Carlos's constant harping on what a fortune hunter Brett was, how they must watch and be ever alert for his nefarious schemes, also began to wear on her patience. And to her surprise she began to argue back with him. "Carlos," she had said firmly, one day in late June when they had met at the gazebo, "you're wrong about Brett using the sugar cane as a means to get money from my father. He isn't getting one peso! Instead, we are gaining a very competent overseer who has accomplished much during these past weeks—look at how many acres have been cleared! Look at how swiftly the sugar mill is progressing." An admiring gleam in the amber-gold eyes, she had murmured softly, "He may have had dealings with smugglers, but I think he must have put that part of his life behind him. I've seen nothing and heard of nothing that should alarm us."
An unbecoming flush staining his cheeks, Carlos had snapped, "Have you forgotten about the girl? The one he cut up and disfigured in New Orleans?"
Her eyes suddenly shadowed, Sabrina had turned away. "No, I haven't forgotten," she had said slowly. "But people do change. . . ."
His face had twisted with thwarted fury, and Carlos had raged, "I do not believe this! This man is a smuggler, a thug, and a bully, a defiler of young women, and you dare to make excuses for him! Bah! Run along, Sabrina! Run back to him and let him whisper lies in your ears! Let him work that specious charm of his on you until you are no more than a fawning bitch running at his heels like Constanza Morales!"
Nothing could have been better calculated to bring Sabrina once more under his influence. Seeing the angry flash of her amber-gold eyes and the determined slant to her finely molded jaw, Carlos had smiled.
But while Carlos could poison her mind against Brett and arouse her temper, there was one thing he could not do. He could not stop her from discussing events with her father. And there came an afternoon when Sabrina and Alejandro found themselves alone as they shared a tall glass of lemonade on the patio. They were" seated at the iron table, relaxing in the cooling depths of the shadows of the tall pine tree that overhung the patio. It was the first time in ages that they had spent any time alone together, and each was savoring it. The conversation was desultory, and then somehow, out of nowhere, the subject of Brett's days in New Orleans came up. From there it was only moments before the truth of Brett's activities came out.
Alejandro stared at Sabrina's stunned face and murmured teasingly, "Chica, I cannot believe that you thought I would harbor a criminal in my house! When the smuggling was mentioned the night of the fiesta, I naturally assumed that you and Carlos knew the truth. It never occurred to me that all these weeks you've been under the impression that I have been in the clutches of a—what did you call him? A monster?"
Sabrina sent him an embarrassed smile and nodded her head. Defensively she muttered, "We had no way of knowing otherwise. Carlos's meeting with him was brief. How could he have known that Brett was only there to trap his friend's murderer?"
Alejandro's voice hardened slightly. "I am surprised at Carlos. Surely he must have realized that I would never have introduced such a man to my relatives and friends, let alone allowed him free access to my house?" Shaking his head, Alejandro finished, "I do not understand Carlos these days. He must know that his father needs all the help he can get to save the rancho, and yet Carlos does not appear willing to raise a hand to help him." His face grew grim. "Instead he spends his time filling my daughter's head with nonsense!"
Sabrina hastened to reassure him, and the conversation went on to other topics. She had not mentioned the girl. Carlos's strictures on the need for complete secrecy were too deeply embedded in her brain. But with the news of Brett's real reasons for being in the smuggler's den, her faith in her father was restored, and if the treatment of the girl in New Orleans had tarnished her image of Brett, at least she felt easier about him.
The next day, she ran to meet Carlos with a happy glow in her cheeks, and almost merrily she blurted out the story to him. As could be expected, Carlos was not well pleased with the situation.
"And you believe this tale?" he sneered.
"Why shouldn't I?" she asked with obvious bewilderment.
"Because, you little fool," Carlos ground out, "it is apparent that Dangermond must have concocted this lying story to appease your father. Are you so stupid, so blind, that you, too, will be tricked?"
Perhaps if this confrontation had come the day after the shocking news of Brett's involvement with smugglers, Sabrina might have been swayed by Carlos's words. But as it was, she'd had time to deal with her hurt and disillusionment, and her own common sense had reasserted itself. Brett's actions these past months had not been those of a villain, and while she might concede it was all an act to lull them into a sense of security before he struck, she doubted it. And she certainly did not appreciate Carlos's inference that Alejandro was both stupid and blind! Her face cold, she said icily, "My father is neither stupid nor blind! Nor, may I add, am I! I think you are the one who is being blind, amigo! You have nourished a dislike against Brett, with what I will admit appeared good reason, but now it is you who will not recognize the truth! You want him to be a smuggler, and because of that you will not listen to the real story."
Aware that he had crossed onto dangerous ground and unwilling to destroy the tenuous thread that existed between them, Carlos quickly capitulated. But it wasn't quite the same. Now that there was obviously no longer the need to spy on the men of her household, Sabrina found herself more and more disinclined to meet so often with Carlos.
If the rapport between Sabrina and Carlos had lessened, the current of awareness that flowed between Brett and Sabrina had not. Now that she knew the truth of his days with the smugglers, Sabrina caught herself once again responding foolishly to his potent masculinity. She hadn't forgotten what he had done to the girl in New Orleans, but she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps there wasn't some explanation for that, too.
Brett noticed the change in her attitude toward him almost immediately, and he speculated warily on what had caused it. Where before she had scowled when he entered her presence and had thrown him a look of scathing dislike, she now spoke pleasantly and even, upon occasion, smiled at him. Bemused by that sweet smile, he hadn't been able to resist her shy overtures of friendship. And when Alejandro had explained the misconception she had been laboring under, Brett had been astounded at how delighted he was that Sabrina had discovered the truth and was no longer treating him as if he were a leper.
His affair with Constanza had been extremely carnal in nature . . . and short-lived as well. By the time mid-July arrived, that casual liaison had ended amicably. And whatever satisfaction he may have gained from Constanza's ripe, willing body had been completely negated by the so very unsatisfactory dreams of a certain flame-haired young witch that had haunted his sleep all too frequently. Grimly denying the unwanted attraction he felt for Sabrina, he had thrown himself into the physically exhausting work of taming the virgin wilderness. He was not often to be found at the hacienda; he rose at dawn and worked until twilight fell despite the increasingly hot and humid weather.
After Sabrina's conversation with Alejandro, the atmosphere at the hacienda lightened perceptibly. Brett began to stop work earlier and earlier in the afternoons. Arriving back at the hacienda, he would swim in the lake by the gazebo and then spend the remainder of the day with Sabrina and Alejandro. They whiled away long, enjoyable hours in the cool, shaded courtyard, sipping tall, icy refreshments prepared by the servants. With pleasure and relief, Alejandro noticed that Sabrina no longer met with Carlos so frequently. Alejandro almost began to hope that his fondest desire might actually come true—Sabrina had taken to wearing her prettiest gowns for their afternoons together, and Brett didn't appear exactly immune to her beauty.
Sabrina's eighteenth birthday was less than a week away. The hacienda was bustling with preparations for a grand fiesta. Staring thoughtfully at Brett and Sabrina one evening as they slowly wandered through the outer grounds of the hacienda, Alejandro could not help thi
nking that the night of the birthday fiesta would be an excellent time to announce their betrothal.
The swiftness with which this wonderful state of affairs had come about had been startling to both Brett and Sabrina. They seemed to have put aside their reservations and were enjoying a rapport that was similar to the one they had shared years ago—with one very vital difference— Sabrina was no longer a child. Watching her laughing face as they walked through the forest, he wondered how he had ever thought that Constanza's opulent charms would overshadow the powerful attraction that Sabrina held for him. That realization had caused him to end his relationship with Constanza weeks earlier. In the time that had followed, as he fell more and more under Sabrina's spell, that brief liaison faded from his mind. There was only room for Sabrina in his thoughts, and for the first time in his life, the iron guard around his heart began to slip.
Constanza was only a faint niggle in the back of Sabrina's mind; she was fairly certain that he was no longer seeing the other woman. When she glanced at Brett and saw the warm glint in his eyes as their gazes met, her heart leaped. Surely he wouldn't look at her like that if he was still seeing Constanza? A bubble of joy surged through her as she sent him a blinding smile of pure happiness.
Brett blinked at the sheer charm of that smile and said huskily, "Infant, you should warn us poor males before you flash that sweet smile—it can have a devastating effect on the unprepared!"
Sabrina dimpled and Brett was unable to stop himself from reaching out and gently caressing her mouth, his finger lingering on her bottom lip. Sabrina nipped him lightly and Brett smiled, a smile no other woman had ever seen. Softly he said, "I think you are bewitching me. I find that I am looking forward to these afternoons together far too much for my liking—if I am not careful, you will command all of my time."
"Would that be so very bad?" Sabrina asked breathlessly.
His smile faded and his gaze wandered over her upturned face. "No," he said slowly, "no, I don't think it would be at all."
Sabrina looked away. Shyly she murmured, "I have noticed that you spend more time at the hacienda ... is there nothing in Nacodgoches that holds your interest these days?"
Grently Brett turned her face to his. His expression was tender as he said quietly, "Nacodgoches has nothing for me—it really never did, only I was too blind to see it. ..."
But if the situation at the hacienda had grown better, the situation with Carlos was deteriorating rapidly. Though Sabrina refused to meet him as often as she had in the past, she did still see him frequently. But the encounters between them were uncomfortable and strained. She was unhappily aware that Carlos had not really changed his opinion of Brett, and there were even times, late at night, alone in her room, when she wondered if she wasn't allowing herself to be caught up by Brett's dark charm. Perhaps Carlos was right. . . . No! She didn't want to believe it! But if she who loved him had doubts, how could she possibly condemn Carlos for his suspicions?
On the Monday afternoon before her birthday fiesta on Friday, Sabrina made her way reluctantly toward the gazebo to meet Carlos. She had made up her mind to tell Caorlos that there was no longer any need for these secretive assignations. Somehow, whenever she met with Carlos at the gazebo, she felt as if she were doing something unsavory.
The day was hot, and even though she had just donned a gown of cool lavender linen, by the time she reached the gazebo it was sticking uncomfortably to her back. Pushing back a strand of the red-gold hair that had a tendency to tumble across her forehead, she slowly entered the welcoming shade of the gazebo.
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.
The Tiger Lily Page 19
