The Tiger Lily

by Shirlee Busbee

  He had seen the look she had sent Brett and Constanza, and with a slightly cruel smile on his mouth, he walked up to Sabrina where she stood next to his mother and said carelessly, "They make a handsome couple, don't you agree?" His eyelids dropped, and he added, "Almost as handsome as you and I."

  Pasting a smile on her lips, Sabrina glanced at him, and ignoring his latter statement, she said with apparent obtuseness, "Who? There are so many handsome couples about this evening."

  His eyes watching her expression closely, he murmured, "Si, that's true, but I think Senor Dangermond and Senora Morales make an exceptionally handsome pair. She is so very beautiful, and though I personally think Dangermond too raw-boned and hard-faced, I will concede that when he is with Senora Morales one forgets those things."

  Francisca sniffed scornfully. "Senora Morales may be beautiful, but she is nothing but a grasping hussy as far as I am concerned! I am certainly pleased that you came to your senses and recognized her for what she is. Poor Emilio was not so fortunate, and he was old enough to know better!"

  Curious about Senora Morales on several counts, Sabrina turned to Carlos and teased gently, "Did you court the beautiful Senora Morales?" Her eyes full of mockery, she added dolefully, "And to think I believed you when you said you loved me."

  Carlos shot his mother a look that boded ill for that lady, and, his voice sharp with annoyance, he muttered, "I do love you! My association with Constanza Morales, or Duarte as she was then, happened when you were a child." He smiled warmly across at Sabrina, his eyes lingering on the smooth golden skin that was enhanced by the deep azure blue of the silk gown she wore this evening. "I was waiting for you to grow up, querida, and you will not blame a man for a few peccadilloes, will you? Not when you have his heart as you have mine?"

  It was very pleasant to bask in Carlos's admiration, his professed affection and obvious appreciation of her charms a soothing balm to her aching heart. Enjoying herself for the first time all evening, Sabrina giggled, as she usually did when Carlos spoke of love. "I think that you have a facile tongue!" she said laughingly, unwilling to take any of Carlos's lovemaking seriously.

  The music changed tempo then, the strands of the fandango curling around them, and suddenly wanting to dance, to lose herself in the joy of swaying to the music, she grabbed Carlos's hand and said gaily, "Dance with me! Senora Morales and Senor Brett may be the handsomest couple here, but you and I will be the best dancers!"

  Carlos eagerly joined her, and together they danced to the fandango, one moment flying around the courtyard, the next moving in slow, decorous rhythm to the music of the guitars and marimbas. Sabrina's lovely face was flushed with pleasure, the azure skirts whirling about her, the lantern light glinting on the gold hoop earrings that dangled near her cheeks as she moved gracefully in Carlos's loose embrace.

  Among so many dark heads, her bright red-gold hair was like a beacon, and unwillingly Brett found himself watching her, unable to take his eyes off that lovely, laughing face as she twirled about in Carlos's arms. Her hair had been arranged in artless curls on top of her head, revealing the slim beauty of her neck, the exquisite slope of her slender shoulders, and Brett knew a sudden, fierce impulse to tear her out of Carlos's embrace, to jerk her next to his own hard body and bury his mouth in that tempting spot where her neck joined her shoulders. Furious with himself and unable to watch her in the arms of another man, he turned away, his eyes bleak and cold. Obviously Carlos had not been lying about his relationship with her, and that meant that when she had responded so sweetly, so ardently, to his kisses she had been betraying the man she had agreed to marry. His mouth thinned contemptuously.

  Little slut! Perhaps Constanza was the more honest of the two—she made no bones about the fact that she wanted him, that she enjoyed his lovemaking, and that she expected nothing from it but physical pleasure. She didn't pretend innocence, nor use her body to trap a man into marriage. He'd take an honest whore over the tricks and deceits practiced by a "good" woman any day!

  A derisive smile on his handsome mouth, he looked down at Constanza standing beside him and murmured, "Shall we dance?"

  Smiling limpidly up at him, she agreed huskily, "But of course, querido, if that is what you want."

  Pulling her next to him, he stepped out into the middle of the dancers and muttered, "What I want will have to wait until later."

  Constanza fairly purred as she matched her steps to his, and they moved in perfect unison with the music. Glancing up at him, she commented lightly, "For a gi'ingo you dance the fandango very well. Why is this?"

  "My great-grandmother was Spanish for one thing, so there is Spanish blood in my family, and for another I spent several months in Spain some years ago." He grinned down at her, a mocking glint in the dark green eyes. "I learned many things of Spanish origin then. Shall I show you some of them . . . later?"

  Her breathing quickened, and she lowered her eyes demurely. "I have never been fortunate enough to visit the land of my father, and I would be most interested in anything you could show me."

  Brett laughed, his black mood lifting. His lips curving sensuously, he gazed at the ripe, full mouth inches from his. "It will be my pleasure," he promised softly.

  The fandango ended, and Carlos led a breathless, smiling Sabrina over to a long refreshment table. Procuring for her a glass of sangria, he said, "Shall we sit over there?" and nodded toward some chairs that had been placed in a quiet, secluded area under the wide, extended eaves of the hacienda.

  Sipping her sangria, Sabrina hesitated, not wanting to give Carlos an opportunity in which to press his attentions upon her. She liked her cousin, but she was not in love with him, and she didn't want him to love her. It was all very well to listen to his flirtatious nonsense under the approving eye of Tia Francisca, but it was quite another matter to hear it without the protection of another person.

  But Carlos didn't give her any choice. Taking her silence as an affirmation, he firmly guided her to the chairs and saw that she was seated. Sitting down beside her, he said with deceptive idleness, "You seem very quiet this evening, querida. Is there a reason? Is something wrong?"

  While dancing, Sabrina had been able to push aside her unhappy thoughts, but now they all came rushing back—especially since she had spied Brett leading a smiling Senor a Morales from the dance floor. She had never been a jealous person, but watching the seductive sway of the older woman's black silk skirts, seeing the proprietorial way Constanza laid her white hand on Brett's arm, Sabrina viewed the pair through a decidedly green haze. With an effort she forced her gaze away from the other two and replied stiltedly, “Of course there is nothing wrong. I am just not in a talkative mood, that's all."

  "I see," Carlos said slowly, seeing far more than Sabrina realized. Carlos's gaze went to Brett and Constanza, and he murmured, "I am glad there is nothing wrong. I would hate for the gringo to cause you any pain."

  Sabrina gave a nervous laugh and said sharply, "Don't be ridiculous! He means nothing to me."

  "Which is just as well," Carlos replied smoothly. "I would be very jealous, querida, and besides, it is apparent that he is deeply enamored of Senora Morales."

  "Oh, I wouldn't say that!" Sabrina protested too quickly. "They only met tonight, and while he has been paying her a great deal of attention, I suspect it means nothing." Her jawline suddenly hard, she said grimly, "He is just a practiced flirt—he cares for no woman."

  "They didn't just meet tonight," Carlos stated slyly. "They met last Wednesday when your father brought Senor Dangermond into town. I was there, and it was obvious even then that they were much taken with one another. Who knows—if Constanza had a fortune there might be a marriage in the wind."

  Stiffly she muttered, "I think you make too much of a few chance encounters."

  "Chance encounters, my dear?" Carlos questioned with a cynical lift of his thin eyebrow. "Hardly that! Especially not since I have seen his horse tied behind her house for the past few evenings. Late in the ev
ening."

  Sabrina swallowed with difficulty, wishing she could tell Carlos to shut his mouth. She didn't want to hear what he was saying, she wanted only to bury her head in the sand and pray that Senora Morales would simply disappear.

  But instead she lifted her head proudly and looking Carlos straight in the eye, said bluntly, "I wonder if your interest in Senor a Morales really has faded! You certainly seem to be very concerned about her affairs! Even to the point of spying on who comes to visit her!"

  "I was not spying!" Carlos returned furiously. "It merely happens that I have had business in town that takes me past her home."

  "The rear of her home? Late?" Sabrina asked sweetly.

  Carlos flushed, but then, forcing a smile on his mouth, he reached for one of Sabrina's hands and said softly, "Come now, don't let us argue! Constanza and Dangermond mean nothing to us, so let us not talk of them anymore."

  "I never was talking about them!" Sabrina said tartly. "You were the one who kept bringing them into the conversation."

  Suppressing an urge to slap her, Carlos contented himself with merely shrugging his shoulders and saying mildly, "Perhaps this is so, but I no longer want to talk about them." An intimate note in his voice, he murmured, "I would far rather talk about us . . . and our marriage, querido."

  Sabrina snatched her hand away from him. "Carlos, Fm not in love with you, and I don't want to marry you," she said sincerely, the amber-gold eyes troubled as she looked at him. He was so dear, was such a good friend to her, but she could not allow him to entertain false hopes that one day she would change her mind. She touched his cheek lightly. "Find someone else," she said softly. "There are many lovely young girls here tonight who would make you a far better wife than I ever would, even if I consented to marry you. I would only make you unhappy."

  "I don't want anyone else!" Carlos ground out exasperatedly. "A marriage between us has long been the wish of our parents, and you are just being contrary in refusing me!"

  Trying to lighten the atmosphere, she smiled at him teasingly and said, "See! I would make you unhappy—you're angry with me already."

  Conscious he was pushing her too fast and too hard, Carlos smiled back at her and dropped her hand. ''Very well, querida, for now I shall let you have your way." A humorous twist to his mouth, he added, "Just as I always do."

  Relieved that Carlos had followed her lead so easily, Sabrina relaxed back in her chair and gratefully sipped on her Sangria. The subject of Brett and Constanza may have been ended between them, but Brett's pursuit of the lovely widow was certainly uppermost in Sabrina's mind. Unwillingly her eyes went to where they were standing, and not even aware of what she was saying, she muttered, "If he does marry her, she has my pity—he would be a devil of a husband!"

  Carlos stiffened in the seat beside her, his black eyes suddenly intent. "Devil," he said slowly, as if trying the word out on his tongue. ''Devil Dangermond." Memory flooding back, he snapped his fingers, saying excitedly, "Of course! That's where I've seen him before! Devil Dangermond! The smuggler Frenchie's bully!"

  Bewilderedly Sabrina looked at him. "What are you talking about?"

  Carlos swiveled in his seat to face her, his narrow, handsome face alight with a curious satisfaction. "I kept thinking that I had met Dangermond somewhere before, but I couldn't remember where—until you said the word 'devil,' and then it all came back to me." Grasping both her hands tightly in his, he said urgently, "He is a bad man, Sabrina, a dangerous man! I wonder if your father realizes what sort of depraved creature he has opened his house to. A smuggler's bully and a murderous brute, that is what the fine Senor Dangermond really is!"

  Her face shocked and disbelieving, Sabrina said faintly, "You must be mistaken! I know from my Tia Sofia's letters that he has a wild reputation, but never that he has done anything shameful or unlawful."

  "And I tell you that he has!" Carlos returned passionately. "Remember when I went to New Orleans the last time?" At Sabrina's affirmative nod, he went on, "Just before my sister Catalina's wedding?" Sabrina nodded again. "Madre had asked that I purchase some particularly elegant material for Catalina's wedding gown, and that was when I met the smuggler Frenchie." His eyes grave, he said, "This Frenchie has a terrible reputation, Sabrina, including robbery and murder. They say he even betrays and murders his own kind, but he is so powerful that even if they fear for their lives, the ship captains still trade with him."

  A self-righteous note entering his voice, he murmured, "Normally I would have had nothing to do with such a creature, but having exhausted the resources of New Orleans in search of material that would please Madre and Catalina, I was told to seek out Frenchie because he had just received an excellent supply of wonderful French silks." Carlos shrugged his shoulders. "What could I do? I could not return home empty-handed! And so I went in search of this notorious smuggler, and I found him in an ugly part of New Orleans. He did have the silks that I wanted, so I forced myself to deal with him." His voice lowering meaningfully, he announced, "And it was there, in that awful den, that I met Devil Dangermond! I had heard all sorts of wicked things about Frenchie's newest righthand man, and so, when he showed me into Frenchie's back room, I was prepared for anything. All during my talk with Frenchie, he stood there glowering at me, almost as if he wished I would make some wrong move so that he would have an excuse to slit my throat then and there—not that his type needs an excuse," Carlos said darkly.

  Still not wanting to believe Carlos's tale, Sabrina proposed hopefully, "Perhaps you were mistaken? I cannot believe it was the same man."

  Carlos looked at her pityingly. "Senor Dangermond is not a man easily forgotten, nor is his name a common one. Are you going to have me believe that there are two Dangermonds of the same size and build, both with black hair and devil-green eyes?" Slowly Sabrina shook her head.

  Triumph gleaming in his eyes, Carlos said bluntly, "Sabrina, he is a killer, a man beneath contempt! Why, he nearly killed a defenseless girl while I was there—I saw it with my own eyes!"

  A gasp of shocked dismay came from Sabrina. “He struck a woman?" she demanded angrily.

  "Worse," Carlos said smugly. ''He cut her horribly with his knife!" Deferentially he muttered, "I had to stop him, even though the girl was not ..." He looked embarrassed. ''She was a woman of the streets, Sabrina. And they say he abused her disgracefully." Hastily he added, "I only learned that part later . . . after I had dragged him off her and thrown him out into the street."

  Sabrina's hand was clenched into a fist. "Good for you, Carlos! It is too bad you did not mark him with his own knife—I wish you had!"

  Modestly Carlos murmured, "It was nothing, my dear. And it was only the sheerest accident that I happened on the scene—I was on my way out of that place of depravity when I heard the most pitiful scream imaginable coming from the upper floor. Like any honorable gentleman, I immediately raced up the stairs to lend aid if I could. The screams were coming from a room to my right, and without thinking I broke the door down and there discovered, to my horror and revulsion, that black-hearted creature standing over the body of this poor young girl." His features revealing his pity and disgust, he continued, "Fortunately she was not dead, but he had marked her savagely with his knife, and when I faced him, he claimed she had tried to steal his money. It was all I could do to stop myself from taking that knife of his and marking him as he had that poor girl! Instead I had to content myself with showing him out of the building and threatening him with the law if he laid a hand on her again. And that, my dear, is the story of how I first met your Senor Dangermond."

  Appalled and revolted by Carlos's tale, Sabrina glanced across at where Brett was talking to Constanza Morales. He didn't look like a depraved monster, but she had no reason to doubt her cousin and she had every reason to be suspicious of Brett Dangermond. What did she really know of him? Even Tia Sofia's letters seemed to condemn him, she thought, as she recalled Tia Sofia's worries about his wild life. He was seldom in Natchez, and so it was very pos
sible that he had been in New Orleans, smuggling and abusing young women. Her heart rebelled against such thoughts, but her mind accepted them: she believed Carlos's tale.

  Sickened and enraged at the way Brett had wormed his way into her father's affection, had traded shamelessly on that affection, she said breathlessly, "We must tell my father! He must be warned about him!"

  Oddly enough, Carlos seemed to hesitate, but then, after a moment, he agreed. "Of course. It is what must be done! But I suggest that we wait until after the fiesta—there is no reason to cause an unfortunate scene now. Once your father knows the truth, he can send this villain away quietly, and no one except ourselves will ever know of this distasteful episode."

  Slowly Sabrina nodded her head, knowing Carlos was right. After the fiesta would be soon enough for her father to learn the full extent of the depravity of a man he loved as dearly as he would have his own son. She quailed at the thought of her father's pain and disillusionment when they told him about Brett's sordid past, and for a second, she considered facing Brett alone and demanding that he leave. But she had to put that idea aside—her father had to know so that he would never again be deceived by that charming viper!