The Tiger Lily (27 page)

Sabrina
hesitated, her heart beating erratically within her breast. Despairingly she
tried to read the expression on that dispassionate, dark face, wondering why he
had singled her out this way, wondering with a curious mixture of hope and
anger whether he realized the significance of what he was doing. And if he did,
whether she dared accept the trophy and all that it might imply.

There
was a hushed expectancy from the crowd, every eye on Brett's lean form and
Sabrina's slender figure. His actions were almost a public declaration of
marriage; at the very least they were a clear indication that he had more than
just a passing interest in Don Alejandro's lovely daughter, and everyone waited
to see what she would do.

Oblivious
to everything but the man in front of her, Sabrina stared helplessly at him,
loving him, hating him. Was he merely honoring her birthday ... or was he
staking his claim upon her? Considering the situation between them, one of
studied indifference these past days, it was foolish to think this was more
than simply a gesture to mark her birthday, and yet, there had been something
in the way he had looked at Carlos, something in the coolly determined way he
had approached her, that made her breath catch in her throat.

A
current of awareness seemed to flow between them, Sabrina so very conscious of
the faint sheen of perspiration on his face, of the musky scent of his warm
body, of the insane desire to fling herself into his arms and let the world see
that she loved him. But she held back, and as the seconds sped by and the
tension increased, she was suddenly furious. If she accepted, it would leave
them open to avid speculation; if she refused, it would embarrass everyone.

Becoming
vaguely conscious of the smoldering anger radiating from Carlos, and of the
smile of encouragement that her father flashed her from where he sat on her
other side, she moved uneasily. Then, unwilling to prolong the incident,
deciding she was making too much of a small thing, reluctantly she reached out
and snatched the trophy from Brett's grasp.

“
Gracias,
senor
. I am honored," she said stiffly, the amber-gold eyes sparkling
with resentment.

Brett
sent her a taut smile, a curious expression flickering across the harsh
features. "You should be, sweetheart—you're the only woman for whom I've
ever risked my hide." He glanced at Alejandro and said coolly, "I'm
certain you won't mind if I take my own reward." And under Alejandro's
approving grin, and Carlos's naked fury, Brett jerked Sabrina out of her seat
and with the crowd hooting and cheering, proceeded to kiss her thoroughly.

Flushed
and disheveled, her lips throbbing from the almost brutal kiss, she was rather
abruptly set back down in her seat. He gave her an ironical bow, and she
watched in absolute rage as he sauntered arrogantly from the bull ring. The onlookers
were completely enraptured, and for several moments after Brett disappeared,
they continued to clap and shout, some of the more ribald suggestions making
Sabrina's ears burn.

After
that, the remaining fights were anticlimactic, and Sabrina found herself
watching the bull ring with blind eyes. It was with relief that she finally
quit the area and began to walk back to the hacienda with the others.

Her
relief was short-lived, however, for Francisca and Carlos flanked her, and
their comments did nothing for her state of mind.

"What
is your father thinking?" Francisca demanded in an angry undertone.
"Letting that . . . that gringo maul you that way! It was an insult to our
family! Everyone knows that you and Carlos are to be betrothed, and now
this!" Her bosom heaving, the dark eyes full of fire, Francisca said
grimly, "Just wait until I have a word with your father!"

Carlos's
attitude was much the same but even more venomous. The black eyes cold with an
icy fury, he snarled, "How dare he touch you that way! If I didn't want to
spare you the indignity of a scene, I would have struck him and challenged him
then and there! And as for his ability in the bull ring! Fah! If I had known he
was going to make such a spectacle of himself, I would have fought the bulls
today and showed him how a true Spaniard kills the bull."

Her
face crimson with embarrassment, mortified that others nearby might overhear
the unpleasant conversation, Sabrina said urgently to Carlos, "Oh, hush!
It was nothing! Please let it be and do not make it any worse! Please!"

Carlos
looked at her flushed face consideringly. "Weren't you insulted?" His
lips curving into a sneer, he added, "Or did you enjoy being publicly
degraded by the gringo?"

Sabrina's
eyes flashed, and she said hotly, "What I felt is none of your business!
Leave the subject alone."

Carlos
followed her lead and ceased his questions, but Francisca was not so easily put
off, and her eyebrows rising in displeasure, she said sharply, "I notice
that you do not seem to be overly distressed. Can it be that you actually
welcomed the gringo's vulgar attentions? That you were impressed by his coarse
skills?"

Holding
on to her rising temper with an effort, Sabrina said levelly, "I may not
have liked how he chose to celebrate his victory, but I will not allow you to
refer to his skills with the bulls as coarse." Meeting her aunt's furious
gaze, she said boldly, "He was magnificent! I have never seen anyone who
is his match in the bull ring."

Francisca's
bosom swelled with wrath, and for one tense moment Sabrina thought her aunt
would strike her. But Carlos swiftly intervened.

"Magnificent,
you say?" he drawled. "You are naive for thinking so,
querida
!
Once you have seen the matadors fight in Madrid, you will realize how paltry
his skills are. He did nothing but perform a few cheap tricks to dazzle the
eyes of these unsophisticated people." And he gave a languid wave of his
hand to indicate the other guests who were scattering throughout the grounds
near the hacienda.

"And
you are so much more sophisticated?" Sabrina returned with an edge to her
voice.

Carlos
shrugged. "I have not buried myself here all my life. I have traveled to
Europe, unlike you and most of our neighbors. I have seen things ..."

If
he meant to impress Sabrina, it had just the opposite effect. Her jaw set, she
said sweetly, "I hadn't realized how very rustic you found us. And because
I am such a thoughtful hostess, I shall not bore you any longer with my unsophisticated
presence! If you will excuse me, there are other, less cosmopolitan guests who
will enjoy my naive company." And with that she marched proudly away,
leaving Carlos and Francisca to stare after her.

Sabrina
sought the sanctuary of her room, and discovering she still held the trophy in
her hands, with an exclamation of disgust, she threw the ears down on the
floor. Her head was suddenly aching unbearably, and she sank onto her bed,
pressing her fingers to her pounding temples. She already regretted the
outburst with Carlos, but Brett's actions had jangled her nerves and shattered
her composure. What was he trying to do? she wondered uneasily. If the scene
this afternoon had happened a week ago, she would have been better able to
understand it. Would have been—if she were honest—thrilled and excited, but
now? Now, when they barely tolerated one another? When he dared accuse her of
being a slut? When he thought she had welcomed Carlos's near-rape?

Unwilling
to waste more time in useless speculation, Sabrina finally compelled herself to
leave her room. Hiding her turmoil with a smile, she hurried downstairs and
rejoined the guests.

Sabrina
was not the only one to wonder what Brett had meant by his display this
afternoon. Ollie was damned curious about what the guvnor was up to. Naturally,
Ollie had his suspicions, but he wanted them confirmed before he made any plans
of his own. And Ollie did have plans of his own—little Lupe from the kitchen
had caught his eye, and these past few weeks, he had begun to think that if the
guvnor was considering getting himself leg-shackled, it couldn't be such a
horrible state after all. Besides, he told himself happily as he laid out
Brett's clothes for that evening, Lupe was young enough to be properly trained
in her duties to her husband. Drifting off into a pleasant dream about a future
enhanced by Lupe's dark, nubile charms, Ollie sat holding the boot he had been
polishing, a beatific smile on his ugly little face.

It
was only Brett's voice asking dryly, "Have you grown particularly attached
to the object? Must I wait indefinitely?" that brought him back to reality
with a sharp bump.

Ollie
hastily handed Brett the boot. "Excuse me, guvnor—was, um, thinking about
other things."

"Obviously!"
Brett returned with a teasing glint in the green eyes as he pulled on the
gleaming boot. "Other things being that shy, deer-eyed little girl in the
kitchen?"

Stunned,
Ollie stared open-mouthed at Brett. "How did you?" he began, only to
shut his mouth with a snap. How could he have forgotten that nothing slipped by
the guvnor? Sheepishly he admitted, "Aye, sir, she's the one."

"Well,"
Brett said lightly, "that explains why whenever I need you lately, I only
have to go as far as the kitchen to find you!" A faintly quizzical
expression on his lean face, Brett inquired, "Am I to wish you happy,
Ollie?"

Ollie
hesitated. "That depends, guvnor," he said uncertainly.

"Oh?
On what? Shall I present myself to her parents and vouch for you?" Brett
asked mockingly, tying the black silk sash that Ollie handed him snugly about
his waist.

"Well,"
Ollie finally said cautiously, "you could say it all depends on you,
guvnor. Especially it depends on exactly what you meant by kissing Miss Sabrina
this afternoon. Now if you was considering walking into the parson's mousetrap
..."

Brett's
teasing air vanished, and his chiseled mouth tightened. There was a sudden,
grim silence in the room as he shrugged on a black velvet bolero. He made a
romantic figure, his scarlet silk shirt a vivid slash of color against the
black of his clothing, the gold filigree of the tight-fitting calzoneras
glittering in the candlelight of the room. His face was bronzed and vital; the
blue-black hair was overlong, waving near his temples, just brushing the collar
of his sc£irlet shirt; and the green eyes were as hard and mysterious as jade
as he turned to look at Ollie.

"You
have your doubts?" Brett asked silkily, his face devoid of expression.

Ollie
swallowed. There were times Dangermond made him distinctly nervous, and this
was one of those times. There was an air of suppressed violence radiating from
the tall, dark figure, and Ollie had the unpleasant feeling he was facing a keg
of black powder with a very short fuse.

Uneasily
pulling on the lobe of his ear, Ollie confessed with his usual candor,
"Two weeks ago, I would 'ave said no. But these past days ..." He
shot Brett a troubled look. "The thing is, guvnor, you don't act like a
man in love! Sometimes you act as if you'd like to strangle Miss Sabrina, and
lately you've been like a bear. Never seen you like this, and I can't figure it
out. Either you love 'er or you don't! And if you don't, why did you act like
you did this afternoon?"

"Love
has very little to do with marriage, my small friend," Brett said wearily,
the dark green eyes bleak.

"A
marriage of convenience?" Ollie burst out, shocked.

Brett
gave a bitter laugh. "I've thought of nothing else these past few
days," he said grimly. "It's all very simple. I admire Alejandro a
great deal. Alejandro has a daughter, a daughter who has an unworthy suitor, a
suitor who, if successful in gaining the daughter's hand, would make Alejandro
very unhappy. Do you follow me?"

Ollie
nodded slowly. Frowning he asked, "But what does that 'ave to do with you
marrying Miss Sabrina? You surely ain't the unworthy suitor?"

Smiling
wryly, Brett admitted, "No, I don't believe I am. And I'm certain, though
he has said nothing, that Alejandro would be delighted if I were to offer for
Sabrina." His smile vanished, and his face hardened. "So that's what
I'm going to do. At least married to me, Sabrina will have a husband who will
not bring her to ruin, nor will Alejandro have to sit by and see everything he
has worked for fall into the hands of a wastrel."