The Tiger Lily (44 page)

CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE

 Surprisingly,
Sabrina slept soundly that night and woke the next morning in unaccountably
high spirits. The bed had been delightfully comfortable, especially so since
she hadn't slept on a proper mattress for days; the sun was shining brightly
through the French doors that led to the balcony; and a smiling Lupe greeted
her with a pot of rich, fragrant coffee and a plate of hot, buttery pastry. It
was impossible to be gloomy or downcast.

A
long, luxurious bath, the red-gold hair washed and washed again, and Sabrina
began to feel that last night hadn't really been so momentous after all. Brett
had kissed her, and she had liked it—liked it immensely. But what did that
prove? That he was an attractive man and that she was merely a normal young
woman? Of course! It was all very simple when one viewed it from the proper
perspective. She had been tired last night, excited and slightly apprehensive,
and when he had kissed her she had overreacted, and that was all—nothing to
alarm one, nothing to depress one, or make one downcast.

Satisfied
with her reading of the incident, clad in a silk wrapper of brilliant blue, she
wandered out onto the balcony and standing in the warm spring sunlight, slowly
brushed the long flame-colored hair. The heat from the sun rapidly dried the
thick, wavy mass of hair, small tendrils curling softly about her temples and
forehead, and like a child seeking a kiss, she lifted her face to the yellow
sunlight.

From
his own balcony on the third floor directly across from Sabrina's, Brett
watched her movements with something akin to bittersweet pleasure. Thinking
herself unobserved, she had let down all her barriers. She laughed at the
antics of a hummingbird, and Brett found himself smiling in instinctive
response to that happy sound. When she turned her face again to the sun's kiss,
he found that he envied those shining rays that wandered at will over that
slim, lissome body. . . . With an effort he turned his mind to other things,
and unwilling to let her intrude into his thoughts, with cool deliberation he
walked back into his own rooms.

Ollie
was busy laying out his clothes for the day, and sending Brett a cheeky grin,
he said, "She's a pretty sight, ain't she?" Adding slyly, "And
with that fortune of hers, I don't imagine you'll be saddled with being her
guardian for long . . . once the local beaux get a glimpse of her, the house
will be full of them. You'll just have to take your pick of her suitors, then
fast as Jack-be-Quick, you'll be rid of her."

A
muscle throbbed in Brett's lean jaw, and he sent his interested valet a
decidedly black look. "I see," he began sardonically, "that
marriage hasn't taught you the wisdom of holding your tongue . . . yet."

"There
are no secrets between Lupe and me," Ollie returned immediately. "And
she doesn't care what I say as long as I say I love her!" His almost
handsome face becoming serious, he said shyly, "Lupe and me want to thank
you for the fine quarters you assigned us and for giving us that tract of land
near Fox's Lair."

Brett
grinned at him. "Now that you are a staid married man, you must think of
your future and not be such a harum-scarum scamp as your disreputable employer.
Besides, what else could I do if I intend to keep you in my service, which I
most certainly hope to do!"

Ollie
looked thoroughly scandalized at the idea that he might ever possibly work for
someone else. "Guvnor! Damn my eyes! You don't think . . . Why I would
never!"

Affectionately
Brett ruffled Ollie's dark hair. "No, I don't suppose you would, and I
apologize for even suggesting such a thing." His eyes softening, he added,
"I'm pleased that you and your bride are happy with the gift."

Lupe
had been ecstatic with both the rooms she would call home and the gift of land,
and a few minutes after the conversation between Brett and Ollie, her dark eyes
sparkling with delight, she told Sabrina, "Oh, senorital Senor Brett must
be the kindest man alive! He is so good to my Ollie and me! We have three whole
rooms to ourselves—it is almost like having our own home. And"—her eyes
getting bigger—"he gave Ollie a hundred acres of fine land near his plantation.
Just think, my husband is a landowner!" Sending her mistress a fond
glance, she added, "You are so lucky that he is your guardian—he is such a
kind man!"

Sabrina
nearly strangled on the sharp reply that sprang to her lips, but hastily she
turned away. In the days that followed, there were many adjectives Sabrina
could have used to describe Brett, but the word kind was never among them.
Mocking, arrogant, infuriating, and derisive, but definitely not kind!

For
reasons best known to herself, Sabrina decided upon a waiting game—she did not,
as she had originally planned, immediately launch an all-out battle to escape
from the galling authority of Brett's guardianship. Instead, she convinced
herself that there was no reason to begin hostilities instantly. Besides, she
needed a little time to orientate herself in this new situation. She needed
time to decide upon a lawyer and seek his advice. Time to prove that she was
perfectly capable of handling her own affairs and that she certainly did not
need or want Brett Dangermond to have any say in her life!

Having
come to these conclusions, she was ready to treat Brett with cool politeness
during the first difficult days. Unfortunately, a curt request that she meet
with him in the library before lunch unsettled her slightly and had her
approaching that room at the appointed time in a mixture of trepidation and
aggression.

Shoulders
squared, chin held high, and gowned in a plain, practical black muslin frock,
she entered the library. Reaching the area where Brett lounged carelessly on
one corner of his desk, she glanced dismissingly at him, and then, deliberately
fixing her eyes somewhere above his dark head, she inquired haughtily,
"You wanted to see me,
senor?
"

A
faint smile curved Brett's full mouth at her attitude, and softly he drawled,
"Infant, I have no intention of talking to someone who won't even look at
me."

Her
gaze flew to his, a slight flush staining her cheeks, and the amused mockery in
the jade-green eyes made her palm itch unbearably to smack his dark face.

"Now
that I have your attention," he murmured, "I thought we should
discuss some of the, shall we say, more mundane aspects of our regrettable
relationship."

Aware
of him in ways that she wished she weren't, Sabrina refrained from objecting to
his choice of words and instead replied stiffly, "Whatever you desire,
senor. " And could have bitten her tongue at the derisive smile that
instantly flicked at the corners of his mobile mouth.

"Desire,
my dear, has nothing to do with this conversation," he said lightly, and
before Sabrina could think of a suitable reply, he added casually, "I have
arranged for a sum of money to be at your disposal at a bank here in New
Orleans. And that same amount will be deposited quarterly until such time as I
decide it is inadequate for your needs"—his voice grew silky—"or you
marry."

Wisely
Sabrina kept her mouth shut. After a second Brett continued, naming a generous
sum of money, explaining carelessly that it would be her allowance for any
feminine trifles that she required. Naturally she would not be expected to pay
for her room and board; he, as her guardian, would see to all her household
expenses—servants, horses, and equipage were, of course, included. He had also
set up accounts at some of the best-known modistes and millineries in the city,
and as long as—said with a sarcastic inflection—she didn't attempt to bankrupt
him, those bills would be sent directly to him.

Sabrina
hated every moment of this somehow humiliating interview. Brett's terms were
generous, but there was something in the way he looked at her, something in his
tone of voice, that made her writhe with embarrassment. What he was proposing
was little different from the way her father had seen to things, but she
bitterly resented Brett's authority over her, and his insolent manner did
nothing to still her sense of injustice. It was an offensive situation, all the
more so, she reminded herself viciously, because the money he was so lavishly
doling out was hers! He had no right to dictate to her—no matter what
Alejandro's wretched will stated!

She
had a very expressive face, and watching the angry flash of her eyes and the
way her soft mouth tightened, Brett almost felt sorry for her. Almost. It was
time she learned a little humility, he thought cynically. Learned that
possessing great wealth gave her no divine right to play with a man's emotions,
to play with his heart. . . .

Annoyed
that he had allowed his attention to wander, he said more crisply, "I have
no objections, at least at the present time, if Senora de la Vega acts as your
duenna, and as for your amusements and friends—as long as I meet them and
approve and your social engagements are appropriate, I shall not interfere
unduly . . . unless, of course, I deem your activities unsuitable."

That
was too much for Sabrina. Forgetting that she was not to lose her temper,
forgetting that she was determined not to let him disturb or ruffle her, she
glared at him and spat, "How dare you! Since when have you become such an
arbiter of fashion? Since when does a black-hearted rogue like you decide what
is proper or improper?"

His
face hard, the jade-green eyes dark with fury, he snarled, "Since your
father so unwisely named me guardian of you in that blasted will!"
Unaccountably enraged by the situation, he said thickly, "Believe me, I
have no wish to have you on my hands—and the sooner you find some poor,
besotted fool to marry you, the happier I shall be!"

Hurt
and not certain why—after all, she wanted to be free of him, didn't
she?—Sabrina stared angrily at him. Her magnificent bosom heaving, the
amber-gold eyes glittering brightly, she retorted instantly, "Have no
fear—I'll marry the first eligible man who crosses my path! Marriage to anyone
would be better than having to suffer your guardianship a day longer than
necessary!"

Skirts
swirling behind her, she wheeled about and marched toward the door. But, her
hand on the knob, she stopped abruptly, something that had been bothering her
instantly coming to the forefront of her thoughts. Turning back to look at him,
she frowned and asked sharply, "How is it that you have all these
arrangements made? I only arrived yesterday afternoon. You told me to stay in
Nacogdoches—you can't have known that I was coming to New Orleans against your
express orders."

Once
again lounging on the corner of his desk, his arms folded negligently over his
chest, Brett smiled slightly. "Wrong, my dear. Unfortunately, being
somewhat acquainted with the tortuous mazes of the feminine mind, I knew that
if I requested politely that you come to New Orleans, nothing short of an army
would pry you loose from Nacogdoches." His smile widened. "Ah, but if
I demanded, and in the most rude manner possible, that you stay where you
were—then, of course, being female, you would race to New Orleans with all
possible speed."

For
a long moment Sabrina stared at him, chagrin and fury churning in her breast.
Dios! but he was diabolical! Then, suddenly, her anger fled and amusement
glimmered in her eyes as she realized how correctly he had judged the effect of
that contemptuous letter upon her. Rueful appreciation of his tactics caused a
wry smile to curve her full mouth, and without rancor she said simply, "It
is indeed your win, Senor. "

The
door shut softly behind her, and Brett gazed transfixed at the spot where she
had stood only a second before. From fury to amusement in an instant, he
thought with bafflement, the memory of her smile making his hard features
soften. Shaking his head, he stared down at the rug. Women! Would he ever
understand them?

Oddly
enough, after that clash in the library, the following weeks went by without
incident, Sabrina and Francisca gradually settling into the routine of Brett's
household. Acquaintances were made and renewed. From previous trips with Luis,
Francisca knew many people. Alejandro, too, with his many business connections
in the city, had known several families, and these, not unnaturally, presented
themselves to his sister and daughter. Some of the people Sabrina had met as a
child when she had traveled with her parents; others she knew of from her
father's letters and conversation. At any rate, she and Francisca, despite the
definite stigma of living with an
americano
, were soon absorbed into
Creole and Spanish society.

It
often puzzled Sabrina as the days passed that her aunt seemed content with the
present situation. Francisca made few complaints about their circumstances, and
regardless of the venom that flickered occasionally in the black eyes, she
managed to rub shoulders with the hated gringo without breaking into open
warfare.