The Fires of Paradise

by Brenda Joyce

  And what about Carmen? That conflict had wracked his mind repeatedly, too. He had made no decision as far as Carmen was concerned, he only knew that he wasn’t ready to send her away and face the valley alone. Soon, very soon, he would give Lucy her freedom. Carmen would be the one waiting for him when he returned to Death Valley; Lucy would be in the Bragg mansion in New York City, dressed in the finest clothes and the most expensive jewels, being courted by boys of her class and background.

  He had to free her soon. Urgency had been factored into the equation, in the form of her powerful family.

  It had been a shocking discovery to find out that the Braggs had a private army of some one hundred men, half of them Pinkerton agents, based at Casitas. Having espied their presence before riding into the town, Shoz had arranged a secret meeting with Fernando and gotten all the pertinent details. He had never been pursued like this before in his life. He was uneasy. Very uneasy. He was sure they could not find Death Valley, but he’d never faced such a formidable foe before, and he would be a fool not to harbor doubts. It had been simple enough to backtrack with his men into the mountains and cross the Rio at a safe distance from Casitas, retrieve the rifles, and return to Mexico. But he hadn’t taken an easy breath until they were swallowed up by the Sierras again.

  It was crucial to get the Braggs and their army off his back. The need to free Lucy and free her soon was overwhelming. He had become obsessed with her, but until he freed her, he would have to maintain the status quo. She would return to her family safe and untouched, not crying rape or anything else. He didn’t need to increase their wrath or their desire to capture him.

  But logical reasoning didn’t change everything. It didn’t change his unholy obsession. Seeing her again for the first time was like being struck by lightning and living through it. It seemed like a small eternity passed before he could take his eyes from hers.

  When he did, it was to drink his fill of her, really look at her. It quickly became a form of torture. Her thin blouse clung damply to her, revealing every curve she had; even the skirt clung and outlined her long, graceful legs, and where they veed between her thighs. His gaze lingered too long where it shouldn’t, with an ambition of its own. It had been a long two weeks, long and hot and celibate, and his body was responding to the sight of Lucy with fierce intent.

  “Shoz,” she said weakly.

  His heart seemed to be thundering strangely and he almost stepped to her to take her in his arms, heedless of two weeks of rationalizing.

  “Papa!”

  Shoz smiled, whirling, to capture Roberto as he catapulted into his arms. Hugging Roberto, he had a chance to gain some control. He held the little boy hard. How he’d missed him. Carmen ran breathlessly into the house.

  “Shoz, caro! Caro mio!” She grabbed his arm, beaming.

  Shoz didn’t have to look to see that Lucy had gone. He hugged Roberto harder. How was he going to handle this hellish situation?

  He put the boy down and found Carmen in his arms, clinging. She was soft and female, and his body was still hot and aroused. This was something that could not go unnoticed by Carmen, and it did not. “Querido,” she purred, shifting herself to press fully against him. “You have missed me.” Her palms slid to his buttocks.

  His head still swam with images of Lucy.

  Shoz pushed Carmen away, and she pouted. He reached for Roberto, taking his hand. “Come outside,” he said, smiling. “I have something for you.”

  Roberto glowed. “Another present?”

  Shoz grinned, nodding. He had been a fool to ride into Eagle Pass to buy the boy a gift, but he’d wanted to give him more than another whittled animal. He could have been caught and hung. Yet he had done it without thinking twice. He led Roberto outside, and produced a bulky, wrapped gift from his saddlebags. Roberto seized it eagerly, ripped off the paper, and produced a pair of beautiful green and black lizard cowboy boots. “Oh, Papa!”

  “I think it’s about time you had those, don’t you?” he said softly.

  Roberto shed his moccasins, stumbling in his haste. Laughing, Shoz helped him put on the shiny handmade boots.

  Lucy watched from the window, her heart in her throat, tears in her eyes. The scene was so touching and she found that she wanted to share it with father and son. Which, of course, was impossible. Carmen belonged with Shoz and Roberto, not her. The lump she was choking on increased. How could she have let herself fall in love with him?

  For just a second, Lucy had thought he was going to embrace her. But he hadn’t. His look had been blazing in its intensity, scorching her with promise. As if he had been as excited to see her as she was to see him. Or had it merely been a damn leer? She wiped her eyes. She had probably been seeing what she had wanted to see. How could she be so foolish to have fallen in love with such a man? With a married man?

  She watched him help Roberto pull on the beautiful new boots. Lucy bit her lip until it bled. He wasn’t so rotten. He was kind and gentle with his son. But he would never be kind and gentle with her; she was certain of it. To hope so was idiotic. Why did she keep forgetting about Carmen?

  Carmen had come outside, and Lucy almost laughed bitterly. Carmen stood behind Shoz, arid she was mad as a hornet, gloweringly jealous of her own son. Oh, why couldn’t Shoz look at her, and see what a bitch she was? She didn’t look beautiful now.

  But that, of course, wouldn’t change anything. Marriage was forever.

  “Por Dios,” Linda muttered.

  Lucy whirled. She had forgotten that Linda was there, and she was horrified to be caught with her emotions so openly displayed. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.

  “Crying gets you nothing, niña,” Linda said kindly.

  “Of course.” Lucy had to glance back outside at the scene in front of the house; to her dismay, Shoz had handed Carmen a gift as well, what looked like a vivid striped shawl. She was screeching in happiness and throwing her arms around him. Lucy turned away.

  “How much do you want him, niña?”

  Lucy blanched. “I don’t want him. I despise him, I do. Besides, he’s married to Carmen.”

  Linda stared at her, then chuckled.

  “What’s so funny!”

  “Carmen is not el padrone’s wife, niña.”

  “What?”

  “Carmen only lives here. She is not his wife.”

  As Shoz walked back into the house, his glance strayed to the open kitchen doorway. He hesitated, his strides slowing, as he saw Lucy. His pulse seemed to deafen him. She froze, staring unblinkingly back. Shoz realized he had halted in midstride. The tension coursing between them was so hot, it was like a live electric wire. Shoz thought that she looked as if she had been crying. The tip of her nose was pink.

  Carmen broke the moment, running in, her shawl knotted around her waist over her longer skirts. She ordered Linda to heat water for his bath. Shoz moved on, into his bedroom, his blood thick in his veins. He stared out the window without seeing anything.

  Ten days from now, he had to be in Matamoros. He had rescheduled the sale of the guns. He decided in that moment that after the sale, he would free Lucy.

  He would return to the valley and take her immediately to Nuevo Laredo. There. It was settled.

  He thought about her standing hot and flushed in the kitchen—in his kitchen. He thought about the Braggs with their powerful army camped at Casitas. He would not go back to prison. Not ever. If it came down to that, he would try to escape, no matter how foolhardy, even risking a certain death in the attempt. Death was preferable to prison. Never would he serve time again.

  He blocked out the painful, vicious memories.

  Carmen entered, her look sultry and inviting. She pulled a big tub out from behind a screen. “Soon you will have your bath, querido.”

  He wished she would go away.

  “Darling,” Carmen murmured, sitting beside him, her hand slipping into his open shirt and across his flat, taut belly.

  “Not now.” He removed
her hand.

  “I don’t understand you, caro.”

  “There’s nothing to understand. I’m hot and tired and hungry. It’s been a damn difficult trip. There’s an army of Pinkertons after me, Carmen. I’ve got a helluvalot on my mind.”

  Carmen started. “An army? But why?” Comprehension flashed in her eyes. “Because of her?”

  Shoz turned away.

  “Who is she!”

  “A rancher’s daughter.”

  Carmen squinted at his back, her own thoughts racing shrewdly. “They won’t find us here, will they?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She grabbed his arm. “If she is so important, she is dangerous! You must get rid of her!”

  “I intend to.”

  “Soon!”

  He gave her a look.

  “I’ll get your bath. We’ll eat early.” Carmen walked out.

  She was placing flatware on the dining room table when he came in. She froze in the act, not lifting her head, although every sense she possessed was intently attuned to him. She knew he had stopped in the hallway, and she could feel him watching her. Her heart was thudding heavily.

  Carmen wasn’t his wife.

  Carmen was only his whore.

  Lucy wet her lips nervously and straightened. Her glance met his. For a long moment they just stared at each other. It became unbearably, thickly hot in the room.

  Roberto came running through the front door in his new boots. “Papa!” He screeched to a halt and did a little dance, showing off his boots.

  Lucy turned away as Shoz complimented his son on his fancy footwear. His son. Roberto wasn’t his son—Shoz wasn’t his father.

  It was unbelievable, and she was still reeling from the shock—and the joy. Linda had told her that he had been with Carmen for most of five years, and Roberto had been almost one when he had met her. He wasn’t his father, and it made their relationship even more touching. He wasn’t a rotten bastard at all. Or at least, he had a kind, compassionate, and loving streak within him.

  Lucy prepared the platters of food for the table with Linda, listening to Roberto chattering with more animation than he’d shown in all of the past two weeks. She listened to Shoz. To his voice, gentle and warm and teasing. Rough and baritone and sexy. He might want the world to think he was a complete bastard, but he wasn’t. He was proving it more with every moment. Oh, he had his moments, granted, and he had his record, but … but he wasn’t as bad as he would have her think. Not by any means.

  She was still too shaken and unsettled to have thought any further. She heard their chairs scraping back as they sat. Carmen hadn’t appeared yet, but the food was hot and Lucy didn’t care. She entered carrying two platters of tortillas and rice and found herself staring at Shoz. She just couldn’t keep her eyes away from him. His gaze darkened visibly in response.

  She smiled at Roberto and complimented him on his boots. He beamed, squirming. This time when Lucy returned from the kitchen, she carried their plates, each boasting a fat steak. She set Roberto’s down. Why did she move between father and son to serve Shoz? The desire to serve properly had nothing to do with it. As she set his plate down, her hip brushed his elbow, her arm his shoulder. He swiveled to stare at her.

  She was still leaning over him, withdrawing her hand from the plate, when her breast bumped his shoulder. For a moment she didn’t move, their gazes locked together.

  “Lucy tells me stories at night, Papa,” Roberto interrupted. “She has five brothers!”

  Lucy straightened and moved away. She was aware that it took Shoz a moment to recover and respond with something nonsensical. The front door slammed and Carmen flounced in, taking her place beside Shoz and across from Roberto. Lucy grimaced, but returned with her plate and set it rather abruptly down. Liquid from the meat splashed over the rim onto the table. Lucy was aware of his eyes, always upon her.

  “She is a clumsy cow,” Carmen cried, making certain Lucy could hear as she walked away. “Do you know she sits and does nothing all day? She refuses to help me and Linda!”

  In the kitchen, her hand reaching for a pitcher of lemonade, Lucy paused. Of all the lies! Lucy had never worked harder in her life, and she had the calluses and dried hands to prove it! Since she had arrived, it was Carmen who loafed all day—except when she was flat on her back. Lucy marched back into the dining room with the pitcher in hand.

  Carmen scowled at her. “Spoiled. She thinks she’s better than we are!”

  Lucy poured Roberto a glass of lemonade. Her heart pounded in her ears. Shoz calmly told Carmen to shut up. Lucy could feel his gaze again, but didn’t care. She walked over to Carmen, and instead of pouring the lemonade in her glass, she poured it straight into her lap—without any pretense.

  Carmen screamed, bolting to her feet.

  Not stupid, Lucy stepped back and out of reach. “Oh, goodness me! Look what I did! Oh, I’m so sorry!”

  Shoz laughed.

  “You bitch, I’ll kill you!” Carmen screamed.

  Still smiling, Shoz exchanged an absolutely warm glance with Lucy. “No you won’t,” he said. “It was an accident.”

  Lucy started to smile, too. She had been impulsive. She had poured the lemonade without thinking, just barely restraining herself from pouring it on top of Carmen’s head. Her new knowledge had given her added courage. But she hadn’t expected Shoz’s laughter, nor had she expected him to defend her.

  Carmen stomped off to change. Lucy returned with a plate for herself and seated herself beside Roberto. The look she gave Shoz was long and direct. He was no longer laughing.

  31

  Dinner was an awkward affair.

  Although Roberto sat between Shoz and Lucy, mutual awareness vibrated tangibly between them. Lucy could not eat. She could feel his gaze upon her. Likewise, when she did look up, her gaze was drawn to him. And then there was Carmen, sitting directly across from her, scowling and trying to kill her with murderous looks. When she wasn’t shooting daggers at Lucy, she was leaning against Shoz, stroking his arm and flaunting her possession. Curtly he finally told her to cease and desist, that he was trying to eat. After which she sulked and again stared maliciously at Lucy.

  Lucy’s heart had become lodged in her throat by the time the meal was over. She began clearing the table while Carmen huffed off to the bedroom. Shoz and Roberto went outside to inspect a pregnant mare. Lucy began rinsing the plates in the sink, using the hand pump. She dreaded the passing of every moment. Soon it would be dark. And then what?

  Then Shoz would return, tuck Roberto into bed, and join Carmen in their bedroom.

  She paused, leaning against the cool iron sink, gripping the edge of the basin hard. God, she could not bear the thought. She couldn’t! She could not stand to be here another moment under these circumstances!

  Some time later the scenario she had foreseen occurred. Shoz and Roberto returned just as the heavy curtain of night blackness fell over the valley. He took Roberto to his room, and when the little boy was settled in, he crossed to his own room. Lucy listened to his quiet footfall and to the door gently closing.

  She felt sick. She was quivering with nerves. “Sit and rest,” Linda advised. “I’ll finish the dishes.”

  They were almost done, but Lucy could not abide doing nothing and giving her mind the leisure to dwell on the two of them together. “No, you go. I’ll finish up here. I would rather be busy.” Her voice broke.

  Linda patted her hand, removed her apron, and slowly ambled out. Lucy found herself staring into the living room, straining to hear something. The house was very quiet.

  And then there was a scream and the sound of something heavy hitting the wall or the floor. Another one of Carmen’s furious shrieks sounded. Lucy heard glass shattering. Another silence descended, this one pregnant with another imminent eruption.

  Lucy didn’t have long to wait. She heard a door slam hard against the wall and then Carmen was flying past her and out into the night. One short glance at her face
told Lucy that she was enraged.

  Lucy was standing in the kitchen doorway, gazing tensely after Carmen. She sensed his presence behind her. Turning, she saw him standing in the hallway where it connected with the living area. He stared at her. For a moment, Lucy couldn’t move. Neither did he.

  He went back into the bedroom. Lucy returned to the kitchen. She was trembling as she finished tidying up.

  Lucy carefully extinguished the gas lamp. She started for her room, but her steps slowed when she entered the short hallway and came abreast of his door. It was still open and she faltered, her gaze drawn irresistibly within.

  He was sitting in bed, a heavy book in hand. When he felt her gaze, he looked up, saw her, and put it down.

  His eyes were gray and intense and mesmerizing. He wore only his tight, faded Levis. His feet were bare, the jeans unsnapped but zipped. His sleek bronze torso was covered with a thin sheen of perspiration.

  He looked incredibly male and incredibly virile in that heavy, masculine bed, lounging against its white sheets. Lucy swallowed and drifted past his doorway with an effort. When she was within her own room, she closed the door and leaned against it, breathless.

  Lock the door, an inner voice said.

  Lucy had bolted her door every night since Carmen had barged in the day Shoz left. Tonight she did not.

  She had only a lantern and she lit it. Feeling hot and dazed, she walked to the bureau to wash, a nightly ritual. She observed herself the way a stranger might. The skin of her elegant, high-cheekboned face was golden, and it made her large eyes a vivid sapphire blue, almost purple. Her blouse was very damp—and very indecent. Although she had long since found a chemise, the two thin layers of cloth clung to her breasts as if she were naked. Was this how he had viewed her? There was a constriction in her belly, between her thighs.

  She let down her hair and shook it out. A golden red mane, it came to her waist, thick and heavy. She thought she appeared exotic and erotic; she liked how she looked.