The Tiger Lily (29 page)

There
was silence for a moment as he pensively regarded the tip of his cheroot before
tossing it away. Then, leaning his hand on the trunk of the tree near her head,
he said softly, "Perhaps I want it to be my concern. What would you say
about that?"

Sabrina's
throat suddenly went dry, and she was aware of the crazy leap her heart gave.
Mutely she stared at him, mesmerized by the potency of his gaze as it roamed
over her face.

Gently
his other hand moved along the column of her throat, the long fingers caressing
the soft skin. Sabrina felt as if she were suffocating—he was so close, and she
was trapped by the tree, his powerful body blocking any escape. But escape was
the last thing on her mind. Helplessly she closed her eyes, unable to bear his
intense scrutiny, afraid he could read what was in her heart.

"Sabrina?"
he murmured huskily, his lips barely touching her ear. "No answer? Or am I
to take your silence for encouragement of my advances?"

With
difficulty she managed, "And if it were?"

A
great sigh seemed to escape him, and she felt a feather-light kiss brush across
her closed eyes. "If it were, then I would do this." And his mouth
closed hungrily over hers, his arms pulling her against him.

He
kissed her a long time, a deep, probing, urgent kiss that left Sabrina's wits
swimming. She made no attempt to resist him; she couldn't have if her life
depended upon it—this was Brett, and she loved him. Passionately she yielded to
him, not only pressing herself ardently to him but allowing and encouraging him
to deepen the kiss, her lips parting sweetly, her tongue seeking his.

Groaning
softly, he tore his lips from hers and muttered into her ear, "This is
madness, infant—but I cannot seem to escape it!" He crushed her slender
form closer against his tall length, and in an oddly thick voice, he confessed,
"I didn't want this to happen. I have fought against it since I held you
in my arms that first day in the meadow. It seems it's a hopeless battle that I
cannot win—no matter what I do!"

Reveling
in his embrace, thrilled by his words, she asked softly, "But it it such a
terrible thing? Is there some reason why you should fight against it so?"

He
gave a mirthless laugh. An ugly tone to his voice, he demanded, "You ask
that of me? Me, who has known nothing but treachery at the hands of
women?"

"Don't
be a fool!" Sabrina said urgently. "Things may have happened in your
past that are painful, but they have nothing to do with us! Nothing!"

He
lifted his head and gazed down at her upturned face. Almost reverently his
finger traced her features, lingering on her mouth. "I want to believe
that," he said at last. His voice deepening, he muttered, "I have to
believe it, for I am bewitched by you, Sabrina." He smiled grimly as if
some macabre jest had been played on him. "I dream of you—you haunt me,
and though when daylight appears I can tell myself it is folly, when night
falls . . ." Compulsively his mouth sought hers, all his torment and fury
obvious from the nearly brutal way he kissed her. Lifting his lips from her
bruised mouth, he murmured, "When night falls, I ache for you. You are
like a fever that has entered my brain, and though I try to escape you, though
I tell myself I am mad, that nothing good can come from it, that you are like
all the others, that you will betray and cause me nothing but pain, in the end I
am left with only a gnawing desire to have you in my arms, to kiss you ... to
make love to you."

The
last words were uttered so softly, Sabrina barely heard them, but she did, and
gently she caressed his dark head, her fingers moving lovingly through the
thick black hair. Her own mouth almost touching his, she whispered, "And
is that so very bad? So very wrong?"

"Oh,
Jesus!" Brett burst out explosively. "I don't know anymore. I only
know that when I found you with Carlos, I could have killed him then and
there—and strangled you for what you were doing to me. No woman has ever
aroused such jealousy within me."

Sabrina
started to protest, to explain, but Brett hushed her. Placing a finger on her
mouth, he commanded, "
No!
I don't want to hear anything about what
happened there—it is over and done with and behind us. You said the past has
nothing to do with us, and so even your past will have nothing to do with
us!" The dark green eyes glittering fiercely, he said with barely
suppressed savagery, "I want you. Every instinct I possess urges me to
mount my horse and ride from here as if all the demons in hell were after me,
but I cannot. I find myself deliberately walking into the web of your
spinning." His fingers tightened painfully on her shoulders, and he gave
another mirthless laugh. "By God, infant, but I
am
mad! I delude
myself into believing that I am doing this to save you from Carlos, but we both
know that is a lie, don't we?"

Unhappily,
Sabrina's eyes searched his. For so long she had yearned to have him confess
that he cared for her, but this wasn't quite the way she had imagined it—nor
had he admitted that he loved her. Wanted her, yes. But love? Of love he did
not speak. But wanting, she thought optimistically, could become love. Perhaps
to a man like Brett, it was love. But there was such tormented fury in his
voice, such bewildered frustration, that her heart ached for him. And maybe a
little for herself—it was obvious that he was a very reluctant lover. He wanted
her, but it was insultingly clear that it was greatly against his will. Yet she
knew that she could not let this moment escape, that even if he had not said
the exact words she wanted so desperately to hear, she would take greedily what
he had offered. In time she could prove him wrong, prove that while other women
may have hurt and betrayed him, she never would, that he would never find
treachery in her arms. Only love. And he would love her—in time. Time was all
she needed. ...

When
she remained silent, he shook her urgently. The jade-green eyes narrowing, he
asked roughly, "No answer? No glib reply? No satisfied smile now that you
have me groveling at your feet?"

Inexplicably
her mood lifted, and she was filled with a sudden confidence, a growing
certainty that all would be right. A tiny smile curved her mouth.
"Groveling?" she repeated in a teasing tone. "I hardly think so,
querido!
Demanding is more like it!"

He
relaxed slightly at her reply, and a mocking light suddenly dancing in his
eyes, he murmured, "I have always understood that meek lovers are either
fools or fops—I am neither, as you will soon discover!"

A
glint of daring in the amber-gold eyes, she said recklessly, "Will
I?"

His
mouth took on a frankly sensuous curve, and bending closer, he promised
huskily, "Oh, yes, infant. Oh, yes!" And once again he swept her up
into a dizzying embrace, that hard mouth seeking and demanding as it closed
over hers.

There
was a slight titter of laughter nearby, the intrusive sound of quickly
smothered voices, and with obvious reluctance Brett slowly lifted his lips from
hers. He sent a smoldering look across his shoulder and muttered with
suppressed violence, "I seem to have chosen the wrong place and time for
what I want to say." A sleepy fire flickering in his eyes, he added,
"And do."

Sabrina
laughed breathlessly, the blood singing in her veins, excitement coursing
through her entire body at the expression on his face. He must love her! And if
there had not been the interruption, she was positive he would have admitted it
to her. Provocatively she threw him a kiss, and then dancing away from him, she
murmured, "But there will be another time . . . won't there?"

He
made no move to stop her, and there was almost a tender smile on that chiseled
mouth as he drawled softly, "Of
that
you can be certain!"

The
remainder of the evening passed in a happy blur for Sabrina. She danced, she
ate, and she laughed with gay abandon, the sound of Brett's words a joyous
refrain in her brain.

Such
was not the case for Carlos. Stalking furiously off the courtyard after Sabrina
had left him so summarily, he had immediatedly left the hacienda and ridden to
Constanza. Leaving his horse behind her house, he had stomped across the patio
only to stop abruptly when he found Constanza sitting there alone.

It
was not late, and she had come outside to enjoy the warmth of the night, the
house still too stuffy from the heat of the day. A lantern hung nearby, casting
a golden pool of light over her; a pitcher of sangria and a glass sat near her
hand, and upon seeing Carlos, she murmured, "Shall I call the servant for
another glass? Or would you prefer something stronger?"

"Stronger!"
he snarled.

Constanza
clapped her hands, and a few minutes later, Carlos was sprawled in the chair
next to Constanza glaring wrathfully at the amber liquid in his glass. He drank
the whiskey in one gulp and then poured himself another from a decanter. His
voice surly, he demanded, "Why didn't you attend the fiesta today?"

Constanza
smiled faintly. "Because," she said dryly, "I did not want to be
as you are now—furious and filled with frustration. Am I to understand that
things did not go as you wished?"

"
Dios!
I have never been so enraged in my life!" Carlos burst out explosively,
his black eyes glittering with anger. "I have had to watch the gringo lay
claim to Sabrina and have been insulted by Sabrina myself! I could kill them
both!"

Her
face carefully bland, Constanza asked, "What happened? Nothing you cannot
undo, I trust?"

Briefly
Carlos gave her a summary of the day's events. When Carlos spoke of the
bullfight, of Brett's kiss to Sabrina, Constanza's composure slipped, and her
face paled. Noticing it, Carlos smiled nastily. "Disturbs you, does
it?" Baring his teeth, he growled, "Think then, how it made me feel!
Por
Dios!
But I could have slit his throat then and there! As for my beloved
tto
, . ." Eyes narrowing, he said softly, "Some day he will pay for
this."

With
difficulty, Constanza asked, "You have given up then? You no longer hope
to marry Sabrina?"

Carlos
laughed, an ugly sound that shattered the quiet night air. "Give up?
Never! I cannot—without her fortune I am ruined! I must have it or be reduced
to thieving to keep myself!"

Constanza
relaxed. "What do you plan to do? How can you stop what is happening? If
Alejandro approves and Sabrina welcomes his suit, what can be done?"

"I
could kill him," Carlos offered levelly.

Constanza's
dark eyes dilated, and leaning forward, she said passionately,
“No!
Harm
him, Carlos, and I promise you that you shall live to regret it!"

His
face tightened, and he demanded in a dangerous tone, "Are you threatening
me,
querida
? You will let this gringo drive a wedge between us? We, who
have shared so much together?"

Forcing
a conciliatory smile on her lips, Constanza said slowly, "I would never
threaten you, Carlos . . . but tell me—if I planned to deprive you of Sabrina,
wouldn't you try to stop me?"

Reluctantly
Carlos nodded his head, a gleam of respect flitting through the black eyes.
"So I would,
querida
. So I would." Some of his fury lessening,
he said admiringly, "We are so alike. So perfectly matched that nothing
will stop us from gaining our goals—Sabrina and her fortune for me, and the
gringo and his fortune for you!"

The
dangerous moment past, Constanza smiled at him, this time more naturally.
"You are a rogue, Carlos. Tell me, what do you plan?"

Moodily
Carlos stared out into the night. "Bah! I have no plan! I can think of
nothing . . . yet." Slanting her a glance, he asked, "Have you
thought of something?"

"Perhaps,"
she began coolly. "But it is going to cost you a great deal of
money."

Carlos
made a face. "You know that our finances are not overabundant at this
time."

"Do
you want Sabrina or not?" she asked levelly.

"I
want her!" he snapped in reply.

"Then
you
will
find a way to give me what I want, won't you?"