PART FIVE

By brig
Bliteheart42@aol.com

DISCLAIMER: Fireworks owns the copyright on all Queen of Swords characters. The OFCs are just some friends of mine who agreed to show up as a favor to me.
RATING: PG (some mild violence)
FEEDBACK: please!

~~~~~

Luis woke to the feel of soft lips pressing a kiss to his crown. He opened his eyes and Lucy smiled back at him.

"You went away," he whispered. Her smile faltered, and for a moment she looked stricken, almost guilty; then the expression was gone and the smile was back, though a bit dimmed.

"I had something to take care of." She held up a white cloth--her apron. It was covered with spots of blood. Luis focused on it, frowning a little.

"What--?" he started to ask, even as realization struck. His gaze moved back to her face. "Grisham?"

"Yes." She set the apron on the floor and reached up to take his hand in hers carefully. "I made him pay for what he did."

Luis gave a slight nod and winced. "Will the office need cleaning?"

His remark made her laugh, as it was meant to. "I'm afraid so. Well, the carpet anyway. I didn't kill him, but believe me, he'll wish he was dead many times over." She touched his cheek very gently. "Are you in pain?"

"Cold," he admitted. He was naked under a sheet which was draped so that it covered but didn't touch him; Lucy got up and brought down another sheet, tucked it carefully here and there. After a few moments his legs and feet began to warm.

"Rob might have the kettle on, let me go check." She started to rise but Luis caught at her hand.

"Stay," he closed his eyes, frustrated by how easily he tired. There was so much to say to her! So many plans to make . . .

"I--I will." She sounded near to tears again. When she offered him some water he kissed her hand, trying to reassure her. She was trembling, almost agitated, and her fingers were cold.

"What is it?" he asked, and felt her take a deep breath. The trembling ceased.

"Just reaction." She smoothed the hair back from his temple. "You need to sleep."

Something was definitely wrong. Luis said nothing more--there was no point in further inquiry, she would only evade his questions. Perhaps later, when she had calmed down a little and he was rested, he would get the truth out of her . . .

He felt himself drifting off, lulled by her gentle touch. Indeed, he was very nearly asleep when she leaned forward and kissed him. The trembling was back, worse than before.

"I love you," it was hardly more than a breath of sound, filled with sorrow and longing. Her lips brushed his; he felt her stand, then turn away. Luis opened his eyes just enough to peer at her through his lashes. She was taking something off the shelf next to her pack--folded clothes and a pair of boots, cradled in the crook of her arm as she lifted her backpack up and started moving past the cot. When she reached the door she stopped and turned to look at him. Her blue eyes glimmered in the soft light, her gaze moving over him slowly, as if memorizing every detail. After a few minutes she gave a long, shuddering sigh and went through the door, closing it behind her without noise. It was then he understood she wasn't coming back.

~~~~~

Lucy made quick work of changing her clothes, leaving the dress and undergarments draped over the back of a chair in Rob's bedroom. She regretted not having the time to return them washed and pressed. Her modern sweater and pants felt strange against her skin, and her boots were clumsy and heavy, entrapping her feet. With shaking hands, she rebraided her hair, glancing at her reflection in the small mirror above the washstand.

Traitor, coward, liar! she accused the woman looking back at her, satisfied when the image flinched. She moved away to check her backpack once more for the recipe and sample Marta had given her; everything was in order. It was time.

~~~~

"Robert."

He looked up from his research with a smile. "How's our patient?" he asked, and fell silent at the sight of Lucy dressed in the odd, rough-looking clothes of her own time.

"You're going back?" he asked, confused. "Now? But why--"

"Please, Rob. Don't make this any harder than it already is." Her hands were visibly trembling, the knuckles white as she clutched the large pack she had brought with her. "No questions. Just--just take care of him. Between you and David he should be all right."

"Lucy," he stood up, but she moved away, to the center of the room.

"Thank you for everything," she stopped, then went on. "You've been a wonderful friend, Rob. I'll never forget you." She pulled the pack a little closer. "Give my love to Marta and Tessa. I left their clothes--I wanted to wash them before I gave them back, but--"

In two strides he was in front of her. "Lucy, stop!" He grabbed her shoulders and looked down into blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "You needn't do this--"

"Yes I do." He could barely hear her. "And I have to do it now."

With some reluctance he let go of her and stepped away.

"Farther than that." Her voice shook. "I don't want you caught in this, Rob."

He retraced his steps to the desk, feeling helpless and angry, a combination he didn't like much. "Maybe you could go and--and come back . . ."

She didn't answer him, only closed her eyes and began to sing--a single note, high and clear. For a long moment nothing happened.

The air behind Lucy shivered. Like the water of a still pond when a stone is thrown into it, it rippled and fractured into a thousand planes of light. Rob's eyes widened in shock. So it was real, all of it; he found himself still resisting the knowledge, even as the explorer in him wanted to examine the phenomenon in every way possible.

Lucy drew breath, then sang once more. The note changed, both in pitch and intensity. Rob felt something similar to a powerful summer rainstorm he had experienced in Texas--humid air heavy with undischarged electricity right before an enormous fork of lightning had shattered a tree not two hundred yards from where he had stood that day . . . In some haste he retreated behind his desk.

"Lucy!" he called, thinking to make one last attempt at convincing her to stay. The opening behind her was now more like a window than water, though the scene it revealed was still somewhat unfocused. Lucy opened her eyes as the second note ended. She gasped, her face draining of color as she stared at a point over Rob's shoulder. He turned.

Montoya stood in the doorway to the office. 'Stood' was perhaps too optimistic a word; he drooped against the frame, a sheet wrapped haphazardly about his body. Bandages trailed at his feet; there were ominous red spots soaking into the linen across his back.

"Bloody hell!" Rob shoved back from his desk and almost ran to his patient, but Montoya pushed him away with a shaking hand. That grey gaze was fixed on Lucy, the pale depths molten with fury and pain.

"So all your fine sentiments--were just words." He could barely speak, but his harsh voice filled the room. Lucy took a single step toward him and stopped. She sent Rob a pleading glance, her features tense with anguish. He realized she couldn't reply.

"Go then, coward. The sight of you--sickens me!" Deliberately Montoya turned his face away, though it was obvious any movement caused him a great deal of pain. "What are you waiting for?" He coughed and shuddered, losing his grip on the doorframe as he started to sink to the floor. Rob caught the wounded man as carefully as he could, bringing him back up so that his weight rested against Rob.

"Look at her. Look!" he demanded. With some reluctance Montoya obeyed. "What do you see behind her?"

The scene within the access had resolved itself into a clear image. They seemed to be inside a room with rows of seats and large odd-looking windows. There were people everywhere--standing, sitting, reading, talking. Rob knew what this place was; he remembered Lucy's quiet words as she'd told him and Marta what she had seen in the time gate which had opened to her spontaneously.

"I was riding the train to work--it's a form of travel that takes large numbers of people along a set route in and out of the city."

Lucy sang once more, and the scene began to move--slowly at first, gaining speed and momentum.

"It was a raw, nasty day--we'd had a bad snowstorm the night before, it was still snowing and the roads were a mess but the trains were running, and I needed to get to the hospital. The ER would be at capacity and they'd need all the help they could get."

There was a flash of blinding light, a horrible shriek of metal grinding on metal accompanied by the shouts and screams of trapped humans.

"We were just pulling out of the station at Lansdale when something happened--I think the train derailed, but I'm not sure. Anyway--"

Lucy ended her song and lifted her hand to trace a sign in the air. A faint blue line followed her fingertip.

"Anyway, people and seats and pieces of train started flying around the compartment. I don't really know what happened next . . ."

She looked at Montoya. A single tear fell down her white cheek, even as she spoke.

"Now."

"I must have panicked and opened an access somehow, because the next thing I knew I was here."

The air around them shivered. Rob tensed, heard Montoya gasp something about the window, but no one needed to say it aloud--it was all too obvious the wall between times had dissolved. The room was filled with a chaos of sound. Lucy was lifted off her feet as if someone had pulled her up by her collar. Her limbs jerked forward as she was seized by an invisible force and sucked into the access. Rob saw her enter the other side; she was thrown to the floor, something fell across her--

And then the access spiraled out of existence--there one moment, gone the next. The office was quiet once more. But not for long.

"Doctor!" There was a loud thumping on the door. "Doctor, what's going on in there?"

Rob turned Montoya around and half-walked, half-carried him to the pantry bedroom, eased him down onto the cot, and shut the door behind him as he hurried back into the office.

"Doctor! Open up or I'll break the door down!" The pounding was louder and more forceful now. Rob waited another few moments, then lifted the latch and peered out around the door.

"What is it?"

The guard pushed past him into the office. "What in the name of the Virgin was all that noise?"

Rob looked at the man with a faintly puzzled air. "'Noise'?"

"It sounded like all the demons of hell!"

Rob chuckled. "You've got quite an imagination, but I don't know what you're talking about." He yawned and scratched his shoulder. "Is there anything else, private? I'd like to go to bed."

The guard retreated, looking confused. Rob gave him an innocent smile and closed the door firmly in his face, latched it shut and went back to his patient, to find another unexpected turn of events when he entered the pantry.

A young man rose up from a spot next to the bed. Dressed in an ill-fitting uniform, he still had an innate dignity and self-possession many an older man would envy.

"David Rosalez," he said quietly. "Senorita Lucy said she would tell you I was coming."

"Indeed she did." Rob relaxed a little. He knew he ought to ask how the youth had gotten into his quarters and found the Colonel, but it didn't seem to matter at the moment. "How good are you at assisting a physician with a bad patient, Private Rosalez?"

~~~~~

"She . . . never told me."

Rob glanced up from the journal he was reading in mild surprise. Montoya was looking back at him for the first time in three days. The shuttered gaze asked a question and accused him at the same time.

With a sigh Rob marked his place in the journal with his finger and closed it. "For some strange reason she wanted to spare you the pain of that knowledge."

"I would have stopped her somehow."

"She knew that. She also knew she had to go back."

Montoya closed his eyes. "To more important business."

"Any healer with a chance to save lives will do so," Rob said softly. "She stayed here as long as she could." He paused, not sure he should go on, then gave a mental shrug. Why not?

"I wouldn't say she considered going back more important." He reached into his vest pocket and extracted a folded piece of paper. "She left this for you." He put the paper next to Montoya's hand and left the room.

He didn't want to open it, but in the end he weakened. Lines of small, firm handwriting blurred under his gaze.

No sentiment. He steadied himself and started to read. It was written in English and with haste, a sign of her agitation; for some reason she hadn't been able to concentrate on using her correct, careful Spanish.

Luis,
if you are reading this, then I have gone and we are once more separated by time and place. What a bitter prospect it is to think of being apart from you once more! I must go, but this act seems a terrible desertion. You once called me a coward, and it seems you have been proven right.

I can only offer you this as recompense: you are my love, past present and future. And if I find darkness waiting for me in the years ahead, I have only to think of you and there is no shadow, only light.

Los ojos son mis lamparas, mi halcon. --L.S.

~~~~~

It was a fine evening for walking. A sultry breeze brought with it the smell of cooking food; heat rose up from pavement baked by the sun, an uncomfortable reminder of events still too fresh in memory to have lost their edge. Luis stopped to take a clean handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Had it really been over a year since Grisham's attempted coup? Amazing, how time could move so slowly and still disappear like melting snow . . . He resumed his stroll, listening to the sounds of the community around him slowly reviving after a long day spent in blistering heat. There would be suppers served and lingered over, children running in and out of the warm darkness while their elders drank wine and talked long into the night. Luis smiled a little at the sentimental image and kept walking, his pace leisurely.

It wasn't long before he reached his destination. He stood looking at it for a moment. His shoulders were tight with tension; a glass of wine would indeed be welcome relief to his parched throat.

Lucy's apartment house looked much the same as it had on his previous visit, only now the trees surrounding it were in full leaf, providing a deep green canopy which shaded the white-plastered walls. He could imagine the delicious relief such protection provided at midday and through the long afternoon hours. It added to the welcoming air and encouraged him to go up the walk to the front door.

What if she no longer lives? The thought had been his constant companion for months now. He took his arrival in her time as a fortuitous sign--a connection between the two of them, but that was merely superstition on his part. The only way he could know for certain was to seek her out. Logically it didn't seem likely she was still living, after what he had seen through the time window--and yet . . .

I would know if she had died. He sensed it was true somehow. With a sigh at his own folly he climbed the steps and lifted the knocker on the weathered oak door. His palms were sweating.

"Hey, someone's at the door!" Eliza threw a last ice cube into the blender, added the better part of a bottle of Cuervo Gold to the ingredients within and closed the top. She raised her voice above the shrill roar of the motor. "Maril, go see who it is!"

"If it's the neighbor complaining about noise again I'm sending him in here," Maril said darkly. "You're in charge of the stereo and I'm telling you, it's too loud." She snatched an orange slice from the sangria pitcher and went to the door, hauling it open.

"Don't you have anything better to--?" she began, and fell silent. The person standing on the porch was not the cranky old coot who had visited them twice already over the last three hours. This was a man in his prime. Cool grey eyes made a thorough appraisal of her; glossy dark auburn hair framed proud features. His spare, athletic bearing held a natural elegance. Combined with a subtle intensity, the result had Maril almost spellbound.

"May I help you?" With some difficulty she forced her voice to sound close to normal.

"Good evening, senorita." The man accorded her a slight bow."Perhaps you might be of assistance. I am looking for a woman named Lucy Sparhawk."

Maril was becoming more intrigued by the moment. "May I ask your name?"

"Of course, forgive me. Luis Montoya." His English was strongly accented but easily understandable. "Senorita Sparhawk and I are old friends. I visited her here last year." He smiled a little and Maril drew in a silent breath. Handsome, charming and oh, so dangerous . . . "And your name?"

Old friends, hah! I'll just bet this is the man who broke up the world's longest running engagement. Lucy's been holding out on me! Aloud she said, "I'm Maril. Please come in, Mister Montoya. I'll go see if Lucy is up for visitors."

Something flashed in those pale eyes, some strong emotion she had no chance to identify. "Forgive me, senorita Maril. My grasp of the English language is not always what it should be." He gave her a quizzical look. "What does it mean, 'up for visitors'?"

Maril ushered him into the house and shut the door before more cooled air escaped outside. "Well--" She paused, unsure of what she should tell him. It was obvious he didn't know the events of the last year. "Lucy's convalescing."

"She has been ill?" Again that flash of emotion revealed itself in the level, assured tenor voice. Maril didn't answer him right away as she led him to the most comfortable chair in the room. There was an entire evening's worth of questions piling up with every passing moment, but she pushed them to the back of her mind and concentrated on the task at hand.

"Not exactly. She was in an accident." She saw Montoya's dark brows lift in query. "A train crash," she found herself still reluctant to speak of it. "Quite a few people were killed outright. They found Lucy in the wreckage. She was pinned under some pieces of metal."

"She was--badly injured?" His face was pale. Maril nodded.

"I'm sorry you have to learn of it this way," she said softly. The visitor made a dismissive gesture, but it was obvious he was shaken. He leaned forward in the chair, his gaze intent.

"How is she? Her physicians, what do they say?"

"Aside from being a shockingly bad patient, she's doing very well with her physical therapy." Maril was encouraged by the brief, reluctant chuckle her answer received. "Jim says when she's fully healed she'll be almost as good as new." They both jumped when the blender started up again in the kitchen.

"Sorry," she offered him an apologetic smile. "It's been a long week. We're celebrating the fact that it's Friday."

"I see." He sounded both polite and mystified. She stifled a laugh at his confusion, glad the tension had eased a bit.

"Any excuse for a party." She moved to the hallway. "I'll go and check on Lucy. Be right back."

Luis watched the woman disappear through the doorway and fought the urge to get up and follow her. So close, so close after so long! But the words 'badly injured' held dreadful portents. What if she was unable to recognize him--had changed in some way he couldn't understand?

And just who is 'Jim'? He drummed his fingers on the chair arm, forced himself to stop, then stood, unable to sit any longer. As he got to his feet Maril reappeared.

"Come on, I'll take you to her. She's just finishing up her PT session."

"One more time, Luce. You can do it."

"I hate you!" Lucy strained to raise her leg. "You love to see me suffer, you ghoul. Go find someone else--"She paused, trembling with effort as her foot lifted another inch, "--to torment, god DAMN you!"

"Very nice," Jim's grin was unsympathetic. "One more time and you'll have the whole weekend off. Be a good girl, Luce."

Lucy snarled at him and struggled to bring her foot up off the floor once more. Her hip was aching and the big muscles in her thighs were on fire; she shook the sweat out of her eyes and concentrated, hands clenched into fists. With maddening slowness her leg moved upward.

"A little more," Jim watched her progress. "More . . .that's it. Good." He caught her foot in gentle hands and eased it to the floor. "Keep this up and you'll be out of the brace in no time." He began the cool-down end of her program, ignoring her feeble attempt to pull free.

"You know I'm done with that thing in a week," Lucy wiped a wet strand of hair from her cheek and gave up trying to irritate him. She hadn't gotten Jim mad at her yet in six months of sessions; it was her only goal in life at the moment.

"I have final say about it so you'd better be nice to me."He laughed as she hurled a towel and got him in the chest. "Nice shot. See you on Monday."

The room was quiet after he left. Lucy mopped her face and hobbled over to the bed. Her hip was hurting and she had a headache; she wanted nothing more than a cool shower and one of Eliza's margaritas, even though it would have to be alcohol-free because of the meds she was taking.

She lay down, not caring that the cotton bedspread would soak up her sweat. From the other room came the sounds of laughter and conversation. She wanted neither. It was too hard, trying to pretend an interest in things that didn't matter any more. Nothing really mattered, not even the exercises she did so faithfully. They were a way of marking time, a ritual she used to convince herself every day she was still alive, at least physically.

Barely breathing on the outside, damn near dead on the inside. Lucy tipped her head back. Wonder what Luis is doing right now.

She knew common sense consigned him to the dust of oblivion, but she also understood now that linear time was a fiction. Somewhere, Luis existed. The thought gave her a faint, distant comfort.

With a sigh Lucy turned her head to the doorway and found herself imagining him there. It was a stupid indulgence she couldn't stop, daydreaming they were together. She didn't want to stop anyway. What difference did it make? She was harming no one . . . He looked vibrant with health--a far different man from the one she had left behind. This Luis was elegant in his best black suit and red waistcoat, crisp white shirt gleaming under the grey cravat. His bright gaze glittered as it swept over her.

"So you still live," the words whispered through the half-darkness. Lucy heard recrimination and hurt in the beloved voice and closed her eyes as shame swept through her.

"I'm sorry," she said. It was as inadequate a reply now as it had been a year ago. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what?" The daydream folded its arms and leaned against the doorframe. "I don't understand you. Explain yourself." The low voice held cool amusement now.

"I didn't want to leave you behind." It still sounded weak and foolish, as though she were trying to excuse her actions somehow. "I wanted to stay . . ." She turned her head, wincing as sore muscles protested. "This is pointless." She started to struggle up on her elbows and gasped as a hand touched her cheek. There were calluses on the blunt, muscular fingers and palm.

"Lucy."

She went still, her heart stopping for several beats until it started again with a great thump, as if it was trying to escape her chest.

"Lucy, look at me."

She didn't dare to do so, terrified she would find no one there.

"Lucita," warm lips pressed a kiss to her mouth. She gasped and opened her eyes. Luis sat next to her on the bed, leaning over her, his gaze intent.

"Did you really think I wouldn't come to find you?" he asked softly. Lucy swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry," she said once more, and fainted.

~~~~~

She looked dreadful--thin and pale and desperately unhappy. Luis smoothed the lank strands of hair back from her face. He found his anger at her desertion slowly taking second place to a desire to bring light back to her haunted blue eyes.

A sigh told him she was coming out of her faint. She stirred and winced a little; then her eyes opened. They widened as she looked up at him. He bent down and kissed her cheek. She did nothing for a long moment; at last her hands came up, framed his face. He turned his head and kissed her right palm. Her fingertips traced his features, gliding over his brow, his nose and lips, his jaw. He took another kiss, felt her tremble.

"I am here," he smiled a little and moved to lie down beside her. "This is real."

"Luis . . ." The sound of his name was like cool spring rain falling on parched earth. He kissed her once more.

"Say it again," he half-commanded, half-pleaded.

"Luis . . ." She returned one timid kiss for all of his."Forgive me," the words sighed against his cheek. "I love you."

He remembered when he had last heard those words from her, but now the rancor they had caused was fading. Luis gave up trying to hold onto it.

"I return the sentiment," he cupped her breast, "but we're wearing too many clothes."

There was surprised silence for a few moments, followed by a hesitant giggle. The sound of it warmed him as nothing else could. There was hope for both of them, then.

~~~~~

Eliza took another taste of finished margarita and looked up as Maril came into the kitchen.

"What are you so pleased about?" she demanded. "Has anyone checked on Lucy lately?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about her." Maril filched some chips from the tray. "She's in good hands."

Eliza paused. She eyed her friend with suspicion. "What--"

"Have Lisa and Julie arrived yet?"

"Yeah, they're in the back yard with Briggie and Jo. Tonio's here too. What's going on?"

Maril bent down and rummaged in a drawer, came up with some green plastic wrap. "We're moving the party to my place."

Eliza stared at her for a moment, till understanding dawned."You mean, HE'S here? The mystery man?"

"Yes."

The two women exchanged delighted smiles.

"Well," Eliza said at last, "we'd better leave. For Tonio's sake, of course."

"Of course," Maril agreed, and reached for the empty grocery sack still standing in the middle of the counter. She slid the tray inside and stuffed two bags of tortilla chips and a container of homemade salsa in with it. "Round everyone up and let's get going."

Ten minutes later the house was silent. A small note on the kitchen table waited for eventual discovery.

Dear Lucy,

we're at Maril's place. Have fun. Don't forget your other set of exercises. See you in a few days.

Love, Eliza etc.

~~~~~

The burr of cicadas echoed through the afternoon heat, mingling with sounds of life from the various yards surrounding them. Luis stroked a gentle finger over Lucy's brow, catching a trickle of sweat. Sun-dappled shade shifted over their faces as a warm breeze sighed through dark green leaves above them.

"This past year was an eternity," her soft words were filled with remembered loneliness. Luis nodded.

"Yes." So many days spent working himself to the point of exhaustion setting things right, and under it all a longing to have her by his side. "Yes, it was."

They lay in silence for some time, enjoying the soft sway of the hammock and each other's closeness.

"Tell me what happened after . . ." She stopped. He felt her lay her cheek to his shoulder. "After I left you."

He kissed her temple and smoothed a thick tress of honey-brown hair away from her forehead. "The good doctor and private Rosalez hovered over me till I had no choice but to heal. It was my only chance at escape."

Lucy gave a faint snort of laughter, then sobered. "And the men who tried to kill you?"

"They have all been accounted for." The mass executions had been quick, efficient and most impressive. Of course he'd gotten complaints about the loss of militia, workers, husbands and sons, but a few reales distributed here and there had quieted most of the voices. "I trust you dealt with Capitan Grisham?"

"Yes." There was satisfaction in the soft voice. "I made him pay, Luis."

"I have no doubt of that." He took her hand in his, remembering the state of his office the morning he had returned to work. "Under different circumstances I could find it in my heart to feel sorry for him."

"He deserved everything he got and more besides." Lucy stretched a little, her good hip sliding up against him gently. Luis closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation. "It was the only part of the whole experience that came anywhere near being endurable."

"Then why did you go through with it?" The words escaped before he could call them back.

"For the same reason you're a military commander," there was a quiet sadness in her voice. "Because it's who you think you are."

"So you are always a healer first?" He forced himself to make the question a casual one.

"A year ago I would have said yes." Her hand came to rest on his arm. "Not any more." She fell silent. He waited, sensing there was more to be said.

"I've wanted to be a nurse since I was a little girl. I gave up everything to reach my goals." She glanced up into the shifting sunlight. "It never felt like a sacrifice, at least on my part. Looking back ..." Her eyes were very blue, mirroring the hidden sky above them. "What I did was hard on the people around me," she whispered. "Single-minded, obsessed--those are the kinder words for my behavior."

"A good physician must act as does a good leader," Luis said quietly, "committed to a way of life not many understand or appreciate."

"That's true to some extent. But I took it to the extreme of having no other life at all." Lucy's gaze turned inward. "I allowed it to define who I was. Uncle made me face it by having me go back the way I did. It took me a long time to understand that."

"And now?"

"I'm not sure what will happen next," her hand reached out to clasp his palm, "but it's worth finding out."

He held her slender fingers with care, all too aware of the jagged pink scar across the back of her wrist. "Quite a journey."

"It's yours as well."

Luis looked at her in mild surprise. "What?"

"There's more to life than duty and work and other people's expectations." For the first time she smiled--not much more than a slight curve of her lips, but genuine all the same.

"I will not give up my command, even for you," he said with gentleness. Lucy moved a little so that she could look back at him.

"Luis my love, I know you have dreams of greatness, but you won't accomplish them the way you want to." She touched his cheek. "I looked you up in some books on the history of Old California. You didn't get much more than a sentence or two in any of them. In some you aren't even mentioned."

He stared at her, his shocked mind in turmoil. No gold, no glory, no throne . . . How could it be so?

"You are sure of this?" he asked at last, and felt her nod. Her hand squeezed his gently.

"Yes." Her soft voice took on a brisk tone. "Of course you don't understand yet that there are empires, and then there are empires."

"What are you talking about?"

"Which lasts longer: a rule enforced by fear and intimidation--the least efficient use of energy--or the power of an earned, long-term reputation?"

"I have no idea what you are trying to say." Despite his irritation with her casual dismissal of his career, he was intrigued by her question.

Lucy sighed. "MEN." She tapped the end of his nose. "What is the one thing that carries your memory into the future?"

"Great deeds," he said promptly, which earned him another tap.

"Wrong. One man's 'great deed' is another's folly. Think," she admonished. Luis sighed. This was no time for foolish games; he wanted to find those books and read them for himself, just to make sure she was right.

"I'm afraid you must tell me the answer," he said at last.

"Children."

Of all the things he might reasonably expect her to say, that wasn't on the list.

"What?" He pulled himself up a bit. "You are suggesting I start a family to make up for the soldiers I've lost?"

He thought the question would anger her. Instead he got a soft laugh.

"Well, in a way." Her small fingers twined with his. "When you and Ana marry, you must find your children's strengths and talents, encourage them to excel in those areas, to be the best at what they choose to do." She seemed unaware of the subtle pensiveness coloring her words. "If each successive generation is able to accomplish this with even just half their children, in two hundred years the name Montoya would be one to reckon with."

"How so?"

She made an impatient noise. "Don't you see? If someone wants the best engineer, the best composer, the best accountant, the best whatever, they'll know all they need to do is get in touch with a Montoya. It would be that easy."

It was a woman's view of how the world worked, romantic and naive . . . and yet she made it sound plausible. Luis found himself considering the plan, drawn to the simplicity of the cause and the profound effect resulting from it.

"There is only one flaw in your argument," he said after a long silence. "Ana and I will not be wed."

"You what?" Lucy sat up and almost tipped herself out of the hammock. "Ow!" She smacked her splinted leg in exasperation, wincing. Luis caught her hand and guided it to his chest.

"Now, Lucita," he said in the mildest of reproving tones.

"What happened?" she demanded. "Luis Ramirez, you can't just leave it at that!"

He tilted his head in a quizzical manner. "Why do you always use my full name when you think I am in some sort of trouble?"

"Ooohh!" She glared at him, her pale cheeks glowing with color. "You'd better tell me or I'll whack you with my crutch!" Under her skimpy top her bosom heaved. He enjoyed the enchanting picture for a long moment.

"When I was recovered enough to sit up for short periods, doctor Helm gave me a letter from Ana. She had written it just before deciding to leave me."

The annoyance faded from Lucy's features. She looked stricken.

"So you were alone once more," she said.

"You may believe me when I say there was no love lost between Ana and myself." He repressed a shudder at the thought of life shackled to such a partner. "I did not mourn her departure."

"Where did she go, did she tell you?" Lucy lay back down again. He gathered her to him, rather pleased at how both of them preferred to be close despite the heat.

"She mentioned only that she had plans to travel to Monterey, where she would contact her cousin. I sent her a copy of my letter to Spain, dissolving the engagement and the contract between our families. I received a reply from the Continent just before coming here. A disagreeable business, but now both of us are free."

"Free," Lucy repeated softly. She nestled in the crook of his arm.

"But not for much longer, if I am to follow your plan." He smiled a little. "I must find myself a wife." He put a gentle finger under her chin and tipped her face up a bit. "Who would you recommend?"

She lowered their gaze. "You'll need someone who's willing to put up with you, for starters."

"That narrows down the candidates considerably."

"Does it?" He could barely hear her.

"Indeed it does. I had better, how do you say? Play it safe." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her soft lips.

"Marry me," he whispered.

The blue eyes opened wide. Startlement, shock, delight filled the azure depths before she hid her gaze from his perusal.

"You should find someone younger," her voice was filled with innocent helpfulness. "Someone with money, and prettier--"

He tapped the end of her nose in the same manner as she had done to him earlier. "Tut tut. I prefer the bird in my hand."

Her laughter filled the quiet yard.

"Then," she grinned up at him, all teasing cast aside, "this bird says I will."

Ah yes, she was his.

~~~~~

It was going to be a beautiful day-warm and sunny, with a cool breeze off the ocean. Lucy looked at the clear, brightening sky above her and breathed the scent of fresh-cut herbs mingled with salt air.

Luis will be home today. She savored the certain knowledge like a giddy schoolgirl and laughed at her own foolishness. I should get busy. There are so many things to do, and with the children away I have only David to help. And he has his own chores to finish.

Standing in the center of her garden Lucy did a slow turn, watching the neat lines of cilantro, cumin, oregano, epazote, garlic and marjoram spiral away from her to the perfect circle of the boundary, marked by a rosemary hedge.

Ten years of patience and planning have finally paid off. She glanced with considerable satisfaction at the overflowing basket by her feet. We have enough for ourselves and plenty besides. Thank goodness Marta was able to keep giving me slips and cuttings and seeds when the first three plantings failed. She reached down to pick up the basket, ignoring the ever-present dull ache in her right hip. Any profits I make at market, I'll give Marta ten percent and throw in three weeks of babysitting over the summer. That ought to make Rob happy too.

She laughed again softly as she headed toward the rose terrace where the lavender border waited to be cut. This was already a special day; she wanted very much to make it unforgettable.

~~~~~

Luis stopped on the little rise just above the path leading through the pass to home.

Home . . . he knew it was the right word to employ, knew it even more surely after a month away, with most of his nights spent camped out under the stars or in a cramped, shabby hotel room.

After a few moments he urged his mount forward slowly, watching the bend in the pathway straighten, revealing the hacienda. In the warm light of day's end Mountain View had never looked better. He paused once more, taking it all in: the ocean backdrop, slate blue touched with gold and white; orderly rows of grapevines climbing over the rounded hills into the adjacent valley, with high mountains in the distance brooding in silent splendor; the simple arbor-gate built over the pathway, its wooden structure almost hidden by leafy ramblers.

Vines grafted with cuttings I took from the manor in Santa Elena, after I resigned my commission. Amazing how much better the roses grow here. Luis nudged Saadya forward a little, intent on examining the buds. Another week or two and the entire gate would be a spectacular display of crimson blooms.

Perhaps it would be best to move on. The thought surprised him, along with the faint sense of unease it carried. There was something about the gate-some incident from years ago . . .

The memory came to him with abrupt clarity.

~~

"You wish me to do what?"

"Piss on the post," Lucy's tone was matter of fact, but her blue eyes glinted with amusement. "Both of them, if you can manage it."

"I don't understand. You require me to-to-on the gate?" She had to be teasing him.

"It's for luck. And to protect the house." Lucy folded her arms. "The men in my family have been doing it for generations."

"Hard on the paint," he observed.

"Luis Ramirez." Dark brows lowered. "It's an ancient tradition among my people."

"So is daubing your naked body with woad and running to battle howling like a wolf," he pointed out. "Will you be demonstrating this ancient tradition as well?"

She glared at him for a long moment, then exhaled a long, loud breath through her nose as she turned away.

"I knew you would see reason," he said equably.

"I'll get David to do it. At least he doesn't argue with me--"

"Oh no you won't!" With a chuckle Luis caught her by the arm, brought her to him. His fingers tipped her face up to his for a soft kiss. After an initial reluctance she relaxed. They stayed in each other's embrace for several delightful minutes; then Lucy stepped back. Her hands came to rest on his chest.

"Luis," she said with a smile.

"What is it, querida?" he asked, ready to indulge her for giving in. She turned him toward the gate, her touch loving but firm.

"Pee."

~~

"Dios mio," Luis sighed. "Save me from mad Scotswomen." He patted Saadya's glossy neck. "Let's go home, boy."

They moved down the neat path to the forecourt.

~~~~~

Late afternoon sun slanted through a window, brightening the cool white plaster walls of the kitchen. The rays picked jewels of color from tiles set here and there-dark blue, brilliant green, points of yellow and orange. Along the way they illuminated a figure standing at the worktable in the center of the room.

Lucy sprinkled a few drops of rose water over warm shortbread and set the plate aside, then hurried over to check the main course, covered and waiting in the warming oven. She made sure the dinner wine was cooling in its terra cotta steward; a last-minute panic sent her to the cellars for another, more important bottle. With care she wiped it free of dust and set it on the table, turned to the massive cupboard behind her to take out two crystal wineglasses. Her fingers shook a little as she polished the gold trim and intricate etching. Luis had given the set to her years ago, a memory she treasured for far more than just the gift. Using it had become a welcome ritual.

"Senora Lucy! Senora, he's just passed the gate!" David paused in the doorway, breathless from his run down the lookout hill. His dark eyes widened as he took in her appearance. Lucy did a slow pirouette, brushing the tabletop with her hand to steady herself.

"Will I do?" she asked half in jest. He gave a slow nod.

"Yes, senora. The Colonel will be very pleased."

"Good. Thanks, David." She patted her hair with a nervous gesture. "After you take care of Saadya you're free to spend the evening in town. Doctor Helm said he and senora Marta would welcome your company."

David inclined his head, not quite hiding a smile. "Gracias, senora Lucy." He gestured at the bottle. "Don't forget to pull the cork."

"Cheeky," she grinned, then groaned as a curl loosed from its moorings and fell across her forehead. "Damn!"

David laughed outright. He straightened his lean frame and left her, striding out to the front courtyard. Lucy poked the stray lock of hair back in place and poured wine into the glass, took a deep breath and followed him, skirts rustling.

~~~~~

"All is well, sir," David took the reins and gave Saadya's velvet nose an affectionate pat. "Your business in Monterrey went as you had hoped?"

"Indeed." Luis handed over the reins. "Very profitable, Lieutenant, very profitable. The past season was a good one for us, gracias a Dios. We have buyers for everything we harvested." He patted his mount's flank. "And Rosa's future has been secured as well. What could be better, eh?"

"Agreed, sir." The younger man smiled, though his black eyes were shadowed now with unspoken sadness. "Congratulations. You and senora Lucy have both worked hard. You deserve every blessing."

"Many thanks, Rosalez." But saying that does not give you leave to entertain foolish ideas of marrying my oldest daughter one day. "Will you join us for dinner this evening?"

The Lieutenant shook his head. "I believe senora Montoya has arranged for me to spend the evening in town. I am to bring the children home tomorrow from their stay with the Helms."

"I see." Luis looked down at his dust-stained clothing in mock dismay. Rosalez kept a straight face, but some of the sorrow left his gaze, replaced by amusement.

"Do you have any errands you wish me to run for you, sir?" His tone was pure business with the faintest overtone of teasing.

"No, no. Enjoy yourself," Luis reached into his coat pocket. "Many thanks for your hard work over the years, David." He took the other man's hand, turned it up, placed five gold reales in his palm, closed the lean fingers over them.

"Sir . . ." Rosalez lifted a startled face to his. "No sir--I can't accept this, it's far too generous--"

"It is a poor repayment, but it would please me if you would take it." Luis grinned at him. "Go and spoil a few young ladies in town, Lieutenant. That's an order." And find one to wed while you are at it.

"Yes sir!" David stepped back and saluted him with easy grace. "Thank you sir!" He clucked at Saadya, leading him away as Luis turned toward the house. He was tired and saddle-sore, filthy from a day's hard, long ride . . . but all that was forgotten as Lucy appeared in the doorway.

She wore dark blue silk, the style dated now but still as lovely as ever, to his eyes at least. Honey-brown hair was pinned in a braided knot low on the back of her slender neck; as she moved toward him her silver filigree drop earrings sparked and glittered. They could not match the light in her sea-storm eyes, however. In her left hand was a crystal glass filled with wine, glowing red as a heartsblood ruby through the delicate bowl.

"Welcome home, Luis." Her soft voice was sweet and cool, akin to a long drink from a pure, deep wellspring. "You are well?"

"Quite well," he let his gaze travel over her in frank admiration. "And even better now I am come home to you, my lady." He reached to take her free hand in his gloved one. "I trust you are well," he brushed a lingering kiss over her skin, felt her shiver a little and hid a knowing smile.

"Even better now that you are come home to me, my husband." She offered the wine. He took it and drank, his gaze never leaving hers. Wordlessly he held the goblet to her lips and watched as she tasted the fine vintage-their first good harvest, but certainly not the last.

The gods have indeed smiled upon us, he thought. Two hands resting light on his dusty shoulders brought him back to the moment just as Lucy leaned up to bestow a delicious kiss.

"Happy anniversary," she whispered. Her smile glimmered in the dying light.

They finished off the first bottle and most of another in the bathhouse built over one of their greatest treasures, a small but active hot spring. Lucy had set up her compact disc player-the one modern indulgence she had brought with her, an essential piece of equipment from her days in the Gulf.

Tonio finally got tired of hearing me bitch about running out of fresh batteries. No one else could have cobbled together a bush radio and a boom box in the middle of a desert and made it work. She trailed her fingers in the heated water, reached out to take her glass. Ten cranks and I get a half hour of music. Thanks, caro mia. Hope you're well and happy all those years away.

"You're daydreaming again." Muscular, callused fingers caressed her knee.

"Just enjoying the company." She sipped at her wine. "You like the music?"

"You ask me that every anniversary. Yes, I have learned to like it, oddly enough." Luis chose a strawberry from the platter of sweets by his head. "This Cole Porter, he has-how do you say it? -a way with words."

Lucy nodded absently. "Yes, he did-I mean he will." She laughed. "Keeping the past and future straight, sometimes it's a tough job."

"Indeed." Luis nibbled at the fruit, rubbed what was left lightly over the inside of her wrist when she reached for a shortbread. "I am surprised you can keep anything straight at the moment, mi corazon." His tongue traced the drops of juice with delicate strokes.

"Are you implying I'm a cheap drunk?" Lucy purred and stretched, letting her upper torso rise above the steaming water. She caressed his calf with her big toe, watching him.

"I've got you under my skin," she sang along softly, "'I've got you deep in the heart of me/So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me/I've got you under my skin. . . .'" She sank down once again with a happy sigh. "I love Sinatra."

"You mean this is not Cole Porter?"

"I'm talking about the singer, silly." She took up the lyrics once more. "'I'd sacrifice anything come what might/ for the sake of having you near . . .'" She stroked his thigh. "Which is exactly what you did. Fifteen years later, here we are." She lifted her glass to him and finished off the contents. "There's no place I'd rather be, my love."

"I can think of someplace I'd rather be," a strong hand caught her foot, lifted it out of the water to place it on a neat, well-muscled shoulder. Lucy settled herself back as her other leg received the same treatment. The empty glass slipped from her fingers unnoticed to fall soundlessly on a towel near the water's edge.

"My hair will get all mussed up," she warned, lifting her hips. Luis laughed, grey eyes gleaming with amusement as he shifted position.

"I'm counting on it."

~~~~~

He had once read a passage in a book--two lovers speaking of how each tryst was like the first. He had dismissed the notion with some scorn as a woman's fantasy, impossible and absurd. It was a bit embarrassing to find himself thinking that very sentiment now, and seriously too.

Her response to his touch never failed to amaze him. She took what he gave her and returned it with a generosity that delighted and sometimes disconcerted him. Their lovemaking held a dual quality he secretly treasured-a familiarity paired with a penchant for the spontaneous that brought rewards far beyond the physical.

I trust her. He smiled at the thought.

"Now you're the one who's daydreaming."

The words broke a brief, comfortable silence. They had moved to the garden terrace after a long and indulgent lovemaking session in the hot spring. The house was oddly quiet without children to fill it with noise and activity; Luis had built a fire in the wrought iron grate and pulled Lucy's chaise lounge before it for them to curl up on together.

"What are you thinking?" Lucy's voice was almost a whisper, soft and dreamy. Warm breath ghosted across his skin.

"I am thinking I like your Cole Porter very much," he leaned on an elbow, looking down at her in the semi-darkness.

"You do?" She ran her fingers through his hair, her vivid gaze glowing with contentment.

"'You're just too marvelous, too marvelous for words'," he traced the line of her cheek. "'Like glorious, glamorous, and that old standby amorous-'"

"Oh my god," she was giggling now.

"What is it?" He kissed her temple.

"Your big secret is out at last." She lifted her head and gave him a swift, gentle kiss. "You're a hopeless romantic."

"And everyone in Santa Elena believed that my secret consisted of corrupting young men." Luis grinned down at her, relishing her astonishment.

"What?"

"I never told you someone at the stables saw you climbing down the rose arbor the night you came to visit me." He laughed at her look of dismay. "It was all over the pueblo the next day that El Coronel was smuggling youths into his manor."

"Good grief."

"Well said." He tweaked her nose. "Speaking of secrets, I believe we have an agreement of fifteen years standing to fulfill, Lucita."

A wide smile curved her full lips. "You remembered!"

"Of course I remembered. Did you think I would pass up an opportunity to have my curiosity satisfied?"

"Mine as well," she reminded him. "You want to go first?"

"I want to find out what happened to Grisham."

Lucy laughed outright and sat up, pushing a tumbled mass of golden brown hair off her shoulder. The faint firelight softened her strong features into near beauty; she looked like a young girl, dark eyes shining with excitement. Luis took the moment and tucked it away, deep inside.

She got up off the lounge and went to her desk. Luis could just see her through the french doors as she rummaged among papers, books and jars of paintbrushes. He admired the rounded curve of her hips and straight, slender back, gleaming faintly with traces of oil.

"Someday you will be forced to clean that trash heap," he teased.

"Creative chaos. I can't work when it's all neat and tidy." She came back with an odd-shaped piece of yellowed paper and thrust it at him. "Here."

Luis took it gingerly and squinted at the print. Lucy sighed.

"You didn't go to the oculist in Monterrey, did you?"

"I did indeed, just as you commanded me, my lady. The doctor said I did not need spectacles-and anyway, the light here is very poor." He held the paper closer.

It was a news item, he recognized it as such-some things didn't change all that drastically in two hundred years. He puzzled through unfamiliar English words. Exercise yard, nude, unidentified male, rap sheet . . .

"You sent Marcus to prison through the time access," he said finally, and looked at Lucy in inquiry. "It is called San Quentin?"

She nodded. "Nasty place. Maybe not as bad as Attica or Sing Sing, but it'll do for the likes of him." The ruddy light emphasized the unrelenting line of her long straight nose and strong chin. "We can only hope he's someone's whore by now, being traded around for cigarettes and cheap whiskey."

Luis studied her in silence for a few moments.

"Remind me never to truly anger you," he said at last. Lucy cocked a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Oh, I wasn't really all that mad at Grisham. He had two knees. I left him one."

"Madre Dios." Luis shook his head. "Bloodthirsty Pict."

"Damn straight, after what he did to you." The coldness in her gaze turned glacial for a moment. "It was far better than he deserved."

"That is as maybe," he kissed her cheek. "At any rate, I owe you my thanks."

She caught his hand in hers and returned his kiss with a lingering salute pressed to his palm.

"Your turn," she said after a moment.

"Ask away, querida."

"How did you get your command back after Grisham's coup? David never talks of it and neither do you." She snuggled in against him. "It couldn't have been easy."

Luis leaned back. "It wasn't."

"Tell," she demanded. "What happened?"

"Patience, Lucita." He tucked a thick honey-colored tress behind her ear. "You remember that I was hidden in Robert's office. Only he and David knew I was there."

"And the Queen," Lucy pointed out. Luis gave her delightful backside a light smack.

"Hush. Who is telling this, you or me? Now," he settled Lucy against him, "the situation looked hopeless even after it became clear Grisham was gone permanently. I had no way of knowing just how loyal my remaining troops were, what they had been promised or how thoroughly they had been bribed." He slipped his arm about her waist. "It became clear very quickly that patience and cunning were required. Besides, I had no choice but to wait." He paused, remembering the anxiety and impatience of days spent in the stifling half-gloom of the little storage room. It seemed a lifetime ago, but there were still nights he woke sweating from dark dreams. "While I was convalescing-"

"You mean driving Rob insane," Lucy interposed. She giggled when he gave her cheek a warning pinch.

"As I was saying, while I was convalescing David rejoined the remaining militia. Dangerous work, but he undertook it without a single complaint."

"He's a good man," Lucy said softly. "The best, in fact."

Luis acknowledged the truth of the observation with a nod. "The reports he brought me were more encouraging than I had hoped. Apparently Grisham had proved a capricious taskmaster and was resented by almost all the men. And they had not been paid." He smiled. "It was easy enough to have me return eventually from an extended journey to Monterrey. Rooting out deserters was a simple matter as well. If either of us saw a face we remembered as being part of the rebel group, they were arrested." He was not sure how Lucy would receive the next part of the story, but it had to be told. "When we had rounded up everyone we could identify there was a trial and two days of executions in the square." He looked at her. "You understand this had to occur?"

"Yes, my love." She lay relaxed in his arms, listening. "What happened next? Surely it wasn't all just smooth sailing after that. You must have had a few challenges to your leadership." There was a delicate pause. "The Queen--?"

"She made one or two appearances." He recalled all too clearly the familiar sensation of waking to find a steel blade at his throat. "We worked out a compromise. She would suspend her activities for the amount of time it took me to re-establish my leadership. In return I did not collect the gold due the Crown for that summer and fall." He sighed. "I had the worst part of the deal. La Reina did not have to face a vicious and incompetent Viceroy to explain why the tax coffers were empty. As for other more immediate challenges, well," he shrugged. "There were one or two." He thought of a half dozen bloody coup attempts in the months after his reappearance. "With little or no support from my superiors it was difficult."

"You'd think the dons would have helped out. After all, you were commanding the only police force in the area."

"They wanted to see if I would survive a second time. When it became clear I was here to stay they sent Hidalgo to me with an ultimatum. Either I governed according to their dictates or the next full-scale rebellion would be successful, as they would see to it themselves."

"The hell they would!" Lucy turned toward him, incredulous. "What did you do?"

Luis allowed himself a reminiscent smile. "We reached an accord after I had several dons arrested, brought to the pueblo in the back of a hay wagon and sentenced to summary execution unless their demand was withdrawn."

"Idiots." To his relief she lay her cheek to his shoulder. "I should have been with you."

"We have talked about this," he said gently.

"You were alone. I still can't stand to think of you alone," she kissed his collarbone, her hand caressing his side. Luis touched her brow with his fingers.

"No recriminations, we agreed on that long ago. What is done, is done."

Lucy was silent for a few moments. "May I ask you another question?"

"Of course, querida."

"If you know David is a good man, why won't you let him court Rosa?"

Luis stiffened. He had not anticipated this query. "The matter is not open to discussion. Rosa's future is settled to her best advantage. Marrying Rosalez is not a part of that future."

Lucy touched his arm. "Luis, just do one thing for me. When you see the two of them together tomorrow, watch them."

"Lucy-"

"Please, mi corazon. Humor me."

"Lucita, he can give her nothing. No wealth, no name or title-"

"Do you remember a certain speech you made a while back? We were just finishing dinner at the time."

There was a brief silence.

"Damn." Luis lay back and looked up at the sky, glittering with stars through the olive trees. "Trust you to use that against me."

"I brought you none of the prerequisites you listed in that little soliloquy. No money, no title, no influence at Court." She smiled. "I'm as common as they come, and yet here we are with more wealth than a king. Five healthy and intelligent children, a beautiful home, one of the finest vineyards in California-"

"Enough, enough!" He took her hand in his with a sigh. "Lucy, this is different. I only want what is best for her."

"Don't try to bullshit me, m'chridhe. I know exactly what you want. And I know what David and Rosa want too." She touched his cheek. "Luis, please. Let's not argue about this. Do as I ask you, please?"

A good commander knows when it is time for a strategic retreat. "If it will make you happy, very well." He kissed her fingers. "And now I have something else to ask of you."

"Go ahead," she said finally.

"What happened to you on the train?"

"You know what happened. You've seen the scars."

"I know you were badly hurt. You have never told me what occurred exactly."

"It's not something I want to relive." She tensed, her soft voice taking on a hard edge. "The train was hit by a truck and derailed, a bunch of steel fell on me, I woke up in the hospital two weeks later. End of story."

"You still have bad dreams about it." He kissed her hair. "Tell me," he made his voice soft and gentle. She sighed and pressed her cheek to his neck. Luis held her close and waited.

"I . . . I don't really recall much. There was . . . " She stopped; he felt her force herself onward. "There was this hard jolt to the right, and when I looked up the air was full of-train parts. And people." She swallowed. "The man next to me was cut in half. A piece of metal broke through the wall, killed him and fell on top of me. Some seats piled up over it. It took them ten hours to cut me free."

"Ten hours?" Luis tried not to think of her in pain, pinned and helpless under piles of wreckage. "What of your leg?"

"Broken in three places. They had to put in rods and replace the hip joint." She laughed, a brief sound devoid of humor. "That'll give the archaeologists something to puzzle over a thousand years from now-a woman alive in the nineteenth century with titanium steel hardware in her skeleton."

Luis traced the thin white scars over her thigh and hip but said nothing, shaken by the depth of her suffering.

"You asked." She moved away. He brought her back to him.

"I was thinking I wish I had been there with you. It must have been a long and difficult recovery."

"Not so bad."

"Liar." He softened the accusation with a caress. Lucy was silent for a long time. Then,

"That wasn't the worst." He could barely hear her. "After a week or two the dreams started. Every damn night, waking up in that hospital bed in a pool of sweat, trying to find my chemsuit and get to the casualties . . ." She passed an unsteady hand over her eyes. "For a while it was body parts. I'd be doing triage and the only thing on the stretchers were pieces of people." Her words were thick with unshed tears. "The dreams, they wouldn't stop--I wanted to be with you so much, Luis, so much . . . God, I missed you!"

"Shhh." He rubbed her back with slow, gentle circles. After a few moments she began to relax with just an occasional tremor.

"We both have regrets," he said after a time. Lucy nodded slowly.

"But we are here together," she repeated the well-worn phrase and essayed a little smile. It trembled at the edges but it was genuine.

"Fifteen years, and it seems as if we are only just beginning." He drew her close. "Enough revelations for tonight, querida. We have all of tomorrow morning to talk if you wish."

Lucy said nothing, but her hand sought his, brought it up to place it palm down over her heart. Luis closed his eyes, aware as never before of the contradiction between fragility and strength of the woman at his side.

She trusts me too. It was a good thought to keep him company as she fell asleep in his arms.

~~~~~

The last leg of the ride to Mountain View was always Rosa's favorite part of the journey. It was fun to try and catch the first glimpse of the hacienda; home never looked as welcoming and beautiful as it did then.

Today however, tradition took second place to the sure knowledge that Papa had returned from Monterrey. She knew he would make it back in time; he never missed his anniversary with Mama. There would be a big family celebration, and David would attend.

Rosa dared a glance at him, guiding the wagon along the rutted path with quiet skill. She longed for a kiss-not that he had ever attempted or encouraged such a thing. They hadn't even so much as held hands. "Are you certain Papa is all right?" she asked once more. "Did he say why he stayed so long in Monterrey?"

David chuckled. "You've asked me that three times now and the answer is still the same. Your father is fine, senorita." His slight smile faded. "And you know very well why he stayed a month in town."

"He's planning to send me away." A chill of dread touched her spine. "I don't want to go to Spain! To be turned into a lady and made to marry some man I've never met . . ." She shivered and moved a bit closer to David.

"Your father only wants what is best for you, senorita." He stared at the road ahead, his profile stern and a little sad. "He loves you very much."

"He wants what he thinks is best," she amended with some bitterness. "Why must I go away? I'm almost fifteen, a grown woman!"

"You are fourteen and nowhere near as grown as you think." David looked at her then. His dark eyes held subtle amusement as well as a warning. "Your father is a wise man, senorita Rosa. You would do well to obey him."

Any further discussion was interrupted as a small, stocky body pushed its way between the two of them. "Me wan' come up front!"

Rosa lifted the toddler to her lap. "Ramirez, sit still."

"Not fair!" A lowering face surrounded by gleaming dark auburn curls thrust itself into her field of vision. "You always let him sit up front!" Dark blue eyes glared at her in hot accusation.

"Life isn't fair." David's quiet voice broke in just as Rosa opened her mouth to argue. "But this time you may sit with me, Stefan." His large hand helped the boy up and into the seat. "Here, you can hold the reins."

Of course such favoritism provoked a chorus of protest from the others. Rosa kept a firm grip on Ramirez, who was squirming like a worm on a hook, then turned to face Kaitlin and Maria.

"The next time we go to town I'll stay in the back with the boys and you two can sit up front, all right?"

"Then how will you hold hands with David?" Maria teased. Rosa resisted the temptation to stick out her tongue.

"Spiteful little toad," she muttered under her breath.

"I heard that! Wait till Papa finds out what you called me!"

"Don't be a tattletale," Stefan smirked at his sister from the relative safety of David's side. "You know what Mama says about that."

"I don't but you ought to," Maria retorted. "You've been in trouble often enough."

"Enough!" Rosa raised her voice. "Shut up, all of you! We're nearly home and this is Mama and Papa's special day, I don't want you brats to spoil it for them. Besides," she added in her best persuasive tone, "if you want to search Papa's coat pockets you have to behave."

Silence descended on the wagon like a sudden shower of rain. She hid a smile and turned back in time to see David look away, lips twitching.

"Mama!" Ramirez bounced up and down, one chubby hand clutching Rosa's braid. "Me see Mama, Rosie!"

And indeed she was standing by the gate, looking much the same as always in her brown dress and plain white apron. Rosa was a little disappointed, even though she was glad of her mother's welcoming smile and open arms. Surely the occasion merited something more fashionable than homespun?

"I couldn't wait to see you all," Mama explained as she clambered up into the wagon. "The house was so quiet and empty this morning I didn't know what to do with myself!"

The last few yards to the forecourt were taken up with questions, answers and general confusion. Ramirez had abandoned his big sister for his mother's lap; Rosa sat smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt, wishing she could snuggle up to David without being noticed.

"Ask your mother about the blue silk dress."

Startled, she turned to look at David. He smiled at her, his lean, rugged face alight with humor and understanding.

"Later, when you're alone," he added. Rosa nodded and gave him a shy smile.

"Papa! Papa!" Maria stood as the wagon pulled up to the door of the house. "Papa's home!"

There was a rush to get out and run to the steps. Rosa hung back for a moment, screened from view by her mother's body as Mama eased her way down, Ramirez tucked under her arm like a parcel.

"I'm afraid," she whispered. Greatly daring, she touched David's hand. To her complete astonishment he took her fingers in a brief, gentle clasp.

"It will be all right," he said softly. "Don't worry, Rosamundi. Things will work out, you'll see."

~~~~~

Grey eyes narrowed, taking in the secretive gesture half-hidden by Lucy's backside and Ramirez' flailing legs.

So, Luis said to himself. That is the way the cat is jumping. He watched David help Lucy out of the wagon and then turn to Rosa, his attitude one of respect and deference-nothing unusual there, but . . .

When did it deepen to love? For it was love, that much was certain. And Rosa wore a blissful expression that told its own story. Luis gave a soundless sigh.

Dios mio. When Lucita stops being right about things I will be the King of Spain and above such minor concerns as a good marriage for my oldest daughter. He thought of the carefully negotiated contract, complete with bribes and kickbacks, not to mention the ship's passage booked and paid for. Well, there are a few months between now and the date of her departure. He glanced at David. Perhaps a talk with Rosalez would be in order. It would not do to make him even more desirable by turning him into forbidden fruit.

"Papa, Papa!"

All serious thoughts were pushed away on a wave of shouting and laughter as his little ones surrounded him. Luis bent down, swept Maria up in his arms. She giggled and kissed his cheek, her grey eyes shining with pride at being the one singled out for special attention.

"Mama, whose children are these?" he called to Lucy. "They must be beggars-look how they try to pick my pockets!"

Lucy laughed and set Ramirez down, smiling as he headed for Luis on sturdy little legs. "Hmm, maybe we'd better take them to the orphanage."

"Papa, you're a big tease," Maria pronounced sentence with a look that was pure Lucy, from the lowered brows to the slightly protruding lower lip. He laughed and patted her gently, then set her down.

"Who is ready to find a treasure?" he asked, and mock-staggered as small hands tugged at his coat. He eased his arms out of the sleeves and handed it to Kaitlin.

"One apiece," he warned, and moved to Lucy's side to watch the fun.

Who would have thought a wannabe emperor could be such a great father? Lucy smiled at Luis as he came toward her with his hand behind his back.

"Do you not wish to know if you also have a treasure hidden away for you, little girl?" he asked. She chuckled.

"Depends on what pocket it's in."

He laughed and handed her a small package wrapped in brown paper as Rosa came up to join them. Lucy broke the string and carefully removed the paper, folded it in a neat square and tucked it in her apron pocket.

"A book!" Her eyes widened as she turned it over and read the title. "'Pride and Prejudice' . . ." She looked up at Luis in astonishment. "Where on earth did you get this?"

"I sent away for it two years ago." He savored her reaction. "It came all the way from London with Doctor Helm's supply order."

"First edition." Lucy turned the crisp pages in growing delight. "Luis, this is incredible! Two hundred years from now it'll be worth a fortune." She leaned forward at his knowing chuckle and kissed him. "Thank you, my love."

"Read it to us, Mama." Rosa looked down at the page. "What's it about?"

"Oh, I think you'll like it, Rosita." Lucy put a gentle hand on her daughter's slender shoulder. "Will you round up the children for me and take them to the terrace? I have lemonade and cake ready for them."

When she had gone Lucy turned to Luis and threaded her hand through the crook of his elbow.

"Any news from the good Doctor and his wife?" Luis brought her closer as they began to stroll toward the terrace garden.

"Marta received a letter from Tessa. It seems she and Juan are moving to San Francisco. She wants the children to grow up in California, as she did."

"Indeed." Luis ushered her through the gate. "And will Senor Torres open a fencing academy there, do you think?"

"Knowing Spanish male machismo the way I do, I'd say that's a safe bet. Juan isn't one to let his wife support him."

"My dear Lucy, a smart man of any descent would understand full well that women are the ones who are in charge where family is concerned."

Lucy glanced at her companion. He met her gaze with his own blandly innocent one.

"So . . ." she kept her tone light. "You saw."

"Yes." He sighed. "Querida-"

"Just think about it, that's all I ask." She knew better than to push. "Aren't you going to ask about your present?"

He turned to her at the gate. "I must confess to a certain reluctance, after last year's gift."

Lucy took in the picture he presented-white shirt open at the throat, thick dark auburn hair ruffled by the mild breeze, those silver-grey eyes bright with silent laughter-and chuckled.

"It's something you've always wanted," she patted his arm. "I put it on your desk."

They had arrived at the terrace. The cake and lemonade were in the process of orderly demolition; rushing Papa for presents was one thing, but good manners prevailed at all times around his table. Luis ceded his great chair to Lucy and made do with a seat on one of the benches. He would stay for a few minutes, then tend to other matters while his wife had the children distracted.

"When you're done, take your plates and glasses to the kitchen and wash your hands and faces. Remember to use water," Lucy called as Rosa shepherded the little ones along. She looked at Luis with a smile. "You're staying?"

"Just for a moment." He gestured at the book. "Is it suitable for reading aloud?"

"Well, if I had Rob's accent it might be more authentic, but yes, it's suitable." Her smile widened. "I'll loan it to you later."

"You can read it to me later." He folded his arms and leaned back against the wall, aware of something tickling his memory, just as had happened before, at the gate-an event from long ago . . .

They came back in record time to settle around their mother-Ramirez in her arms already asleep, the younger girls nestled into her skirts, Stefan on one side and Rosa on the other. Lucy opened the book and began to read, her soft, musical voice filling the garden with sound. Rosa leaned in to snuggle against her mother's shoulder; Lucy's arm went about the girl, drawing her close . . .

. . . and the first time I saw this scene I was lying across the back of a horse, bound and concussed and certain I was on the way to my death. Luis shook his head slightly, hardly able to credit what he was seeing. And only God knows how it will all turn out-but I am glad I am here for this, at least.

He stayed for a few more minutes, then left the terrace. It was a pleasant day, but he had one destination in mind before continuing the day's chores.

The package on his desk looked innocuous enough. Luis eyed it with apprehension. After a few moments he approached it. With caution he undid the paper and opened the box.

~~~~~

Lucy was nearing the end of the first chapter when a movement at their bedroom window caught her eye. She paused and looked up to find Luis facing her. In his hands was a small wooden cannon-perfect in every detail, a product of David's skilled hands. Luis lifted it up a bit and executed a courtly bow. Lucy stifled a giggle. Wait till he finds out it really works.

He touched the fine carving and resisted the urge to take the toy to the courtyard and experiment.

Now I have everything I ever wanted-empire, wealth and even cannon-but not quite the way I envisioned it. How the gods love to laugh at Luis Ramirez Montoya . . . but who will have the last laugh here? He set the cannon on his desk and aimed it at Lucy's side of the bed, moved silent through the room to close the door gently behind him.

FINIS