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 fro
m 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.
Covertly he eyed Brett's face, noting that the features had a fine-drawn appearance to them. His face was thinner than it had been when he had first arrived, and the weeks in the hot. blistering Texas sun had darkened it until he had the swarthiness of a Spaniard—or a gypsy, Alejandro thought with a smile.
The smile faded from his lips when Brett asked bluntly, "Did you know that Sabrina is meeting Carlos alone at the gazebo?"
Taken aback, dismay obvious in his voice, Alejandro replied, "Still? I had hoped that those assignations had stopped."
"You know about them?" Brett demanded incredulously. "And have done nothing to stop it?"
Alejandro moved restlessly in his chair. "They are cousins, amigo! They have known each other since birth! Why, Carlos is like a brother to Sabrina. I could not forbid her to meet him. I have been perturbed about it for some time, but you do not have to fear that it will in any way besmirch Sabrina's reputation. Everyone knows how it is between them. They are like two young puppies—it is harmless." On a lighter note, he added ruefully, "I have not tried to stop it, because to do so would make my very headstrong daughter all the more determined to meet with her cousin."
"Harmless!" Brett spat with an ugly laugh, and then caught himself up swiftly. He had debated mentioning the meeting to Alejandro, but his conscience had demanded that he do so, if only to forewarn a man he admired and respected that dishonor could come from an unexpected source. But his conscience would not allow him to reveal what had really been happening. That would smack too much of tale-bearing. No. Not even with Alejandro's best interests at heart could he reveal what an angel-faced little slut his daughter was. "Forgive me!" he said immediately. "You know your daughter best." Floundering helplessly for some excuse for his outburst, he muttered, "I guess I was just surprised that a gently reared young girl of her station would meet alone with a man other than a brother or a father."
Eagerly Alejandro leaned forward to reassure him. "But don't you see, amigo, Carlos is a brother to her!"
The jade-green eyes were expressionless. "As you say," Brett agreed noncomittally, images of Sabrina's long golden legs as she thrashed beneath Carlos snaking torturously through his brain. Deliberately, he shattered the images that tormented him. No woman, no matter how lovely and desirable, was worth pain. Hadn't he learned that lesson at his mother's knee?
Alejandro was elated at Brett's concern. Surely there had been a note in his voice that had been, well, almost jealous? Alejandro prayed so, but he was disturbed to hear that the meetings with Carlos had not ceased. His handsome face troubled, he said slowly, "I do not fear that Sabrina will come to any harm with her cousin, but under the present circumstances, if it is your wish, I will see if I can persuade her not to act so indiscreetly."
Stiffening, catching an inflection that rang like a warning bell through his mind, Brett questioned grimly, "Under the present circumstances?"
Embarrassment crept across Alejandro's features. How vexatious of him to have said that! Searching for an excuse to cover up his dangerous lapse, he said hastily, "The bandits! You haven't forgotten about them?"
Brett relaxed slightly. What a fool he was—and arrogant, he admitted wryly. Until then his host had never given the smallest inkling that he had ever considered Brett in the light of a son-in-law. Brett smiled mirthlessly. To have read even a hint of matrimony into Alejandro's simple phrase had been lunacy. "The bandits," he said slowly. "I had forgotten them." Keenly he glanced back to Alejandro. "Have you heard some new word of them? I thought that since the Rios attack there has been nothing more heard of them."
"Yes, that's true," Alejandro agreed quickly. "But though they seem to have disappeared from
the district, one can never be too safe. I must impress upon Sabrina the danger of going alone to the gazebo—even if it is only to visit with her cousin."
Brett remained silent, his eyes fixed intently on the shining toes of his black boots. He took a long swallow of his Madeira.
The silence spun out, a companionable quiet between the two men. But eventually Alejandro was moved to break it. Irritably pushing his glass back and forth across the table in front of him, he suddenly said, "I must confess that those meetings with Carlos do weigh heavily on my mind."
"Oh?" Brett inquired warily.
Alejandro looked at him and made a face. "I do not like to discuss other people's business affairs, but I know you will say nothing, and perhaps it will do me good to get it off my mind."
The Tiger Lily Page 20
