The Tiger Lily (25 page)

Covertly
he eyed Brett's face, noting that the features had a fine-drawn appearance to
them. His face was thinner than it had been when he had first arrived, and the
weeks in the hot. blistering Texas sun had darkened it until he had the
swarthiness of a Spaniard—or a gypsy, Alejandro thought with a smile.

The
smile faded from his lips when Brett asked bluntly, "Did you know that
Sabrina is meeting Carlos alone at the gazebo?"

Taken
aback, dismay obvious in his voice, Alejandro replied, "Still? I had hoped
that those assignations had stopped."

"You
know about them?" Brett demanded incredulously. "And have done
nothing to stop it?"

Alejandro
moved restlessly in his chair. "They are cousins,
amigo
! They have
known each other since birth! Why, Carlos is like a brother to Sabrina. I could
not forbid her to meet him. I have been perturbed about it for some time, but
you do not have to fear that it will in any way besmirch Sabrina's reputation.
Everyone knows how it is between them. They are like two young puppies—it is
harmless." On a lighter note, he added ruefully, "I have not tried to
stop it, because to do so would make my very headstrong daughter all the more
determined to meet with her cousin."

"
Harmless!"
Brett spat with an ugly laugh, and then caught himself up swiftly. He had
debated mentioning the meeting to Alejandro, but his conscience had demanded
that he do so, if only to forewarn a man he admired and respected that dishonor
could come from an unexpected source. But his conscience would not allow him to
reveal what had really been happening. That would smack too much of
tale-bearing. No. Not even with Alejandro's best interests at heart could he
reveal what an angel-faced little slut his daughter was. "Forgive me!"
he said immediately. "You know your daughter best." Floundering
helplessly for some excuse for his outburst, he muttered, "I guess I was
just surprised that a gently reared young girl of her station would meet alone
with a man other than a brother or a father."

Eagerly
Alejandro leaned forward to reassure him. "But don't you see,
amigo
,
Carlos is a brother to her!"

The
jade-green eyes were expressionless. "As you say," Brett agreed
noncomittally, images of Sabrina's long golden legs as she thrashed beneath
Carlos snaking torturously through his brain. Deliberately, he shattered the
images that tormented him. No woman, no matter how lovely and desirable, was
worth pain. Hadn't he learned that lesson at his mother's knee?

Alejandro
was elated at Brett's concern. Surely there had been a note in his voice that
had been, well, almost jealous? Alejandro prayed so, but he was disturbed to
hear that the meetings with Carlos had not ceased. His handsome face troubled,
he said slowly, "I do not fear that Sabrina will come to any harm with her
cousin, but under the present circumstances, if it is your wish, I will see if
I can persuade her not to act so indiscreetly."

Stiffening,
catching an inflection that rang like a warning bell through his mind, Brett
questioned grimly, "Under the present circumstances?"

Embarrassment
crept across Alejandro's features. How vexatious of him to have said that!
Searching for an excuse to cover up his dangerous lapse, he said hastily,
"The bandits! You haven't forgotten about them?"

Brett
relaxed slightly. What a fool he was—and arrogant, he admitted wryly. Until
then his host had never given the smallest inkling that he had ever considered
Brett in the light of a son-in-law. Brett smiled mirthlessly. To have read even
a hint of matrimony into Alejandro's simple phrase had been lunacy. "The
bandits," he said slowly. "I had forgotten them." Keenly he
glanced back to Alejandro. "Have you heard some new word of them? I
thought that since the Rios attack there has been nothing more heard of
them."

"Yes,
that's true," Alejandro agreed quickly. "But though they seem to have
disappeared from the district, one can never be too safe. I must impress upon
Sabrina the danger of going alone to the gazebo—even if it is only to visit
with her cousin."

Brett
remained silent, his eyes fixed intently on the shining toes of his black
boots. He took a long swallow of his Madeira.

The
silence spun out, a companionable quiet between the two men. But eventually
Alejandro was moved to break it. Irritably pushing his glass back and forth
across the table in front of him, he suddenly said, "I must confess that
those meetings with Carlos do weigh heavily on my mind."

"Oh?"
Brett inquired warily.

Alejandro
looked at him and made a face. "I do not like to discuss other people's
business affairs, but I know you will say nothing, and perhaps it will do me
good to get it off my mind."

Brett
nodded his dark head slowly. A lopsided grin curving his mouth, he murmured,
"Sometimes the only manner in which I can see my way clear is to discuss a
particular problem with my friend Morgan Slade."

Nodding
his head, much like Brett, Alejandro murmured thoughtfully, "Yes, I can
understand that." He took a sip of his Madeira and said reluctantly,
"The de la Vega family is in great financial trouble. Just a short while
ago, I lent Luis a very large sum of money. The money doesn't concern me—Luis
will repay me when he can. What does concern me is Carlos! I cannot understand
what that young fool is thinking! His family is as close to ruin as a family
can be, and yet he spends his time at some low cantina in Nacogdoches, gaming
and wenching."

At
Brett's expression of surprise, Alejandro admitted uncomfortably, "Several
of the vaqueros from our rancho have seen him in there. And they talk. When the
family had the money, I could understand Carlos's wasteful habits, but now
..." Alejandro shook his head sadly. "Now he continues just as he
always did, and instead of helping his father, he lazes the days away visiting
with Sabrina!"

A
curiously bleak slant to his mouth, Brett said dryly, "Perhaps he comes to
her for compassion. Or in the hope that she can find a way to solve his
dilemma—you said that they are close."

"That's
not the point! The point is that Carlos should be working like the devil to
save his home, his inheritance. He acts as if it means nothing to him. Luis is
showing the strain; even my sister, who would rather die than let me know she
is disturbed, has begun to bear the marks of worry." Glumly Alejandro
confessed, "She hated it when Luis asked me for the money. She has such
pride, and worse, she never wanted to leave the de la Vega rancho in Mexico and
make Nacogdoches her home." Alejandro sighed. "How she pleaded with
Luis not to come with me when I wanted to settle here! Even my own father
wasn't precisely pleased about it, but at least he understood a young man's
yearning for adventure. I tried to explain to Francisca at the time that Luis,
being the youngest son, would never be more than merely a cipher next to his
older brother, that here he could be his own man, forge his own fortune."
He smiled whimsically. "But Nacogdoches cannot compare to the splendor and
delights to be found in Mexico City, and though she hides it well, I know she
still resents the fact that Luis listened to my stories of the beauty and
grandeur of this country, of the opportunity for a man to gain a fortune, and
decided to come with me when I left Mexico." He shook his head sadly.
"She always feared that they would come to ruin, and now ..."

"But
how did it come about?" Brett asked curiously. "This land is so rich,
so very fertile, that I cannot believe a man could fail so dismally. It is
obvious that they prospered for some time."

Alejandro
grimaced. "It is always a battle out here,
amigo
. Floods can drown
your herds, Indians can steal them, and crops can fail. And then there are
bandits and four-legged predators like bear and puma that can devastate an
area. But in Luis's case, I think it has simply been mismanagement of his
money. A rancher, like many plantation owners, lives from season to season,
from one year of plenty to the next of famine, and Luis has not always been
wise with his funds." Alejandro's patrician features hardened. "And I
fear that his indulgences with Carlos have also eaten deeply into his actual
monies—he cannot, or will not, deny his only son." Alejandro shook his
head again. "I never suspected how unworthy Carlos is. I knew he was
spoiled and perhaps a little wild, but I never dreamed he would be so
indifferent in the face of true adversity. These past few months have left me
very disappointed in Carlos."

A
little smile of embarrassment tugged at the corners of his mouth. "And
now," he said apologetically, "I have disappointed myself, by boring
you with such a maudlin tale." He glanced at his glass. "It must be
the Madeira that has made me such a poor host."

Brett
hastened to assure him that he was indeed a fine host, and a few minutes later
they were busy talking of other, more interesting things. It was only when the
shadows were lengthening into the duskiness of early evening that Alejandro
looked up with surprise and murmured, "It just occurred to me that Sabrina
should be here with us. I wonder what has delayed her."

Brett
remained silent, not trusting himself to speak, his eyes fixed on his glass.
But then there was no need for him to speak. Almost as if waiting for her
father's words, Sabrina suddenly walked out from under the overhanging eaves of
the house and joined them at the table.

It
had taken a great deal of bravery for her to do so. Outwardly she looked quite
composed—no sign of the angry, disheveled young woman who had raced away from
the gazebo in shame was apparent in her appearance. The red-gold curls were
demurely caught in a chignon at the base of her neck, and her gown was a
delightful concoction of embroidered yellow muslin. The color enhanced her own
golden-toned skin and deepened the intensity of the amber-gold eyes; a
profusion of lace edging the modest neckline formed a charming frame for her
lovely features, and around her neck was an emerald-green velvet ribbon; topaz
earrings gleamed in her ears. But if outwardly Sabrina showed no signs of
agitation, inwardly she was a quaking mass of jangled emotions. She was furious
with Brett, and the hours between their parting and now had done nothing to
soothe her ire. How dare he think her capable of welcoming Carlos's attack! And
yet, a more rational part of her admitted that the scene had looked
compromising. She didn't want to think about that, for her humiliation was too
deep.

Her
attitude toward Carlos was a mixture of disbelief, anger, bewilderment, and
hurt. How could he have acted so despicably? She had been nearly in a state of
shock when she had gained the safety of her bedroom, and for several moments she
had just stood in the center of the room staring blindly at nothing.
Fortunately, no one had seen her arrival back at the house, and she had
shuddered just thinking about the questions and the unpleasantness there would
have been if her father or Bonita had chanced to see her as she fled up the
stairs. Would they have believed that she had welcomed Carlos's assault?

Thinking
of Carlos had sent a wave of nausea coursing through her body. Even love, she
had thought painfully, did not excuse him. He had meant to dishonor her, and
she had little doubt that if Brett had not arrived when he did, Carlos would
have raped her. And it would have been rape. Carlos's touch, his hot kisses,
his caresses aroused no feeling within her but repulsion, and remembering his
seeking hands upon her thighs, the touch of his hardened male flesh against
her, she had shivered as she tore off the tattered gown and threw it violently
down on the floor of her bedroom. What had possessed him? Had he gone mad?

She
almost couldn't believe what had transpired, and yet, staring at the ruined
heap that had been her pretty lavender gown, she was forced to face the fact
that her friend, the cousin she had known all her life, the playmate of her
childhood, had indeed tried to rape her.

Numbly
she had gathered up the evidence of his attack and hidden it in the bottom of a
pine chest that sat near her bed. She couldn't think clearly right now, but she
didn't dare let anyone, especially Bonita, see that ripped and torn gown and
ask questions.

Reaction
had made her teeth chatter, and with a low moan, she had sought out her bed,
burrowing deeply down into the covers, seeking to drive out the chill that
seemed to permeate her very bones. She had shut her eyes, Brett's contemptuous
face suddenly floating behind her lids. Shivering then almost uncontrollably,
she had felt rage rising up through her body. How dare they! Carlos to try such
a trick and Brett to blame her!