The Tiger Lily (24 page)

Carlos
was already there, lounging carelessly against the bright yellow and green
pillows.

At
Sabrina's entrance, the petulant expression that had been on his face vanished and
he stood up and smiled at her warmly. "
Querida
, you came! I had
just begun to fear that today also you were going to disappoint me."
Almost a note of censure in his voice, he added, "I miss you a great deal,
and since you no longer meet with me as frequently as you once did, I find my
days long and lonely."

Sabrina
sent him a strained smile. Moving nervously around the gazebo, she said
distractedly, "I would have thought that you would have been very busy of
late. I know that Brett is."

Seeing
the way Carlos's eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened, Sabrina could have
bitten her tongue. Placatingly she muttered, "But, of course, he wouldn't
be if it weren't for the sugar cane lands."

Carlos
snorted. "Sugar cane! Do not speak to me about that! I still cannot
understand your father's reasoning. If you want my opinion, it is a foolish
waste of time and money! Brett Dangermond is the only one who is going to gain
anything!"

Knowing
it was useless to try to convince him otherwise, and aware of a small flicker
of doubt within herself, she said coolly, "Perhaps. But I didn't come here
to discuss either Senor Brett or my father."

Recognizing
that he was doing his own cause little good, Carlos forced himself to act
naturally. His black eyes soft, he patted the orange cushion next to him.
"Come,
querida
. Come and sit by me, and let us talk. Of late it
seems too often we quarrel."

Sabrina
cast a longing glance at the doorway and then slowly walked over and sat down
beside him. Wanting the unpleasantness over as soon as possible, she said
abruptly, "Carlos, I don't really think we have much to talk of these
days. I . . . I . . ." She hesitated and sent him a troubled look. "I
don't want to come here to meet you anymore." Having got the most
difficult words out, she smiled encouragingly at him and said in a rush,
"We can still see each other as often as you like—you know that you are
always welcome at the hacienda."

Carlos
stiffened, and something ugly entered those black eyes. His voice slurred with
anger, he snapped, "It is Dangermond, isn't it? He has turned you against
me!" Warming to his theme, he raged, "I have seen it coming! The way
your eyes light up when you say his name, the way you praise him, and now you
will allow him to destroy what is between us!"

"That's
not true!" she retorted hotly. "There never was anything between us!
You delude yourself if you think there was."

"Oh,
do I?" he said softly, in a tone of voice alarming to Sabrina. That and
the way he turned to look at her, his mouth twisting into a smile that wasn't a
smile at all. Slowly the black eyes roamed over her face, and then, to her
surprise, he reached out and gently touched her cheek.

His
voice low, he muttered, "I think you delude yourself. Always there has
been something between us, but you will not let it grow. You hide from it, but
I tell you that it is there, and I cannot let you ignore it any longer."
Almost crooning, a glazed look in his eyes, he went on, "You are meant to
be mine,
querida
. And I will not let Dangermond poison your mind against
me. Today I shall have to prove to you how completely you are mine." An
arrested expression flickered across his face, and he murmured almost to
himself, "Of course. Why didn't I think of it before?" His hands
moved to capture her shoulders, and swiftly he dragged her up against his
chest. His mouth inches from hers, he muttered, "Forgive me,
querida
,
for what I am about to do, but there is no other way! You must be mine, my
wife, and I can see only one way in which to bring that about!"

Sabrina
didn't understand what he meant, but instinctively she began to fight, her
hands pushing ineffectually against his chest. Carlos ignored her struggles,
his mouth pressing down avidly on hers, his tongue forcing its way into her
mouth.

Furious
and frightened, Sabrina fought like the tigress she so often resembled, but
while she and Carlos were of much the same height, he was much stronger, and
her attempts to escape were fruitless. He was like a man possessed, his hands
tearing at her gown and his own clothes. Sabrina's dress was torn from her
shoulder, and with mingled rage and fear, she felt his sinewy hand fondling her
naked breast. To her horror she realized that he had ripped away the upper
portion of her gown and she was naked from the waist up.

Aware
that she could not best him in a battle of strength, she stopped her wild
thrashings, and freeing her mouth from his, attempted to reason with him.
"Carlos,
querido
, " she pleaded softly, "please, please
..." Her sentence wasn't finished as Carlos muffled her lips with his.

During
their fight, Sabrina had been pinned down on the cushions by Carlos's heavier
body. She hadn't been deeply frightened at first, but as the moments passed,
and Carlos showed no inclination to stop his assault, fright grew within her.
His hands seemed to be everywhere, his mouth plundering hers with increasingly
passionate, probing kisses that affected her quite, quite differently from
Brett's kisses. She could feel nausea rising up in her throat—that and
hysteria. When his hand slid up her thighs, pushing the lavender gown up around
her waist, Sabrina knew a quiver of pure panic. He
was going to rape her!

She
heard the sound of her delicate undergarments being torn away, and it
galvanized her into further fight. Uselessly her fists beat against Carlos's
back, and frantically she twisted and squirmed beneath him, trying desperately
to throw off his crushing weight. Her mouth ached from his brutal kisses, and
feeling him pressing his loins against hers, feeling his body slipping between
her thighs, was terrifying. This was no delight; there was no joy, no pleasure,
in what was happening to her. She was full of fear and fury, and blindly she
struck out at Carlos's face.

He
muttered something guttural under his breath, his chest heaving with his
exertions and the passion that consumed him, but her blow did not slow or deter
him. If anything it seemed to goad him on, and he groaned deep in his throat,
grinding their bodies together in an obscene parody of lovemaking. His hand
fumbled with the fastenings of his calzoneras, and for one sickening, terrible
moment, she felt his hardened flesh probing between her legs.

She
stiffened in shocked rejection of his actions, her mind refusing to accept what
was about to happen.
This can't be happening to me!
Carlos would never
treat me this way! she thought with stunned disbelief. But he was, and his hand
stroking the soft hair between her thighs, his fingers preparing the way for
him, infused her struggles with a new, maddened strength. It seemed to have no
effect on him, and with something akin to enraged despair, she sensed he was
readying himself to join their bodies together as he braced his hips and pulled
her closer to his engorged manhood. Then, suddenly, like a frigid blast from
the Arctic, an icy voice inquired, "Am I interrupting something?"

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

The
sound of Brett's voice was the sweetest sound in the world to Sabrina, and her
body sagged with relief. Carlos jerked furiously away from her and with angry
movements pulled the calzoneras back up around his waist. His face a vicious
mask, he stared ferociously across the gazebo at Brett.

Sabrina
struggled up into a sitting position, her trembling hands automatically trying
to make some semblance of order of her ripped and torn clothing. Thank God
Brett had come! Another second, another moment, and she would have been utterly
ruined!

Shame
and gratitude warred in the oddly timid glance she flashed to Brett, but at the
expression of disgust and contempt revealed by the hard, set features of his
lean face, she was flooded with mortification so intense that her entire body
ached with it. Surely he didn't think ... He couldn't think ...

It
appeared he did. The dark green eyes flickered disdainfully over her disheveled
state, and in a taut, distasteful voice, he drawled, "You'll forgive my
interruption, I hope. I didn't realize that the gazebo was . . . occupied. If
you'll let me know what hours you use it for your assignations, I'll arrange my
swim for a later time."

Sabrina's
face flamed with both humiliation and fury. Smothering a gasp of outrage, she
gathered her tattered clothing to her, and after throwing a look of utter
loathing at the two men, she fled the gazebo.

There
was an ugly, dangerous silence after she left. Casually Carlos straightened his
clothes, a complacent smile on his lips. "You gringos," he said
lightly. "Always so impetuous and impolite. Surely you knew the gazebo was
occupied—and what we were doing. Sabrina is never quiet in her lovemaking, and
you must have heard her begging for me to take her." Shaking his head, he
added with apparent good humor, "Ah, well. It is too bad you arrived when
you did. But in the future you will take more care not to disturb us,
si?"

Brett
had heard Sabrina pleading, "Please, please." But he hadn't believed
his own ears. He had come down to take his usual afternoon swim, and upon
catching a glimpse of the writhing bodies through the lattice of the gazebo,
had started to turn away, assuming a pair of servants were using the small
building for a lovers' rendezvous. The sound of Sabrina's voice had stopped him
dead in his tracks, and like a man of ice, a frozen zombie, he had walked up
the stairs of the gazebo and looked in. The sight that had met his eyes was
seared agonizingly in his brain. Sabrina's nearly naked body thrusting
lustfully beneath Carlos's as they kissed hungrily, her arms flailing about
wildly as passion consumed her.

Coldly
he said, "You'll understand if I don't care to discuss the situation with
you. What you and Sabrina do is your business? But I'd be damned careful not to
let Alejandro be subject to a scene such as the one that I just interrupted. I
don't think he could handle it as unemotionally."

Carlos
shrugged. "It wouldn't matter. He would demand that Sabrina and I marry at
once, which would suit us admirably."

"Which
makes me wonder," Brett mused out loud, "why you're waiting? What do
you hope to gain?"

Carlos
shrugged again. Malice gleaming in the black eyes, he said softly, "I do
not want to wait. I haven't since Sabrina first gave herself to me—but then you
appeared!" With loathing he spat, "You with your great fortune! And
now she delays, unwilling to commit herself fully to me, until she knows that
there is no hope of a marriage with you."

His
face unrevealing, the dark green eyes shuttered and empty, Brett turned away.
Over his shoulder, he said curtly, "Rest assured, amigo, that you have
nothing to fear from me! I wouldn't marry Sabrina del Torres if she were
offered to me wrapped in diamonds and lying on a golden platter!"

A
pleased smile on his mouth, Carlos watched Brett stride away. Things really
hadn't worked out too badly, he thought smugly, as he caught up the reins of
his tethered horse and prepared to ride away from the gazebo. The plan to
dishonor Sabrina and force their marriage had been hasty and ill-conceived.
This was much better. Dangermond was disgusted by her and certainly would not
ever, now, consider her for a wife. It was true he was going to have to mend
his fences with Sabrina, but with patience and charm, Carlos was positive, he
could re-establish himself in her affections. It would be difficult, but he had
all the happy years of their childhood to help him.

The
passion that Sabrina had aroused gnawed at him, and cruelly he dug his spurs
into the silken hide of the fine animal he rode. Constanza. He would go to
Constanza.

A
short while later, he pulled his lathered horse to a stop in the pine forest
behind Constanza's small house and with rapid steps, crossed the empty courtyard
at the rear of the house. He rapped emphatically on the wooden door, and when a
servant opened it, he roughly brushed past her, demanding curtly, "Your
mistress, where is she?"

"In
the
sala
, Senor ."

Swiftly
he found his way to the salon, and he breathed a sigh of relief at seeing
Constanza alone.

She
looked up expectantly when he entered the room, but when she saw who it was,
something died out of the fine, dark eyes.
''Buenos
dias
,
Carlos," she said coolly. "What have I done to deserve your visit?"
Almost petulantly, she added, "You have not been by to visit me for some
time now."

Carlos
smiled sarcastically. Cruelly he said, "Six weeks ago, you would not have
been pleased to see me—then you had the gringo."

Slowly
her eyes traveled over him, noting with a slumberous glow the slight swelling
near the crotch of his calzoneras. Her mouth curving sensuously, she murmured, "But
you did not have your Sabrina ... or did you?"

With
a low growl, he crossed the room and jerked her off the elegant silk-covered
sofa. Ruthlessly his mouth plundered hers, Constanza's body melting against
his, her lips opening eagerly under the demand of his. "
Querido
,"
she breathed deeply a moment later, "I have missed you."

"Especially
these past weeks," he taunted, his hands busily exploring her ripe curves.

An
odd smile on her mouth, she agreed huskily, ''Especially these past
weeks." Deliberately she reached down and freed his throbbing manhood from
the calzoneras, her fingers sliding warmly around it.

Carlos
groaned low in his throat and buried his mouth on hers. In the grip of blind,
animal passion, he pushed her down to the floor. Savagely he shoved her skirts
up, and grunting his pleasure he entered her.

They
mated like animals, Constanza driven wild by the fierceness with which he took
her, and the delicious fear of discovery made the act even more exciting. If a
servant should enter . . . Carlos's teeth closed over the breast he had just
freed, and Constanza thought of nothing else but the ecstasy of having a man once
more.

Ten
minutes later, she rang for a servant, and the heavyset Indian woman who
entered the room would never have imagined that only minutes before her
mistress and Senor  de la Vega had been writhing on the floor in a paroxysm of
passion. Stony-faced, Maria, the servant, listened as her mistress demanded
refreshments for the guest.

Alone
again, Carlos sprawled comfortably in a high-backed chair of brown leather.
Constanza sat demurely across from him, her skirts discreetly arranged.

They
said nothing until after Maria had returned with Madeira for Carlos and hot
chocolate for Constanza. When the servant had departed, Constanza said,
"The suit with Sabrina must be prospering if she sends you to me in such a
condition."

Carlos
made a disgruntled sound. "Yes and no. Today I would have forced her into
a position in which it would have been imperative that we marry—but that cursed
gringo interfered!" His hand closed into a fist, his face twisting.
"I should kill him!"

"No!"
Constanza blurted out before she could stop herself. To her mortification, she
felt a blush rush into her cheeks at the knowing look Carlos sent her.

"Ah!"
Carlos purred, his black eyes unkind. "This gringo means something to
you."

Constanza
bit her lip and for something to do, took a sip of the hot chocolate. "Not
exactly," she said a second later. A queer look flashed across her face.
Her voice full of bewilderment, almost as if she didn't understand her own emotions,
she muttered, "He was very different from what I expected. And with his
wealth and ..." She shrugged her shoulders. "It was a foolish notion
of mine, one he never encouraged or guessed. Besides, I'd make him a wretched
wife."

"You
actually considered marriage?" Carlos said, his face full of incredulity.
Sneeringly he added, "He must have been wonderfully proficient. And
magnificently wellendowed."

"He
was indeed!" Constanza snapped, her dark eyes sparkling with anger.
"He would split your sweet Sabrina in two—and leave her moaning for him to
do it again!"

Carlos
sucked in his breath with rage. Sitting up in the chair, he snarled, "He
will never have Sabrina! I saw to that this afternoon!"

Both
seemed to realize how very near they were to a falling out, and with an obvious
effort, Carlos brought his temper under control. Throwing himself back against
the chair, he said conciliatorily, "Come now,
querida
, don't let us
fight! It is Sabrina and Brett who must be kept in dissension."

Constanza
gave him a rueful smile. "You are right, amigo. I do not know what came
over me." She shook her head and said teasingly, "Perhaps I needed
you more than I knew." They smiled at each other.

Casually
Constanza inquired, "What did you mean about seeing to that this
afternoon?"

Carlos
took a long swallow of his Madeira. Satisfaction written across his dark
features, he said smugly, "He caught Sabrina and me in a very compromising
situation—I let him think that we were lovers and that we made love often. He
will not touch her now. He would not want what he thinks is my leavings."

An
odd note in her voice, she asked, "Do you think there was any danger of
him wanting her in the first place?"

"I
don't know. I only know that these past few days, Sabrina has seemed to change.
She speaks highly of him, and there is something that comes into her eyes that
I do not like. A marriage between them would be intolerable!"

Her
face whitened, and Constanza asked harshly, "Do you think that is
likely?"

"Would
it bother you?" Carlos inquired with deceptive idleness.

"A
little," Constanza answered untruthfully.

Carlos
smiled, recognizing the lie. Dropping his eyes to the glass in his hand, he
murmured, "Then I suppose that if, by chance, the improbable happened and
a marriage between them was imminent ..." He glanced across at her. "You
would do anything to stop it, wouldn't you?"

Her
mouth tightened, the dark eyes blank and shuttered.

"Yes,"
she replied grimly. "Yes, I would. Anything!"

It
was a very satisfactory answer, Carlos thought to himself as he took another
swallow of his Madeira.

Brett
was also swallowing Madeira at that time, but he had no feeling of satisfaction
as he did so. He was seated in a chair also, but the person across from him
wasn't female—it was Alejandro, and Carlos would have been extremely displeased
to discover that he, himself, was the topic of their conversation. The two men
were seated on the patio, resting from the heat of the day.

Brett's
thick black hair still showed damp traces of his swim in the lake, and his long
legs were stretched out in front of him. He looked relaxed, the glass of
Madeira held loosely in one lean, tanned hand, his head thrown back against the
chair as if he were contemplating the rough bark of the tree overhead, and yet
. . . There was a curious stillness about that lounging, elegant form that
bothered Alejandro.