The Tiger Lily (32 page)

He
shrugged out of his shirt, lit a cheroot, and settled down comfortably in a
nearby chair to contemplate the events of the night. The candlelight flickered
across the room, illuminating the streaks of blood on his discarded shirt where
it lay on his bed, and for a long, astonished moment he stared at it. If he had
doubted what his own body had told him when he possessed Sabrina tonight, there
before his very eyes was tangible proof of her virginity.

He
swallowed painfully, a strange sort of savage joy mingling with a sudden,
cynical suspicion. Sabrina's cousin had obviously lied about being her
lover—but that didn't mean he had lied about everything. It didn't mean that
Carlos hadn't been telling the truth about Sabrina wanting the Dangermond
fortune or that she hadn't been angling for a marriage proposal from the richer
of the two men.

An
ugly expression on his handsome face, Brett tossed down the rest of the brandy,
hoping the liquor would drive out the sudden nasty taste in his mouth. The
memory of Sabrina writhing under Carlos in the gazebo came back with a
vengeance to shatter his contented mood. It was true that Carlos had not
possessed Sabrina, but, Brett reminded himself grimly, only because of his timely,
or untimely, interruption. If he hadn't appeared then, there was no doubt in
his mind that Carlos would have experienced what he had tonight.

Filled
with an unexpected violence, Brett stood up and poured himself a full glass of
brandy this time. Had Sabrina been cleverly playing them off one against the
other? And tonight, had she finally decided that he was the better catch? The
one to whom she would at last surrender her virginity?

Unemotionally
he viewed the past several weeks, the way Sabrina had blown hot and then cold.
The way she would charm him one week and then treat him with contempt and
indifference the next. Even knowing the supposed reasons behind her capricious
actions didn't still the devils that were now fully alive within his brain. Carlos's
hints and poisonous words and his own antipathy toward women now joined forces
in his mind, awakening all his dormant cynicism.

Had
Sabrina calculatingly planned tonight? It was certainly one positive way of
wringing a proposal from a reluctant swain. Brett's chiseled mouth twisted.
What man, after tasting the delights he had tonight, would, or even could, for
that matter, turn his back on an enchantress like Sabrina? He couldn't. Even if
she had deliberately entrapped him. He wanted her, and he knew that in spite of
all the suspicions and doubts that churned in his brain, today, at the first
opportunity, he was going to ask Alejandro for Sabrina's hand in marriage.

That
decision should have brought him joy, but instead he was engulfed by a feeling
of bitter defeat. He would never know the reasons behind Sabrina's actions
tonight; there would always be a lingering suspicion that Carlos had spoken the
truth, that the Dangermond fortune was what had attracted Sabrina to him.

Revolted
and angry with himself for what he was thinking, he pulled on a pair of boots
and yanked out a clean shirt from a heavy mahogany wardrobe. He needed to
escape the confines of his room, desperately needed to escape his own sordid
thoughts.

Dawn
wasn't far off when he slipped silently from the hacienda. He wandered
aimlessly through the forest, the pink and gold light of the rising sun
banishing the murky shadows of the night.

Brett
walked for a long time, lost in his own unhappy thoughts. One moment he was
positive that Sabrina was the woman he had always secretly hoped would appear
in his life; the next, he was equally positive that he had fallen into a trap
as old as time, had been ensnared by a scheming, greedy little hussy with all
the charms of Venus.

There
was, he realized furiously, no simple solution to his dilemma. Unless, of
course, he was willing to throw away the precepts of a lifetime. Taking Sabrina
on blind trust was his only solution, and that, he admitted acidly, would be
insanity. And yet, what other path lay open to him? He had taken her virginity,
abused the trust of a man he respected highly, and the only honorable way out
of his position was marriage. Besides, he didn't really think he could live
without Sabrina. She had come to mean too much to him. For his own sanity and
any hope of happiness he had to marry her.

But
what sort of marriage would they have? he wondered bleakly. One such as that
shared by his father and Gillian? Or could they miraculously find the joy that
Hugh had with Sofia?

Unhappily
Brett sighed. God! What a tangle! And yet, despite all his reservations, he was
aware of a reckless disregard rising up through him. Always a gambler, he
suddenly realized that in spite of all the odds he was going to marry Sabrina
del Torres, that he was more than willing to take the risks, willing to face
the possibility of pain and disaster. It might even be worth it, he admitted
with a soft smile, remembering Sabrina's sweet mouth under his. She had
bewitched him, and for the moment at least, he had no desire to shatter the
spell she had woven around him.

The
demons momentarily laid to rest, a faint smile on his lips, Brett began to walk
swiftly back toward the hacienda. The sun had by now splashed its golden rays
through the canopy of the forest, and with pleasure he glanced around him,
noticing for the first time the luxurious undergrowth, the myriad vines and
young trees and bushes that choked the forest floor. Looking skyward he caught
a glimpse of the shiny red and yellow fruit of a Chickasaw plum tree; nearby
grew a wild cherry tree, the ripening fruit shining purple-black through the
saw-toothed leaves. Flowers, too, were abundant this time of year, providing a
rainbow of color—the deep pink clusters of milkweed, the delicate blue of a
patch of wild asters, the cheerful yellow of black-eyed Susans, all were
scattered here and there. But it was the tall, eye-catching, bright orange wood
lilies with their dusting of purple spots that he actually stopped to admire.

A
huge clump of the exotic lilies grew near the edge of the forest, and staring
at the tall, elegant plants, the slender stalks heavy with vivid orange
flowers, Brett was reminded inexplicably of Sabrina. It might have been the
bright color that made him think of her glorious red-gold hair; it could have
been their very flamboyance, their exotic air, that called her to mind. At any
rate, he stood there staring at them, thinking of Sabrina. The petals were
velvet soft, and as he gently cupped one particularly beautiful bloom, a
whimsical smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. He must have gone mad to
compare her with a lily—she was far more like a tigress than a lily! A lily
with the spirit of a tiger, he thought amusedly, recalling the day in the
meadow when she had slashed his arm with her knife. A tiger lily, he mused
slowly.
His
tiger lily.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

Sabrina
had found sleep no easier to obtain than Brett had, but at least she wasn't
driven by the same demons. She did, however, have doubts of her own.

She
didn't regret what had happened tonight. And even though she lay sleepless in
her bed, her body aching from Brett's lovemaking, a warm feeling of happiness
surrounded her. She had become a woman tonight, Brett's woman, and nothing
could ever diminish that joy. But in the back of her mind there was a faint,
niggling worry, a worry that as time passed became larger and more dominant.

Brett
had said he would speak to her father, and it was only natural that she assumed
he meant to ask for her hand in marriage. Soon she would be his wife, and while
she was flooded with joyous anticipation, she could not entirely banish a
persistent feeling of anxiety ... of foreboding.

At
first she suspected it was the memory of all the gloomy things that Tia Sofia
had written about Brett that disturbed her. But finally, after much twisting
and turning, she decided that it wasn't those letters and what they contained
that was behind her sensation of uneasiness. It was Brett himself. She wasn't
naive enough to think that he was going to change overnight into a perfect
suitor or even husband; she was aware that there were bound to be obstacles in
their path to happiness. But if they loved one another . . .

Love
.They had made
love tonight, wildly passionate love, and she had no reservations about the
depth of his wanting—his body betrayed it, and even he had admitted it. But
wanting wasn't loving, and not once tonight, even in the throes of his deepest
passion, had he mentioned or hinted that he loved her.

Restlessly
she turned over in her bed. What did that matter? she asked herself
rebelliously. She hadn't mentioned love either! But I do love him, she thought
fiercely. So much so that I cannot even bear to think of life without him. But
does he love me?

She
wanted to believe that he did. It was incomprehensible to her that he could
have acted as he had, done the things he had to her, and yet not love her. But
he hadn't said so, her brain insisted slyly. He had said he
wanted
her,
and men were vastly different from women. They didn't
need
love to
make
love.

Sabrina
sat up in bed, and pulling her knees to her chest, she stared blankly through
the dawn-filled room. Could she marry a man who didn't love her, who only
wanted
her? And was it only her body he wanted, or did the del Torres fortune have any
influence upon him?

Angry
for even thinking such a thing, she pushed that unpleasant thought aside.
Carlos's suspicions have begun to haunt me, she thought reluctantly. And she
wondered, for the first time, what her cousin had meant by his comments about
Constanza.

Assailed
by the memory of Brett dancing with Constanza, Sabrina was startled at the wave
of jealous fury that swept over her. He was hers, and she would not share him!
But how did one tame such a man, bind such a man so tightly, so strongly, that
he would never ever wish for another woman?

She
didn't know the answer, but with a determined expression on her exquisite face,
she made a grim little vow that she would find a solution. There was much, she
realized, that she would forgive him, but another woman was not one of those
things—his past she could live with, but his future . . .

Suddenly
she giggled. She was just going to have to make him want her so desperately, so
powerfully, that he would never have a second in which to even think of another
woman! And perhaps, just maybe, she could make him love her as much as she
loved him—then nothing could ever come between them; their love would conquer
any difficulty they might confront in the future.

Satisfied
within herself, Sabrina yawned and slid thankfully back between her sheets. She
smiled and drifted gently off to dream of Brett, of the wonderful life that was
going to be theirs.

That
morning, Alejandro was surprised to discover that he would be breakfasting
alone. Sabrina, Bonita informed him, was sleeping soundly, no doubt worn out
from yesterday's festivities, and Ollie had said that his master was doing the
same. Somewhat thoughtfully, Alejandro ate his morning meal. He had been up as
late as the others, he was much older than the others, and yet he had found it
no trouble to rise by mid-morning. Suddenly he smiled, remembering certain
moonlit conversations with Elena during the halcyon time of their courtship.
Ah, if only . . .

That
lazy afternoon, he was to have his fondest wish come true. A polite note from
Brett requesting to meet him in the library at three o'clock sent his hopes
spinning wildly, and when at the appointed hour Brett presented himself and
formally requested Sabrina's hand in marriage, Alejandro could hardly contain
himself.

A
wide, affectionate grin splitting his handsome face, Alejandro said joyously,
"But of course you have my permission to marry my daughter! It is what I
have hoped for, dreamed of since . . ." He stopped and sent Brett,
standing politely in front of the sofa where he sat, a sheepish look. A
slightly embarrassed flush stained his cheeks, and almost shamefacedly he
admitted, "When I sent you the invitation to visit with us, to discuss the
planting of sugar, I have to confess that I hoped that you and Sabrina would
fall in love and wish to marry. The sugar was only an excuse to invite
you." An irresistible twinkle in his eyes, he murmured, "I trust you
will forgive you father-in-law-to-be for this deception?"

An
answering twinkle in the jade-green eyes, Brett said ironically, "You
know, I wondered about that invitation—and your apparently tepid interest in
the growing of sugar." He bowed mockingly and added dryly, "You
played your cards very close to your chest, I'll grant you that. Remind me to
be more wary of you in the future—especially when you send me
invitations!"

Even
though Brett had told Sabrina he would speak to her father, he hadn't been as
certain about the outcome as he would have liked. And as the hour had
approached for him to face Alejandro and actually bring up the subject of
marriage, Brett had been aware of a feeling of uncertainty and nervousness—he
who was always confident and assured and never nervous. It had occurred
unpleasantly to him that Alejandro might withhold his approval of the match,
and he had been shocked at the tight ball of tension that had lodged in his
chest when he finally met with Alejandro. Unnaturally relieved to have the
business done with, Brett relaxed and allowed himself to be caught up in
Alejandro's enthusiasm.

They
discussed the possible dates for the announcement, then the possible places and
dates for the wedding itself It was at that point that Brett remembered
something of vital importance. A rueful smile curving his chiseled mouth, he
said lightly, ''I think before we proceed much further, sir, that I had better
ask your daughter what she feels about the situation." Wryly he continued,
"She could, you know, turn me down."

"Unthinkable!"
Alejandro burst out in dismay. Almost beseechingly, he asked, "She won't,
will she? You won't let her refuse you?"

Amused,
Brett drawled, "I believe you are the one to give me encouragement, not
the other way around!"

Alejandro
pulled a face. "I know, but with Sabrina I am often helpless." He
shot Brett an appraising look. "You know," he said quietly, "it
was because I thought you could control her, tame her if you will, that I first
considered you as a son-in-law. I wanted someone strong for her, someone she
would not lead around like a pet bull." A slight smile crossed his face.
"And you, amigo, were the only person I could think of. The only man I
wanted for my daughter. I wanted her safe and I wanted her loved, and I believe
that you will do both—protect her and love her."

Feeling
suddenly extremely humble and crass, Brett replied levelly, "I promise you
that I shall spend my life doing just that." The enormity of what he had
just committed himself to struck him like a blow. Did he love Sabrina? Protect
her he certainly would . . . but love her? Love was a word that had never
entered his vocabulary. Though he would admit to a powerful attraction, a
compelling affinity, he wasn't yet ready to call it love. He wanted her in many
ways, not just her body but all the things she was: he wanted to marry her,
wanted her as his wife, wanted the right to call her his own . . . but love?

Alejandro
was too taken up with his own thoughts to realize that Brett had never actually
said that he loved Sabrina, and rising from the sofa, Alejandro walked to the
door. Opening it, he motioned to his majordomo, Clemente, who was hovering
nearby, and said, "Find Senorita Sabrina and request that she join us,
por
favor
."

A
beaming smile on his dark face, Clemente hustled away. That a betrothal was
imminent would have been impossible to conceal from the house servants—and
after yesterday's scene at the bull ring, the entire ranch was speculating
about the situation. Clemente found Sabrina just as she was coming down the
stairs, and a benevolent sparkle in his brown eyes, he politely delivered
Alejandro's request. He watched her walk toward the library and then
immediately rushed to the kitchen, eager to share this tidbit with the others.

Sabrina
had taken special care with her toilet this day, and she looked breathtakingly
lovely. The red-gold hair tumbled in artless array about her shoulders, framing
her bewitching features. There was an expectant glow in the amber-gold depths
of her eyes, a soft smile curved her full lips, and her gown of crisp white
muslin intensified the golden sheen of her skin. High-waisted in the latest
fashion from Europe and trimmed with a profusion of frothy lace at the modest
neckline and puffed sleeves, the gown heightened her exotic beauty, the full
skirt fluttering delightfully as she entered the room where Alejandro and Brett
awaited her.

Brett
was conscious of a rush of some indefinable emotion through his body when he
saw her, and in that instant nothing mattered anymore except that he must have
her as his wife. An odd glitter flickered in the depths of those jade-green
eyes, not quite tender, not quite savage, and yet wholly devastating.

Almost
shyly Sabrina's gaze met his, a becoming flush attractively staining her cheeks
at the expression in his eyes. She had forgotten the impact he had upon her,
and now, facing him in the sane light of day, seeing that lean, handsome face,
remembering the taste of those hard lips on hers, her pulse quickened.

Alejandro
observed them with pleased satisfaction, and feeling decidedly
de trap
,
he approached Sabrina and took her hand in his. Sending her a smile full of
warmth and love, he said softly, "
Chica
, Brett has something he
would like to ask you. And like the good father I am, I will leave you alone
with him to hear what he has to say. I hope most fervently that you will find
his conversation very appealing."

Alone
with Brett, Sabrina discovered herself to be suddenly tongue-tied. The
amber-gold eyes were fixed on the top button of his gaily embroidered
waistcoat, and wildly she wondered what to say to him.
Buenos
dias
seemed an extremely tepid and formal greeting to a man in whose arms one had
lain naked and abandoned the previous evening, and yet to blurt out "I
love you!" was unthinkable!

Brett
found himself to be in exactly the same predicament, although confessing to
love wasn't his problem. Sophisticated and urbane as he was, he had never
before proposed marriage. Words whirled chaotically through his brain, emotions
he had never even guessed at beat frantically in his heart, and yet he was
speechless. He was aware of a fierce yearning to sweep her into his arms, to
rain soft kisses over her face, to whisper he knew not what in her ear, but he
was as helpless and backward as an untried youth.

He
should have followed his natural inclinations, but as the silence spun out and
grew increasingly strained, he finally said stiffly, "I asked your father
if he would allow us to marry—he said it would please him. Would it please
you?" It wasn't how he had meant to propose, and silently, bitterly, he
cursed his clumsiness.

He had
made no move to approach her, and Sabrina didn't realize the effort it had cost
him to say those seemingly indifferent words. Numbly she stared at him, faintly
conscious of a pain in her heart, a feeling of dismay and disappointment
creeping through her. How cold he sounded. How very unloverlike, she thought
with a flick of temper.