The Tiger Lily

by Shirlee Busbee

  He touched her lightly with his hand between her thighs, and to her stunned astonishment, she felt passion stir, felt her body responding instantly to his caress. Without volition her arms closed around his shoulders, her eyes fixed dreamily on his.

  Brett could stand it no longer; he had held back as long as he could, had managed to momentarily suppress his own hungry desires, but his control was now gone. Sighing deeply, he cupped her buttocks and thrust himself into the warm, satiny sheath of her. She was so tight, so smooth and hot around him, that he gasped for breath, frightened he would spill himself in that instant. His body shook as he gained control, his breath coming in hard little gasps, and then his eyes closed as he moved upon her, delirious bursts of pleasure rippling through his big body.

  It was heaven here in her arms, heaven and more to have her with him, to know again the rapture only she could give him, only she had ever given him. He didn't want it to end, didn't want reality, suspicion, and the world to intrude into this warm, wonderful Eden they had created as slowly, tantalizingly he thrust himself into her. She was silken fire beneath him, her fingers warm and encouraging as they caressed his broad shoulders and back, but the pleasure was too much, and almost frenziedly he began to move against her.

  Sabrina met his every thrust, her body arching and surging up against his in sensuous rhythms, her long legs tightening around his hips, possessing him as he possessed her. To her amazement she could feel the now familiar sensations that heralded another mind-spinning pleasure peak, and her body stiffened as the first wave lazily surged through her.

  Brett felt her response, and opening his eyes with an effort, he stared down at her face and muttered, "Look at me, Sabrina . . . look at me and let me see your pleasure."

  Helplessly she did as he commanded, her amber-gold eyes drowsy with passion. His face was tight, the black hair spilling over his forehead, the mobile mouth curved sensually. The jade-green eyes were black with the force of his emotions, and she found it oddly exciting to watch his face as he fought to stave off the incredible physical gratification they both knew was only seconds away.

  Suddenly Sabrina couldn't bear it any longer. Pleasure like a sweet shaft of fire cut through her, and helplessly she moaned her joy, her body arching up uncontrollably against his. She could hide nothing beneath his intent gaze, her eyes dilating as the pleasure flowed throughout her entire body, her features softening as the passion ebbed.

  The expression on her face was his undoing. His control broke, and he buried his head in her neck, his teeth lightly nipping that sensitive place where her neck joined her shoulder. Ecstasy erupted hotly through his big body. He growled low in his throat, his body thrusting deeply into hers, and then with a sigh he slumped against her.

  They lay there a long time together, their bodies entwined, each one unwilling to be the first to break the sweet spell that had been woven around them. And throughout the remaining hours of the night, they spoke of nothing, their bodies saying what neither dared speak aloud as time and time again they sought and found that special joy that comes from knowing the possession of the loved one.

  Minutes before dawn, Brett stirred again and looked down at her passion-exhausted face, cursing the years that he had denied himself the ecstasy he had known this night. But never again, he thought grimly. Never again will I let her go. She is mine!

  Sabrina stirred, as if feeling his intent gaze upon her, and opening her eyes, she caught for one brief, dizzying moment the expression on his face. But he hid it quickly, so quickly that she almost thought she had imagined what she had seen, for the features she looked upon now were once more guarded and sardonic. And for the first time since he had swept her up in his arms, she was suddenly shy. Suddenly aware of her nakedness upon the rumpled tiger skin, suddenly hideously embarrassed at the things he had done to her, the things she had done to him . . . and a delightful flush spread across her face.

  Brett smiled faintly at the sight of it, and his voice oddly tender, he said, "A blush, sweetheart? Where is the tigress who has shared my bed all night? The fierce tigress who begged me incessantly to 'please, please, please me.' Hmmm?"

  Sabrina's flush increased, and she glared at him, tugging futilely at the edge of the soft pelt to cover her nakedness. Brett only laughed and dropped a light kiss on her indignant mouth. "Don't worry," he said huskily, "I won't tease you further." His face changing, a slight frown darkening his brow, he added, ''I will, however, see that you are found in your own bed." He flashed her a mocking smile. "Can't have the servants talking."

  Confused and uncertain, she watched him as he stood up and casually walked naked across the room to pick up the breeches where he had discarded them last night. The faint light that was stealing into the room kept his body in shadows, but Sabrina needed no sight to know what he looked like. For all time, that magnificent body was imprinted in her brain, imprinted on her own body. . . .

  He dressed quickly and then just as quickly gathered her torn gown and other things and tossed them carelessly at her. Before she had time to react, she was scooped up, tiger skin and all, in his strong arms.

  Brett glanced down at her, at the red-gold hair, tousled from his lovemaking as much as from the little sleep they had shared, and at the full mouth, swollen a little from his bruising kisses. Her eyes were still languid from their lovemaking, and one naked coral-tipped breast peeked out from the concealing tiger skin. Amazingly, passion stirred through him, but with grim determination, he turned and began to walk out of the bedroom.

  More awake now, reality unfortunately beginning to intrude, Sabrina wiggled in his arms and demanded, "Where are you taking me?"

  "Where you should have been last night," Brett replied dryly as he kicked open the double doors to the hallway. "To your own bed."

  Slowly Sabrina digested that statement, dismay spreading through her. Was he sorry about last night? Did he regret making love to her? Had she imagined those expressions on his face that had given her such hope? Such joy? There was silence as they traveled down the hallways to her room. The servants were beginning to stir in other parts of the house, but none was as yet in these areas, and they met no one on the way.

  He pushed open the doors to her own rooms and unerringly made his way to her bedchamber, and unceremoniously dumped her on the pristine coverlet. With a swift flip he jerked the tiger skin out from underneath her, spilling her clothes haphazardly about her. Grinning, he watched as she scrambled to gather them against her nakedness.

  Angry and bewildered, the amber-gold eyes glittering dangerously, she half-sat, the remains oi the icy green gown clutched to her bosom, and asked furiously, "What do you think you are doing?" She hadn't known what to expect in the morning, hadn't given the morning any thought, but certainly she hadn't been prepared to be treated like a sack of grain!

  Brett stared down at her, his hands on his hips, an odd smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "It was either that, sweet madame, or make love to you again."

  "Oh," she said in a small voice, pleasure and embarrassment both flooding through her. Unable to look at him, she glanced away and asked in a low voice, "After last night . . . after what ..." She stopped and then got out bravely, "You said no bargains. What happens now?"

  His smile faded, his features becoming hard and grim. Bluntly he said, "We marry."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Her heart jostling wildly in her breast, Sabrina stared at him speechless. "Marry?" she finally croaked, still not certain she had heard correctly.

  The jade-green eyes narrowed and fixed intently on her face, Brett nodded. "Yes. Marry."

  In all her wildest dreams, she had never really thought that he would ask her to marry him. Hoped, prayed, longed for, but never had she truly believed that it would come to pass. And while one part of her rejoiced at his words, she was very conscious that there had been no mention of love. . . . She risked a look at his hard features. No, he didn't resemble a man in love to her. A determined, implacable man
, yes, but no suitor seeking his beloved.

  For a second Sabrina closed her eyes. Oh, dear God, what to do? This moment might never come again; she might never have the chance to reach out and snatch at the dizzying opportunity offered to her. Love, on his part, appeared to have nothing to do with his proposal, but as his wife, wouldn't she have ample time to make him love her? And wouldn't it be far better to be his wife than his mistress? She glanced at him from beneath her lashes, and her heart twisted. He was so handsome, so dearly beloved, and yet so unknown! Memories of Carlos's tale of the girl in New Orleans and that dreadful interview with Constanza flashed through her mind. Was he really that kind of man? A brutal bully and coldhearted, calculating rogue? Or was he the lover she had known last night? The sardonic and yet generous man she had known these past weeks? She hesitated, torn between the promptings of her heart and the very real fear that she might wake up and find herself married to a monster. Dare she chance it? her mind wondered. Dare she not? her heart demanded.

  Fencing for time, as well as trying to understand his motives, she asked huskily, "Why?"

  An amused little smile flickered across his face. He stepped nearer the bed, and one hand reached out and lightly traveled down her cheek. "You can ask that, after last night?" he murmured.

  It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but it seemed to satisfy something within her. He wanted her. He had never made any secret of that, and she decided grimly that his apparent passion for her body could be a powerful weapon in her hands. He would love her! she vowed fiercely. Someday he would love her as much as he seemed to want her body, but in the meantime . . .

  Brett's voice broke into her thoughts as he said dryly, "I didn't expect you to fall on my neck with joy, but on the other hand, I didn't realize you found the idea of marriage to me to be such a shock." Gently he tipped up her chin, his eyes holding hers. "Once you were willing to marry me. Why the hesitation now?"

  "Have you forgotten that I broke off my betrothal to you?" she flashed.

  His face tightened, the hold on her chin becoming slightly painful. "I've forgotten nothing," he suddenly snarled, anger slashing through him. "Neither that you couldn't decide whether my fortune or Carlos's was the largest, nor that you spurned me when you decided that my fortune wasn't adequate for you!"

  Sabrina's jaw would have sagged open in astonishment if Brett's fingers weren't holding it captive, but her eyes did widen dramatically, the shock she felt clearly visible. Only Brett wasn't in the mood to notice her reactions; all the old pain and fury were surging up through him, blinding him to what was before him, and jerking his hand away from her, he said harshly, "But none of that matters now. What matters is that your father put me in charge of you, and I have decided that the best way to discharge my unwanted duties is to marry you." His mouth curved bitterly. "It's what Alejandro would have wanted, and"—his voice hardened—"it's what will happen."

  Sabrina started to speak, but hands on his hips, the lean, dark face dangerous, he demanded thickly, "Which will it be? Marriage or mistress?"

  Stunned by his earlier statements, infuriated by his current attitude, Sabrina was torn between the desire to split his head open and the equally strong desire to shout yes before the chance was wrested from her. She desperately needed time to think, needed to sort out the astonishing things she had learned in the last twenty-four hours, not the least of these Carlos's damning confession in the coach last night, but it was obvious that Brett wasn't going to give her any time. Angered and frustrated by his manner, she sent him a sparkling look, the amber-gold eyes glittering with rage.

  Brett noted the look and raised a mocking eyebrow.

  "Well?" he inquired coolly. "Am I to have an answer or be treated to a tantrum?"

  Nearly choking on the hot wave of anger that swept up through her, Sabrina clenched her hands into fists, and she uttered furiously, "You'll have your answer, you arrogant beast! But be warned—I'll make you a terrible wife! You'll learn to regret forcing me this way, I promise you."

  Relief surged through him, but hiding it, sternly quelling the leap of joy his pulse gave at her capitulation, he said with apparent lightness, "Threats, sweetheart? And after such a loving acceptance of my proposal? It was," he added innocently, "an acceptance, wasn't it?" It cost him an effort to treat the matter so casually, but it was either that or betray how much he wanted her to be his wife.

  Temper riding her, forgetting her naked state, Sabrina thrust aside the torn garments that partially covered her, and bounding up furiously in front of him, she spat, "Damn you! Yes, the answer is yes!"

  Their eyes locked, and her anger evaporated as for one giddy moment, she glimpsed something in the depths of those jade-green eyes that made her joyously eager for their marriage. But only for a second, then his eyes dropped from hers to travel lingeringly down the length of her body. "Good," he muttered, and dragged her into his arms, his mouth closing firmly over hers.

  Sweet, hot desire fused their bodies together, Sabrina fervently returning his kiss, her body tingling with anticipation as she felt him swelling against her. But despite his clearly evident arousal, Brett had no intention of going further. Grimly he promised himself that when they came together again, it would be as man and wife. Reluctantly he lifted his mouth from hers and put her a little from him. A crooked smile curved his chiseled lips. "You are too tempting, sweetheart." His gaze caught by the impudent thrust of her breasts, he added roughly, "Far too tempting." And swinging on his heels, he walked away. At the doorway he stopped and over his shoulder said, "I'll see the priest today. The banns can be called on Sunday, and we will marry within three weeks."

  He was gone before Sabrina could reply, not that any reply was expected or forthcoming, she thought lightheadedly. Dumbly she stared at the torn and scattered clothing, her mind reeling from the events of the past evening. Had it only been twelve hours since she had left for the Robles soiree? Only twelve hours in which so much had happened?

  Dazedly she moved about the room, picking up the scraps of clothing and absent-mindedly stuffing them into the back of the satinwood armoire that held her gowns. Lupe was sure to find them and ask embarrassing questions about their state, but at the moment it mattered little. There were far more important things to think about.

  Walking back to her bed, she lay down, curling up in the tiger skin he had left behind about her. It reminded her vividly of Brett—sleek and warm, rough and gentle at the same time. And in three weeks she would marry him, she thought with a shiver of half-joy, half-apprehension tingling through her. But then a little smile played across her full mouth. Oh, but she would make him love her! And her heart beat faster as she remembered the look in his eyes before he had kissed her only moments ago. Had it been love that had flickered there for such a tantalizingly short time? And last night, just before he had come to her on his bed, hadn't that same emotion been revealed?

  She hugged the tiger skin closer. Could he possibly love her? Dear God! It was an intoxicating thought. For a long time she drifted off into a heavenly dream of Brett loving her, of the future that would be theirs, but then, like a serpent in Eden, another thought shattered the dream.

  Carlos. Carlos had lied to Brett. And he was condemned by his own admission. It was difficult for her to accept that fact, to realize that a person she had loved and trusted for as long as she could remember had deliberately tried to destroy her happiness. And with a sickening lurch of her stomach, it occurred to her to wonder if Brett had been the only one he had lied to. ... It was, she admitted painfully, entirely possible, no probable, that Carlos had lied to her, too. That he had abused and taken advantage of the trust and affection she had borne him.

  He had confessed that he had told Brett that they had been lovers, and from what Brett had revealed tonight, he had also planted the ugly seed in Brett's mind that she had been more interested in their respective fortunes than in Brett. If he had done that to Brett, why should she doubt that he might have done the same thing to her?
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  It was an unsettling thought. One which once she would have pushed unceremoniously aside, but not now. Not when she coupled it with Carlos's never-forgotten attack on her in the gazebo and his actions last night. There had been a note of real venom in his voice, and she had sensed a dangerous violence about him.

  It had been Carlos, she mused unhappily, who had first sown in her mind the disquieting idea that Brett was a fortune hunter. Carlos who had continually harped on the notion that Brett was only out for money. That not only was he taking advantage of her, but of her father, too.

  Sabrina sighed miserably, her thoughts tumbling backward to those days when Brett had suddenly reappeared in her life. If she were honest, she supposed that at first she had used the idea that he might be a fortune hunter to put a protective barrier between them, to give her time to adjust to his dangerously exciting presence. Tia Sofia's letters had certainly not led her to believe that he was a paragon of virtue! she mused defensively. If anything, they predisposed one to be suspicious of him! But it hadn't been until Carlos had recognized him as Devil Dangermond . . .