Erica glanced at the clock over the mantel for the hundredth time. It was almost three o’clock in the morning. Mac had called to say that the report from the hospital was good, but Conner had been gone for over three hours.
“Idiot. You know that hospitals insist on keeping a patient with a concussion overnight.”
But he could have called.
He wasn’t going to call. He’d protected her as Mac had asked him to do and he’d found out what happened to Bart. She’d never see him again. Why should she expect to?
But, dammit, he cared about her. Oh, he hadn’t said the words, but she knew. They were good together. Each of them made the other stronger. She was no longer an unwanted child, no longer an adult who made things run smoothly for someone else. She was Erica Fallon, Dragon Lady. Shadow’s Dragon Lady.
Erica let out a deep sigh. The past two days had shown her that action solved problems and the time had come for her to take some in her own life. Maybe she’d start by going to the hospital first thing in the morning. This time she wouldn’t give up. If Conner wouldn’t come to her, she’d go to him.
Erica stood and began turning off all the lights. Though the house was finally warm, she shivered. She crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing them slowly. She wondered if she’d ever feel warm again.
She moved down the hall to the front door and turned off the porch light. Then she started back toward the kitchen, pausing for a moment when she reached the spot where she’d been sitting the night Conner came.
As if on command, a shaft of moonlight cut through the clouds and focused on the deck, catching a man in its beam. He was dressed all in black, from his head to his feet. Except for a red cap with a band of white fur around it.
Erica’s heart stopped.
The door opened.
“I don’t know who you are,” she whispered, “but if you’re not Shadow, you’d better be Santa.”
He closed the door and came slowly down the hall, a bell jingling like spurs with every step. “Have you been a good little girl?”
“Would that get me what I want?”
“Depends on what you want,” he said.
“I don’t think you can fit it in your bag.”
“Try me.”
They were standing only inches apart when she answered. “I want to get married.”
“So do I. To anyone in particular?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve had my eye on the groom for ten years. If he’ll still have me.”
“He’d be very honored to have you. Will tomorrow be soon enough?”
“I guess it will have to be as long as we don’t have to wait until after the ceremony to start our honeymoon.”
He pulled off his Santa cap and dropped it on the floor. He hooked his finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up. The moment shimmered between them, the tension dissolving her very bones.
“God, I still want you,” he said.
“Lust, I believe you called it. Is that enough?”
“Hell no, lust isn’t enough. I want a woman who’ll nurse my wounds when I’m hurt, who’ll take on the world if she thinks she can save my life, who waits for me even when I’ve let her down in the past. What do you want?”
She could have given him a laundry list of the things she loved about him: his compassion, his dedication, his willingness to risk his life for her. Instead, she simply said, “You.”
Erica could feel his need, the intensity of his holding back. The air around them seemed to get hotter. She gasped and swayed toward him, no longer able to tolerate the distance between them.
Then Conner kissed her, long and deep.
“There’s never been another woman for me, Dragon Lady,” he whispered. “We’ve wasted too much time. I want to be beside you, inside you, with you for the rest of my life.”
But he didn’t touch her, except to support her waist with his big hands. He seemed intent on drawing out every nuance of heat that was scorching her very skin. It was as if he knew she was about to explode.
He pulled back and looked down at her, his blue eyes stormy in the half-light, his lips grim.
“What’s wrong, Conner?”
“Not a thing. For the first time in a very long time, everything is right.” He lifted his knee and shucked one boot, then the other, and finally, his socks, his gaze planted firmly on Erica all the while.
She glanced down at the floor and Conner’s bare feet, then smiled. “No fair, you’re getting a head start.”
His lips relaxed, curling into a smile that made the blood in her veins churn. “We can’t have that, can we?” His gaze drifted to her breasts and down. “No zipper?”
She shook her head.
He caught the bottom of her sweater and pulled it up, bending her back across his arm as his lips feasted on breasts that were covered by a scrap of lace.
Before Conner had been the leader. This time Erica pushed him away and moments later, in the faint light of the one lamp still glowing in the kitchen, she stood before him totally nude.
He whispered her name and reached for her.
“No, Conner. Let me. We don’t have our tree and there is no snow, but it’s Christmas. You’re exactly what I wanted Santa to bring me. Let me unwrap my present.”
She removed his sweater, unfastened his pants, and slid the zipper down. As he drew in a deep breath, she took him by the hand and led him up the stairs, kissing him upward, one step at a time.
But every time he tried to pull her closer, she stopped him. “Not yet. Anticipation is half the fun.”
At the top of the stairs she hooked her thumbs inside his jeans and briefs, sliding them down, freeing his erection to be tortured by her lips and her tongue.
Conner groaned, and pulled her up. “I’ve had just about as much anticipation as I can handle for one night, darling.”
She laughed and danced away from him and down the corridor into the bedroom, where she’d once come to hide from the world. Conner followed, closing the door behind him, throwing the room into total darkness.
At that moment the clouds outside parted, allowing the light of a silver moon to flood through the crocheted valance at her window. Suddenly the room was cast with a delicate pattern that looked like snow. The wind whistled against the house, moving the curtain slightly, turning the design into a swirling storm of white.
“Oh, Conner. Thank you.”
Too filled with emotion to reply, Conner lifted her in his arms and laid her on the bed. And there, amid nature’s canopy of light, Conner Preston made love to the woman who would at last become his wife.
There were no words to describe their coming together, except her cry of ecstasy at his touch. She threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled him against her.
As Conner thrust himself inside her, Erica lifted her hips to meet him. Conner gritted his teeth and held on with every ounce of control he possessed. But it had been too long and his need too great. He couldn’t hold back his intense release, and it took him a moment to realize that she was climaxing with him.
As he came back down, he felt her tight around him, still holding on and he opened his eyes in wonder. “Wow, lady! If this is what happens when you live in the clouds, I may never want to leave.”
“That’s good,” she said in a light, breathless voice, “because I don’t intend to let you.”
“But it happened so fast I didn’t—I mean, you …”
“Oh, yes I did.” She flexed her muscles, setting off a throb of desire through their still-connected bodies. Catching his face in her hands, she drew him down for a long, deep kiss. “And I think I could do it again.”
She did.
And so did he.
At last the moon moved behind the trees and their fairy tale setting faded to black. Conner slid off her, gathering her against him.
“I feel as if I’m floating,” he said with surprise in his voice.
Floating? “Conner.” She rose on one elbow, looking down at him. “I didn’t ask, are you all right? I mean your concussion. This could have killed you.”
“I would have died happy. Before that happens, Erica, I want to say that I love you. I always did. I still do.”
“And I love you, Conner Preston. I always have. Now, tell me the truth. Did they really think you were well enough to be released from the hospital?”
“Conner Preston was told to stay. But Shadow always gets in and out of anyplace he wants to.”
“Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“I told you once I believed in the kiss-it-and-make-it-better method of treatment. I can assure you, I’m one hundred percent cured. Well, maybe only ninety-nine. We’d better keep working on it.”
“Tell me what happened.” She snuggled back into the curve of his shoulder.
“They took Ernst and Kilgore into custody. I think Kilgore will be out before morning, but his collecting days may be numbered.”
“What about the ambassador?”
“They don’t know yet. This time the wound was in his chest. He’s an old man. My guess is that he doesn’t want to survive.”
Erica felt bad about what had happened, but when she considered the full picture, she couldn’t forgive the ambassador for what he’d done. Though not directly responsible for Bart’s death, the ambassador had to share the blame.
“Do you think it was Ambassador Collins who arranged to intercept my letter to you, Conner?”
“Collins or the base commander. I guess we won’t ever know.”
“But Ambassador Collins wasn’t all bad, Conner,” she persisted. “He really did help me. Why?”
“Who knows? Maybe it was out of genuine concern and maybe it was as a kind of insurance policy for himself. I think he must have had hope that someday you’d produce Bart’s book. Why’d you stay with him?”
“I told you. He really needed me. I liked my job and the embassy was like a family. They made me feel secure.”
Conner turned slightly, bringing his free arm down and capturing one breast with his fingertips. “But you have a new life now, with me.”
Erica had never wanted anything more. But there was still one truth left unsaid. She couldn’t let Conner marry her without knowing it all.
“There’s something I have to tell you, Conner. You never got my letter so you never knew … I was pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” His fingertips stilled. “You were carrying my child?”
“Yes. I didn’t know where you were. I wrote to tell you about the baby and that I was going to Paris. I got an apartment and I waited. And I waited. But you never came.”
“Son of a—I swear, Erica. I never knew.”
“I know that now.”
“The ambassador said something about a hospital, about you being ill. Was that it? What happened?”
“At six months I developed some kind of infection. The doctors did everything they could, but I lost the baby.”
“I should have been there. I would have come.”
She sighed. “I was very sick for a long time. Then the ambassador found me and took me into the embassy. His wife was still living then. They gave me a home and the pain gradually eased.”
He caught her fingertips, pressing them against his lips. “I’m so sorry, Erica. It must have been terrible. I don’t know why you’d let me within ten feet of you after what I did.”
“But I didn’t blame you. I knew you held me responsible for Bart’s death. You believed that I’d changed my mind about the wedding. I—I thought I was protecting you. If I hadn’t gone with those men, Bart wouldn’t have died. You can’t imagine how guilty I felt.”
“And I didn’t come back to you because of my own guilt. I couldn’t even go to Bart’s funeral. For months I didn’t want to live myself. The only way I could face my failure was to blame you. I was alive, but Bart was dead.
“It was all I could think about. That and you. I should have known something was wrong, but I couldn’t allow myself to have you.” He buried his face in her hair. “Losing you was my punishment.”
“You lost Bart and me. I lost you and our child. Don’t you think we’ve lost enough? Bart would want you to get past this tragedy and go on living. The thing I regret most is that Bart will never get the credit for what he found.”
A moment passed in silence.
“There are still two things I’m wondering about,” Conner finally said. “According to the ambassador, Bart brought one of the statues to prove his claim. Where was the other statue?”
“I guess he must have left it behind. Maybe someday someone will find the secret room and all the treasures can be returned to their rightful owners. What’s the other question?”
“Paradox, Inc. is still in business, but it looks like Shadow won’t be taking on any more secret missions and you don’t have a job. Do you have any thoughts on our future?”
“As a matter of fact, I was thinking about completing my degree and maybe … maybe finishing Bart’s work. As for Shadow, I see no reason for him to vanish.”
“I do. Shadow takes too many risks. I have a wife now and … I know it’s too soon to talk about it,” he said, rimming her nipples with his fingertips, “but there’s another thing I’d like us to accomplish.”
“What?”
“Another baby. Babies. I want lots of babies. What do you think?”
“I like your plans, Conner. I like you. I think I always knew that we were meant to be together.”
“That’s why I’m here,” he agreed.
“I wish we had our Christmas tree,” she said, savoring the idea of her future with Conner.
“It’ll still be in our suite when we get back tomorrow.”
“We’re going back to New Orleans?”
“Of course. We have to open the presents under it.”
“I already have the only present I want. But I don’t have anything for you.”
“Oh, yes, you do,” he said, and moved over her. “And I’m going to enjoy it at least once more before morning. By the way, do you have any chocolate in the house?”
The doorbell had been ringing for some time before Erica finally heard it. Groggily, she sat up and reached for her robe.
Conner was beginning to stir as she left the room and started toward the front door.
“Yes?”
A uniformed postal employee was standing outside, holding a large box. “Mrs. Preston?” he asked.
Erica frowned, then nodded.
“Special delivery package for you. It’s pretty heavy. Better let me set it inside.”
She stepped back as he put it in the foyer.
“Thank you,” she managed to say.
“Sure thing. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you,” she answered as she shut the door behind him.
“Who is it?” Conner’s voice came from behind her.
She turned around to see him stumbling into the hallway, zipping his jeans.
“The postman. What kind of silly thing have you done?”
“Not me, not this time. What is it?”
“I don’t guess we’ll know until we open it. Let’s take it to the kitchen.”
The package was wrapped in brown paper and postmarked Berlin. The original label had been addressed to Lieutenant and Mrs. Conner Preston, in care of Ambassador Collins, U.S. Embassy, Washington, D.C. That address had been marked through and it had been forwarded to Erica in Tennessee.
Conner lifted an eyebrow, then grabbed a knife from the drawer and split open the wrapping. Inside was a box covered in yellowed wrapping paper and a card. To the two people I love most in the world. Be happy, Bart.
“Bart must have had this with him the morning of the wedding,” Cornier said softly.
“Where has it been all this time?”
Conner looked at the return address. “It came from the minister who was to marry us. Mac spoke with him and said the old man was sending us something.”
They looked at each other, throats too tight to speak.
Finally, Conner ripped off the paper and cut the tape securing the box. Swallowing hard, he wiped his hands on the sides of his jeans and opened it. Peeling away the shredded-up newspaper, he lifted the object.
Erica gasped. “The other Virgin Mary.”
Conner shoved the box and paper away and switched on the overhead lights. The second statue was as exquisite as the first. A note was taped to the ornate base. Conner opened it, almost afraid to read what was inside.
I think somebody’s been following me for the last two days. If anything happens to me, brother, I’m entrusting you with my discovery. Shadow can follow my directions and find the secret room, even if you can’t. I love you, guy. Bart.
Conner handed the note to Erica. “Follow his instructions? What instructions?” He lifted the statue, turning it over and over, studying the work of art. Then he saw a tiny nick beneath the Virgin Mary’s feet, almost like an arrow.
He inserted the tip of the knife into the mark and pried. The bottom of the base dropped off, revealing a hollow space, a space containing, “the black book,” Conner said.
“It existed all the time,” Erica murmured.
Their eyes met and Erica felt their thoughts join. Closure, at last. All the loose ends had been tied up. Now Bart’s death stood for something. He’d really found the treasures.
“What shall we do with it?” She asked.
“I’m not sure. Maybe your idea to go treasure hunting is a good one—for Bart. We’ll ask Mac. He’s a very wise man who knows how to right a wrong.”
Conner replaced the statue on its base and slid his arm around Erica. The warm feeling inside his heart expanded, filling him with joy and peace.
“For Bart,” Erica agreed. She lifted her face to receive Conner’s kiss, a kiss that was tender and warm and promised forever. She knew that she was home at last.
“Now,” she said, several moments later, “about that craving for chocolate.”