The Tiger Lily (30 page)

"Yes!"
Carlos snarled, his mouth tight.

Constanza
looked down at her hands as they rested on the pine table. Her voice curiously
husky, she said, "We may gain Sabrina for you—she is a woman and can be
controlled by her father ... or guardian. But as for my becoming Senor a
Dangermond, I rather doubt it. A man cannot be coerced into marriage the way a
woman can." She lifted her eyes, and Carlos was startled at the depth of
pain he saw there.

Moved,
he reached across the table for her hands. "He means so much to you?"

She
smiled wryly. "Oh, yes. So much that while I know I cannot have him
myself, I cannot bear to see him wed another."

Her
voice hardening, the fine jaw rigid, she added, "I will do anything to
stop him from marrying Sabrina! She has everything—money, youth, and
position—while I have nothing! I will not let her have him, too!"

"And
you have a way to take him away from her? To stop the announcement of their
betrothal that is sure to come soon?"

"Perhaps
not stop it, but certainly destroy it and make her look at him with loathing,
if she is the woman I think she is. ..."

Carlos
regarded her thoughtfully, noting the grim line of her mouth, the unusual
hardness of her eyes. "How?"

Constanza
smiled. "I will not tell you now. First you must provide me with gold—a
great deal of gold, Carlos, for when I am through with your Sabrina, I will not
be able to remain here in Nacogdoches. I will have to leave forever, or she
will learn the truth and know that we lied to her. And so, when you have given
me enough money to pay my passage to Spain, to keep me in luxury for the rest
of my life,
then
I shall tell you of my plan."

"We
do not have a great deal of time," Carlos persisted. "Something must
be done immediately."

A
steely smile on her lips, Constanza answered, "It can be done just as soon
as you keep your part of the bargain—a fortune in gold. When I have that, I
will deliver Sabrina into your arms."

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

It
had been hours past midnight before the last guest had left the hacienda and
Sabrina had bidden her father and Brett good night. She had laid her lovely
gown on a chair near her bed and with a sigh of contentment, had slipped naked
into the bed, certain she would fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

Such
was not the case. Too much had happened, the future beckoned too alluringly,
and there were too many tantalizing moments to remember for sleep to overtake
her. She tossed and turned, longing to sleep, to wake and find that it was
morning; she burned with eagerness to see what the day would hold.

Eventually
she gave up trying to sleep, and after wandering restlessly about her room for
several moments, she stepped onto the balcony and stared out into the night.
The gleam of the moonlight on the water caught her attention, and suddenly she
knew what she wanted to do. She found an old gown, and not bothering with
undergarments, she put it on. Quietly she opened her door and with light steps
hurried down the silent, darkened hallway to the stairs. Seconds later she was
outside, running without a sound on bare feet toward the lake.

The
lake was streaked with silver from the moon overhead, and Sabrina gazed at it
with wonder as she walked aimlessly along the rippling shoreline, the water
still warm from the heat of the day. The night air was calm, not even the cry
of an owl breaking the peaceful silence. To Sabrina it seemed as if she were
the only person in the world awake, and she found that the night suited her
mood, soothing her turbulent anticipation of the morrow.

But
Sabrina wasn't alone, nor was she the only person awake. Brett, too, had found
it impossible to sleep, and though Sabrina had passed by his room on cat feet,
he had heard the slight sound she had made. He had partially undressed, and
wearing only his calzoneras, he had been impatiently pacing his room when he
heard her pass by. His thoughts had been bitter at that moment; he was unable
to believe that he, Brett Dangermond, had fallen in love.

He
did not want to admit it, and for weeks now he had deliberately avoided looking
into his own heart. To love was weakness and insanity, and like an animal
caught in a trap, he was fighting desperately to escape. Tonight he had come
dangerously near to committing himself, and he was furiously aware that it was
only a matter of time before he did commit himself.

It
was a painful situation in which he found himself. He hadn't lied when he had
said that all his instincts urged him to flee. They did. But just the thought
of leaving Sabrina filled him with a black despair, and he knew he was as
trapped as any insect in a spider's web. No matter how he struggled, no matter
how fiercely he fought, Sabrina's web held him fast, and demons he had
forgotten now rose up to taunt him.

The
incident with Diana Pardee in London so many years ago had left him
particularly sensitive about his own attraction for women. Without conceit, he
knew he was a handsome man, an accomplished lover, but were those his real
attractions ... or was it his fortune? And not even Sabrina could he acquit of
the ugly suspicion that her response to his overtures was because she was even
more attracted to his wealth and fortune than she was to him. Repeatedly he
told himself that it was a ridiculous idea—the del Torres fortune was probably
larger than his own—but his wounds were deep. And there was the knowledge that
Carlos was no longer wealthy. If he knew about the de la Vegas' straitened
circumstances, it was logical that Sabrina knew about them, too. Had she
decided that Brett Dangermond might be a better bargain? It was a persistent
thought, and perhaps more than anything, it was what had kept him from
declaring himself. If he was to be married, even bitterly conscious that his
bride came to him from the bed of another man, he had to be certain that it was
not money that brought her into his arms.

With
jerky movements he lit a cheroot, intending to walk downstairs and take a
breath of night air before trying to find solace in sleep, and it was then that
he heard Sabrina pass by his room. Curious about who might be prowling through
the house in the dead of night, he opened his door just in time to see a slight
figure disappear down the stairs. Not certain if the form he had glimpsed was
Sabrina's but instinctively guessing it was, Brett swiftly shrugged on a white
cotton shirt and quickly followed.

He
reached the courtyard just as she stepped through the archway in the lattice at
the far end of the patio, and in the moonlight he recognized her. Recognized
and wondered sickly if she was on her way to Carlos. Disgusted as much as
wounded by her apparently insatiable desire for Carlos, he started to turn
away, to seek out his room, with every intention of preparing to pack. Tonight.
He could not and he would not stay here any longer and let her rip his emotions
to shreds. He would think of some excuse to give Alejandro tomorrow for his
sudden wish to be gone from this place, but he damn well was not staying
another night to let that little slut work her wiles on him! But he didn't return
to his room.

Instead,
telling himself he was all kinds of a fool, he followed her. It was possible,
he argued grimly, that he had misjudged the situation. And before he condemned
her for all time, didn't it behoove him to see the proof with his own eyes? And
so it was that Brett stood in the shadows next to the gazebo and watched as
Sabrina strolled dreamily near the edge of the lake.

Unaware
of Brett's intent gaze, with playful, happy movements Sabrina splashed into the
water, laughing softly as it washed over her ankles. Lifting her gown above her
knees, with a spurt of childlike glee she ran gracefully along the shoreline,
the spray of water from her running feet glittering like diamonds in the night.
She stopped just as she came abreast of the gazebo and looked with longing at
the placid smoothness of the lake.

Smiling
to herself, she stepped back from the water, and giving in to impulse, she
recklessly pulled the gown above her head, tossing it carelessly on the ground
nearby. For a second she was poised there, her naked body bathed in moonlight.

His
breath trapped somewhere in the region of his stomach, Brett stared at the
loveliness so unexpectedly presented to him. She was magnificent as she stood
motionless at the edge of the water, the moonlight making her a figure of
ebony, silver, and ivory, a pagan goddess offering herself to a moon lover. And
even as he thought of that comparison, Sabrina raised her arms as if paying
homage to the moon.

Her
hair hung down her slender back in wild disorder, appearing black in the
moonlight, the slim curve of her buttocks a silver arc, the long, lithe legs
gleaming like ivory. Her profile was to Brett, and hungrily he stared,
entranced by the way the silvery light played across her body, creating tantalizing
shadows and mysterious planes. Time and time again his eyes were brought back
to the full, tempting thrust of her breast, before his gaze slid appreciatively
across the nearly concave stomach and the ivory thighs.

Desire
choked him, all the hungry promptings of his dreams rising up full force to
conquer his very reason. Like a man in a daze, he threw the cheroot away,
heedlessly tossing his shirt in the direction of the gazebo and blindly undoing
his calzoneras.

Still
thinking she was alone, with a joyous laugh Sabrina slid into the lake,
swimming with strong, sure strokes as the water deepened. The water was like
silk rushing against her warm body, cooling her, caressing her, making her
aware of herself as never before. Playfully she turned on her back, kicking up
a large spume of water, and it was then that she saw Brett's tall figure walk
out from the shadows of the gazebo.

If
the moonlight had clearly revealed her naked state, it did the same to Brett as
he slowly, unashamedly walked toward her. Hypnotized, Sabrina was unable to
take her eyes away from the sheer masculine beauty of his body. He moved with
all the sleek, sinuous grace of a forest animal, a forest lord, she thought
giddily, as he neared the water's edge. The blue-black hair glinted with silver
lights; the broad chest with its matting of fine, dark curls was intensified in
the moonlight; and helplessly Sabrina moved her eyes lower, following the
narrow trail of dark hair that grew across his flat stomach down to . . .
Shaken by a sudden shyness, she skipped her gaze swiftly to the powerfully
muscled legs, and she wondered breathlessly if all men were so superbly
fashioned. He looked invincible and very formidable as he stood there, and she
was aware of a curling sensation of both fear and longing in the pit of her
stomach.

If
he entered the water, if he came to her now, they both knew what would happen,
and for one timeless moment they stared at each other across the short distance
that separated them. Almost as if giving her a choice, Brett demanded thickly,
"Do I join you, or do you tell me to leave?"

But
there was no choice to be made and they both knew it. Silently, her heart
beating frantically in her breast, Sabrina watched as he dived into the lake,
his big body cutting cleanly through the water. A few strokes and he was in
front of her.

Wordlessly
they regarded one another. The water barely covered Sabrina's shoulders, and
her wet skin glistened like silver in the moonlight. Her face was clearly
revealed, the moonlight caressing the lovely features—the tip-tilted nose, the
wide, sensuous mouth—and to Brett there was an ethereal beauty about her. The
amber-gold eyes were shadowed, the glory of that red-gold hair muted, and
almost reverently he asked, "Are you real? Or only the image of my
dreams?"

Brett's
face was in the shadows, his back to the moon, and just faintly she could make
out the expression of wonderment on his features. It thrilled her and yet
touched her, too, and she reached out and stroked a finger across his lips.

"Real,"
she replied huskily, a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. "And
you?"

Slowly
his hands closed around her shoulders, pulling her to him, the buoyancy of the
water making the movements light and dreamlike. Sabrina's slender body floated
toward his, rocking gently against his as their limbs met, the water rippling
around their two bodies. His lips brushed hers, and bringing one arm down to
caress her naked buttocks, he brought her even closer to him, making her
intensely aware of the heat and full arousal of his lean body. A crooked smile
on his mouth, his teeth a brief flash in the darkness, he murmured, "Oh,
yes, I am very real!" The smile vanished, and he studied her features
intently. "Real and so hungry for you, moon-witch," he crooned the moment
before his mouth captured hers in a long, languorous kiss.

Dreamily
Sabrina gave herself up to the fierce sweetness of his kiss, her lips opening
ardently under his, her entire body tingling as a thousand new and exciting
sensations swamped her. Crushed against the wet sleekness of his chest, her
breasts suddenly seemed full and heavy, her nipples hardening with a
pleasurable ache, and between their bodies she could feel the provocative,
insistent pressure of his swollen manhood. Her mouth was full of him, his
tongue searching and demanding as it explored, his hands moving with sensuous
fascination as they slid down her back to her hips and thighs. It was exquisite
torture, the water intensifying the feeling of pagan abandon as it cushioned
their locked bodies, increasing the feeling of being lost in a silken, sensual
dream.

Sabrina's
arms crept around Brett's strong neck, her fingers absently tangling and
tousling the thick black hair of his head. She had wanted to be naked against
him, and reality proved far more satisfying than imagination, the warmth and
power of that steel-muscled body straining so hungrily against hers filling her
with a knife-sharp pleasure.

Bracing
his feet on the bottom of the lake, his legs wide apart, with demanding hands on
her hips, Brett brought Sabrina's thighs between his. When their bodies
touched, when her groin brushed delicately against his achingly full organ, he
groaned out loud with excitement, his lips moving with increasing urgency over
hers, his breathing becoming hard and labored.

He
held her still against him, his hands effortlessly spanning her narrow waist,
both of them reveling in the sheer delight of feeling the texture and pressure
of the other's body. When his lips reluctantly left her mouth to explore her
face, to travel like fire along her jawline to her ear, Sabrina's breathing
became as difficult and labored as his, desire coiling and writhing almost
painfully within her loins. The flick of his warm tongue as it slowly searched
her ear was unbearably erotic, and with urgent hands she brought his lips back
to hers, kissing him as hungrily as he had her only moments before, her
tongue's caress as it searched his mouth driving them both half-mad with a
desperate wantonness.