The Tiger Lily (28 page)

Ollie
regarded him cynically. Shaking his head, he muttered, "I never thought
I'd see the day you'd gammon yourself, guvnor!"

Brett's
hand clenched into a fist, and a muscle twitched in his lean cheek. "And I
think you're becoming even too impertinent for me!"

"Oh,
am I now?" Ollie replied, completely unperturbed by Brett's words.
"You know what I think? I think you don't like the truth! If you think
you're going to marry Miss Sabrina simply to save her from the likes of that
Carlos fellow, or even just because Don Alejandro will be delighted, you're
fooling yourself, guvnor! Damn me for a saint if you ain't!"

Brett
was silent for so long, his dark face so remote, that Ollie didn't think he had
heard him. Then Brett looked at him, the expression in those jade-green eyes so
full of tormented fury that Ollie dropped his gaze. Softly Brett snarled,
"Don't you think I know it?" and walked out of the room.

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

Sabrina
found the remainder of the afternoon unbearably frustrating. Everywhere she
went there were misty-eyed, knowing smiles from the women and hearty innuendos
from the men. She could have stamped her foot with rage, and when Alejandro
came over and patted her affectionately on the shoulder and murmured, "A
wise choice,
chica
, a wise choice. It makes me very happy," she
could have exploded with fury.

Even
Bonita was no help as she fussed and worried over Sabrina's attire for the
evening. "It is such a special evening, is it not, my dove?" Bonita
murmured, her fat face wreathed in a huge smile.

With
an effort, Sabrina swallowed back the scathing reply she would have liked to
utter and said instead, ''
Si,
it is. After all, eighteen comes only
once—I am very fortunate that everyone has been so kind to me today."

It
wasn't quite the reply that Bonita wanted, but she shrugged her plump
shoulders. If the little one wanted to hug the not-so-secret love affair to
herself a bit longer, who could blame her? To love at eighteen is such a
delight. And to be loved by a man like Senor Dangermond . . . Bonita closed her
eyes and sighed blissfully.

Despite
having found the afternoon an ordeal, as the time passed and she bathed and
began to put on her clothes for the evening, Sabrina was aware of a bubble of
rising excitement in her chest. Time and time again she tried to quell it, to
tell herself that she was going to have a miserable time, that Brett would
continue to ignore her as he had after his puzzling display in the bull ring,
and yet, as she slipped on a petticoat of frothy lace and fastened the lacings
of her satin slippers, she was conscious of an overriding sense of adventure, of
a delirious feeling of anticipation.

From
down the hall, she could hear the laughter and chatter of the other guests as
they, too, changed into their finery for the evening entertainments, and
suddenly the last of her anger and confusion disappeared. How could anyone be
moody and troubled on a night like tonight?

A
full, silvery moon could be seen barely rising above the tips of the trees; the
air was warm and soft like silk, the scent of jasmine and roses teasing the
nostrils, stirring the senses; and the sultry, throbbing notes of the guitars
and marimbas could be heard drifting up tantalizingly from the courtyard. It
was a lovers' night, a night that fairly surged with promise, the very air
almost pulsating with expectancy.

The
amber-gold eyes shining like stars, her cheeks flushed with hectic color,
Sabrina dressed with increasing feverishness, eager, impatient to be
downstairs—to see Brett. Her gown was a gift from her father, a gorgeous
creation of fine silk from Spain. The lavender-blue color was a surprisingly
effective foil for Sabrina's red-gold hair and apricot-tinted skin. The
neckline was rounded and low-cut, her breasts swelling temptingly above the
fabric; a wide sash of deep purple circled her midriff just under her breasts;
and the full skirts were trimmed with a narrow flounce of delicate blond lace.
The sleeves were very little puffs near her bared shoulders, and gazing at her
reflection in the cheval glass, Sabrina gave a pleased gurgle of excited
laughter.

Her
bright hair fell in natural, wavy ringlets halfway down her back; the
candlelight turned it to molten fire as she moved about the room. Bonita's
silver bracelets tinkled merrily on her wrists, huge hoops of silver glittered
between the strands of fiery hair, and whenever she walked, the faint scent of
lemon blossoms lingered in the air. Tossing Bonita a kiss, a smile of
anticipation on her full mouth, Sabrina hurried out of her room, eager to face
whatever excitement and adventure the night might bring.

And
it was an evening to remember, Brett looming up suddenly out of nowhere as she
reached the bottom of the stairs. For a long, timeless moment they stared at
one another, the stunned expression in the jade-green eyes making Sabrina
strangely breathless and exhilarated. Those feelings never seemed to leave her
that night. Nor did Brett.

He
was never far from her side, and though they spoke little, it was as if they
communicated without words: a look, a lift of the eyebrow, a smile, and the
other seemed to understand. And yet Brett did not monopolize her attention; she
was the belle of the ball, and he seemed content to watch her whirl around the
courtyard in the arms of her various partners, his gaze never leaving her as he
stood near one of the pillars of the archways. The instant the music ceased, he
would materialize at her side, making it abundantly clear that while he was
willing to share her for the dances, beyond that his tolerance did not go.

Alejandro
watched the proceedings with an indulgent smile, and gently he fingered the
turquoise and silver bracelet that Elena had given him so long ago. "She
will be safe, my love . . . safe and loved!" he whispered softly to
himself.

Carlos
and Francisca were not so pleased, but even their snide comments couldn't prick
Sabrina's bright bubble of happiness. Even when Carlos twirled her around the
courtyard and hissed angrily, "He has bewitched you! Listen to me. Follow
this course, and it will bring you disaster!" Sabrina smiled vaguely at
him, not really caring if disaster did loom on her horizon. She would have
tonight!

But
Carlos was not one to give up easily, and seeing that his words were having no
effect, he said slyly, "I see that Senor a Morales is not here tonight.
Your doing ... or his?"

For
just a moment, an icy blast seemed to cut through her warm cloak of bliss, and
the soft glow that had shone in her eyes faded just a little. "I invited
her," Sabrina admitted reluctantly, "but she sent a note declining
the invitation. She said she hadn't been feeling well lately."

"And
you believed her?" Carlos jeered. "You didn't question why she would
avoid one of the premiere entertainments of the year?"

"No,
I didn't!" Sabrina retorted stiffly. "And it doesn't matter one way
or the other. Leave it be, Carlos!"

"I
would like to,
querida
, but I don't want you to be caught in the same
trap in which Constanza has found herself," Carlos persisted. "Shall
I tell you exactly how your Senor Dangermond has treated her?"

"
Hush
!"
Sabrina said sharply. "I don't want to listen to anything you have to say
about him. You don't like him. You are jealous, and you v/ant to turn me
against him. I will not listen to you one minute longer!" And leaving
others to stare after her open-mouthed, she wrenched herself away from Carlos
and left him standing in the center of the courtyard.

His
face contorted with fury, he watched as she hurried to Brett's side, and then,
aware of the spectacle he was making, of the sly looks and embarrassed laughs
of the others, he stalked off the courtyard and disappeared into the night. For
Francisca, that was the final affront. Her own features bristling with rage and
hostility, she accosted her brother, saying in a low, vicious tone, "I
hope you are satisfied now! You have brought my husband to ruin, and now you
have shamed and insulted my son in front of all our friends. I will never
forgive you for this, Alejandro.
Never!"

Placing
his hand under Francisca's elbow, Alejandro said softly, "You are unduly
distraught, my dear. Come, let me find you a place of quiet so that you may
recover yourself." And quickly and efficiently, he whisked her into the
hacienda.

Once
they were alone in the small
sala
at the rear of the hacienda, Alejandro
faced his sister, his amber-gold eyes glittering with anger. "I
hope," he said grimly, "you have a very good reason for nearly
disrupting Sabrina's fiesta this way."

"A
good reason!" Francisca fairly screeched. "I should think the
humiliation my son has suffered this day would be reason enough! First you
allow that . . . that gringo to take unwonted liberties with Carlos's
novia
,
and now—!" Fury choked her voice, making speech impossible.

Almost
wearily, Alejandro muttered, "Francisca, Sabrina is not, nor has she ever
been, Carlos's
novia
. It is what you long for, but it is not a fact, and
you delude yourself in believing that there exists between your son and my
daughter anything but friendship." His tone adamant, he finished,
"Sabrina does not love Carlos! And I have no intention of seeing her wed a
man she does not love. Cease your foolish daydreams!"

It
was almost too much for Francisca. The black eyes burning with rage, her hand
clenched into a fist as she pressed it dramatically against her full bosom.
"You will regret this,
mi
hermano
!" she spat. "I
have forgiven you much, but this, this is unforgivable!"

There
was a rap on the door, and with relief Alejandro opened it to find Luis on the
other side. His pleasant face full of concern, Luis asked, "Is she all
right?"

Alejandro
nodded and invited him into the room. Luis hurried to his wife's side
murmuring, "My dove, my dove. I know you are upset, but to almost cause a
scene! It is not like you. What has come over you?"

Sullenly
Francisca regarded her husband. "You can ask?" she managed.
"Didn't you see the gringo shame Carlos's
novia
today? Didn't you
see what she did to him just moments ago?"

A
gentle soul, ruled by his wife, Luis said softly, "It was nothing,
querida
Our son is not the first young man to encounter the whims of a spirited young
woman. He will recover, and no one will think anything of it—you are the only
one who is making much of it." Throwing Alejandro a helpless look, he
added, "As for the other, well, our dream of seeing Carlos marry Sabrina
is not to be. And it was only a dream,
querida
Do not be overly
distressed that it did not come true." Taking encouragement from her
silence, Luis took her hand and dropped an affectionate kiss on it. "Come
now, smile for me and make your peace with Alejandro."

That
was asking too much of Francisca. Coldly she said, "I have nothing to say
to him! He has betrayed me! Take me home, Luis! I cannot bear to remain here longer."

Luis
hesitated, but then seeing the implacable expression on his wife's face, he
sent Alejandro an imploring glance.

Alejandro
met that glance with a commiserating smile. "Take her home, amigo.
Tomorrow we will talk and find that this has been merely a
misunderstanding."

Luis
nodded his head, and murmuring coaxingly to Francisca, he urged her away.

His
expression thoughtful, Alejandro rejoined his guests, mentioning casually that
Francisca had felt unwell and that she and Luis had left.

Unaware
of what had happened after she dashed off the dance floor, Sabrina took refuge
a short distance away from the hacienda. The music of the guitars floated
softly to her, and the lights from the lanterns created a faint golden glow in
the silvery darkness of the moonlit night. Her lavender-blue gown rustling
gently about her ankles, she rested against the mottled bark of a huge sycamore
tree, letting the tranquility of the night seep into her thoughts.

And
such tangled thoughts went through her mind. Brett's attitude was totally
incomprehensible to her, and yet she couldn't help responding to him. She
wanted to believe that some miracle had taken place, that all the past misconceptions
were somehow^ erased, that the night's actions were a true indication of his
feelings. Of Constanza she didn't want to think—she had been almost pleased
when Constanza had written declining to attend the fiesta, but now Carlos had
destroyed some of her joy. At the moment, she bitterly resented Carlos's
constant meddling, but she was also angry with herself for allowing his vexing
words to reawaken her own doubts.

A
slight sound made her turn her head sharply, and she sighed with a curious
mixture of relief and trepidation when she recognized Brett's tall form in the
shadows. He was smoking an aromatic cheroot; the pleasing scent of the tobacco
drifted on the air as he slowly approached her.

A
mocking smile on his mouth, he stopped just inches from her and asked lightly,
"The belle of the bail in hiding? Or have I interrupted an assignation . .
. again?"

She
didn't like the expression in the jade-green eyes when he uttered that last
sentence, and a little twinge of anger shot through her. Bluntly she replied,
"There is no one else about—you may scour the area if you like. I didn't
come out here to meet anyone, and even if I did"—she shot him a
challenging look—''it isn't your concern, is it?"