the floor where it joined with the wall under the doors.

  Panting and beginning to choke on the smoke that was filling the library, Lucy turned, her spine pressed into the sofa. She gasped at the sight that now greeted her—half of the far wall was aflame—and with it, the massive mahogany doors, cutting off her means of escape.

  Lucy screamed.

  Cries of "Fire! Fire!" split the air as hands from the bunkhouses realized that the ranch house was on fire. Pumping his legs, Shoz ran harder than he'd ever run before, up the hill, fighting its slope, while the flames licked at the porch and the sides of the house, creeping up the walls, dancing higher and higher. He had almost reached the porch when Derek came crashing out the front door, the old man carrying Roberto through the flaming porch and hurling them forward and onto the damp grass. The boy was wrapped in a blanket, and miraculously, Derek's pajamas were only singed.

  Shoz reached them. He grabbed his son. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes, Papa." Roberto was wide-eyed. "Where's Miranda?" Derek shouted, levering himself to his feet.

  "I don't know."

  "I sent her to get Lucy—they should have been out be
fore me!"

  Shoz grabbed the old man to prevent him from launching himself mindlessly back into what was fast becoming an inferno. It was then that Miranda came running from the house, her white robe trailing red flames.

  Derek dove on top of her, using his body to smother the flames. Shoz saw flames kindling on his pants leg, and he whipped off his heavy jacket to beat them out. Moments later the couple lay unhurt, panting and coughing in the grass. Shoz hauled Derek off his wife, grabbing her. "Where's Lucy? Where's Lucy?"

  "I don't know! She's not in her room—I thought she was with you!"

  Shoz grabbed his jacket and flung it over his head and pounded up the steps and into the flames.

  "The library!" Miranda screamed after him. "I left her in the library!"

  Fire licked his boots, his feet and legs became hot. He ran through the crackling flames and into the foyer. Fire licked the walls and danced along the lowest steps of the stairs. Shoz felt his knee burning and beat out a flame with his bare palms.

  Screaming her name, he ran down the hall.

  Fire raced behind him, straining at his heels.

  "Lucy!" He watched the hall wall begin to glow, turning from white to living red. He reached the library door in time to see it erupt into flames. He heard her scream.

  Without pausing, he hurled himself into the door and went crashing into the room.

  He broke through the doors and burst through the flames so quickly, he was only singed. The curtains were ablaze, leaping gold and red in the windows, and the rugs were just igniting. Flames raced along the baseboards of the wall and began to claw their way up them. Smoke hung heavy in the room. Lucy stood in the middle of the room, with nowhere to go. She saw him and catapulted into his arms.

  A quick glance outside told him there was no escape through a window or the French doors. Protecting her with his body and his jacket, he ran hard through the doorway. Flames singed his knees and buttocks.

  As he ran down the hall, his toes seemed to be burning. He seemed to be trodding on fire. He swung Lucy into his arms. He had never run faster; flames reached out from the walls for the denim of his thighs. And then they were in the foyer and he rushed out the burning front doorway and across the burning porch.