The Tiger Lily (39 page)

Ollie's
words rang in her ears long after he had left the room. The letter in her hand,
Sabrina sat down behind her father's old pine desk and stared blindly into
space for several minutes. Sighing, she pushed aside the sad thoughts and
looked at the sealed envelope in her hand.

Her
face set in grim lines, she opened the letter and read it. Ollie had, she
realized, tried to warn her, and she supposed she was thankful to him. But
nothing could have controlled the fury that suddenly erupted up through her
when the full import of Brett's letter hit her. Dios! What an arrogant swine!

There
was no salutation, no mention of condolences, not one personal word. Just hard
facts and cold, unfeeling commands. He would, Brett had written, in the
following weeks be taking complete control of every facet of her fortune. Decisions
concerning where she would live and how would be made soon. The same held true
of who she would be allowed to associate with and when. Alejandro's business
agent in New Orleans had already informed him of the current state of finances,
and the family agent in Mexico City would be sending along his report just as
soon as possible. In the meantime, she was to remain precisely where she was. .
. .

There
was such an insulting tone to the letter, such a haughty assumption that she
would meekly obey his every whim, that Sabrina choked with fury. Did he really
believe that he could treat her this way? She would show him!

Gone
was the lethargy of the past months. Gone was the feeling of helplessness.
Furiously she ripped his letter to bits. She glared at the scraps of paper,
wishing she could destroy Brett Dangermond as easily.

In
that mood, it was difficult to remember that once she had loved him, that once
she had lain in his arms and had known the ecstasy of his lovemaking. That, she
thought with a scornful toss of her bright head, was all in the past.

When
she announced to her startled household a few minutes later that she intended
to leave for New Orleans within the week, there was a stunned silence. Then a
babble of voices rose, some full of objections, some expressing excitement.
Whatever their opinion, from the set of her jaw and the look in her eyes, it
was abundantly clear that the
Senorita
would not be swayed—she was going
to New Orleans!

Francisca's
objections couldn't be dismissed as effortlessly as those of the servants, but
they had as little effect. Her face implacable, Sabrina said decisively,
"I'm sorry, Tia, that you don't like the idea, but I am going. I'm determined
to fight Dangermond. The money doesn't even matter that much; it is his
arrogant treatment of me that I will not tolerate!"

Further
argument by Francisca proved fruitless, and seeing that nothing would sway her
niece, Francisca proposed angrily, "At least wait until Carlos returns
from Mexico City. He is due back any day. You cannot travel to New Orleans
without a duenna—it would be unseemly!"

Her
amber-gold eyes unnaturally bright, Sabrina replied grimly, "If you like
and if it will make you feel better, you may come with me to New Orleans."
A hint of irony in her voice, she murmured, "I doubt I could find a
stricter duenna."

Uncertain
whether to take offense or not, Francisca stared hard at her for a moment. But
then she nodded her head.
''Si!
I shall come with you. Until Carlos
returns and follows us to New Orleans, I shall protect you!"

Sabrina's
decision to travel to New Orleans only strengthened Ollie's insistence that he
and Lupe be married immediately. At first Lupe stubbornly resisted, maintaining
that he was being unfair, but she loved him, she knew, and she allowed herself
to banish her doubts.

Their
marriage was hastily arranged, but Sabrina thought on Wednesday afternoon, as
she watched them recite their vows before the priest in Nacogdoches, that it
was wonderful. There was such an air of happiness, such warmth and good wishes
enveloping the newly married young couple, that she felt tears sting her eyes.

Much
to Francisca's disgust, the departure for New Orleans was delayed a few days
because of the wedding. The delay didn't trouble her, but the reason for it
did. "They are just servants," she had sniffed, and at Sabrina's look
of surprise, had added, "You pamper them far too much. Why, at the Rancho
de la Vega I would never have allowed a mere servant to disrupt my plans!"

Wisely
Sabrina bit her tongue, wondering how she was going to endure the long,
uncomfortable journey to New Orleans. It will teach me patience, she told
herself virtuously the night before they were to leave. Patience and control
and restraint and forbearance and . . .

The
journey proved to be almost enjoyable. The weather was good, there were no
mishaps or accidents, and they were left unmolested by bandits and robbers who
lurked along the trail.

For
Ollie and Lupe, the trip to New Orleans was a unique adventure. Newly married,
falling more and more in love with each other by the hour, they found the long
days spent riding slowly through the untracked, almost tropical wilderness a
lovers' delight. And the nights . . .

Sabrina
tried to still the faint twinge of envy that she felt, watching moodily as Lupe
moved blissfully about, helping to repack the items that had been taken from
the wagon for the night. Ashamed of her unworthy emotions, Sabrina turned away,
wondering if her face would ever wear such a contented, ecstatic expression.
Probably not, she decided coldly, particularly if Brett Dangermond remained in
control of her future!

The
closer they came to New Orleans, the more highstrung Sabrina became. She snapped
at Lupe, was curt with her aunt, and made Ollie stare at her in surprise on
more than one occasion. She was always instantly contrite, mortified that she
had so little control over herself, but nothing seemed to be able to still the
inexorable tension that built within her. She was a mass of taut nerves, anger
and resentment battling with a queer, insistent feeling of excitement and
anticipation. That the thought of seeing Brett again could arouse such violent,
contradictory emotions only increased Sabrina's feeling of helpless rage.

What
am I to do? she wondered savagely a few days later, just as the travelers began
to cross the last deep bayou that barred their way into New Orleans. In a
matter of hours, perhaps less, she would be face to face with a man she had
once loved passionately, a man who had showed himself to be a scoundrel and a
liar, and a man who had no reason to think kindly of her—a man full of wrath.
Well, she was prepared to take the battle right into his camp, she thought with
a grim sort of pleasure.

But
it wasn't the idea of war with Brett that disturbed her so, it was the bitter
knowledge that in spite of everything, he still held a sinister fascination for
her. She feared that fascination, and yet she was powerless against it, wanting
to see him, eager for the sight of that once-beloved face, and yet knowing full
well that those handsome features hid a selfish and ruthless nature.

And
how was he going to react to her sudden, unexpected appearance in his life?
With anger and fury? Or would he attempt to charm her again? To woo her into
blind, loving obedience as he had almost done six years ago? Sabrina's mouth
tightened, the amber-gold eyes glittering angrily. Never! He would never be
able to make her forget the past, never again dupe her as he had then.
Never!

She
had his measure now, and she was prepared to fight him, fight him for what was
rightfully hers. But could she win? her mind asked slyly. Could she win when
confronted with that dark charm of his? Remembering the way he had kissed her
by the lake that moonlit night, remembering how it had felt to lie in his arms,
she trembled, suddenly wishing that she had remained safely at the ranch,
safely away from the danger he represented to her foolish heart. But then
angrily she pushed the traitorous thoughts aside—she was no coward. She would
never run from a fight, and she would face the future proudly, defiantly.
Besides, she reminded herself harshly, he is far more likely to greet me with
open warfare than open arms!

Brett's
town house in New Orleans was in the more settled area of the city east of
Dauphine Street, not far from the Mississippi River. Taking the lead, Ollie
guided them directly to the rather elegant three-storied house that from its
envied position on Condi Street, commanded, for the present, a glimpse of the
powerful river that had brought the French here to settle in 1718.

Recalling
that six years ago Brett had been on the edge of ruin after the hurricane
destroyed his plantation, Sabrina stared disbelievingly at the size and
grandeur of the stuccoed, slate-roofed house. Escorting them efficiently to the
side of the house, Ollie quickly herded the straggling party through a pair of
delicate wrought-iron gates that guarded the carriageway.

Following
Ollie through the gates, Sabrina discovered that she was inside a wide, covered
passageway that would bring them, she suspected, to the stables and garden area
at the rear of the house. About halfway down the carriageway, Ollie reined in
his horse, and turning around to her, he said simply, "You ladies can
dismount here." Nodding toward another, smaller gate set in the walls that
enclosed the carriageway, he added, "Go on through there. A servant is
bound to be about and will show you into the house."

Her
legs suddenly weak, her heart beating at a frantic rate, Sabrina slowly slid
out of her saddle. Why had it seemed so important to bring herself face to face
with Brett Dangermond?

Furious
with herself, the moment her booted feet hit the ground she squared her slim shoulders.
She would not allow herself to be intimidated by the mere thought of seeing him
again! She was strong, strong and wise enough not to be affected by his
disturbing presence. And besides, she reminded herself spiritedly, he should
never, never have written her such a cold, arrogant, insulting, overbearing . .
. contemptuous letter! He was going to discover that by law, and for the
moment, she might be his ward, but she was not going to let the matter rest
there for long!

A
faint hint of color staining her high cheek bones, with a determined step, she
pushed through the gates, stopping in sheer appreciation of the beauty that met
her gaze.

She
found herself at the edge of a spacious courtyard. The house formed three sides
of it, the walls of the carriageway making the fourth. Square in shape, the
flagstoned courtyard was attractively decorated with massive pottery tubs of
gorgeous flowers and exotic foliage: scarlet and white geraniums, orange
hibiscus, pink azaleas, sprawling feathery ferns, and small palmettos all vied
for the visitor's eye. Two large magnolia trees, their leathery dark green
leaves contrasting wonderfully with the creamy white cup-shaped blossoms,
provided spreading pools of welcome shade.

There
was an air of repose, of graciousness, in this enchanting place. Several
balconies overlooked the courtyard from the second and third stories of the
house, and their lacy, wrought-iron railings were festooned with more
subtropical vines and flowers. Fanlight windows and graceful arched doorways
all faced the courtyard; the soft ocher of the walls of the house was
exceptionally pleasing to the eye. It was, Sabrina thought with astonishment, a
lovely place. An elegant place.

Even
Francisca was impressed. "Well!" she said sourly from behind Sabrina,
"it would appear that the gringo was not the fortune hunter that we
believed. Unless, of course, it is your money that has provided him with all of
this."

Slowly
Sabrina walked across the courtyard toward a pair of French doors set in the
main part of the house. Her stomach was fluttering uncomfortably, an odd sense
of dread and anticipation driving her forward.

As
she drew nearer, she became aware of a flight of wide wooden stairs that were
situated a little distance from the French doors and that seemed to disappear
as they angled upward into the second story of the wing to her right. A few
feet from them she stopped, uncertain whether to knock on the French doors or
go up the stairs.

At
her side, Francisca sniffed contemptuously. "How rude of the gringo! No
one is here to meet us! He may have the trappings of a gentleman, but it is
apparent he hasn't the manners! Someone should have greeted us before
now!"

Defensively
Sabrina replied, "We are unexpected, Tia! It is possible that none of the
house servants are aware of our arrival."