The Tiger Lily (59 page)

Carlos
was sitting in a leather chair near the fireplace, Sabrina standing stiffly a
few feet away in front of him. Speculatively Carlos eyed her, extremely curious
about why she had written him and, in spite of her pregnancy, still not quite
willing to relinquish his original plans. Aloud he merely said, "Did you
know that Madre left for Mexico City in September? She's going to live with Tia
Ysabel."

"Oh!"
Sabrina replied blankly, and found herself muttering inanely, "She should
like that. But tell me, why do you remain in New Orleans? Shouldn't you have
returned to Nacogdoches?"

"Why?"
he returned bitterly, his eyes on her face. "You're here . . . what is
there for me in Nacogdoches? The only woman I shall ever love is here!"

Once
those words would have made Sabrina feel sad and guilty, but not any longer,
and her voice hard, she snapped, "Oh, stop it, Carlos! You don't love me—you
never did! You just use your professed love of me as an excuse to hide behind
v/hen you're caught doing something reprehensible! You did the same thing after
you almost raped me in the gazebo—would have raped me if Brett hadn't
appeared!" Her features scornful, she added, "And if I would listen
to you now, you would try to convince me that it was love of me that led you to
tell Brett all manner of lies!" Eyes glittering with contempt, she
demanded, "And what lies about him did you tell me?"

Enraged
that she would turn against him this way, Carlos leaped furiously to his feet.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" he blustered, a mad little
spark gleaming in his eyes. This couldn't be happening to him! Not now, when he
had been so certain, so confident.

"Yes,
you do!" Sabrina flashed back. "That summer in Nacogdoches, you told
Brett that I was after his fortune, didn't you?" She laughed angrily.
"And me," she went on bitterly, "me, you told that he was after
my fortune!"

Too
stunned to think clearly, Carlos hunched a shoulder, and because it had always
worked in the past, he whined, "But I did it all for you! Don't you
understand, I was only trying to save you from him—because I love you so much
and didn't want you to be hurt by him!"

Bile
rose up in her throat. Did he really think that she was that much of a fool?
That even now she would accept his patent lies? Almost defeatedly she said,
"Don't tell me the same lie—I don't believe you anymore. I wrote you to
come here because I have to know the truth and I'm too ashamed for my husband
to learn how little I trusted him—how easily gulled I was by someone I thought
I could trust implicitly." Her voice thick with suffering, she burst out,
"I
trusted
you, Carlos! Believed in you! How could you betray me that
way?"

Carlos
wouldn't answer, his gaze fixed on her with a strange, unnerving intentness.
This bitch had spurned him all these years, had married a gringo, was carrying
the gringo's child, and she had the gall to berate him! How dare she!

Bluntly
Sabrina demanded, "I want to know precisely what happened with the girl in
New Orleans—the one you said he attacked with a knife. But most of all, I want
the truth about Constanza." Steadily meeting his eyes, she finished,
"I want to know if she really was pregnant with his child, if indeed he
had refused to marry her because he wanted my fortune. And damn you! This time
tell me the truth!"

Brett
couldn't describe the powerful emotions he felt as he stood there in the foyer,
stunned by the import of Sabrina's words. It is said that eavesdroppers hear no
good of themselves, and he could definitely attest to the truth of that
statement! But there was exultant joy mixed with all the ugliness as he
realized fully how craftily Carlos had manipulated them both, had played upon
their doubts. What fools we were, he thought impotently, as he listened to
Sabrina's angry words. If only I had demanded an explanation from her then! If
only I hadn't been so pig-headed-positive that it was my lack of fortune that
had caused her to break the betrothal! He almost shouted aloud with sweet
elation—there had been nothing separating them six years ago except their own
mistrust. But never again, he vowed savagely,
never
again will I let anything
come between us! And coolly he made his presence known.

"I,
too, should like to hear the truth. It should prove most interesting,"
Brett said quietly from the doorway.

Her
heart in her mouth, Sabrina spun around to stare at him in dismay.
Dios!
What was he doing here and what was he thinking?

Sabrina
looked so adorably guilty, so horrified at the sight of him, that if the
situation hadn't been so serious, Brett would have laughed. As it was, it was
all he could do to stop himself from striding across the room, taking her into
his arms, and kissing her violently. He had never loved her quite so much as he
did in this moment, understanding the pride that would keep her from asking
about the past, deeply moved that having been told the lies she had, she had
married him anyway.

Brett
was as weary as he appeared as he lounged in the doorway. His once-immaculate
cravat was crumpled and half-untied, the bottle-green jacket was rumpled, and
his breeches and boots bore signs of dirt from the roads. But moving a little
away from the doorway, he lithely walked a few steps into the salon, repeating
with commendable calm, "
Most
interesting, especially since my
memory of that poor girl in New Orleans is that you cut her up, not me! And as
for Constanza ..." His voice trailed off, and he looked gravely at Sabrina,
wishing he could deny the affair, damning himself for all the other women who
had ever been in his life. Slowly, picking his words with care, he admitted,
"I can't deny that for a short time after I first arrived in Nacogdoches,
there was something between us. But I never got her with child, nor did I ever
ask her to marry me—the question of marriage never arose. We shared a physical
relationship and that was
all!
" Flatly he said, "I'm not going
to apologize or make excuses for what I did before I began seriously courting
you that summer—I'm entitled to my own past, and being a monk wasn't part of
it!" Tautly he added, "As for your fortune, it never had a blasted
thing to do with what I felt for you—I wanted to marry you because I loved you,
and whatever wealth you possessed didn't matter a tinker's damn to me!"

It
seemed as if they were the only two people in the room, Carlos's presence
momentarily forgotten as they stared ardently across the space that divided
them. Sabrina swallowed with difficulty, not certain what to say. It was
painful to hear him speak of Constanza, but so wonderful to know conclusively
that she had been deliberately deceived that day. And he had said that he loved
her! She made a helpless little gesture, so full of emotion that words failed
her, and as the silence spun out, Brett said fiercely, "For God's sake,
Sabrina! You might not have been the first woman in my life, but I swear to you
that you are the only woman in it now—you will always be the only woman for
me!"

Her
voice still suspended by the dizzying jubilation his words gave her, Sabrina
could only stare at him dumbly, fighting back a sudden foolish urge to weep
with exhilaration. He
had
loved her!

Misunderstanding
her silence, Brett looked at her with despair. Didn't she believe him? Couldn't
she forgive him? His mouth twisting with pain, he asked in an anguished tone,
"Don't you believe me?" Almost roughly he added, "I love you. I
have always loved you—even when I fought against it and tried to use someone
like Constanza to hide from it, it was there."

Her
throat so tight with held-back tears of joy, half-laughing, half-crying, she
got out, "Oh, Brett! Do you realize that this is the first time you've
ever told me that you love me? That all these months I've been dying with love
for you and so afraid that you didn't love me?"

With
a snake's unblinking stare, Carlos's eyes moved from one joyous face to the
other, and fury shook him. It had been bad enough that the gringo had married
Sabrina, but that they would be happy together was not to be borne. Sneeringly
Carlos murmured, "How touching! Dear cousin, do you really believe him?
What makes you think that he isn't lying? He could be, you know."

His
voice startled both of them, making them unpleasantly aware that they were not
alone, and with pity in her gaze, Sabrina looked at Carlos. "Carlos, don't
be a fool! Can't you see—I love him and he loves me. Your lies can't hurt us
ever again." Almost pleading with him, she added, "Don't keep trying
to destroy what we have found. If for no other reason than the memories of our
childhood, please be happy for us now."

Unable
to believe that he had lost completely, unable to comprehend that she no longer
trusted him, Carlos grabbed her hand and babbled wildly, "Listen to me, Sabrina,
let me explain! You don't understand how it was, I can explain it to you!"

"I'm
sure you can," Brett said harshly, and reaching inside his jacket, he
suddenly threw on the carpet near Carlos's feet the brooch and Alejandro's
bracelet. "Like how these came to be in your possession!"

The
fading firelight danced over the two pieces of jewelry, the emerald chips
winking in the lion's eyes, the bracelet a silver shimmer, the turquoise stones
gleaming softly. Sabrina stared transfixed for several seconds at the bracelet,
and then, not even aware of Carlos's hold on her wrist, she slowly knelt down
and reverently picked up the bracelet.

There
was a sudden, waiting silence, a tense silence, something deadly and dangerous
stirring in the air. The enormity of what that bracelet meant sinking in with
one painful thrust, Sabrina looked at Carlos with utter loathing and horror. "You?"
she croaked. "
You
killed my father?"

Any
half-mad, fading hope Carlos may have desperately clung to vanished, taking
whatever remaining sanity he possessed with it. His eyes dilated; he glanced
dementedly around the room. There was death here, he could smell it, and as his
eyes met Brett's he saw it, too, glittering with cold promise in those
jade-green depths. Deliberately Brett began to walk toward him, and losing his
nerve, Carlos swiftly pulled out a small pistol from the leather belt around
his waist. "Stay there!" he commanded in a curiously high-pitched
voice. "Stay there or I'll kill her!" And he pointed the pistol at
Sabrina's head.

Brett
froze, his mind racing as he frantically sought and discarded a hundred plans
to keep Sabrina safe from this madman. And seeing the madness in Carlos's eyes,
he felt an icy fear creep along his spine. But more than that, he was suddenly,
sickly aware that he had made a fatal mistake in his haste to enter the
house—his own pistol was still resting safely in the holster on Firestorm's
saddle.

Sabrina
wasn't even conscious of her own danger. White-hot rage exploding through her
body, without thinking she closed her fingers over Alejandro's bracelet, making
a fist. Viciously she struck at Carlos's head.

Carlos
was watching Brett so intently that he never even saw her fist when it came
striking through the air, catching him violently across the face, the force of
it knocking his arm with the pistol aside. He recovered in an instant, and even
as Sabrina fumbled in the folds of the shawl for her knife, he brought the
pistol down along the side of her temple, pushing her from him.

Brett
was already in motion, fury and fear driving him forward like a bullet, but
fast as he was, he was too late. Sabrina's body went flying, her head hitting
the corner of a heavy table with a terrifying thud. She lay there motionless.

A
stark, almost frenzied cry of pain came from Brett, and for the moment, Carlos
was ignored. Kneeling by her side, with shaking fingers, Brett touched the
bright curls, the faint trickle of blood that ran from her temple to her chin.
She was breathing, but she was hurt—badly, he thought.

Like
a great jungle cat, he slowly slewed around to look at Carlos. Rising with a
deadly grace, Brett said in a lethal tone, "You're a dead man,
Carlos."

Carlos
laughed hysterically. "Threats, gringo? You are the dead man! Have you
forgotten that I have the pistol, that I can kill you both whenever it suits
me?" He giggled, the madness now out of control. His mouth twitching, he
muttered, "I'd like to kill you, gringo!" Slyly his eyes slid to
Sabrina's still form. "You and your whoring bitch of a wife!"

Realizing
the dangerousness of the situation, Brett forced himself to stay calm, to think
clearly. If only he could get that pistol away from Carlos. . . .