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.
Slowly her eyes searched his shuttered face, pondering the enigma he represented. Where had the impassioned lover of last night gone? Why did he seem so very cold and aloof, almost intimidating? And again it occurred unpleasantly to her that he had never mentioned love. Hadn't even told her that he cared for her now.
Unable to stand the suspense, filled with an alien nervousness, Brett demanded, "Well? Are you going to marry me?" He was aware that he was mishandling the situation, but he was unable to do anything else. Where, he questioned sourly, is my facile tongue? Where are the words that I really want to say? How can I explain what I feel? How do I tell her of the yearnings, the intoxicating sensations, she arouses within me? The pleasure and excitement I feel whenever she is near me?
His proposal struck Sabrina as insulting, and for one brief moment she toyed with the agreeable notion of refusing him. But the reality of the situation held her fast—she wanted desperately to become his wife, and despite his undeniably surly offer of marriage, she knew what her answer would be. But there was a sparkle of resentment in her eyes as she said almost as curtly as he, "Yes, yes, I will marry you."
He felt greatly relieved. A surge of nearly painful joy engulfed him, leaving him strangely light-headed. Fatuously he grinned at her and said devoutly, "Thank God that's over with!" And he could have bitten his tongue off the second the thoughtless words had left his lips.
Sabrina stiffened, and her face unfriendly, she started to make a scathing reply, but Brett reached her in one swift stride. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her warmly, tenderly, almost, Sabrina thought, astonished, apologetically.
Lifting his mouth from hers, his hands lightly holding her shoulders, he said ruefully, "Forgive me, infant! I haven't much practice in offering for a wife."
Not the least appeased, although she did feel a little encouraged, Sabrina sent him a look. "I am not," she spluttered, "an infant! And in the future you would do well to remember it!"
A smile that made Sabrina's hand itch to slap his cheek curved his mouth. "As you say, madame wife-to-be," he replied meekly enough, a mocking gleam in the jade-green eyes.
Trapped between a sudden inexplicable desire to giggle and an urge to smack that infuriating smile from his face, Sabrina stood indecisively in the circle of his arms. A small silence fell, and gradually the smile faded from Brett's lips.
Intently they stared at one another, a powerful, fierce emotion suddenly exploding between them, and with a muttered imprecation, Brett jerked her to him and found her mouth with his. Passionately they clung to one another, their arms locked around each other, oblivious to anything but the sheer, heady rapture that consumed them.
Alejandro's polite tap on the door they never even heard, and after waiting a few seconds longer, he tapped a little harder. Still no response, and impatient to know the results of his matchmaking, he slowly opened the door. Seeing the embracing couple, he sighed happily, an expression of delight crossing his face. He hesitated and then coughed politely.
Reluctantly Brett raised his head and slowly released Sabrina. Looking across to Alejandro, he stated simply, "She said yes."
Alejandro laughed and said merrily, "I assumed so!" And clapping his hands, he ordered, when Clemente appeared, "A bottle of our very best wine—the bottle of claret that I laid down when Sabrina was born." His voice filled with satisfaction, he added, "Your mistress is to be married, Clemente! Wish her well!"
Grinning from ear to ear, Clemente did just that and then raced away to do Alejandro's bidding and to spread the word. Their Senorita Sabrina would marry the handsome Senor Brett! What joy
had come to the household of the del Torreses.
Sabrina remained in the circle of Brett's arms, her face glowing with exhilaration. She was to marry Brett! She was to be his wife! Oh, but the saints and the angels had been good to her! The man she adored would be her husband.
Appraising the expression on her face, Alejandro chuckled. "I don't need to ask if you are happy, chica. Your eyes give you away."
Sabrina blushed, and she thought she felt Brett's mouth brush her hair the moment before she rushed into her father's arms. Smiling at Alejandro, she confessed, "I am happy! Are you?"
"But of course, chica! Didn't I plan it?" he asked with mock affront.
A little frown creased her forehead. "Plan it?"
Alejandro's mouth twisted wryly. "You will not be offended and wreak your wrath on us poor helpless males?" he demanded teasingly. When Sabrina shook her head slowly, he continued, "I wanted a good strong man for you. Someone you could love and respect. Someone who would insure that you had the kind of marriage I shared with your mother. There was no one I could think of until I remembered Brett. And that," he said with a wide grin, "is why I wrote to him and invited him to visit with us. Why I appeared to be so interested in growing sugar."
Sabrina laughed with her father, but there was a, hollow feeling in her chest. Was this an arranged marriage then, after all? she wondered tightly. Had her father and Brett arranged things to their satisfaction while she, poor, silly fool, had blindly gone along with their plan, even to the extent of falling in love? Feverishly she thrust the notion away, trying frantically to recapture her euphoria.
It proved to be ridiculously easy to accomplish. The wine arrived, and with Brett's warm, strong arm around her waist, the look in his eyes vanquished her fears as her father offered a toast to them. They drank the toast from the same glass, Brett, his gaze intent upon her face, deliberately placing his lips where hers had touched.
Alejandro was ecstatic, full of plans, full of satisfaction and a strange sense of peace. Lightly he touched the turquoise and silver bracelet Elena had given him. She will be happy, querida, he promised silently.
Happily he called to Clemente again, insisting that the house servants come immediately and join in the toast. The hacienda was soon full of laughter and excited chatter, the news spreading like wildfire down to the stables, to the vaqueros and their families.
Flushed and jubilant, eventually Alejandro and the betrothed pair found themselves seated on the patio, recovering from the irrepressible outpouring of good will and good wishes the engagement had occasioned. And it was then that Carlos arrived at the hacienda.
That something momentous had occurred was obvious from the animated buzz of conversation he heard when he rode up to the front of the hacienda and dismounted. Clemente's beaming smile and his, "Oh, Senor Carlos! Such good news! But come, come to the patio and let Senor Alejandro tell you!" gave him a further inkling of what was to come.
Carlos hid his fury well. Alejandro never suspected the rage and hatred that churned in his nephew's breast when he called out gaily, "Hola, Carlos! Come and join us! If we all seem a trifle giddy, it is because just this afternoon, shortly before you arrived, Brett and Sabrina became betrothed."
The black eyes opaque, Carlos flashed a coldly polite smile to the trio. ''My congratulations," he said punctiliously, his voice without warmth or enthusiasm. Fixing Sabrina with an assessing stare, he added, "I trust that you will be happy, cousin, with your choice."
Brett had risen when Carlos appeared, and standing next to Sabrina's chair, he laid a strong hand lightly but meaningfully on her slender shoulder. His dark green eyes full of challenge, he promised softly, "She will be, you have no concern over that."
The hostility between the two men could almost be felt, and Alejandro moved uneasily. With a forced joviality, he said, "Join us, please, in a toast for their future together."
Just short of rudeness, Carlos declined. "I am sorry, Tio," he said coldly, "but I cannot linger. I only came to tell you that the bandits are active again."
"What?" Alejandro demanded sharply. "When and where have they struck?"
Expressionless, Carlos replied, "Last night, as your guests were leaving the fiesta. Apparently they were waiting for them and managed to rob several of our neighbors and friends as they rode toward their homes. No one," he finished remotely, "was harmed, but the ladies were much frightened, and in some cases, family jewels of great worth were taken,"
"This is an outrage!" Alejandro burst out furiously. "My guests! Robbed as they leave my home!" His cheeks flushed with his emotions, Alejandro rose to his feet, his fist slamming down on the iron table. "Something must be done this time! They must be stopped! No one is safe from them!"
Watching Carlos's face keenly, Brett asked abruptly, "How did it happen? Were they robbed all at once, in a group? Or separately?"
For a second Brett thought Carlos wouldn't answer him, but then the Spaniard glanced at him and said flatly, "Separately. From what has been said, there were no more than three or four bandits and they waited to strike until each family was alone on the road."
"Three or four? Doesn't anybody know how many there were?"
Carlos shrugged. "Some say three, some say four. Who knows? There is such fear and anger over what happened that there could have been a dozen armed men, but the victims cannot remember."
Dismayed, Alejandro looked to Brett. "What is to be done? We cannot let this continue. Now no one will be safe."
Tightly Carlos snapped, "There is to be a meeting tonight at our hacienda. We will devise a plan to trap the bandits then."
Brett said dryly, "I seem to remember something like that last April, but nothing came of it."
Carlos's face whitened. "And do you have a better suggestion, gringo?" he demanded hotly.
Brett nodded his head. "A trap. A trap we three concoct." He slanted a teasing look down at Sabrina, his fingers unconsciously curling one of the silken locks of her bright hair. "We four, rather," he added.
"Bah! You don't know what you are talking about!" Carlos bit out angrily.
"Yes, I do. Have your meeting tonight. But let us now make a plan of our own. A plan that only we shall know about—making it highly unlikely to fail because of wagging tongues." He sent Carlos a level glance. "With only the four of us, five if you count my man Ollie, there is no chance of failure."
Alejandro was nodding his head slowly in agreement, although there was a slight frown on his face. "What do you intend for us to do, amigo?"
"Tomorrow is Sunday," Brett began easily. "As usual we will ride into Nacogdoches to attend Mass. But after Mass, when we are talking with all of your neighbors and friends, we will mention that you are most concerned for all the many treasures that are here at the hacienda, Sabrina's jewelry and other valuables. We will tell everyone that you intend to bring them into town on Monday for safe keeping."
"Just like that?" Carlos questioned sneeringly. "No guards? Nothing to protect them from thievery? Do you really believe the bandits are that stupid? They'll know it's a trap!" His lip curled contemptuously, and he added, "If they even know about it!"
Brett's eyes narrowed, but he appeared unmoved by Carlos's statements. "I think you've forgotten precisely how swiftly talk travels in a small community. I would be willing to wager a goodly sum that by tomorrow afternoon, there will be hardly a soul in the Nacogdoches area who doesn't know what was discussed after Mass in the morning."
Alejandro nodded his head judiciously. "That's true. Conversation after Mass is almost as good as a town crier for spreading the news."
"Very well!" Carlos conceded ungraciously. "The bandits will hear of it, but why won't they smell a trap?"
"Because," Brett said smoothly, "Alejandro will tell everyone that he is going to fool the bandits by secreting the jewels and objects in a load of hay he is selling to Senor Gutierrez at the livery stable. That he will be driving the cart himself and will only bring along two vaqueros to accompany it. He doesn'
t want to be heavily guarded for fear the bandits—and remember, we don't know really how many there are—will guess what he is about and will summon more of their own number and attack him."
"Excellent!" Alejandro said approvingly. "And you and Carlos will be the two vaqueros?"
Brett smiled and shook his head. "No. Carlos, Ollie, and I will be under the hay, armed and ready to strike!"
"You have thought it out well, gringo," Carlos said with grudging admiration.
Brett inclined his head. "Thank you, Carlos." Then, glancing around, he asked, "Are we agreed then?"
The other two men nodded their heads. "Si, " they both replied, and Alejandro rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Only Sabrina had objections. Her eyes fixed unhappily on Brett's, she asked, "But what if something goes wrong? What if there are more than three or four bandits? You could be hurt!"
The Tiger Lily Page 27
