Mindful of her step, she carefully made her way down the staircase and into the salon. The coals from the fire lit earlier glowed cheerfully on the hearth, and the sight of them warmed her. The knowledge that Ollie and the other servants were only a shout away gave her renewed confidence in what she was doing. Brett shouldn't be involved—this was between her and Carlos! It was her battle!
Her heart beating swiftly, she gave the signal she had written in her note—the oil lamp suddenly shining brightly then dimming. Then the same thing again.
Three minutes after she gave her signal, there was a furtive tap on the side door, and with a dry mouth, Sabrina walked over and opened the door. A pleased smile on his face, Carlos stepped inside. His smile vanished the instant his gaze fell upon her swollen stomach. "You're pregnant!" he said accusingly.
"Well, yes, I am," Sabrina replied defensively, "but I don't see what it has to do with you!"
It wasn't how either one of them had intended to greet the other, and trying for a lighter note, Sabrina said with forced politeness, "How was your journey? Did you have any trouble finding the house?"
Petulantly Carlos answered, "Your directions were adequate, but the inn you suggested I stay at last night was not particularly restful. And now I've had to spend the afternoon and evening lurking about like some thief !" Her pregnancy had both dumbfounded and enraged him. He might want Sabrina, but he wasn't about to be saddled with the gringo's bastard!
"Did anyone see you?" she asked sharply.
Carlos shrugged. "No. I did have a scare a few moments before your signal—I thought I heard a horseman coming down the road, but whoever it was must have gone on by."
Whoever it was hadn't gone by. The horseman had been Brett, and seeing the darkened house, he had stopped the sweat-flecked Firestorm, suddenly reluctant to face Sabrina with his suspicions. What if he were entirely wrong?
The signal that had shone out into the darkness a second later had given him his answer, and he had watched almost indifferently as a shadowy form had appeared from the underbrush near the house and had stealthily made its way to the side of the house. There was a curious numbness within him, and he was almost grateful for it—at least it held at bay the gut-wrenching pain he knew would follow later. There was no doubt in his mind now that Sabrina had written to Carlos or that the person he had just seen enter the house had been Carlos.
Brett was completely drained. He had been riding steadily for almost seventeen hours, driven by an increasingly urgent need to reach Fox's Lair. There were times he had been afraid that he was pushing Firestorm too hard, but the big stallion hadn't failed him. Unlike his wife, he thought with a bitter twist to his mouth.
He nearly turned away, going where he had no idea, but something stopped him. He couldn't. Everything he had ever wanted was wrapped up in one slim body, Sabrina's, and he had to see proof of all his dark demons with his own eyes. Silently he dismounted and wearily began to walk toward the front of the house. Just as silently, he opened the front door and walked into the foyer, Sabrina's voice carrying clearly to him.
The meeting between the two cousins was going badly. They had wasted several minutes with polite chatter, acting almost like strangers. But then Carlos was a stranger to Sabrina these days, and with surprise she noted the cruel curve to his mouth, the gleam of avarice in the black eyes as they passed around the room. Had he always been so? Or was she seeing him for the first time as he really was? She suspected the latter, and impatiently she listened to his idle conversation, wanting desperately to have this distasteful meeting behind her.
Carlos was sitting in a leather chair near the fireplace, Sabrina standing stiffly a few feet away in front of him. Speculatively Carlos eyed her, extremely curious about why she had written him and, in spite of her pregnancy, still not quite willing to relinquish his original plans. Aloud he merely said, "Did you know that Madre left for Mexico City in September? She's going to live with Tia Ysabel."
"Oh!" Sabrina replied blankly, and found herself muttering inanely, "She should like that. But tell me, why do you remain in New Orleans? Shouldn't you have returned to Nacogdoches?"
"Why?" he returned bitterly, his eyes on her face. "You're here . . . what is there for me in Nacogdoches? The only woman I shall ever love is here!"
Once those words would have made Sabrina feel sad and guilty, but not any longer, and her voice hard, she snapped, "Oh, stop it, Carlos! You don't love me—you never did! You just use your professed love of me as an excuse to hide behind v/hen you're caught doing something reprehensible! You did the same thing after you almost raped me in the gazebo—would have raped me if Brett hadn't appeared!" Her features scornful, she added, "And if I would listen to you now, you would try to convince me that it was love of me that led you to tell Brett all manner of lies!" Eyes glittering with contempt, she demanded, "And what lies about him did you tell me?"
Enraged that she would turn against him this way, Carlos leaped furiously to his feet. "I don't know what you're talking about!" he blustered, a mad little spark gleaming in his eyes. This couldn't be happening to him! Not now, when he had been so certain, so confident.
"Yes, you do!" Sabrina flashed back. "That summer in Nacogdoches, you told Brett that I was after his fortune, didn't you?" She laughed angrily. "And me," she went on bitterly, "me, you told that he was after my fortune!"
Too stunned to think clearly, Carlos hunched a shoulder, and because it had always worked in the past, he whined, "But I did it all for you! Don't you understand, I was only trying to save you from him—because I love you so much and didn't want you to be hurt by him!"
Bile rose up in her throat. Did he really think that she was that much of a fool? That even now she would accept his patent lies? Almost defeatedly she said, "Don't tell me the same lie—I don't believe you anymore. I wrote you to come here because I have to know the truth and I'm too ashamed for my husband to learn how little I trusted him—how easily gulled I was by someone I thought I could trust implicitly." Her voice thick with suffering, she burst out, "I trusted you, Carlos! Believed in you! How could you betray me that way?"
Carlos wouldn't answer, his gaze fixed on her with a strange, unnerving intentness. This bitch had spurned him all these years, had married a gringo, was carrying the gringo's child, and she had the gall to berate him! How dare she!
Bluntly Sabrina demanded, "I want to know precisely what happened with the girl in New Orleans—the one you said he attacked with a knife. But most of all, I want the truth about Constanza." Steadily meeting his eyes, she finished, "I want to know if she really was pregnant with his child, if indeed he had refused to marry her because he wanted my fortune. And damn you! This time tell me the truth!"
Brett couldn't describe the powerful emotions he felt as he stood there in the foyer, stunned by the import of Sabrina's words. It is said that eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves, and he could definitely attest to the truth of that statement! But there was exultant joy mixed with all the ugliness as he realized fully how craftily Carlos had manipulated them both, had played upon their doubts. What fools we were, he thought impotently, as he listened to Sabrina's angry words. If only I had demanded an explanation from her then! If only I hadn't been so pig-headed-positive that it was my lack of fortune that had caused her to break the betrothal! He almost shouted aloud with sweet elation—there had been nothing separating them six years ago except their own mistrust. But never again, he vowed savagely, never again will I let anything come between us! And coolly he made his presence known.
"I, too, should like to hear the truth. It should prove most interesting," Brett said quietly from the doorway.
Her heart in her mouth, Sabrina spun around to stare at him in dismay. Dios! What was he doing here and what was he thinking?
Sabrina looked so adorably guilty, so horrified at the sight of him, that if the situation hadn't been so serious, Brett would have laughed. As it was, it was all he could do to stop himself from striding across the roo
m, taking her into his arms, and kissing her violently. He had never loved her quite so much as he did in this moment, understanding the pride that would keep her from asking about the past, deeply moved that having been told the lies she had, she had married him anyway.
Brett was as weary as he appeared as he lounged in the doorway. His once-immaculate cravat was crumpled and half-untied, the bottle-green jacket was rumpled, and his breeches and boots bore signs of dirt from the roads. But moving a little away from the doorway, he lithely walked a few steps into the salon, repeating with commendable calm, "Most interesting, especially since my memory of that poor girl in New Orleans is that you cut her up, not me! And as for Constanza ..." His voice trailed off, and he looked gravely at Sabrina, wishing he could deny the affair, damning himself for all the other women who had ever been in his life. Slowly, picking his words with care, he admitted, "I can't deny that for a short time after I first arrived in Nacogdoches, there was something between us. But I never got her with child, nor did I ever ask her to marry me—the question of marriage never arose. We shared a physical relationship and that was all!" Flatly he said, "I'm not going to apologize or make excuses for what I did before I began seriously courting you that summer—I'm entitled to my own past, and being a monk wasn't part of it!" Tautly he added, "As for your fortune, it never had a blasted thing to do with what I felt for you—I wanted to marry you because I loved you, and whatever wealth you possessed didn't matter a tinker's damn to me!"
It seemed as if they were the only two people in the room, Carlos's presence momentarily forgotten as they stared ardently across the space that divided them. Sabrina swallowed with difficulty, not certain what to say. It was painful to hear him speak of Constanza, but so wonderful to know conclusively that she had been deliberately deceived that day. And he had said that he loved her! She made a helpless little gesture, so full of emotion that words failed her, and as the silence spun out, Brett said fiercely, "For God's sake, Sabrina! You might not have been the first woman in my life, but I swear to you that you are the only woman in it now—you will always be the only woman for me!"
Her voice still suspended by the dizzying jubilation his words gave her, Sabrina could only stare at him dumbly, fighting back a sudden foolish urge to weep with exhilaration. He had loved her!
Misunderstanding her silence, Brett looked at her with despair. Didn't she believe him? Couldn't she forgive him? His mouth twisting with pain, he asked in an anguished tone, "Don't you believe me?" Almost roughly he added, "I love you. I have always loved you—even when I fought against it and tried to use someone like Constanza to hide from it, it was there."
Her throat so tight with held-back tears of joy, half-laughing, half-crying, she got out, "Oh, Brett! Do you realize that this is the first time you've ever told me that you love me? That all these months I've been dying with love for you and so afraid that you didn't love me?"
With a snake's unblinking stare, Carlos's eyes moved from one joyous face to the other, and fury shook him. It had been bad enough that the gringo had married Sabrina, but that they would be happy together was not to be borne. Sneeringly Carlos murmured, "How touching! Dear cousin, do you really believe him? What makes you think that he isn't lying? He could be, you know."
His voice startled both of them, making them unpleasantly aware that they were not alone, and with pity in her gaze, Sabrina looked at Carlos. "Carlos, don't be a fool! Can't you see—I love him and he loves me. Your lies can't hurt us ever again." Almost pleading with him, she added, "Don't keep trying to destroy what we have found. If for no other reason than the memories of our childhood, please be happy for us now."
Unable to believe that he had lost completely, unable to comprehend that she no longer trusted him, Carlos grabbed her hand and babbled wildly, "Listen to me, Sabrina, let me explain! You don't understand how it was, I can explain it to you!"
"I'm sure you can," Brett said harshly, and reaching inside his jacket, he suddenly threw on the carpet near Carlos's feet the brooch and Alejandro's bracelet. "Like how these came to be in your possession!"
The fading firelight danced over the two pieces of jewelry, the emerald chips winking in the lion's eyes, the bracelet a silver shimmer, the turquoise stones gleaming softly. Sabrina stared transfixed for several seconds at the bracelet, and then, not even aware of Carlos's hold on her wrist, she slowly knelt down and reverently picked up the bracelet.
There was a sudden, waiting silence, a tense silence, something deadly and dangerous stirring in the air. The enormity of what that bracelet meant sinking in with one painful thrust, Sabrina looked at Carlos with utter loathing and horror. "You?" she croaked. "You killed my father?"
Any half-mad, fading hope Carlos may have desperately clung to vanished, taking whatever remaining sanity he possessed with it. His eyes dilated; he glanced dementedly around the room. There was death here, he could smell it, and as his eyes met Brett's he saw it, too, glittering with cold promise in those jade-green depths. Deliberately Brett began to walk toward him, and losing his nerve, Carlos swiftly pulled out a small pistol from the leather belt around his waist. "Stay there!" he commanded in a curiously high-pitched voice. "Stay there or I'll kill her!" And he pointed the pistol at Sabrina's head.
Brett froze, his mind racing as he frantically sought and discarded a hundred plans to keep Sabrina safe from this madman. And seeing the madness in Carlos's eyes, he felt an icy fear creep along his spine. But more than that, he was suddenly, sickly aware that he had made a fatal mistake in his haste to enter the house—his own pistol was still resting safely in the holster on Firestorm's saddle.
Sabrina wasn't even conscious of her own danger. White-hot rage exploding through her body, without thinking she closed her fingers over Alejandro's bracelet, making a fist. Viciously she struck at Carlos's head.
Carlos was watching Brett so intently that he never even saw her fist when it came striking through the air, catching him violently across the face, the force of it knocking his arm with the pistol aside. He recovered in an instant, and even as Sabrina fumbled in the folds of the shawl for her knife, he brought the pistol down along the side of her temple, pushing her from him.
Brett was already in motion, fury and fear driving him forward like a bullet, but fast as he was, he was too late. Sabrina's body went flying, her head hitting the corner of a heavy table with a terrifying thud. She lay there motionless.
A stark, almost frenzied cry of pain came from Brett, and for the moment, Carlos was ignored. Kneeling by her side, with shaking fingers, Brett touched the bright curls, the faint trickle of blood that ran from her temple to her chin. She was breathing, but she was hurt—badly, he thought.
Like a great jungle cat, he slowly slewed around to look at Carlos. Rising with a deadly grace, Brett said in a lethal tone, "You're a dead man, Carlos."
Carlos laughed hysterically. "Threats, gringo? You are the dead man! Have you forgotten that I have the pistol, that I can kill you both whenever it suits me?" He giggled, the madness now out of control. His mouth twitching, he muttered, "I'd like to kill you, gringo!" Slyly his eyes slid to Sabrina's still form. "You and your whoring bitch of a wife!"
Realizing the dangerousness of the situation, Brett forced himself to stay calm, to think clearly. If only he could get that pistol away from Carlos. . . .
He took a cautious step forward, but Carlos said sharply, "No! Stay where you are!" Motioning the pistol backward, he added, "Get away from her!"
Brett hesitated, but seeing Carlos's fingers tighten on the trigger, he moved.
Sabrina's motionless body seemed to afford Carlos great satisfaction, and he growled, "She should have married me. I should have been the master of the Rancho del Torres!"
"Is that why you killed Alejandro?" Brett asked quietly, stalling for time yet desperate to get aid for Sabrina.
"Si!" Carlos answered proudly. "He would not give me more money after my father died. And when I wanted to marry Sabrina, he proved stubborn. After
you left, he could have forced her to accept me, but he wouldn't." His lip curled. "He was soft and foolish, and one day I finally decided that he would have to die if I was ever to gain the rancho. "
Carlos's eyes went again to Sabrina's body, and Brett felt a thrill of pure fright. Frantic to divert his attention, Brett drawled infuriatingly, "You are a fool, Carlos! You're not man enough to run the rancho—you're too weak and stupid. You're not even man enough to meet me in a fair fight—you're a coward who has to hide behind a pistol."
Brett's taunting words had their effect. Everything was forgotten, and nearly choking on blind rage, Carlos uttered furiously, "We shall see, gringo, we shall see." He motioned toward the door that led to the foyer. "Let us walk outside and see if you crow so loudly after I prove to you that you are the fool."
Brett almost sagged with relief. If he could get Carlos outside, away from Sabrina, there was a chance he could goad him into making a mistake.
The Tiger Lily Page 49