The Tiger Lily (20 page)

Brett's
eyebrow rose skeptically. "And she allowed you to?"

Ollie
nodded his head vigorously. "Indeed she did, guvnor! She was right 'appy
to 'ave Ollie Fram nearby, I can tell you that!"

"Oh?
And why was that?" Brett asked dryly.

For
a moment Ollie appeared nonplussed, but then, warming to his tale, he said
quickly, "Why, because of the bandits, guvnor! We rode quite some
distance, and as you know, I'm no great 'orseman, so after a bit, I suggests
that we walk and give me shanks a rest. Miss Sabrina, kind lady that she is,
agreed, and guvnor, that's when she saved my life!" Ollie shot a look to
see how Brett was taking his story so far, and if not reassured by the
expression of amusement on Brett's face at least not worried by it, he said
breathlessly, "Right by my feet was the most awful, deadly serpent in the
world! A rattlesnake! And before I could even speak a word, quick as a wink,
Miss Sabrina had nailed that creature of the devil right to the ground! Six
inches of cold iron she put through its 'ead. Just like that!" And he
snapped his fingers. His eyes gleaming with the deep admiration he felt, Ollie
said blissfully, ''Guvnor, she's a diamond of the first water! Why, she looked
like a tiger when she killed that snake, them eyes of 'ers all glittery-gold
like and that red hair like fire around her head, and yet she was the kindest,
the sweetest lady I ever met. I take back everything I said about 'er last
nightshe's a prime article!"

Not
as easily duped by Ollie as Sabrina was, Brett looked at his manservant for a
long, unnerving moment. "I see," he finally said noncommittally, and
Ollie breathed a sigh of relief.

There
was a companionable silence between them as Brett dressed, Ollie obediently
handing him first one piece of clothing and then another. Attired in black
satin breeches, a crisp white linen shirt fitted snugly across his broad
shoulders, Brett slowly fastened the buttons of a yellow waistcoat gaily
embroidered with black. Casually he murmured, "You won't have to wait up
for me this evening, Ollie. I will be riding into Nacogdoches later and have no
idea when I shall return." He smiled cynically. "I suspect I shall be
gone all night, if I have read a certain situation aright."

Ollie
knew very well what that meant—the guvnor had found a new mistress. But for
once, that fact disturbed him. Somewhere between the time Sabrina had killed
the snake and now, Ollie had come to the happy conclusion that Miss Sabrina was
the perfect mate for his master. And he wasn't best pleased that the guvnor was
now chasing after some common light skirt when he should be paying proper suit
to Miss Sabrina. "A Covent Garden Nun," he sniffed disdainfully,
handing Brett an ivory-backed brush.

"Hardly
a prostitute, Ollie," Brett chided as he brushed his thick black hair.
"Although she probably has all the instincts of one." With a cynical
grin, he laid down the brush and murmured, "But who knows! I might be
wrong—she might even be perfectly respectable."

Brett
wasn't wrong. Having made his excuses to Alejandro, he rode into Nacogdoches,
arriving at his destination just as dusk was falling. Tying his horse
discreetly at the rear of Constanza's small house, he quietly made his way
across the patio and knocked softly on the wooden door.

It
opened instantly, almost as if he had been expected. He obviously was, he
thought sardonically, his gaze sliding lazily over Constanza's scantily clad
body. She was wearing some sort of gauzy silk wrapper that revealed almost as
much of her ripe body as it concealed, and his lips widened in a slow,
appreciative grin.

Constanza
smiled sleepily at him, touching his cheek lightly, her ebony eyes languorous
and seductive. "So you did come to me,
querido
. I had hoped you
would."

There
was no need of conversation between them, Brett taking his cue from Constanza
and pulling her into his arms, his hard mouth claiming hers in a devastating
kiss that sent her mind reeling. It was only later, much later when he lay
awake satiated and exhausted beside Constanza's naked body, that he was
conscious of a queer sense of guilt and disgust. Infuriatingly, Sabrina's
slender form rose up to mock him, to fill him with such a hungry desire that it
was as if the hours just past of violent lovemaking with Constanza had never
been. With a virulent curse, he turned to Constanza, jerking her against him,
and proceeded to make wild, almost savage love to her. But it did little good.
No matter how many times he lost himself in Constanza's warm, welcoming flesh,
Sabrina's lovely face condemned him, made him writhe with an unquenchable
longing to have her in his arms, to have her mouth against his, to have her
body beneath his.

PART
TWO

A
HEART IN CONFLICT

   For
to be wise, and love,

Exceeds
man's might; that dwells with

   gods
above.

William
Shakespeare

Troilus
and Cressida

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

 The
evening of the fiesta welcoming Don Alejandro's American nephew was a fine one.
The air was warm, the stars were glittering brightly in the black sky overhead,
and on the slight breeze wafted the faint scents of honeysuckle and lilac.

The
patio had been strung with lanterns, and the light flickered gaily across the
courtyard, revealing the ladies in their loveliest gowns, the gentlemen in
their finest clothes. A quartet of the best vaquero musicians softly serenaded
the guests on guitars and marimbas, the lively music floating lightly into
every corner of the courtyard.

Alejandro
was well-pleased at the reception being accorded Brett. Everywhere Brett
wandered through the throng, he was greeted warmly and with enthusiasm. The
gentlemen liked his conversation and easy manner; the ladies were enamored of
his dark good looks. But if Brett's popularity with his neighbors and friends
delighted Alejandro, there were others present who viewed the matter far
differently.

Her
dark eyes full of dislike, Francisca complained to Sabrina, "I don't see
why your father is making such a fuss over this gringo. Why, he is not even
really related to us! I think it is disgraceful the way Alejandro fawns over
his every word." And then, revealing the true source of annoyance, "Your
father never listens to Carlos the way he does Senor Dangermond!"

Sabrina
smiled wearily. Her aunt had done nothing but find fault since arriving with
Carlos and Luis a half hour before. The affair was arranged too hastily, the
refreshments were not sufficient, the night air was injurious to the health,
and it was foolish to use the patio this time of year. But Sabrina knew that
those complaints were merely a guise to cover her aunt's real
grievance—Alejandro's open admiration and affection for Brett Dangermond.

Unerringly
Sabrina's eyes sought out Brett's tall frame as he stood talking to Senor a
Morales near the edge of the fountain. Her heart squeezed painfully when she
saw the intimate way he was smiling down at the other woman, and she sighed
softly.

She
might have realized the folly of loving him, but her heart was proving to be
dreadfully stubborn about the situation. Time is what I need, she thought
despairingly. Time in which to outgrow this foolish fascination I have with
him. But there was no time. Every day she saw him—across the table at
breakfast, in the afternoon when they all met to go riding, and then again in
the evening for the last meal of the day. There were few hours in which she was
spared the sweet agony of his presence, and like a hunted doe, she had begun to
spend more and more time alone in the deep forest. At least there she could
think clearly and soothe her lacerated emotions, hoping and praying that the
next time she saw him, she could remain unaffected by his magnetic presence.

Brett's
manner toward her these past few days had helped Sabrina regain some semblance
of normality. He was withdrawn and cool when they met; what conversation they
exchanged was nothing more than the polite mouthing of words one would give a
stranger, ff she avoided him, it hadn't escaped her notice that he, too, was
doing his share of making sure there were no intimate moments between them, and
she was torn between relief and despair.

She
had guessed that the evenings when he excused himself after dinner and rode
into Nacogdoches, returning long after she and her father had retired for the
night, had been to escape further chances of intimacy between them, but that
there was a woman involved had not occurred to her. In her innocence she had
assumed he went to one of the taverns and spent the time dicing and drinking.
Carlos was to make very certain that she learned the error of her ways.

He
had seen the look she had sent Brett and Constanza, and with a slightly cruel smile
on his mouth, he walked up to Sabrina where she stood next to his mother and
said carelessly, "They make a handsome couple, don't you agree?" His
eyelids dropped, and he added, "Almost as handsome as you and I."

Pasting
a smile on her lips, Sabrina glanced at him, and ignoring his latter statement,
she said with apparent obtuseness, "Who? There are so many handsome
couples about this evening."

His
eyes watching her expression closely, he murmured, "
Si,
that's
true, but I think Senor  Dangermond and Senora Morales make an exceptionally
handsome pair. She is so very beautiful, and though I personally think
Dangermond too raw-boned and hard-faced, I will concede that when he is with
Senora Morales one forgets those things."

Francisca
sniffed scornfully. "Senora Morales may be beautiful, but she is nothing
but a grasping hussy as far as I am concerned! I am certainly pleased that you
came to your senses and recognized her for what she is. Poor Emilio was not so
fortunate, and he was old enough to know better!"

Curious
about Senora Morales on several counts, Sabrina turned to Carlos and teased
gently, "Did you court the beautiful Senora Morales?" Her eyes full
of mockery, she added dolefully, "And to think I believed you when you
said you loved me."

Carlos
shot his mother a look that boded ill for that lady, and, his voice sharp with
annoyance, he muttered, "I do love you! My association with Constanza
Morales, or Duarte as she was then, happened when you were a child." He
smiled warmly across at Sabrina, his eyes lingering on the smooth golden skin
that was enhanced by the deep azure blue of the silk gown she wore this
evening. "I was waiting for you to grow up,
querida
, and you will
not blame a man for a few peccadilloes, will you? Not when you have his heart
as you have mine?"

It
was very pleasant to bask in Carlos's admiration, his professed affection and
obvious appreciation of her charms a soothing balm to her aching heart.
Enjoying herself for the first time all evening, Sabrina giggled, as she usually
did when Carlos spoke of love. "I think that you have a facile
tongue!" she said laughingly, unwilling to take any of Carlos's lovemaking
seriously.

The
music changed tempo then, the strands of the fandango curling around them, and
suddenly wanting to dance, to lose herself in the joy of swaying to the music,
she grabbed Carlos's hand and said gaily, "Dance with me! Senora Morales
and Senor Brett may be the handsomest couple here, but you and I will be the
best dancers!"

Carlos
eagerly joined her, and together they danced to the fandango, one moment flying
around the courtyard, the next moving in slow, decorous rhythm to the music of
the guitars and marimbas. Sabrina's lovely face was flushed with pleasure, the
azure skirts whirling about her, the lantern light glinting on the gold hoop
earrings that dangled near her cheeks as she moved gracefully in Carlos's loose
embrace.

Among
so many dark heads, her bright red-gold hair was like a beacon, and unwillingly
Brett found himself watching her, unable to take his eyes off that lovely,
laughing face as she twirled about in Carlos's arms. Her hair had been arranged
in artless curls on top of her head, revealing the slim beauty of her neck, the
exquisite slope of her slender shoulders, and Brett knew a sudden, fierce
impulse to tear her out of Carlos's embrace, to jerk her next to his own hard
body and bury his mouth in that tempting spot where her neck joined her
shoulders. Furious with himself and unable to watch her in the arms of another
man, he turned away, his eyes bleak and cold. Obviously Carlos had not been
lying about his relationship with her, and that meant that when she had
responded so sweetly, so ardently, to his kisses she had been betraying the man
she had agreed to marry. His mouth thinned contemptuously.

Little
slut! Perhaps Constanza was the more honest of the two—she made no bones about
the fact that she wanted him, that she enjoyed his lovemaking, and that she
expected nothing from it but physical pleasure. She didn't pretend innocence,
nor use her body to trap a man into marriage. He'd take an honest whore over
the tricks and deceits practiced by a "good" woman any day!

A
derisive smile on his handsome mouth, he looked down at Constanza standing
beside him and murmured, "Shall we dance?"

Smiling
limpidly up at him, she agreed huskily, "But of course,
querido
, if
that is what you want."

Pulling
her next to him, he stepped out into the middle of the dancers and muttered,
"What I want will have to wait until later."

Constanza
fairly purred as she matched her steps to his, and they moved in perfect unison
with the music. Glancing up at him, she commented lightly, "For a gi'ingo
you dance the fandango very well. Why is this?"

"My
great-grandmother was Spanish for one thing, so there is Spanish blood in my
family, and for another I spent several months in Spain some years ago."
He grinned down at her, a mocking glint in the dark green eyes. "I learned
many things of Spanish origin then. Shall I show you some of them . . . later?"

Her
breathing quickened, and she lowered her eyes demurely. "I have never been
fortunate enough to visit the land of my father, and I would be most interested
in anything you could show me."

Brett
laughed, his black mood lifting. His lips curving sensuously, he gazed at the
ripe, full mouth inches from his. "It will be my pleasure," he
promised softly.

The
fandango ended, and Carlos led a breathless, smiling Sabrina over to a long
refreshment table. Procuring for her a glass of sangria, he said, "Shall
we sit over there?" and nodded toward some chairs that had been placed in
a quiet, secluded area under the wide, extended eaves of the hacienda.

Sipping
her sangria, Sabrina hesitated, not wanting to give Carlos an opportunity in
which to press his attentions upon her. She liked her cousin, but she was not
in love with him, and she didn't want him to love her. It was all very well to
listen to his flirtatious nonsense under the approving eye of Tia Francisca,
but it was quite another matter to hear it without the protection of another
person.

But
Carlos didn't give her any choice. Taking her silence as an affirmation, he
firmly guided her to the chairs and saw that she was seated. Sitting down
beside her, he said with deceptive idleness, "You seem very quiet this
evening,
querida
. Is there a reason? Is something wrong?"

While
dancing, Sabrina had been able to push aside her unhappy thoughts, but now they
all came rushing back—especially since she had spied Brett leading a smiling Senor
a Morales from the dance floor. She had never been a jealous person, but
watching the seductive sway of the older woman's black silk skirts, seeing the
proprietorial way Constanza laid her white hand on Brett's arm, Sabrina viewed
the pair through a decidedly green haze. With an effort she forced her gaze
away from the other two and replied stiltedly, “Of course there is nothing
wrong. I am just not in a talkative mood, that's all."

"I
see," Carlos said slowly, seeing far more than Sabrina realized. Carlos's
gaze went to Brett and Constanza, and he murmured, "I am glad there is
nothing wrong. I would hate for the gringo to cause you any pain."

Sabrina
gave a nervous laugh and said sharply, "Don't be ridiculous! He means
nothing to me."

"Which
is just as well," Carlos replied smoothly. "I would be very jealous,
querida
,
and besides, it is apparent that he is deeply enamored of Senora Morales."

"Oh,
I wouldn't say that!" Sabrina protested too quickly. "They only met
tonight, and while he has been paying her a great deal of attention, I suspect
it means nothing." Her jawline suddenly hard, she said grimly, "He is
just a practiced flirt—he cares for no woman."

"They
didn't just meet tonight," Carlos stated slyly. "They met last
Wednesday when your father brought Senor Dangermond into town. I was there, and
it was obvious even then that they were much taken with one another. Who
knows—if Constanza had a fortune there might be a marriage in the wind."

Stiffly
she muttered, "I think you make too much of a few chance encounters."

"Chance
encounters, my dear?" Carlos questioned with a cynical lift of his thin
eyebrow. "Hardly that! Especially not since I have seen his horse tied
behind her house for the past few evenings. Late in the evening."

Sabrina
swallowed with difficulty, wishing she could tell Carlos to shut his mouth. She
didn't want to hear what he was saying, she wanted only to bury her head in the
sand and pray that Senora Morales would simply disappear.