The Tiger Lily (52 page)

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?

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 . . .

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.