The Tiger Lily

by Shirlee Busbee

  Her mouth quirked wryly. Carlos again. It was still difficult to believe that he had so cruelly set her and Brett against one another, and yet it was obvious he had. But had he done it out of malice or out of a misguided attempt to protect her? Had he honestly believed that Brett was a fortune hunter up to no good? She sighed again. She was so confused—and absolutely furious with Carlos. It really didn't matter why he had done his manipulating, all that mattered was that he had deliberately created mistrust and suspicion. But even if that were so, even if Brett hadn't been a fortune hunter—and she no longer believed that he had been—it still didn't explain his actions with Constanza Morales.

  Honest and forthright herself, Sabrina found it incomprehensible that Cewlos and Constanza might have conspired together. She could accept, albeit painfully, that Carlos had lied to Brett and to herself, but beyond that she couldn't think. Constanza had been noticeably with child, and she had named Brett as the father. But like a welcome ray of sunlight in a dark, frightening maze, Sabrina remembered that it had been Carlos who had told her that Brett and Constanza were lovers. . . .

  Tiredly she rubbed her forehead. Am I so blindly in love that I will grasp at anything to exonerate him? she wondered dully. Oh, God! but I am confused. All I know for a certainty is that Carlos is not to be trusted and that I love Brett Dangermond and will marry him within three weeks. For now I can look no further.

  She slept after that, soundly and deeply, not awakening until it was late afternoon. Still slightly dazed by all that had happened, she lay there, staring blankly at the canopy overhead for several seconds. Then sounds and smells gradually permeated her tangled thoughts.

  Rising up, she noted a tray of coffee and flaky croissants sitting on the table near her bed. From the aroma and wisps of steam that came from the silver coffee pot, it had obviously been placed there only moments before. Through the door that led to her dressing room, she could see that the bathtub had been set up and that Lupe was busily filling it with hot water.

  Groggily Sabrina sat up, and after dragging on the robe that had been placed at the foot of the bed, she poured herself a cup of coffee and called out, "Good morning, Lupe. How are you today?"

  "Morning!" Lupe exclaimed with a smile as she walked into the bedroom. ''Senorita, it is past four o'clock in the afternoon!" Shyly she added, "I would have let you sleep even longer, but Senor Brett said that it was time you got up—he has invited several friends over this evening to drink a toast to your coming marriage." Then, forgetting all her training, she impetuously threw her arms about Sabrina's waist and said excitedly, "Oh, Senorita! How happy Ollie and I are for you! We have often talked of the situation between you and Senor Brett, and your marriage is what we have wished for these past weeks! It is wonderful, si! We are so happy for you both!"

  Lupe's good wishes flowed warmly over Sabrina, but she was a little disturbed at the swiftness of Brett's actions. There were so many barriers yet between them, so much still unknown and unsaid, and Sabrina couldn't help feeling a trifle uneasy at his haste. If only she knew the truth about the past, if only she were certain of what she thought she had glimpsed in his eyes. . . .

  Unwilling to spend more time in useless speculation, a happy smile on her mouth, she thanked Lupe for her congratulations. By the time Sabrina had bathed and slipped on a confection of gold silk with amber lace at the demure neckline and short puffed sleeves, she was completely caught up in a rosy dream of the future.

  There was a soft glow in the amber-gold eyes, a becoming flush on her cheeks, as she made her way down the inner staircase. The fashionable golden gown enhanced her vivid coloring, and with the flame-red hair artfully arranged in short ringlets over her forehead, the remainder coiled elegantly at the back of her slim neck, she was incredibly lovely.

  Brett certainly thought so as he caught sight of her. His heart gave an unruly leap, and he was suddenly flooded with a fierce surge of love. She was going to be his bride, and at the moment he didn't really care that his tactics in gaining her hand were questionable. All is fair in love and war, he thought cynically.

  He had been very busy since he had walked out of Sabrina's bedroom before dawn that morning. The priest had been seen, and the calling of the banns had been arranged, the time and date of the wedding ceremony also. Friends had been notified by quickly scrawled notes delivered by his servants, and this evening a small party had been arranged to introduce Sabrina as his betrothed. He was staking his claim clearly and publicly.

  He grimaced. Of course, Francisca and Carlos were bound to cause trouble, but that couldn't be helped, and he was rather certain most people would put their animosity down to spite. And they would be right, he conceded with a slight smile, the memory of this morning's confrontation with Francisca crossing his mind.

  He had just returned from seeing the priest when Francisca had arrogantly swept into the library, where he had been busy writing notes to his various acquaintances in the city. He had been surprised that she was still gowned in the clothes of the evening before, but it had taken but a very few minutes for everything to be made clear to him. It had also been obvious that she hadn't talked to her son.

  Francisca had been very confident, very arrogant, as she stood there before him. The black eyes full of spiteful glee, she had stated regally, "By now you must know that Carlos has run away with Sabrina. You must also know that I outsmarted you last night and did not spend the night here—I thought you should learn of the elopement and your temper have time to cool before I returned."

  When Brett had remained unmoved, Francisca had frowned and demanded, "It doesn't disturb you that my son has run away with your ward? That soon they will be married and"—her eyes swept greedily around the room— "you will have to leave this house and give it back to us."

  How he kept his features controlled Brett never knew. Black fury and bone-sagging relief both had thudded through him at the import of Francisca's unguarded words. So. It seemed that last night was to have been an elopement. But had Sabrina been a party to it? he had wondered slowly. Somehow he didn't think so. She had returned to the house, for one thing, and for another, Ollie had been with her. Sabrina was many things but stupid was not among them, and she would have known that Ollie would have had to be eluded for any elopement to be successful. For just a second his gaze had dropped as he had tried to recall the scene last night when he had thrown open the doors and found Sabrina and Carlos there on the banquette below him. He had been too blind with rage to consider the situation then, but now, from a distance, he was certain that Sabrina had been angry with Carlos and that Carlos had been visibly upset. . . . Upset because Sabrina had escaped him?

  A little smile had curved his mouth. Carlos must have miscalculated badly, and almost affably Brett had asked Francisca, "Now why do you think I will leave my home and give it to you?"

  "Why, because it is ours! Because you must have used Sabrina's money to buy and furnish it," Francisca had replied smugly.

  Even now Brett was surprised that he had been as restrained with her as he had, but still there had been a stinging bluntness about his words, and he had quite, quite clearly explained the situation to her. Not only his own financial security, but also that she had made a gross mistake about the elopement between Carlos and Sabrina. Mocking amusement glittering in the jade-green eyes, he had murmured, "You really should have been certain of your facts first, Senor a, and I'm positive that as soon as you see your son you will discover your error. As for my ward, she is, I assure you, currently upstairs sleeping, and when she awakes we will be announcing our engagement." He had moved from behind the desk where he had been standing, and meeting Francisca's stunned gaze, he had added coolly, "As her closest relatives, you and your son are naturally invited to attend the small gathering I have arranged for this evening, but under the circumstances, I'll understand if you decline."

  Francisca had been utterly chagrined. She had been even more so when it was made chillingly clear that the hospitality of his ho
me would no longer be extended to her. "I'm certain," he had said dryly, "that you will be much happier staying with your friends. The Correias, perhaps? After all, they took you in last night and are so much more worthy of your company than a mere gringo!"

  Her face had been full of fury, and a mottled flush had darkened her skin, but Brett gave her credit. Pride in every inch of her bearing, she had nodded her head haughtily and sailed from the room. Within the hour, she and all her belongings had been gone from his house.

  After Francisca had left, he had spent several minutes staring blankly at the top of his desk, wondering if he weren't being a bullheaded ass. Did he honestly believe that Sabrina had been against a runaway match with her cousin? That she had been innocent of any plotting? Or was he so helplessly in love with her that he would grasp at any excuse to exonerate her? No, he didn't think so; he knew that he was remarkably hardheaded but that his instincts seldom failed him, and instinct told him that in this case, at least, Sabrina had not had any knowledge of what had been planned.

  That assurance had warmed him a little, until it had occurred to him that it didn't prove she had changed—that his fortune might still be the only reason she had consented to become his wife. In the weeks that she had been here in New Orleans, she had had ample opportunity to realize that she had misjudged his wealth six years ago, and it was entirely possible that she was now intent upon rectifying the earlier error.

  A painful little smile had flitted across his harsh features. He didn't believe that, couldn't believe it after last night. She had been too warm, too sweet and yielding in his arms, to be that sort of cold-blooded, calculating creature. There had been an odd innocence about her, and he would have sworn that no other man had ever touched her as he had—that Carlos had lied . . . again.

  For a moment, something deadly and dangerous had entered those jade-green eyes. Brett had already caught Carlos out in one lie—Sabrina's virginity that first night they had made love proving that Carlos had deliberately tried to vilify her to him—and he suspected that the other man had been trying to do exactly the same thing last night. Carlos obviously made a habit of lying, and suddenly Brett had remembered the look in Sabrina's eyes when he had snarled out that morning that she had spurned him because his fortune hadn't been large enough. She had been, he would have sworn on his life, genuinely stunned. Was it possible, he had wondered with an unexpected leap in his pulse, that she hadn't broken their original engagement because of money? That it had been some evil lie of Carlos's that had torn them apart?

  It was only logical that if Carlos had lied to him, he could just as easily have lied to Sabrina—and Sabrina would have trusted her cousin. Brett might have disliked Carlos on sight, but from things that Alejandro had said, it was obvious that Sabrina had a great deal of affection for her cousin. How very easy, Brett had admitted thoughtfully, it would have been for Carlos to have planted suspicion and mistrust in her mind. Created discord where there should have been none. . . .

  Like a man blinded by a heavenly vision, Brett had stood frozen in the middle of the library, a look of dawning hope on his hard face. Might all their differences have been for naught? Might some plain speaking on his part six years ago have saved him all the pain and sorrow he had suffered? It was a heady thought, an intoxicating one, and it had been all he could do to keep himself from tearing from the library and bounding up the stairs to Sabrina's room and pouring out his heart to her. But inbred caution had held him back. He had seen the suffering his father had gone through and knew that loving the wrong woman could be a nearly fatal mistake. Instinct told him that Sabrina was not the wrong woman, but fear and wariness counseled him to tread softly. Besides, he was making a lot of sweeping assumptions, and there were things that the possibility of Carlos having lied to Sabrina didn't explain—like the time he had found them making love in the gazebo. . . .

  A knock on the door had scattered his thoughts, and throughout the remainder of the day, there had been no further time for introspection. But now, as he stared at Sabrina as she finished her descent, all the pitfalls of their situation came rushing back to him. Was he acting the fool? Was it sheer folly to hope that she felt something for him? That her ardent response in his arms last night had been because she, too, felt the powerful emotion that drove him?

  Intently his eyes swept over her, and he could hardly control the violent urge to sweep her into his arms and demand that she love him, but deliberately he forced himself to merely take her hand and drop a light kiss on the inside of her perfumed wrist. "You are very lovely, my dear," he murmured softly, longing to say something less prosaic but oddly bereft of his usual ready tongue.

  Her heart beating erratically, Sabrina returned his greeting in a low voice. She was suddenly shy with him, and sending him a look from beneath her long lashes, she found it incredible that only last night she had lain naked in his embrace, known the magic of his possession.

  He was very elegant this evening. The black, unruly hair with the attractive sprinkling of silver was brushed and gleaming, the gold and black brocade jacket he was wearing fit his broad shoulders superbly, and the black satin breeches displayed the muscular length of his well-proportioned legs. But it was the expression in those jade-green eyes that increased the already erratic beat of her heart, an expression that gave her hope, that had her smiling radiantly at him.

  Brett was dazzled by that smile, dazzled and completely enchanted. The hard features softening, he muttered thickly, "I promised myself to act like a proper suitor these few weeks before our marriage, but if you smile at me like that, I don't think I'll be able to withstand your charms."

  Flushed with pleasure, a sweet joy bubbling in her veins, Sabrina smiled even more dazzlingly and teased daringly, "But should you?"

  Brett threw back his head and laughed. "Witch!" he murmured appreciatively. A smile as brilliant as hers curved his mouth, and for a timeless moment they stood there staring at one another, all the uncertainties of the ugly past forgotten, each one basking in the warmth and charm of the other. But then Brett seemed to shake himself, and, a serious note in his voice, he said bluntly, "Sabrina, I had to ask your aunt to move out of the house this morning. I hope that you will realize that it had to be done . . . especially under the circumstances."

  Her smile faded, and she searched his face keenly. She wasn't greatly surprised at his news, nor, if she were honest, very distressed by it. It would be such a relief not to have to listen to her aunt's sly insinuations and grievances about Brett. Hesitantly she asked, "Did you tell her about us? About our coming marriage?"

  Brett nodded, a little thrill running through him at the ease with which she had said "our marriage."

  "Was she very upset?" she asked, dismayed.

  Brett shrugged his broad shoulders and said lightly, "Let's just say that she has even less love for me now than she did in the beginning!"

  Sabrina made a little face. She hated discord and she wished that Tia Francisca hadn't taken Brett in such violent dislike. "Where did she go?" she questioned unhappily, and glancing at him, added appealingly, "You do understand that I can't just abandon her? She is my aunt, and she was very kind to me when my father died."

  Suddenly aware as never before of the deep sense of loyalty Sabrina had for her, unfortunately, unpleasant relatives, Brett bit back the blunt comment he would have liked to make. Quietly he said, "She is welcome to visit you whenever you wish, and I certainly have no objections to you seeing her—I'm no jailer, sweetheart, but I don't want to guard my back for the rest of my life either." He smiled faintly and added, "But to answer your question, she is, I believe, staying with her friends, the Correias."

  Sabrina noted that he made no mention of Carlos being welcome, which suited her perfectly, and nodding her head, she said softly, "Yes, of course she would go to them —they are old acquaintances of hers, and I'm positive she will be happy visiting with them, once she gets over the chagrin at being asked to leave your house." She glanced across at h
im and asked with a twinkle of amusement in the amber-gold eyes, "Were you awful to her?"

  Brett looked suspiciously innocent. "No more than I had to be," he answered smoothly.

  Sabrina snorted. "Which means you were probably beastly!" she retorted dryly.

  He smiled and drew her arm within the crook of his. "But all for a good cause, darling, all for a good cause. And lest you worry, I have already found a new duenna, the widowed sister of my business agent, Mrs. Bonnel, a most worthy woman, I am told. She is waiting in the blue salon for us, and before our guests arrive I would like to introduce you."

  Strangely lighthearted, loving him to distraction, Sabrina grinned at him and murmured impishly, "You are, I can see, going to be a very managing husband!"

  The sweet accord that had so unexpectedly sprung up between them remained through the evening that followed. A soft glow in her eyes, a scintillating smile on her lips, Sabrina was the very vision of a young woman in love as she moved about the blue salon greeting their guests. Brett was little better than Sabrina at hiding his feelings and as the guests left, there wasn't one who wasn't convinced that here was a true love match. Only the two most intimately involved had any reservations, and both were blind to what was so clearly evident to everyone else. Yet if Brett couldn't see that Sabrina was plainly a woman in love, and if Sabrina didn't recognize him as a man obviously besotted, one who was falling deeper and deeper in love with every passing hour, there was a growing sense of peace within them, an increasing hope, a burgeoning, exhilarating anticipation of the future.