The Tiger Lily

by Shirlee Busbee

  Time flew by after that evening, and there existed a tacit agreement between them not to disturb the fragile optimistic mood that prevailed. They avoided all talk of the past, both seeming to draw back from any conversation or comment that would arouse any of their sleeping demons.

  The certainty that Carlos had been the root of the disastrous ending of their first betrothal had grown in both of their minds. But Sabrina was conscious that even knowing Carlos's lies had set her against Brett, that still didn't explain Constanza. It troubled her greatly, but she was too much in love to let it stop her from marrying him.

  As for Carlos . . . Carlos not unnaturally made several brazen attempts to see her, but Sabrina would have none of him. She didn't want to see him or talk to him just now, afraid he might spread more of his poison and equally afraid that when she saw him, she would forget all the good memories she had of him and allow the contempt and anger she now felt for him to rule her.

  There was only one really ugly incident to mar her growing happiness, and that was the unpleasant interview she had with her aunt about a week after the announcement of her betrothal to Brett. Sabrina sought out her aunt when it became apparent that Francisca was not going to accept the inevitable. Calling at the Correia house one afternoon in the first week of June, Sabrina was relieved when Francisca consented to see her.

  Relief quickly turned to anger, however, when it became obvious that Francisca had agreed to see her only so that she could heap her fury and bitterness at the situation upon Sabrina's head. Francisca was nearly hysterical with her rage, and it was then that Sabrina learned of Carlos's intention to elope with her the night of the Robles soiree. Appalled by Francisca's blind fury, disgusted and further disillusioned by the ugly knowledge of Carlos's deplorable tactics, Sabrina knew then that her sincere desire to mend the breach with her aunt was fruitless. Rising gracefully from the sofa, she pulled on her lacy gloves and prepared to depart.

  Malevolently Francisca stared at her. "Leave the gringo," Francisca said suddenly. "Leave the gringo and marry Carlos, and all will be well. My son loves you, he still wants to marry you." With a desperate intensity, Francisca added, "It was his profound desire to marry you that drove him to even consider a runaway match. You must know that he adores you and would do an3rthing within his power to make you happy."

  It was as well that neither Sabrina nor Francisca knew the full extent of what Carlos had planned, but as it was, Francisca's plea didn't sway Sabrina from her path. Sadly she shook her head and said gently, "I cannot, Tia."

  Furiously Francisca spat, "If you leave here today, if you refuse to do what I ask, I will never willingly have you in my sight or presence again! Take your choice—your family or the gringo!"

  "There isn't," Sabrina replied steadily, "any choice to make."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The arrival of Brett's parents the following week banished Francisca and Carlos from everybody's minds. Sabrina was delighted to see her aunt after all these years. Sofia was just as delighted to see her only niece, and throwing her arms about Sabrina's neck, she exclaimed, "Oh, my dear! How could we have let so much time pass? Seventeen years! It is unbelievable! And you are just as lovely as I always knew you would be! Come now, tell me everything!"

  Hugh and Sofia both were absolutely thrilled with the match. "It is what I have always wished for!" Sofia had informed Sabrina that first evening in New Orleans. Her dark eyes sparkling, Sofia had added, "Just think, now you will be not only my beloved niece, but also my best-loved daughter-in-law!"

  Time had changed Sofia little. Only a few years from being fifty, she was just a bit plumper than Sabrina remembered; the silky black hair had a few silver strands in it, and the laughing eyes and enchanting smile were exactly the same. She reminded Sabrina vividly of her mother, and spontaneously Sabrina burst out, "You look precisely as I remember Madre."

  They were upstairs in the suite of rooms that had been set aside for the senior Dangermonds, and Sofia's smile softened and she walked over to where Sabrina was sitting on a velvet stool. "Dear child, what a lovely thing to say to me!" Her expression a little sad, she added, "If only she were here with us, and your dear father, too—how happy they would be for you!"

  Fighting back a sudden impulse to weep, Sabrina nodded her bright head. "I know. I feel it—sometimes, lately, I have felt that they are very close to me and that they are smiling."

  Dressing for dinner on the eve of her wedding, Sabrina was reminded again of that conversation, and for one spine-tingling moment, she was certain she heard her father's voice saying, "It is good, chica, it is what I wished for you. Be happy."

  And later that evening, as they were all sitting around enjoying a glass of wine, the sensation that Alejandro and Elena were nearby was suddenly very strong within her. Oh, but they would have been delighted, she mused with a bittersweet pang.

  Almost as if sensing her thoughts, Brett stood up, and raising his wine glass high, he said softly, "I would like to offer a toast—to Alejandro and Elena del Torres." His eyes locked on Sabrina's, he added, "May my marriage to their lovely daughter be as full of joy as theirs was."

  It was as close to declaring the love he felt for her as Brett could come for the moment. He still had demons to contend with, but like Sabrina, he was putting his trust in the future. In time, he had told himself fiercely, night after night these past weeks, in time, we will be able to speak of the past, and then there will be no shadows between us.

  The remainder of the evening passed in a rosy mist for Sabrina, and before she knew it, they were all saying good night and departing for their various bedrooms. Sabrina had thought she would find sleep impossible, but such proved not to be the case. The instant her head hit the pillow, she drifted off into a delicious dream of the wonderful time-to-come that awaited on the horizon.

  The wedding was necessarily small, but it didn't matter to Sabrina; she had eyes only for Brett as he stood tall and handsome beside her in the quiet coolness of the St. Louis Cathedral. The priest's words flowed sweetly over her, and softly her responses echoed through the cathedral, Brett's deeper, more ringing tones almost overshadowing hers.

  They made a handsome couple, Brett resplendent in a dark blue frock coat of superfine and buff pantaloons, Sabrina glowing in a gown of pale yellow, an overskirt of ivory lace gently billowing out whenever she moved. The cream-colored mantilla that her mother and her aunt had worn at their weddings was draped attractively over her fiery curls. As they slowly walked from the cathedral, now man and wife, Sabrina was reminded of the questions she had asked her aunt on that long ago day when Sofia had married Hugh. Was she as lovely a bride as Sofia had been?

  Back at the house, where the guests who had been invited to attend the ceremony and the informal luncheon that would follow were gathered, Sabrina had her question answered. Sofia surged up to her and clasping her about the waist, cried out gaily, "You see, my dear, I once said you would make a lovely bride—and oh, pigeon, you have!"

  Hugh walked up more slowly, relying a little on his silver cane. The black hair was now nearly completely silver, but he was still a very handsome man, and looking down at Sabrina, he said sincerely, "My dear, I am so happy for you. . . ." And glancing across at his son, who stood possessively by her side, he continued half-seriously, half-teasingly, "And I almost regret that I let this young rapscallion talk me into changing my will—you would have made a lovely mistress for Riverview some day." He winked at her and added lightly, "You'll have to watch him—he already gave the family plantation to his younger brother, Gordon. Make certain he doesn't, in one of his wild moods, give away the roof over your head!"

  How Sabrina kept her mouth from falling open she never knew. It had been Brett who had not wanted Riverview, not Hugh who had disinherited him! She swallowed painfully. Oh, Dios! Here was more proof that she may have terribly misjudged the situation all the years before. But I have a second chance, she thought with relief. A second chance to trust my love.

>   Morgan and Leonie Slade joined them just then, and Sabrina had no time for further speculation. Proudly Morgan presented his wife, and Sabrina felt herself immediately drawn to the small, honey-haired young woman. Sea-green eyes reflecting her own instinctive liking, Leonie said warmly, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Madame Dangermond, and I want to extend my most sincere wishes for your happiness."

  Shyly Sabrina thanked her and then added, "And you? Am I not to offer congratulations, too?"

  Leonie beamed. "Mais oui! Our sweet bebe, Suzette, is now almost six weeks old and simply adorable!" Leonie instantly blushed and contritely added, "I should not say such things about my own daughter, but I cannot help it!"

  They talked happily for several moments, and before Leonie and Morgan moved on, the invitation to visit them at Chateau Saint-Andre was issued again. Morgan's blue eyes glinted with amusement as he said to Brett, "Fox's Lair is only a day's ride from us—and now that your wanderings are over, you have no excuse not to come and visit."

  Brett grinned and murmured, "You will allow me time for a honeymoon first?" His arm had slid around Sabrina's waist, and looking down at her, he said huskily, "I've waited a long time for this moment, and I'm afraid I'll want my wife all to myself for quite a while."

  Sabrina flushed, and everyone laughed. Laughter seemed to be the order of the day, everyone enjoying themselves immensely.

  It had been decided that Sabrina and Brett would leave for Fox's Lair in the morning. Hugh and Sofia would remain in New Orleans for a bit longer before joining the newlyweds, and her gaze mischievous as she helped Sabrina prepare for bed that night, Sofia said, "Entertaining your in-laws on your honeymoon is not what I would have wished for you, pigeon, but we will not stay long, and then in the fall, perhaps you and Brett will come up to visit us in Natchez, si? As for now, I will leave you—your husband awaits you!"

  Sabrina nodded, and with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation, she watched Sofia sweep out of the room. Left alone in Brett's bedroom, she moved aimlessly about, her heart catching in her throat when she heard the outer doors open.

  Nervously she pleated the delicate gossamer silk of the enticing lavender peignoir she was wearing, wondering about the night to come. Would it be as wonderful as the other nights she had lain in his arms?

  Brett suddenly appeared in the archway, his emerald-green robe intensifying the color of his eyes. For a timeless moment they stared at each other, and then, with a smothered groan he dragged her into his arms. Their mouths met, and when at last they parted, they were both breathless. Thickly Brett muttered, "How I've stood these past weeks, I'll never know, sweetheart. But no more now, sweet tiger lily, you're mine . . . my wife." Sweeping her up into his arms, he carried her to the bed, and all through the long, passionate night that followed, Sabrina learned explicitly that this night was every bit as wonderful as the others. More so, she thought dreamily as she lost herself in the joy of his embrace—he was her husband now, she his wife, and nothing was ever going to come between them again. Nothing.

  Fox's Lair, Sabrina discovered two days later, was, as Brett had warned her, not a large house. It was two-storied, only the center-pedimented portico, supported by four fluted columns, saving it from being plain. The second-floor gallery had wrought-iron railings, and dark green shutters graced the many long windows of the pristine white house.

  Tall oaks draped with gray-green Spanish moss grew nearby, and the long drive leading to the house had been lined years ago with more of the sprawling trees. Despite the unprepossessing facade of Fox's Lair, Sabrina wasn't the least disappointed. If Brett had wanted to sleep on the bare ground, she would have been happy to do so.

  His arm around her waist, he escorted her up the stairs to the house and said almost hesitantly, '*I know it's not much to look at right now, but I intend to change all that. We can add on a wing or two, and you can make whatever alterations you like. ... I want you to be happy here."

  Sabrina smiled mistily at him. "I will be," she promised softly, and Brett felt a tight knot of fear disappear within him. He had been afraid she would summarily dismiss the house, the stubborn suspicion that she coveted wealth not quite banished.

  Fox's Lair might have had a plain exterior, but Brett had richly furnished the interior—silk-hung walls, velvet drapes, and luxurious carpets had been used throughout the house. Gilt-edged mirrors, sofas done in fine silks and tapestries, marble-topped tables, and elegantly crafted chairs and other furnishings were tastefully arranged in the various rooms. But it was the latticed gazebo that made Sabrina exclaim out loud with delight and joy.

  Her eyes sparkling with pleasure, she impulsively flung her arms about his strong neck and cried, "You remembered!"

  "How could I ever forget?" he asked roughly, hugging her to him, his mouth compulsively seeking hers.

  The past still lay between them, but they were each unwilling to destroy this magical spell. And it was a magical spell. Hugh and Sofia's visit to Fox's Lair came and went, the days that followed their departure passing Brett and Sabrina by in a dreamy haze.

  In early July, however, news reached them that created a little cloud on their happy horizon. The Spanish were once again crossing the Sabine River into American Louisiana and had occupied the post at Bayou Pierre, near Natchitoches. The threat of war between the two countries was in the air. Brett had learned of the worsening situation in a letter from a friend in New Orleans and had mentioned it to Sabrina. Remembering the men and arms that had been massing in the Nacogdoches area for months before she had left that spring for New Orleans, she asked worriedly, "What will happen? Do you really think that Spain and the United States will go to war?"

  Brett pulled her into his arms and resting his head on the top of hers, said soberly, "I don't know. I just don't know. It could come to that—certainly many people here think that it will." His mouth quirked. "Some probably even hope so."

  It was a terrifying thought, and Sabrina shivered. "Would you go and fight?"

  Brett shrugged. "Once I might have, but now . . ." He tipped her head back. "But now I have too much to live for. . ."

  The subject was dropped, but it stayed in the back of Sabrina's mind. Was she just to have found her love, only to lose him in a senseless war? Any loyalty she might have harbored for Spain vanished. She was Brett's wife, and Spain and all it stood for could disappear in a cloud of smoke! In fact, she decided tautly, she hoped that the potentially dangerous situation on the Sabine River would do just that!

  A note from Leonie inviting them for a visit during the first week of August pushed aside thoughts of war. Sabrina looked forward to strengthening the feeling of friendship she had experienced upon meeting Leonie. The news that another couple, Jason and Catherine Savage, would also be visiting and were looking forward to meeting Brett and Sabrina had her impatient for the journey to Chateau Saint-Andre.

  Chateau Saint-Andre was situated near a bend in the Mississippi River, some miles below New Orleans, and Sabrina thought the immaculate, stately house was absolutely lovely. An elegant horseshoe-shaped staircase swept gracefully up to the second floor of the house, and Brett and Sabrina's little cavalcade—the gig in which they were riding and the small wagon occupied by Ollie and Lupe and the various necessities for a stay of several days—had hardly reached the beginning of the circular driveway when Morgan, Leonie, and the Savages appeared, coming down the stairs to greet them.

  The next few minutes passed in a flurry of greetings and introductions. Shyly Sabrina acknowledged the Savages, slightly in awe of the tall, emerald-eyed gentleman with the hawk-like features and the flawlessly beautiful black-haired woman who was his wife. But Catherine's warm smile and sweet nature soon disarmed her completely, and Jason's utterly charming manner had her relaxed and laughing within seconds.

  The remainder of the day passed by pleasurably. Brett and Sabrina were shown through the house and over the grounds. And then, of course, there were the children. . . .

  Just before changi
ng for dinner, the women gathered upstairs in the airy nursery that had only recently been constructed, and Sabrina was completely enchanted by the children. She fell helplessly in love with Justin Slade on sight. At six years of age, he looked very much like his father, Morgan, except he had Leonie's great sea-green eyes, and Sabrina suspected that in another dozen years or less he would be breaking hearts. If Justin looked very much like his father, young Nicholas Savage, approaching two and half years of age, was a miniature of Jason. Except when he smiled. When he smiled, his entire little face changed and there was no doubt that Catherine was his mother. That fact was especially true in the case of the younger Savage son, Randall, just over a year old. Randall had smoky purple eyes, not quite the clear shade of violet of his mother's, but the generous curve of his baby mouth and the stubborn line of his small chin were definitely inherited from Catherine.