The Tiger Lily

by Shirlee Busbee

  The argument that sprang up between them had been unpremeditated, and he had been astonished when she had slapped him. And yet deep inside he knew he had deliberately provoked her, wanting an excuse to take her into his arms, to kiss her thoroughly, to taste again the sweetness of her lips. And her charms had been ever3rthing that he had remembered, everything and more, the feel of her against him, the warmth that had enveloped him, the perfume of her skin driving coherent thought from his mind.

  He didn't regret what had happened—if he regretted anything it was his butler's untimely interruption, and he smiled ruefully, imagining the scene if Andrew had knocked just a few minutes later. And if Andrew hadn't knocked at all . . . to his amused dismay, he felt his body harden at the thought of what might have happened.

  His mood lifted slightly, and in a better frame of mind, he wandered aimlessly about the library, coming to stop eventually in front of the fireplace. Putting one polished boot on the empty grate, he stared blankly down at the shining brass andirons, his thoughts roaming restlessly.

  Who would have imagined that years later he and Sabrina would once more be housed under the same roof? That he would have all the powers of a husband except one, and that that one right would be his if he chose to abuse his guardianship? An odd expression came over his lean face. There had been a time in his life when such an idea would never have crossed his mind, no matter what the urgings of his body, no matter how desperately he may have wanted to do so. But then, that had been a different time, a different man, and the years in between had changed him, carved him into a man whose cynical view of life Alejandro wouldn't have recognized, and Brett wondered, if Alejandro had been aware of that, whether the codicil to the will would have been made.

  Ollie had told Sabrina that Brett had changed, and he was right. Colder, harder, more cynical and disdainful of the rules that other men abided by, he was a law unto himself, and regrettably, he had the fortune and charm to gain whatever he wanted. There were few places in the world he hadn't seen, and there were few things he hadn't done.

  When he had arrived back at Natchez after the ugly parting with Sabrina, he had stayed only a few days and then had departed on a restless search for relief from the agony that was with him always. In those first months he hadn't really cared about anything but wiping out the memory of a forest nymph with flame-colored hair and amber-gold eyes. No excess had been too much for him, no debauchery too base, and he had drunk heavily, sometimes not drawing a sober breath for days, spending his time trying to pave his own private road to hell. Finally though, there had come a day when he had realized the futility of his actions, and sickened and disgusted by himself, slowly, painfully, he had fought his way back to cold sanity.

  Unable to settle down, he had taken to wandering again, his travels leading him all over the world—to the wilds of South America, the mysteries of darkest Africa, and the opulence of India. Every wild, dangerous scheme that had caught his attention, he had thrown himself into with reckless abandon, little caring whether he lived or died.

  It had been his ceaseless and wide-ranging travels that had first brought him to President Jefferson's attention, and from there it had been simple enough for the President to suggest that Brett might like to travel to Eygpt and perhaps take in the Barbary Coast. . . .

  Brett smiled, remembering how cleverly the President had broached the subject. How delicate had been his probings; how carefully he had aroused Brett's interest and then magnanimously allowed Brett to spy for him.

  Brett had enjoyed his travels in Eygpt and other parts of the world that few white men had seen, but when he had arrived home early last summer, he had known that he was finally weary of traveling aimlessly across the face of the earth. He wanted a home. Further than that he wouldn't think.

  The stunning disclosures of Alejandro's will had seemed to set the seal on his plans. If he was to be a guardian, he had thought sardonically, it was only proper to provide an adequate home for his ward.

  He had long owned the house in New Orleans, and it had always accorded him a place to deposit his souvenirs from all over the world, as well as acting as a base from which to plan other forays. The plantation, Fox's Lair, in lower Louisiana, had been salvaged at no little cost, but it was now, and had been for a number of years, productive and adding to his already sizable fortune. The house at the plantation had been a total loss, and knowing he would seldom be there, he'd had a smaller though quite spacious dwelling erected for his use whenever he wished for the country life. It had been little used during the last five years. Of course, he reflected grimly, all of that would change, now that he had a ward. . . .

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Surprisingly, Sabrina slept soundly that night and woke the next morning in unaccountably high spirits. The bed had been delightfully comfortable, especially so since she hadn't slept on a proper mattress for days; the sun was shining brightly through the French doors that led to the balcony; and a smiling Lupe greeted her with a pot of rich, fragrant coffee and a plate of hot, buttery pastry. It was impossible to be gloomy or downcast.

  A long, luxurious bath, the red-gold hair washed and washed again, and Sabrina began to feel that last night hadn't really been so momentous after all. Brett had kissed her, and she had liked it—liked it immensely. But what did that prove? That he was an attractive man and that she was merely a normal young woman? Of course! It was all very simple when one viewed it from the proper perspective. She had been tired last night, excited and slightly apprehensive, and when he had kissed her she had overreacted, and that was all—nothing to alarm one, nothing to depress one, or make one downcast.

  Satisfied with her reading of the incident, clad in a silk wrapper of brilliant blue, she wandered out onto the balcony and standing in the warm spring sunlight, slowly brushed the long flame-colored hair. The heat from the sun rapidly dried the thick, wavy mass of hair, small tendrils curling softly about her temples and forehead, and like a child seeking a kiss, she lifted her face to the yellow sunlight.

  From his own balcony on the third floor directly across from Sabrina's, Brett watched her movements with something akin to bittersweet pleasure. Thinking herself unobserved, she had let down all her barriers. She laughed at the antics of a hummingbird, and Brett found himself smiling in instinctive response to that happy sound. When she turned her face again to the sun's kiss, he found that he envied those shining rays that wandered at will over that slim, lissome body. . . . With an effort he turned his mind to other things, and unwilling to let her intrude into his thoughts, with cool deliberation he walked back into his own rooms.

  Ollie was busy laying out his clothes for the day, and sending Brett a cheeky grin, he said, "She's a pretty sight, ain't she?" Adding slyly, "And with that fortune of hers, I don't imagine you'll be saddled with being her guardian for long . . . once the local beaux get a glimpse of her, the house will be full of them. You'll just have to take your pick of her suitors, then fast as Jack-be-Quick, you'll be rid of her."

  A muscle throbbed in Brett's lean jaw, and he sent his interested valet a decidedly black look. "I see," he began sardonically, "that marriage hasn't taught you the wisdom of holding your tongue . . . yet."

  "There are no secrets between Lupe and me," Ollie returned immediately. "And she doesn't care what I say as long as I say I love her!" His almost handsome face becoming serious, he said shyly, "Lupe and me want to thank you for the fine quarters you assigned us and for giving us that tract of land near Fox's Lair."

  Brett grinned at him. "Now that you are a staid married man, you must think of your future and not be such a harum-scarum scamp as your disreputable employer. Besides, what else could I do if I intend to keep you in my service, which I most certainly hope to do!"

  Ollie looked thoroughly scandalized at the idea that he might ever possibly work for someone else. "Guvnor! Damn my eyes! You don't think . . . Why I would never!"

  Affectionately Brett ruffled Ollie's dark hair. "No, I don't suppose you wo
uld, and I apologize for even suggesting such a thing." His eyes softening, he added, "I'm pleased that you and your bride are happy with the gift."

  Lupe had been ecstatic with both the rooms she would call home and the gift of land, and a few minutes after the conversation between Brett and Ollie, her dark eyes sparkling with delight, she told Sabrina, "Oh, senorital Senor Brett must be the kindest man alive! He is so good to my Ollie and me! We have three whole rooms to ourselves—it is almost like having our own home. And"—her eyes getting bigger—"he gave Ollie a hundred acres of fine land near his plantation. Just think, my husband is a landowner!" Sending her mistress a fond glance, she added, "You are so lucky that he is your guardian—he is such a kind man!"

  Sabrina nearly strangled on the sharp reply that sprang to her lips, but hastily she turned away. In the days that followed, there were many adjectives Sabrina could have used to describe Brett, but the word kind was never among them. Mocking, arrogant, infuriating, and derisive, but definitely not kind!

  For reasons best known to herself, Sabrina decided upon a waiting game—she did not, as she had originally planned, immediately launch an all-out battle to escape from the galling authority of Brett's guardianship. Instead, she convinced herself that there was no reason to begin hostilities instantly. Besides, she needed a little time to orientate herself in this new situation. She needed time to decide upon a lawyer and seek his advice. Time to prove that she was perfectly capable of handling her own affairs and that she certainly did not need or want Brett Dangermond to have any say in her life!

  Having come to these conclusions, she was ready to treat Brett with cool politeness during the first difficult days. Unfortunately, a curt request that she meet with him in the library before lunch unsettled her slightly and had her approaching that room at the appointed time in a mixture of trepidation and aggression.

  Shoulders squared, chin held high, and gowned in a plain, practical black muslin frock, she entered the library. Reaching the area where Brett lounged carelessly on one corner of his desk, she glanced dismissingly at him, and then, deliberately fixing her eyes somewhere above his dark head, she inquired haughtily, "You wanted to see me, senor?"

  A faint smile curved Brett's full mouth at her attitude, and softly he drawled, "Infant, I have no intention of talking to someone who won't even look at me."

  Her gaze flew to his, a slight flush staining her cheeks, and the amused mockery in the jade-green eyes made her palm itch unbearably to smack his dark face.

  "Now that I have your attention," he murmured, "I thought we should discuss some of the, shall we say, more mundane aspects of our regrettable relationship."

  Aware of him in ways that she wished she weren't, Sabrina refrained from objecting to his choice of words and instead replied stiffly, "Whatever you desire, senor. " And could have bitten her tongue at the derisive smile that instantly flicked at the corners of his mobile mouth.

  "Desire, my dear, has nothing to do with this conversation," he said lightly, and before Sabrina could think of a suitable reply, he added casually, "I have arranged for a sum of money to be at your disposal at a bank here in New Orleans. And that same amount will be deposited quarterly until such time as I decide it is inadequate for your needs"—his voice grew silky—"or you marry."

  Wisely Sabrina kept her mouth shut. After a second Brett continued, naming a generous sum of money, explaining carelessly that it would be her allowance for any feminine trifles that she required. Naturally she would not be expected to pay for her room and board; he, as her guardian, would see to all her household expenses—servants, horses, and equipage were, of course, included. He had also set up accounts at some of the best-known modistes and millineries in the city, and as long as—said with a sarcastic inflection—she didn't attempt to bankrupt him, those bills would be sent directly to him.

  Sabrina hated every moment of this somehow humiliating interview. Brett's terms were generous, but there was something in the way he looked at her, something in his tone of voice, that made her writhe with embarrassment. What he was proposing was little different from the way her father had seen to things, but she bitterly resented Brett's authority over her, and his insolent manner did nothing to still her sense of injustice. It was an offensive situation, all the more so, she reminded herself viciously, because the money he was so lavishly doling out was hers! He had no right to dictate to her—no matter what Alejandro's wretched will stated!

  She had a very expressive face, and watching the angry flash of her eyes and the way her soft mouth tightened, Brett almost felt sorry for her. Almost. It was time she learned a little humility, he thought cynically. Learned that possessing great wealth gave her no divine right to play with a man's emotions, to play with his heart. . . .

  Annoyed that he had allowed his attention to wander, he said more crisply, "I have no objections, at least at the present time, if Senora de la Vega acts as your duenna, and as for your amusements and friends—as long as I meet them and approve and your social engagements are appropriate, I shall not interfere unduly . . . unless, of course, I deem your activities unsuitable."

  That was too much for Sabrina. Forgetting that she was not to lose her temper, forgetting that she was determined not to let him disturb or ruffle her, she glared at him and spat, "How dare you! Since when have you become such an arbiter of fashion? Since when does a black-hearted rogue like you decide what is proper or improper?"

  His face hard, the jade-green eyes dark with fury, he snarled, "Since your father so unwisely named me guardian of you in that blasted will!" Unaccountably enraged by the situation, he said thickly, "Believe me, I have no wish to have you on my hands—and the sooner you find some poor, besotted fool to marry you, the happier I shall be!"

  Hurt and not certain why—after all, she wanted to be free of him, didn't she?—Sabrina stared angrily at him. Her magnificent bosom heaving, the amber-gold eyes glittering brightly, she retorted instantly, "Have no fear—I'll marry the first eligible man who crosses my path! Marriage to anyone would be better than having to suffer your guardianship a day longer than necessary!"

  Skirts swirling behind her, she wheeled about and marched toward the door. But, her hand on the knob, she stopped abruptly, something that had been bothering her instantly coming to the forefront of her thoughts. Turning back to look at him, she frowned and asked sharply, "How is it that you have all these arrangements made? I only arrived yesterday afternoon. You told me to stay in Nacogdoches—you can't have known that I was coming to New Orleans against your express orders."

  Once again lounging on the corner of his desk, his arms folded negligently over his chest, Brett smiled slightly. "Wrong, my dear. Unfortunately, being somewhat acquainted with the tortuous mazes of the feminine mind, I knew that if I requested politely that you come to New Orleans, nothing short of an army would pry you loose from Nacogdoches." His smile widened. "Ah, but if I demanded, and in the most rude manner possible, that you stay where you were—then, of course, being female, you would race to New Orleans with all possible speed."

  For a long moment Sabrina stared at him, chagrin and fury churning in her breast. Dios! but he was diabolical! Then, suddenly, her anger fled and amusement glimmered in her eyes as she realized how correctly he had judged the effect of that contemptuous letter upon her. Rueful appreciation of his tactics caused a wry smile to curve her full mouth, and without rancor she said simply, "It is indeed your win, Senor. "

  The door shut softly behind her, and Brett gazed transfixed at the spot where she had stood only a second before. From fury to amusement in an instant, he thought with bafflement, the memory of her smile making his hard features soften. Shaking his head, he stared down at the rug. Women! Would he ever understand them?

  Oddly enough, after that clash in the library, the following weeks went by without incident, Sabrina and Francisca gradually settling into the routine of Brett's household. Acquaintances were made and renewed. From previous trips with Luis, Francisca knew many pe
ople. Alejandro, too, with his many business connections in the city, had known several families, and these, not unnaturally, presented themselves to his sister and daughter. Some of the people Sabrina had met as a child when she had traveled with her parents; others she knew of from her father's letters and conversation. At any rate, she and Francisca, despite the definite stigma of living with an americano, were soon absorbed into Creole and Spanish society.

  It often puzzled Sabrina as the days passed that her aunt seemed content with the present situation. Francisca made few complaints about their circumstances, and regardless of the venom that flickered occasionally in the black eyes, she managed to rub shoulders with the hated gringo without breaking into open warfare.

  Perhaps, her niece thought slowly on a warm, muggy day in mid-May, Tia is waiting for Carlos to arrive. Or else, Sabrina decided with an impish smile, Tia is so pleased with all the lovely new things Brett is so generously paying for that she has thought it prudent to hold her tongue in his presence.

  And Brett was being generous to Francisca. Without a murmur he accepted and paid the older woman's bills when they were sent to him along with Sabrina's purchases. Francisca's bills were considerable, for as she had exclaimed to Sabrina more than once, she needed some compensation for having to put up with him!