Paradise Wild

  Paradise Wild

  Johanna Lindsey

  Chapter 1

  April 9,1891

  THE tall, slender, golden-haired young woman fidgeting I by the hall table fastened her startling green eyes on the closed door at the left of the hall. She sighed. The sigh caused her younger cousin Lauren to look away from the window and ask, "For heaven's sake, Corinne, why are you so nervous?" Lauren Ashburn turned back to the win­dow and studied the chilly scene across the way, her brown head tilted back. Boston Common looked so stark—row upon row of ancient trees bending to the merciless wind tearing its way toward Beacon Street and this townhouse.

  Even in April, Boston was not an easy place to live. The months of cold, harsh winds and the need to stay indoors much of the time had taken a toll on the cousins. Corinne was harder to please than usual, and even sweet-tempered Lauren found herself gloomy much of the time.

  "It doesn't look as though spring is coming at all this year," Lauren sighed as she fingered the rich scarlet draperies.

  Corinne glanced up, her golden brows drawing together over the marvelous emerald eyes. "How can you prattle about spring at a time like this?" she snapped. Her glance moved quickly to the closed door and then back to her young cousin.

  Following her gaze, Lauren shrugged. "I would think you'd be used to this by now. You've been through it twice in the last year alone."

  Corinne's quick temper charged to the surface. "Ishouldn't expect you to understand!" she said bitterly. "You have years before suitors will come to speak to your father. Then well see how you like waiting while your future is decided by men—instead of by you."

  Lauren's brown eyes filled. "I do understand, Cori. I'm sixteen, only three years younger than you."

  Corinne instantly regretted her sharp words. Impulsive, she was always having to apologize for angry remarks.

  "I'm sorry, Cousin. It's just that I'm so nervous this time. Russell really is my last hope."

  "Now why do you say that, Cori? You've had scores of suitors for the last three years, all the most handsome and well-to-do men in Boston. Don't you know how beau­tiful you are? If Cousin Samuel says no to Russell, there will be plenty more for you to choose from."

  "No, there wont be. There are very few men like Russell."

  Lauren smiled knowingly. "You mean there are very few men you can twirl around your little finger as you do Russell. Or the way you did Charles, and William before that."-

  "Exactly. The others just won't do."

  "Russell Drayton isn't quite as timid as the other two were. I was really surprised when you chose him. But then, he has seemed to conform to your wishes."

  "Russell and I have an understanding. He'll do just fine."

  "I guess it's fortunate that you don't love him. At least if your father refuses him, you won't be broken-hearted."

  "I will never be broken-hearted," Corinne laughed. "But Russell is going to exert himself, show he has some guts. He should be putting on quite a performance right now," she said, nodding toward the closed study door. She frowned. "The interview shouldn't be taking this long."

  "Why don't we wait in the parlor?" Lauren suggested. "This hall is too drafty."

  "You go ahead. I couldn't sit stilL And I want to see Russell the second he comes out."

  Corinne rang the bell by the parlor door and the Bar­rows' butler appeared instantly from the back of the house. "Brock, Miss Ashburn will have tea in the parlor."

  "Yes, Miss Barrows," the dour Brock replied. "And Mr. Drayton? Will he be staying for dinner after the interview, miss?"

  Corinne stiffened. It infuriated her that the household staff always knew everything. She had just that morning decided that today would be appropriate for Russell to make his plea, what with her father's congenial mood of the last few days.

  "I will let you know, Brock," she replied sharply, dis­missing him.

  At that moment the front door knocker sounded, startling the three. Brock moved to answer it, but Corinne stopped him, eager for any diversion. She opened the door and shivered as the chill wind swept past her into the hall, molding her blue muslin dress to her body.

  The sharp, light-green eyes of a stranger met hers. The man was small and slender, with bright red hair and long sideburns extending below his bowler hat, which he was wise enough to hold in place. He was a curious little ferret-like man with a beaked nose, wearing a tight-fitting brown tweed suit.

  "May I help you?" Corinne offered.

  Ned Dougherty scrutinized the lovely blond girl care­fully with an eye for detail, a habit necessitated by his profession. His mind registered the dark-gold hair, the slightly arched brows, the large eyes of a brilliant, clear, greenish yellow, set perfectly over the modestly curved nose. Long eyelashes fanned high cheekbones. Her lips were not too wide. Her smooth, ivory complexion and gently rounded chin blended beautifully with the lovely face.

  "May I help you?" she repeated, a little sharply.

  Ned cleared his throat. Hers was a face he would not forget. Nor could anyone ignore the gleaming golden hair with its coppery highlights.

  "Is this the Samuel Barrows residence?"

  "Yes."

  Ned's sharp green eyes continued his examination, noting the slim neck, the high, pointed breasts. The dress tapered to a tiny waist and he could guess at the slim hips and long legs. She seemed about five feet seven, rather tall for a girl.

  "Sir, if you do not quickly state your business, I must bid you good day." Corinne was growing impatient.

  "Forgive me, miss, I am looking for a Samuel Barrows who, many years ago, visited a group of islands in the Pacific known once as the Sandwich Islands, more recently as the Hawaiian Islands."

  "You must have the wrong man."

  "Are you quite sure, miss? It was a long time ago, nine­teen years. You could hardly have been in Mr. Barrows employ at that time, so you couldnt—"

  "I beg your pardon," Corinne interrupted haughtily. "Mr. Barrows is my father."

  "Forgive me again, Miss Barrows," Ned said in embar­rassment. This girl's beauty had a disturbing effect on him. "I only assumed—"

  "I know what you assumed. Now good day!"

  Ned Dougherty held up his hand as she started to close the door. "Are you positive you know of all your father's travels?"

  "Yes!" she snapped, and slammed the door angrily. But then a distant memory floated into her mind and she quick­ly opened the door again.

  "Wait!" she called, stopping the little man as he turned away. She smiled apologetically. "Now I must ask you to forgive me, sir. My father has been to the Hawaiian islands. He told me about it when I was a child. I'm afraid I had forgotten."

  Ned Dougherty's eyes lit up. "This was nineteen years ago?"

  "Exactly," she admitted. "He was there when I was bom. Did you wish to see him?"

  "No thank you, Miss Barrows. Good day to you."

  "Wait! I don't understand," she called after him, but he was already hurrying down the street.

  "Well, botheration!" she cursed aloud. "What a rude lit­tle man!"

  Corinne slammed the door shut on the cold evening. Turning, she sighed and faced the empty hall. She studied the many sofas and padded benches against the walls, the large unlit chandelier used for formal gatherings, mirrors, the pictures which were said to have come from England with her ancestors. All these riches and for what? Her father kept the purse strings closed tightly.

  Corinne started for the closed door, fed up with waiting.

  It opened suddenly, and Russell stormed out. Seeing his angry countenance, she ventured reluctantly, "He said no?" "He said no," Russell answered tightly. "He said abso­lutely no!"

  Corinne grabbed his arm. "I don't understand. Didn't you say what I told you to say?" "Yes."
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  "And you stood up to him?" "Yes, Corinne, yes!" Then why?" she pleaded in confusion. "He saw through me, he said," Russell replied despon­dently. "God, if he only knew!"

  "Knew what? What are you talking about?" "It doesn't matter, Corinne. He has had us followed for months. Nothing could make him believe I'm not the spineless fool he accused me of being." "Russell!"

  "I don't want to talk about it now. I'll see you later at the club."

  He left the house without another word. Corinne stood numbly in the middle of the hall. She genuinely liked Rus­sell. He was by far the most handsome man she had ever seen, even though he was a bit too thin and had a beard that irritated her sensitive skin. But Russell was pliable, ready to bow to her wishes. And they were so well suited. He was tall enough for her own ungainly height, and they enjoyed so many of the,same things. They especially en­joyed Corinne's one obsession, which was gambling. Though she really didn't know that much about Russell, he must be wealthy or he wouldn't be able to afford gambling almost nightly. His wealth meant that she didn't have to worry that he was after the money she would inherit when she married.

  It wasn't fair. In the last year her father had changed from the loving, tolerant man she had always adored into an obstinant tyrant. He was thwarting her every move.

  Corinne's temper, always quick, bubbled now into out­raged fury. She marched into her father's study and glared at him across his large desk.

  "What are you trying to do to me?" she demanded loudly, not caring who heard her.

  "Now, Cori, honey," Samuel Barrows began in a conciliatory voice. "I knew you would be upset, but there's no reason to be."

  "No reason!" she countered. "No reason?" She started to pace back and forth before his desk. "When you turned William down, I thought perhaps you had a good explana­tion. Then when you refused Charles' suit, I thought you were being cautious. After all, Charles was only vice-presi­dent of a bank, and though his family was from sound stock and modestly wealthy, they couldn't compare to our family, or the fortune I will inherit." She faced him again. "But what could have made you say no to Russell?" "He's not the man for you, Cori."

  "How can you say that? He's the man I want to marry! You've taught me to go after what I want!"

  "I should have taught you better judgement," Samuel replied, lowering his light brown eyes. "I've given you too much freedom for a girl. It will have to be a strong man indeed who can control you."

  Her emerald eyes sparkled. "But I don't want a strong man. I've lived all my life with a man like that—you! Our battle of wills has been challenging, but I want to live the rest of my life in peace."

  "You mean you want everything the way you want it, no matter whether your judgement is sound or not?"

  "I want control of my life! Is that too much to ask?" she demanded.

  Samuel met her cold stare. "Girl, you have proved over this last year that you're not wise enough to have that control yet."

  Corinne started to retort, but quickly remembered Rus­sell saying that her father had had them followed. So he knew about her gambling. And she had taken such pains to be secretive about it, so that he would not guess where her generous monthly spending money went.

  "I will admit that my judgement is not always sound, but it will improve in time," Corinne said reluctantly.

  "I can only pray that time comes within the next two years," Samuel returned.

  Corinne's anger sparked again. "Do you intend to keep me under your rule till then? Are you saying I can't marry until then?"

  "No, blast it all!" Samuel finally lost his patience. "I'm trying to save you from yourself. You're so eager to get your hands on your trust that you don't care who you marry. For God's sake, Corinne, can't you wait just two more years? Then you'll have your grandmother's money and can marry with or without my approval."

  "By then I won't need to marry!" she cried in frustration and stormed from the room.

  Samuel Barrows leaned back in his velour chair and sighed. No one could say that hot-headed girl wasn't his daughter. Stubborn, determined, impatient, and decidedly short-tempered, she was just like him. It was fortunate that Daneil Stayton had stipulated that her granddaughter couldn't marry without her father's consent until she reached twenty-one. Daneil knew the impulsiveness of youth. She had assumed that Corinne would mature enough by twenty-one to make her own decisions. Samuel won­dered.

  It was his own fault, he admitted that. He had allowed his only child independence, and at too early an age. He had given her freedom to develop, and had not restricted her just because she was a female. He had been warned repeatedly by his family that he would regret his decision one day, and now he did.

  The best thing he could do for his daughter would be to choose her husband for her while she was still under his control. He would see that she married a strong fel­low, not some spineless jackass who would let her continue her wild ways. But where could he find a man with a will stronger than Corinne's and find him within the next two years?

  Chapter 2

  HALFWAY around the world, in the Pacific Ocean, lay the group of islands recently named Hawaii. The awesome loveliness of these islands—considered by some historians to be the site of the Garden of Eden—put visitors in mind of calm, peace, and delightfully easy living. Since the islands' discovery by Captain Cook, many visitors had become permanent residents, unwilling to give up the bril­liant colors, the exotic plants and birds, and the delightful ocean hi order to return to their less hospitable homes.

  Because of the great number of foreign settlers, all was not peaceful in Hawaii in 1891. The Hawaiian natives had just lost their beloved king, often called the Merry Mon­arch, and his sister reigned in uneasy office in the newly built Iolana Palace in Honolulu. The palace, the first royal residence in the world to be furnished with flush toilets and lit entirely by electricity, was soon to be the scene of a confrontation between loyal monarchists and foreign set­tlers. In April of 1891, it was the felicitous nature of the Hawaiian natives that kept the peace on Oahu.

  Twenty-seven-year-old Jared Burkett had been born on Oahu. He carried the mixed blood of Europe and Hawaii. And though his Hawaiian friends trusted and loved him and his European friends respected his pride in Hawaii, it could not be said of Jared that he possessed the gentle nature of his Hawaiian ancestors. Jared was not an easygoing man. His one weakness was his younger sister, Malia.

  Thirty-one years before, Jared's father, Rodney, and Rodney's brother, Edmond, had spent three years building their city home here on Oahu, the island with the greatest number of foreign settlers and boasting the most com­merce. Having built the house, Rodney decided to marry. The marriage caused a permanent rupture in his relationship with his brother. Edmond violently objected to Ranelle. Though she was an American and had grown up with American ways, she had Hawaiian ancestors. Edmond felt that his brother was marrying a woman of color. Even the daily sight of Hawaiians could not make him change his harsh attitude.

  Edmond Burkett relinquished all rights to the new house he had helped build, and moved into the city, closer to the office of the loan company the brothers had started. Be­cause of their disagreements, Rodney left the running of the company to Edmond and concentrated on other inter­ests, mainly land.

  For the most part, foreigners were not allowed to buy land anywhere on Hawaii. But because of Ranelle and her distant Hawaiian relations, Rodney was able to buy tracts of land on the north shore of Oahu. Here he started a small sugar plantation, not to compare with the larger plantations, but big enough to join the island's major industry.

  With the profits from his sugar and the loan company, Rodney started a carpentry business. He dealt first in ships' repairs and later included the construction of houses. He made a small fortune. This fortune was lost, however, in 1872, when business and agricultural interests were at a low ebb. The sugar plantation lost money and was even­tually abandoned. Only the loan company prospered dur­ing those bleak years.

  During thi
s time Rodney's marriage deteriorated. His wife's hopeless melancholia affected his business. After Ranelle died, it took a long time for Rodney to pull him­self together and put the business back on its feet.

  By the time Rodney Burkett died in a sailing accident, leaving all his possessions to his two children, his estate had improved.

  His only son, Jared, now occupied the house on Beretania Street. The area was now part of Honolulu, the city having caught up to it years ago. Jared's sister, Malia, younger by ten years, lived most of each year at their beach house on the north shore of the island, on the land that had once been a sugar plantation.

  Jared Burkett had proved to one and all that he was capable of taking his father's place. Rodney Burkett had raised a son he could be proud of. Jared was a man who would never succumb to a problem, no matter how diffi­cult it was. The community respected Jared, and feared him a little. He never backed down from a fight.

  In the American community, Jared defended his Hawaiian heritage because of his pride in it. Among the Hawaiians, he was worthy to be called a friend.

  After his mother's death, he had become withdrawn and moody. That was to be expected, but it never went away. Bitterness grew in Jared, becoming a festering hate. This hate had eaten away at young Jared for sixteen years, since the day of his mother's death.

  Today, so many years after that death, the solution for purging himself of that hate once and for all had come to Jared by way of a letter.

  Now, on the way to his uncle's office at the Savings and Loan Company, Jared read the letter for what was surely the tenth time.

  Dear Mr. Burkett,

  It gives me great pleasure to bring you good news so soon after receiving your letter. You employed me to find a Samuel Barrows, who nineteen years ago visited your faraway islands, and this I have done.

  Following your instructions, I began the search in my city of Boston and found this man with little difficulty, since he is a very respected and prominent member of Boston society. He resides on Beacon Street in the ex­clusive residential district in the Back Bay area of the city. His wealth derives from many sources. His most well-known interest is his ship building firm, one of the largest in the state of Massachusetts.