The Tiger Lily (53 page)

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 home 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."