The Tiger Lily

by Shirlee Busbee

  More curious than alarmed, she continued on her ride, imperceptibly changing her direction so that she was now heading back toward the hacienda. Passing under a tall pine tree, she slowed Sirocco long enough to allow herself time to swing up into a low, overhanging tree limb and then softly commanded the horse to move on. Obediently the mare did so, leaving Sabrina to wait for her follower.

  She didn't have long to wait. Only minutes after Sirocco had ambled on, a horse and rider came cautiously into view. Sabrina recognized neither the animal nor the man upon its back, and with thoughts of the murdered Rios family in her mind, she reached down and slid her knife from the sheath in her boot. A feral gleam in the amber-gold eyes, the glorious golden-red hair a fiery halo about her head, she dropped down on the hapless rider below.

  There was a startled croak from her victim as she landed behind him on the horse, her arm quickly and efficiently passing around the man's neck, the knife blade pressing menacingly into the rider's throat. In a voice that was surprisingly fierce, considering how fast her heart was beating, Sabrina demanded, "Your name or your life!"

  Everything had gone according to her hastily improvised plan up until now, but she hadn't anticipated the violent reaction of her victim. A sinewy hand suddenly gripped the wrist that held the knife, even as the well aimed elbow of the man's other arm jabbed powerfully into her solar plexus. Winded from the unexpected blow, she momentarily slackened the arm that held the knife, and he took quick advantage, swiftly increasing his hold and forcing her hand down and away from his throat.

  Realizing what was happening, Sabrina fought back, and they began to struggle violently to gain control of the knife. While they fought their grim, silent battle, the horse fidgeted nervously, finally rearing up and throwing both combatants to the ground. They hit hard, but rolling and twisting, they continued the fight until Sabrina, her breath coming in deep, painful gulps, finally gained the upper hand. Sitting on his chest, her knees digging into his arms, pinning them uselessly to the ground, she finally saw her opponent's face.

  "Senor Ollie!" she burst out, the savage expression fading from her face. Unconsciously she sagged, sinking deeper onto his narrow chest, her knees now on either side of him, no longer trapping his arms. The knife, which she had been in the process of placing against his unprotected throat, once more lay limply in her hand. Her bewilderment obvious, she asked, "Why were you following me?"

  His face a mixture of bafflement, embarrassment, and chagrin, Ollie ignored her question and burst out with a string of profanity of such hair-curling virulence, such boundless variety and innovation, that Sabrina blinked.

  "I beg your pardon!" she said sharply, understanding not even one word in fifty of what he uttered. "Speak English!"

  "I am speakin' bloody H'glish!" Ollie returned in an aggrieved tone.

  Assessingly they eyed each other, and then, with a frustrated exclamation, Sabrina stood up. Impatiently she gestured for Ollie to rise.

  Ollie did so, and dusting off the debris that clung to his clothes, he muttered disgustedly, "If this don't beat the Dutch! Bested by a dimber mort! And me a flash cove up to every rig and row that's ever been run!"

  Torn between curiosity about his peculiar way of speech and an odd feeling of amusement, Sabrina suddenly found the situation preposterous. An attractive gurgle of laughter escaped her, and Ollie glanced at her with dislike.

  "Laughin' at me!" he said, outraged. His brown eyes sparkling angrily, he shook an admonishing finger at Sabrina. "It ain't polite— to crow over a man's misfortune! I would have thought even in a 'eathenish place like this, you'd 'ave been taught better. Seems I was wrong!"

  Laughing now in earnest, Sabrina sought to soothe his ruffled sensibilities. "No, no, Senor Ollie. I was not laughing at you—it is this ridiculous situation." She sent him a blinding smile, inviting him to share her laughter, and Ollie stared at her open-mouthed, entranced.

  She was a lovely thing, he thought to himself, his earlier distrust and animosity fading away. Aware suddenly of the enormity of what he had said and done, he hung his head and blushed like a girl. Now he was in for it! When the guvnor heard about this escapade, he'd be lucky if he wasn't dismissed on the spot. Miserably he said, "It's me, miss, that should be explaining things to you."

  Sabrina's face softened. He was so very unhappy and uncomfortable that she could not find it in her heart to be very stern. "Very well then, if you will not join me in laughter, tell me why you were following me," she said softly.

  Ollie swallowed painfully. He couldn't very well admit that the guvnor's uncustomary mood last night had anything to do with his actions. How could he say, "You had the guvnor fair blue-deviled, and as I always watches out for the guvnor, I wanted to know what kind of woman could do that to him?"

  When Ollie remained silent, Sabrina asked quietly, "Was it because of the bandits? Did Senor Brett ask you to follow me?"

  For a moment Ollie almost seized on the excuse, but figuring his lie would be found out, he shook his head. Improvising, he said, "I didn't mean to follow you. It was just that I was at the stables when you left, and as I 'aven't seen much of the countryside, I thought I'd just follow along behind you. That way I wouldn't get lost." Embellishing his tale, he looked suitably downtrodden and explained mournfully, "I shouldn't be saying this to you, miss, but the guvnor's no easy taskmaster. This is the first day I've 'ad any time to myself. I didn't mean any 'arm, miss." Putting his best pleading expression on his face, he begged pitifully, "You won't tell the guvnor, will you, miss?" He shuddered theatrically. "He'll fair beat me to death if he finds out about this, I can tell you!"

  Completely hoodwinked by Ollie's manner and pathetic tale, Sabrina was firmly allied on his side. Why, Brett must be an ogre to his servants! she thought. Poor Senor Ollie, to be so frightened of his master. Her eyes kindling with the light of battle, she said grimly, "You have nothing to worry about. I shall say nothing. And Senor Ollie, if your master dares to lay a hand on you while you are at the Rancho del Torres, you let me know. We do not mistreat our servants here!" She glanced across at Ollie and smiled reassuringly. Then, looking at the sun, she said briskly, "We had best find our horses and head back to the hacienda if we wish to arrive there ahead of your master and my father."

  Relieved and yet feeling the tiniest bit guilty about the easy way she had swallowed his story, Ollie agreed with alacrity. A cheeky grin on his face, he started to step out smartly when he heard a curious buzzing near his foot, and Sabrina commanded urgently, "Do not move! Stay like a stone, Senor , if you value your life!"

  Ollie froze, and looking down at his toes, he saw, curled not a foot away from him, the sinister shape of a serpent. But no serpent like he had ever seen before. This creature had a tail that vibrated so swiftly that the eye could not follow the movement, and the ugly triangular head was poised aggressively above the coiled, thick body. Ollie barely had time enough to realize that he might be in mortal danger when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of steel. The next thing he knew, the snake was writhing furiously on the forest floor, its head staked to the ground by Sabrina's knife.

  His face held a green tinge, and he stepped quickly away. "Bloody eyes! What in the 'ell is that?"

  Placing her booted heel firmly behind the head, Sabrina coolly removed her knife and efficiently cut off the snake's head. Ignoring the twisting carcass, she dug a hole and gingerly deposited the head. "That, Senor Ollie, was a rattlesnake. They are venomous and quite, quite deadly," she said sincerely. "Our land is beautiful, but it is also dangerous. You must take care within our forests or we may bury you here."

  Shaken, Ollie said piously, "God love you, miss! You saved my life! If ever Ollie Fram can do you a favor, I'll do it."

  Opinions completely revised about one another, in increasing rapport, they caught their horses and rode back to the hacienda.

  Later that day, as he was laying out Brett's apparel for the evening, Ollie glanced across at his master, who had just fi
nished shaving, and said with studied carelessness, "Miss Sabrina saved my life today, guvnor."

  Wiping his face with a white towel, Brett looked at him with a frown. "What do you mean, she saved your life?"

  Looking very innocent, Ollie answered, "Well, guvnor, I was down at the stables, intending to take a little ride about, when I notices Miss Sabrina riding off all by herself. And I recalls the fuss that was made this morning about her maybe being captured by bandits, and I says to myself, 'Ollie, you best ride along with her. It's what the guvnor would want.' And so I did."

  Brett's eyebrow rose skeptically. "And she allowed you to?"

  Ollie nodded his head vigorously. "Indeed she did, guvnor! She was right 'appy to 'ave Ollie Fram nearby, I can tell you that!"

  "Oh? And why was that?" Brett asked dryly.

  For a moment Ollie appeared nonplussed, but then, warming to his tale, he said quickly, "Why, because of the bandits, guvnor! We rode quite some distance, and as you know, I'm no great 'orseman, so after a bit, I suggests that we walk and give me shanks a rest. Miss Sabrina, kind lady that she is, agreed, and guvnor, that's when she saved my life!" Ollie shot a look to see how Brett was taking his story so far, and if not reassured by the expression of amusement on Brett's face at least not worried by it, he said breathlessly, "Right by my feet was the most awful, deadly serpent in the world! A rattlesnake! And before I could even speak a word, quick as a wink, Miss Sabrina had nailed that creature of the devil right to the ground! Six inches of cold iron she put through its 'ead. Just like that!" And he snapped his fingers. His eyes gleaming with the deep admiration he felt, Ollie said blissfully, ''Guvnor, she's a diamond of the first water! Why, she looked like a tiger when she killed that snake, them eyes of 'ers all glittery-gold like and that red hair like fire around her head, and yet she was the kindest, the sweetest lady I ever met. I take back everything I said about 'er last nightshe's a prime article!"

  Not as easily duped by Ollie as Sabrina was, Brett looked at his manservant for a long, unnerving moment. "I see," he finally said noncommittally, and Ollie breathed a sigh of relief.

  There was a companionable silence between them as Brett dressed, Ollie obediently handing him first one piece of clothing and then another. Attired in black satin breeches, a crisp white linen shirt fitted snugly across his broad shoulders, Brett slowly fastened the buttons of a yellow waistcoat gaily embroidered with black. Casually he murmured, "You won't have to wait up for me this evening, Ollie. I will be riding into Nacogdoches later and have no idea when I shall return." He smiled cynically. "I suspect I shall be gone all night, if I have read a certain situation aright."

  Ollie knew very well what that meant—the guvnor had found a new mistress. But for once, that fact disturbed him. Somewhere between the time Sabrina had killed the snake and now, Ollie had come to the happy conclusion that Miss Sabrina was the perfect mate for his master. And he wasn't best pleased that the guvnor was now chasing after some common light skirt when he should be paying proper suit to Miss Sabrina. "A Covent Garden Nun," he sniffed disdainfully, handing Brett an ivory-backed brush.

  "Hardly a prostitute, Ollie," Brett chided as he brushed his thick black hair. "Although she probably has all the instincts of one." With a cynical grin, he laid down the brush and murmured, "But who knows! I might be wrong—she might even be perfectly respectable."

  Brett wasn't wrong. Having made his excuses to Alejandro, he rode into Nacogdoches, arriving at his destination just as dusk was falling. Tying his horse discreetly at the rear of Constanza's small house, he quietly made his way across the patio and knocked softly on the wooden door.

  It opened instantly, almost as if he had been expected. He obviously was, he thought sardonically, his gaze sliding lazily over Constanza's scantily clad body. She was wearing some sort of gauzy silk wrapper that revealed almost as much of her ripe body as it concealed, and his lips widened in a slow, appreciative grin.

  Constanza smiled sleepily at him, touching his cheek lightly, her ebony eyes languorous and seductive. "So you did come to me, querido. I had hoped you would."

  There was no need of conversation between them, Brett taking his cue from Constanza and pulling her into his arms, his hard mouth claiming hers in a devastating kiss that sent her mind reeling. It was only later, much later when he lay awake satiated and exhausted beside Constanza's naked body, that he was conscious of a queer sense of guilt and disgust. Infuriatingly, Sabrina's slender form rose up to mock him, to fill him with such a hungry desire that it was as if the hours just past of violent lovemaking with Constanza had never been. With a virulent curse, he turned to Constanza, jerking her against him, and proceeded to make wild, almost savage love to her. But it did little good. No matter how many times he lost himself in Constanza's warm, welcoming flesh, Sabrina's lovely face condemned him, made him writhe with an unquenchable longing to have her in his arms, to have her mouth against his, to have her body beneath his.

  PART TWO

  A HEART IN CONFLICT

  For to be wise, and love,

  Exceeds man's might; that dwells with

  gods above.

  William Shakespeare

  Troilus and Cressida

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The evening of the fiesta welcoming Don Alejandro's American nephew was a fine one. The air was warm, the stars were glittering brightly in the black sky overhead, and on the slight breeze wafted the faint scents of honeysuckle and lilac.

  The patio had been strung with lanterns, and the light flickered gaily across the courtyard, revealing the ladies in their loveliest gowns, the gentlemen in their finest clothes. A quartet of the best vaquero musicians softly serenaded the guests on guitars and marimbas, the lively music floating lightly into every corner of the courtyard.

  Alejandro was well-pleased at the reception being accorded Brett. Everywhere Brett wandered through the throng, he was greeted warmly and with enthusiasm. The gentlemen liked his conversation and easy manner; the ladies were enamored of his dark good looks. But if Brett's popularity with his neighbors and friends delighted Alejandro, there were others present who viewed the matter far differently.

  Her dark eyes full of dislike, Francisca complained to Sabrina, "I don't see why your father is making such a fuss over this gringo. Why, he is not even really related to us! I think it is disgraceful the way Alejandro fawns over his every word." And then, revealing the true source of annoyance, "Your father never listens to Carlos the way he does Senor Dangermond!"

  Sabrina smiled wearily. Her aunt had done nothing but find fault since arriving with Carlos and Luis a half hour before. The affair was arranged too hastily, the refreshments were not sufficient, the night air was injurious to the health, and it was foolish to use the patio this time of year. But Sabrina knew that those complaints were merely a guise to cover her aunt's real grievance—Alejandro's open admiration and affection for Brett Dangermond.

  Unerringly Sabrina's eyes sought out Brett's tall frame as he stood talking to Senor a Morales near the edge of the fountain. Her heart squeezed painfully when she saw the intimate way he was smiling down at the other woman, and she sighed softly.

  She might have realized the folly of loving him, but her heart was proving to be dreadfully stubborn about the situation. Time is what I need, she thought despairingly. Time in which to outgrow this foolish fascination I have with him. But there was no time. Every day she saw him—across the table at breakfast, in the afternoon when they all met to go riding, and then again in the evening for the last meal of the day. There were few hours in which she was spared the sweet agony of his presence, and like a hunted doe, she had begun to spend more and more time alone in the deep forest. At least there she could think clearly and soothe her lacerated emotions, hoping and praying that the next time she saw him, she could remain unaffected by his magnetic presence.

  Brett's manner toward her these past few days had helped Sabrina regain some semblance of normality. He was withdrawn and cool when they met; what
conversation they exchanged was nothing more than the polite mouthing of words one would give a stranger, ff she avoided him, it hadn't escaped her notice that he, too, was doing his share of making sure there were no intimate moments between them, and she was torn between relief and despair.

  She had guessed that the evenings when he excused himself after dinner and rode into Nacogdoches, returning long after she and her father had retired for the night, had been to escape further chances of intimacy between them, but that there was a woman involved had not occurred to her. In her innocence she had assumed he went to one of the taverns and spent the time dicing and drinking. Carlos was to make very certain that she learned the error of her ways.