The Tiger Lily (3 page)

Brett
looked down at her, intending to say something to ease her hurt, but the words
stuck in his throat as he stared at the little face just below his. Her eyes
were bright with tears and anger; her cheeks were flushed pink. The wide,
generous mouth was inches from his own, and Brett was overwhelmed by a surge of
tenderness.

Suddenly
assailed by an emotion he had no business feeling for a seven-year-old girl, he
instantly thrust her away from him and setting her urgently on the ground, put
several feet between them. Drawing a ragged breath, he forced himself to
concentrate on what she had said, and unsteadily he got out, "No, no, it
shouldn't have happened, poppet, but it did. You have to realize that nature
isn't always kind. Life can be cruel." Bitterly, ruthlessly ignoring the
emotions that clawed through him, he said, "Life is cruel—you can't always
have things the way you want them."

After
that, it was as if the death of the quail had been the death also of their
re-established rapport. Brett assiduously avoided Sabrina. What he had felt for
her was damnably wrong, and he convinced himself that the incident was further
proof of how dangerous women could be—even very young ones.

Sabrina
suffered again at suddenly being anathema to her idol. She was bewildered,
hurt, and angry at the same time to be now treated as if she had committed some
unforgivable, terrible offense. As the days passed, and the time grew nearer
for the del Torres family to depart for Nacogdoches, Sabrina took refuge in
disliking her once beloved Senor Brett. He was a beast!

There
was one other incident in connection with the quail. Two days after the
discovery of the snake, as Brett was dismounting from his morning ride, he
happened to overhear one of the grooms scolding Martin. That Martin was very
aware of Brett's presence was obvious from the nervous glances he kept shooting
his way. But Jem, the English groom, was completely oblivious of Brett as he
grumbled, "Did you get rid of that snake? I don't mind you trapping
animals and such, but I'll be damned if I'll have you keeping snakes near the
stables—and a bloody copperhead at that! Why you keep it and don't feed it is
beyond me! If you haven't let it loose or killed it by now, do so today!"

A
dangerous gleam in the dark green eyes, Brett said silkily, ''Oh, I wouldn't
scold him anymore, Jem. . . . I'm certain he let the snake go, didn't you,
Martin? About two days ago?"

Martin
swallowed uncomfortably and hastily backed away from his older brother. It did
him little good. Brett stalked furiously after him, and later that day and for
several days thereafter, Martin's blackened eye and puffed, swollen face
weren't a pretty sight.

Sofia
and Hugh returned from their brief honeymoon in New Orleans the day before
Brett's eighteenth birthday. That marriage agreed with them was apparent from
the shy smile on Sofia's lips and the warmth that leaped into Hugh's eyes
whenever she entered a room.

After
the initial greetings had been exchanged, Sofia noticed the estrangement
between Brett and Sabrina. The next morning she asked Elena, "What in the
world has happened between your daughter and my new stepson? Did she do
something to enrage him?"

Elena
shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I don't know, but I would like to box
his ears! It was not kind of him to be so pleasant to her and then avoid her
like she had the pox. Men! Never will I understand them!"

Brett's
birthday present from his father arrived that afternoon, and the entire family
gathered at the whitewashed stables to admire it. It was a magnificent two-year-old
golden chestnut stallion, a powerful, spirited animal that Brett was to tame
and train himself.

Staring
at the half-wild animal as he snorted and cavorted in the paddock, for a few
minutes Sabrina forgot the gulf that had grown between her and Brett. The
stallion was a thoroughbred, his Arab blood evident in the small, arrogant head
and the long, incredibly slender legs, and Sabrina was enchanted.

Her
antagonism forgotten, she watched enthralled as the sunlight turned the
stallion's glossy coat to a fiery red when he reared up, lashing out with his
hooves. It was a beautiful sight, and Sabrina sighed, "Oh, Senor  Brett!
He is so beautiful!"

Dazed
by the gift, Brett, too, for the moment, was able to put aside his grim
resolve. Grinning down at her, he murmured mockingly, "Handsome, Sabrina,
handsome. Males of the species are not beautiful."

Sabrina
grinned back at him, her spirits suddenly lifting skyward. Wrinkling her
tipped-up little nose, she retorted firmly, "He is more than handsome. He
is beautiful! Oh, see how the sun shines on his coat—he looks like a flame. A
beautiful flame!" Earnestly she added, "That is what you should name
him, Flame, for he is truly a horse of flame."

"What
do you intend to name him?" Sabrina's father, Alejandro, asked.

Staring
at the stallion, seeing the sleek, fiery coat and hearing Sabrina's words
ringing in his ears, Brett said slowly, "Why not Flame? It certainly fits,
and"—slanting a teasing glance down at Sabrina—"as Sabrina says, he
is a beautiful flame."

Her
eyes huge, her own red-gold hair flame-colored in the sunlight, she demanded,
"You will truly call him that? You will use the name I chose?"

Unable
to help himself, Brett flicked a caressing finger down her cheek.
"Naturally. What gentleman could refuse such a lovely lady?"

There
was a murmur of laughter, and then, ever inclined to press her luck, Sabrina
asked eagerly, "And you will let me ride him,
si?
"

'"No!"
came from the assembled adults, Brett's answer perhaps most fierce, a
horrifying picture of what the untamed Flame could do to Sabrina's small body
flashing through his mind.

Surprised
at the collective answer, Sabrina looked crushed, and Brett was moved to
explain, "He is totally untrained, Sabrina, almost a wild horse. No one
has ever ridden him, and even the grooms say he is difficult to handle. He is
too powerful and dangerous for you to consider riding. I forbid it."

All
of her charity toward him vanished, and there was a mutinous cast to her chin
when she glanced away from him. "I could, you know," she muttered
stubbornly.

Suddenly
remembering that he wanted to keep her at a distance, Brett deliberately spoke
coldly. "No, you couldn't. You're too young, just a child."

Nothing
he could have said could have wounded her more deeply. Throwing him a look of
positive dislike, she tossed her red head and angrily flounced away. She would
show him . . . and then maybe he would like her again?

Sabrina's
opportunity came sooner than expected, the very next morning in fact. Arising
early, she discovered to her surprise that she was up before anyone else. After
she had been put to bed the previous evening, there had been several toasts to
Brett's good health, and with one thing and another, it had been extremely late
when everyone had retired. Consequently, dressed and eager for the day, Sabrina
found herself the only one of the family up. There were servants moving about,
but they were busy with their tasks, and no one thought to demand that she stay
indoors.

Hopping
down the curving staircase of the house, Sabrina glanced wistfully in the
direction of the stables, the brown roof of one of the buildings barely
discernible through the trees. She was drawn irresistibly by the lure of
Brett's stallion and soon found herself leaning against the paddock fence
watching with open pleasure as Flame haughtily trotted over in her direction.

Cautiously
they inspected one another, the big, untamed flame-red stallion and the little
girl with the flame-colored hair. Eager to make friends, Sabrina hastily yanked
up some clover growing near one of the posts of the paddock and lovingly held
it out to the stallion. When Flame condescendingly nibbled the offering, Sabrina
thought her heart would burst with excitement. Gingerly reaching up to touch
his soft nose, she sighed blissfully when he blew softly and made no move to
jerk away from her caress.

Wanting
something more worthy of him than clover, she dashed into the stables and
quickly found the bin of oat and grain that were regularly fed to the
Dangermond thoroughbreds. She dumped several handfuls into a nearby bucket and
then offered them up to her new friend.

She
still hadn't really thought about riding the stallion, but as time passed and
he seemed to accept her presence, she grew bolder and climbed to the top rail
of the white paddock fence. Flame seemed unperturbed by this action, and
Sabrina was delighted, even going so far as to gently pet his strong, straight
back while he searched the ground for the last few kernels of corn that had
fallen there.

It
was too tempting to resist. Flame was standing right next to the fence, barely
a handspan away from where Sabrina sat on the top rail, and before she had time
to think, she leaned over and slipped onto the stallion's back.

Despite
the late night, Brett had awakened not too long after Sabrina had skipped out
of the house. And like Sabrina, he was drawn to the stables, wanting to
reassure himself that Flame hadn't been only a wonderful dream. He arrived just
in time to see Sabrina slide onto the stallion.

Flame
was startled by the unaccustomed weight on his back, and he arched his neck
uneasily, snorting loudly and dancing nervously. Having practically been born astride
a horse, at his first movements, Sabrina instinctively clamped her legs to his
sides and tightened her hold on his mane.

Brett
froze. Aware of what could happen if the stallion decided to turn ugly, he
forced himself to walk slowly toward the paddock, his heart beating with thick,
painful strokes, his gaze locked on Sabrina's little figure. She looked so
small, so defenseless, so incapable of controlling the stallion, that Brett
felt a trickle of fright slide down his spine. Dear God, he pray fervently,
dear God, don't let her be harmed.

The
stallion was growing agitated about the creature on his back, and restlessly he
pawed the ground, tossing his head and making little, uneasy sidesteps. Unaware
of Brett's cautious approach, Sabrina was filled with excitement and pleasure
at her accomplishment and wished passionately that Senor Brett could see her
now.

Moving
with agonizing slowness, Brett finally reached the fence. Not wishing to alarm
the horse or the child, he said with far more calmness than he felt, "Good
morning, Sabrina. I see you have managed to ride Flame after all."

Her
face filling with delight, Sabrina jerked in his direction and cried joyfully,
"Oh, Senor Brett! I was hoping you could see me! I told you I could ride
him!"

But
in that instant, Flame, with a whicker of anger, reared up suddenly on his hind
legs. Caught off guard, Sabrina almost lost her hold, but instinctively she
clung desperately to the rising stallion.

At
Flame's first move, Brett had leaped to the fence and was instantly poised on
the top rail. Horse and rider were only inches from him, and as Flame's feet
hit the ground and the stallion gave a powerful buck, Brett's muscled arm
lunged across the space that divided them and roughly plucked Sabrina from
Flame's back.

Breathing
heavily, beads of perspiration dotting his forehead, Sabrina clasped to his
chest in a death hold, Brett slid thankfully onto the ground on the opposite
side of the fence. Flame, relieved of his unwelcome burden, tossed his arrogant
head and with a whistle of fury raced swiftly away.

Sabrina
was not at all pleased with her rescue. Twisting around to glare at Brett, she
said angrily, "I could have stayed on—I have ridden many, many horses. I
am not an infant!"

Relief
that she was safe had barely penetrated his brain when her words hit him, and
instantly he was blindly, furiously angry. "Why, you little hell-born
babe! I just saved your bloody life!" And then, as his anger fed on
itself, the jade-green eyes nearly black with fury, he snarled, "And I
forbade you to ride him! How dare you disobey me!"

All
her hurt and confusion of the past days rising up to sting her, Sabrina
glowered back at him, screwing her features up into an awful face and sticking
her tongue out at him.