The Tiger Lily (13 page)

This
morning began as a repeat of other mornings, Brett and Alejandro busily
discussing the day's plans while Sabrina sat in silence. Gritting her teeth,
she tried to stem her rising temper. It soon became apparent that she was again
to be left to her own devices, presumably feminine ones, when the two men rode out
to view various sites for the sugar mill.

Determined
not to allow the situation to continue, when there was a brief halt in the
conversation, Sabrina said firmly, "I'll come with you. If we are to go
into the sugar business, I think I should begin to learn about it, too."

Alejandro
looked at her, taking in the mulish slant of her chin. Dimly realizing how much
she had been excluded of late, he smiled guiltily and said weakly, "But of
course,
chica
. Your company is most welcome, and you are right—you should
know what is planned." To her outrage, he glanced across to Brett, and
almost as if seeking approval, he asked, "It is a good idea, don't you
agree?"

Brett
shrugged. "If you think she should come along, I have no objections."
Rising to his feet, he added, "I'll walk down to the stables and see that
her horse is saddled and brought along with ours. Shall we meet in front in
half an hour?" Not expecting a reply, he glanced at Sabrina and asked
lazily, "A half hour will be sufficient for you to make ready? Women are
notorious for always being tardy."

Sabrina
smiled tightly. "Some women."

Brett
inclined his head mockingly. "As you say."

Her
eyes smoldering, she watched as he sauntered out the back gate and disappeared.
Not trusting herself to speak, she hastily took a gulp of her chocolate, and
setting the cup back down in its saucer with a clatter, she said flatly,
"I'll go change. I wouldn't want to keep the arrogant beast waiting!"

When
she returned, barely fifteen minutes later, she was defiantly attired in the
rust-colored calzoneras, and her glorious hair was subdued in a long, thick
braid, just a few unruly tendrils curling near her temples and neck. There was
a set expression on her usually merry face as she stalked toward the patio.

To
her pleasure she found Carlos sitting at the table with her father. Her
features softening, she said warmly,
''Buenos
dias
, Carlos! What
brings you here this early in the day?"

Carlos
smiled, his black eyes roaming appreciatively over her slender body. "I
would like to say that it was your own lovely self," he began teasingly,
then, his face and voice becoming somber, he said, "but unfortunately that
is not true. As I've just told your father, the bandits have struck again, and
this time, they've murdered their victims."

''No!"
Sabrina cried, shocked. ''When did this happen? Who was murdered?"

Alejandro
answered her. His face troubled, he said heavily, "Last night they
attacked the Rios rancho and killed Senor and Senora Rios."

Sabrina's
fist clenched, and she burst out angrily, "Curse these devils! Something
must be done to stop them!"

Alejandro
nodded his head, but it was Carlos who spoke.
''Si
! It is time that we
took action against them!" he stated grimly. "My father is inviting
everyone to our hacienda tonight to discuss the problem."

They
continued to speak of the outrage for a few minutes more, then Carlos rose to
his feet. Regretfully he said, "I cannot stay longer. There are others who
must be notified of tonight's meeting." Glancing at Sabrina he asked, "Walk
with me to my horse?"

Eager
to escape a possible reprimand from Alejandro for her clothing, she instantly
agreed. Carlos had tied his horse behind the foliage-covered lattice, and upon
reaching the animal, he commented lightly, "Your servant arrived yesterday
with the invitation for the fiesta to welcome Senor Dangermond. We are looking
forward to meeting this
americano
."

Sabrina
made a polite reply, but Carlos knew her well, and there was a note in her
voice that made him look at her keenly.

"Who
is he?" he asked. "I didn't realize that your Tia Sofia had an adult
son. Madre was most surprised when she read your invitation—his visit had not
been mentioned previously."

Sabrina
shrugged. "He is Tia Sofia's stepson. And I suppose the topic of his visit
never came up before." Not for the world would she reveal how surprised
she had been at Brett's arrival!

His
curiosity evident, Carlos prodded, "Will he be staying with you
long?"

Again
Sabrina shrugged. "I don't know."

His
gaze sharpening, with deceptive idleness Carlos questioned, "Is he
handsome? Will the ladies adore him?"

"I
don't know," Sabrina repeated unhelpfully.

Dissatisfied,
Carlos frowned. "What do you know about him?" he finally demanded
with exasperation.

Neither
one of them was aware of the tall man who was approaching, or that upon seeing
them he stopped abruptly. Before he could make his presence known, Sabrina
spoke.

She
had instinctively recognized the reason behind Carlos's probing, and while not
normally a vain young woman, the knowledge that he was jealous of Brett gave
her pleasure. The past five days had been disruptive ones for her, and Carlos's
obvious jealousy acted as a balm upon her lacerated emotions. Smiling with
uncharacteristic coquettishness, she said teasingly, "I know that you are
far more handsome than he is." She wasn't lying either; Carlos was
handsomer, with his perfect features and genial manners. But there was
something about Brett. . . .

Pleased
by her words, Carlos relaxed slightly, his eyes on her soft mouth.
"And?" he questioned huskily.

Sabrina
did not usually encourage Carlos's attempts to flirt with her, but Brett's
arrival had awakened feelings within her that she didn't yet know how to
control—didn't even exactly understand—and she eyed her cousin speculatively. He
was handsome, his olive skin smooth and unblemished, his eyes flashing pools of
ebony, and she knew that he held her in great affection—that at the slightest
sign from her, he would boldly cross the distance she had always kept between them.
Would Carlos kiss her as Brett had? she suddenly wondered. And more
importantly, would his kiss unleash all the wild, turbulent feelings she had
experienced when Brett had kissed her? Surprising both of them, she blurted
out, "Would you kiss me?"

Carlos
recovered himself instantly, and his eyes filled with an ardent light, he
murmured, ''With pleasure,
querida!
With pleasure!"

His
mouth was warm and tender on hers, his arms strong and possessive as he
passionately crushed her against his hard chest. He even smelled faintly of
tobacco and horses as Brett had, but for Sabrina there was no breathless
ecstasy in his touch. She felt nothing more than a mild enjoyment in his
embrace, and gently, when he would have deepened the kiss, she stepped back
from him, her eyes shadowed.

Carlos
was breathing rapidly, and there was a faint flush on his cheeks.
''Querida
,
you must know how I feel about you!" he began, but Sabrina put her fingers
up to his mouth, silencing him.

Ashamed
at the way she had used him, appalled at how little his kiss had affected her,
she whispered regretfully, "Hush,
mi
amigo
. I should not
have asked such a thing of you. It was unkind."

He
started to protest heatedly, but irritably aware that this was not the time or
place, he muttered thickly, "We shall talk of this later."

Sabrina
smiled at him repentantly, shaking her head slowly. "No. You must forget
my foolishness—what just happened changes nothing between us. It cannot."

He
looked at her steadily for a long moment and then lithely swung up onto his
horse. Sending her an unsmiling glance, he said harshly, "For the moment I
will bow to your wishes. But it will not always be so. Remember that!"

Unhappily
she watched him gallop away. Carlos was her friend, and she had taken advantage
of that friendship, she thought wretchedly. If only Brett had never kissed her,
this wouldn't have happened! It was all his fault! she decided irrationally.

She
spun on her heel, intending to return to the courtyard, when she caught sight
of the object of her thoughts leaning negligently against the mottled trunk of
a large sycamore tree. She froze and glared at him, wondering how long he had
been there.

The
expression in his eyes was hard to define as he walked up to her, but his voice
was filled with mockery. "Lover's spat?" he inquired interestedly.

"That
is none of your affair!" she snapped. "And if you were any sort of
gentleman, you would have made your presence known." Her breasts heaving
beneath the thin cotton shirt, she demanded angrily, "How long were you
there?"

"Long
enough," Brett returned dryly. "Who is he, infant? Someone your
father doesn't approve of? Is that why you were sneaking out here to
meet?"

All
the resentment that had been simmering just under the surface erupted.
"How dare you!" she hissed. "That was my cousin Carlos, and we
weren't sneaking anywhere! He'd been to see my father, and I was merely saying
goodbye!" Her eyes glittering like golden stars, she said hotly, "As
for my father's approval—there has long been talk of a marriage between
us." Just why she told Brett that information she wasn't certain, nor was
she certain why she didn't tell him that Carlos would never be more than a
dearly beloved friend to her. But she had, and slyly, insistently, her mind
questioned her reasons. Had she told him because women married, not infants?
Might the knowledge that she was old enough to talk of marriage make him see
her as a woman? And if Carlos could be moved to jealousy, could Brett? She knew
that last idea was ridiculous—didn't he treat her with barely concealed
tolerance? Contemptuously she thrust away the other thoughts.

Brett's
face was unreadable as he stared down at her, his thumbs hooked carelessly in
the broad leather belt around his lean waist. "Marriage? Aren't you a
trifle young?" he drawled.

Her
fingers curving into claws at her sides, she said tightly, "I will be
eighteen in less than four months."

"Such
a great age," he teased, a gentle smile hovering on his lips. Lightly he
flicked a tanned finger down her smooth cheek. "Don't rush into an3rthing,
infant—even eighteen isn't that old. You'd still be a babe."

A
challenging sparkle in her amber-gold eyes, she said breathlessly, "Carlos
didn't think I was a babe . . . neither did you when you kissed me."

A
muscle twitched in his lean jaw, and his smile vanished. "No, I
didn't," he admitted reluctantly. His eyes narrowed suddenly as an ugly
thought occurred to him, and, his voice grim, he demanded, "Is that what
you were doing? Comparing us? Seeing which one of us treated you less like a
child?"

Sabrina's
eyes were huge as she stared up at his dark face, a guilty flush staining her
cheeks as she realized that she had indeed been comparing them. Not
deliberately perhaps, but she had wanted to know if Carlos could affect her the
same way that Brett did. Attempting to brazen out the situation, she gave what
she fervently hoped was a sophisticated shrug and returned carelessly,
"And if I was?"

Since
he had kissed her in the meadow, Brett had purposely kept his distance from Sabrina.
Intentionally he had made himself as derisive as possible, doing everything he
could to destroy the almost overwhelming desire within him that demanded he do
the exact opposite. Without volition, he had found himself responding violently
to her warmth and charm, and daily he battled not to succumb to the increasing
surge of attraction he felt for her. At night in his rooms, he dreamed of her,
her bewitching smile beckoning him toward untold delights, her slender body
driving him half mad with longing. But waking each dawn, he would furiously
deny the images and yearnings of the night. The painful lesson that all women
were false was too deeply ingrained for him to forget it, and viciously he had
sworn that he would not be drawn into the treacherous enchantment that she
represented.