Chapter 12

 

The door had barely shut behind them when Sabrina turned on Carlos. "What did you do that for?" she snapped. "Why didn't you let me tell him about the poor girl in New Orleans?"

Glancing over his shoulder at the closed door and then putting a finger to his mouth, he motioned for her to follow him.

Sabrina glared at the door and then at Carlos's retreating figure. Her features set in stubborn lines, she followed after Carlos.

When they reached the front courtyard, Carlos stopped and looked at her. Heavily he said, "It is obvious that your father is completely within Dangermond's control." When Sabrina appeared unmoved by that statement, he added urgently, "Don't you see, I couldn't let you say anything about that girl—he wouldn't believe us. He might even think that we had made up the entire tale, that we were maliciously trying to discredit Dangermond in his eyes."

A mutinous expression on her face, Sabrina retorted, "My father would never believe such a thing of me. It's a risk I'm willing to take. He should know just what sort of monster he has embraced."

"I, too, want your father to know the truth," Carlos said quickly. "But Sabrina, I don't think we can convince him right now of anything detrimental." His expression earnest, he complained, "You saw how he took the news of Dangermond's involvement with the smugglers. Don't you see—Dangermond has won him over entirely. He will believe no wrong about him, no matter what we say."

Some of her fury dying, an unhappy curve to her mouth, Sabrina muttered, "What are we going to do? Let him increase his power over my father? Let him continue to deceive him?"

"No, no, of course not, but we must bide our time, querida. And while doing that, we must do our best to protect your father from himself." Looking at her keenly, gauging the effect of his words, he said, "You must watch this Dangermond and make certain he does nothing to cheat or trick your father. You must tell me everything that you learn, and together we will defeat this devil and save your father from his evil influence." He pressed her hand with his, his dark eyes full of compassion. "I will not let you fight this battle alone. Do not worry, my dear, now that we know Dangermond for the scoundrel he is, we will be able to circumvent whatever schemes he may plan. As for the incident with the unfortunate creature in New Orleans..." He hesitated before saying, "I think we should say nothing more about it. It will be our secret, and when the time is right, we will face Dangermond with it in front of your father."

Miserably Sabrina agreed, seeing the wisdom of Carlos's words and yet uncomfortable with the situation. The thought of conniving against Alejandro with Carlos made her even more uncomfortable. Gloomily she said, "I never dreamed the day would come when I would find myself on opposite sides from my father." She bit her lip and asked, "Don't you think we should try once more to convince my father of the truth?" Earnestly she added, "We don't know what that devil has told him—perhaps he lied about things, told my father only part of the truth. It may be my father doesn't really understand the extent of Dangermond's actions. If we told him about the girl—"

"No!" Carlos retorted so sharply that Sabrina looked at him in surprise. He sent her a smile. "Not yet, querida. I know you are impatient, but you must trust me. When the time is right, I shall know it, and we will strike. Remember Dangermond is clever—for all we know, he has already told your father some lying tale about the girl. He might even have claimed that I was the one who disfigured her and that he was the one who saved her."

Filled with revulsion, Sabrina clenched her hand into a fist. "That contemptible swine!" she said heatedly. But then a puzzled expression flitted over her features. "He can't have done that, Carlos," she said thoughtfully. "If he had, my father would have said something to you about it... don't you agree?"'

"It's possible, but who knows what your father is thinking these days." Throwing her a grim look, he continued, "But I must warn you to be prepared for Dangermond to pull some sort of trick like that."

"I will be on my guard. Dangermond will not blind me as he has my father!"

Satisfied with the night's events, Carlos was able to take his leave of her a few minutes later with a light heart. There was even a smile on his lips when he rode away from the del Torres hacienda.

Sabrina wasn't smiling, nor was she satisfied with the evening's revelations. She was acutely miserable. The man she loved was a blackguard, and her father trusted him.

Alone in her bedroom, still wearing the lovely azure silk gown, she lay on her bed staring blankly at the ceiling overhead. If only Brett had never come to visit them. If only she had never seen him again, never fallen in love with him. She gave a bitter laugh. If only I loved Carlos, none of this would matter very much. It wouldn't hurt so deeply to hear that Brett Dangermond is a monster.

No, that wasn't true, she admitted. Alejandro's admiration and affection for a man she knew to be an unscrupulous villain troubled her greatly. How could her father dismiss Brett's smuggling activities?

She knew that smuggling was a common practice in New Orleans; she was aware also that many people in that area considered it a respectable pastime. It was also true that many law-abiding citizens had regular business dealings with certain smugglers, but from what Carlos had said, this Frenchie was definitely not one of those. From Carlos's tale it was obvious that Frenchie was a criminal, one of the lowest kind, a man capable of all sorts of wickedness—and Brett Dangermond, "Devil" Dangermond, had been his confidant.

It didn't seem possible that her father, so honest and fair, so very honorable, could forgive a man for doing the ugly things Brett must have done as Frenchie's trusted lieutenant—and yet it appeared he had. Heartsick and disillusioned, as much because of Alejandro's apparent culpability as the knowledge that the man she loved was nothing but a rogue, Sabrina felt her eyes fill with tears. Angrily she blinked them back. I will not cry, she vowed through gritted teeth.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing herself not to dwell on her own unhappiness. At least, she thought bleakly, she was on her guard now. She would have to be the wise one in this situation. As Carlos had said, Alejandro was completely in Brett's power, and it was up to her to save him—somehow she must find a way to protect her father from Dangermond's wicked influence.

For a moment, thinking of Carlos and what he had said that evening, her unhappiness abated and she was suffused with a rush of warmth and affection. How eager Carlos had been to help, she reflected fondly. He had said that together they would defeat Dangermond, and together they would. Her heartache eased just a little. She wasn't alone anymore—Carlos would help her.

* * *

She was too young and inexperienced to realize that she might be the one who needed protection. She and Carlos saw each other nearly every day, Carlos made sure of that; and any wavering or uncertainty on Sabrina's part was quickly and ruthlessly squashed. Repeatedly he counseled her to beware—Dangermond was a fortune hunter. Her mind listened and absorbed his warnings and hints of even darker deeds, but her heart... her heart resisted, and she was torn by the fierce battle that raged within her.

At first it was simple to let anger rule her head, and during the weeks that followed the fiesta, she treated Brett with ill-concealed contempt. Protective of her father, suspicious of every move Brett made, she guarded Alejandro like a tigress with cubs. Every suggestion Brett made was met with a barrage of questions and mule-headed resistance on Sabrina's part. Particularly anything to do with the sugar cane project. Carlos warned her repeatedly when they met at the gazebo that Brett was probably using the sugar cane scheme as a way to swindle a fortune out of Alejandro, and consequently she fought bitterly against it.

Her attitude toward Brett did not go unnoticed by the men in the household, that and the jealous way she dogged Alejandro's footsteps. Brett chose to be amused by her antics, finding it safer to have her greeting him with hostility than with her irresistible charm. He was annoyed, though, having guessed correctly that Carlos had a hand in her actions, but then he dismissed even that emotion—he was not going to let himself get involved with Sabrina del Torres.

For the most part Alejandro, too, was amused by Sabrina's attitude, and like Brett he was also annoyed and a little worried. It wasn't like Sabrina to take someone in such inexplicable dislike, and it was hardly the frame of mind needed for her to fall in love with Brett. The meetings with Carlos at the gazebo had not been missed by Alejandro either, nor the fact that Carlos spent an inordinate amount of time at the del Torres hacienda these days. Too many afternoons he and Brett returned home to find Sabrina and Carlos laughing and talking on the patio as they drank tall glasses of Sangria. The fear that Sabrina was falling in love with her cousin could not be dismissed, and coupled with her dislike of Brett, it dismayed Alejandro.

He was dismayed on several counts, not least of which was the fact that the de la Vega finances had not improved in the months since Sabrina's birthday. The full extent of their money problems had been made apparent to him when recently he had lent his brother-in-law a sizable sum to help the family during their time of trouble. The loan didn't worry him, but Carlos's attitude did.

Alejandro had always known that Carlos was spoiled—as the youngest child, he was his mother's pet and his father's pride. Often Alejandro had chided both Luis and Francisca for the way they pandered to and coddled Carlos, but it had never really bothered him. Of course, he had never thought that Carlos would one day be his son-in-law either! It was not a pleasant reflection on Alejandro's part. One evening when Carlos joined them for dinner, he surreptitiously compared the two young men sharing his table. Seeing the lively humor that danced in Brett's jade-green eyes, as opposed to the hint of malice that flickered through the black eyes of Carlos, Alejandro shook his head. How could Sabrina possibly choose Carlos over Brett? It was incomprehensible.

The weeks and months that followed the fiesta which introduced Brett to the neighbors and friends of the del Torreses were curious times. No one at the hacienda was unhappy, and yet no one was pleased with the atmosphere either. There was nothing that could be pinpointed as a problem, but there was a feeling of tenseness, of unease and concern, that permeated the air. Life was serene and untroubled on the surface, but underneath it was rife with a variety of violent and often conflicting emotions.

Brett spent more time working with the men who were clearing the forest, and Alejandro viewed his accomplishments and dedication with a mixture of admiration and frustration. The scheme of growing sugar had been only an excuse to invite Brett to visit, and to see that young man throw himself into the project so wholeheartedly made him feel guilty. He was pleased with the work being done, but he would have preferred that Brett spent some of his time wooing Sabrina. The important thing was that Sabrina and Brett fall in love. With Brett slaving all the daylight hours in the widening areas of cleared land and Sabrina spending languid hours with Carlos, how could that come about? As the days passed, Alejandro's hopes for a marriage between his daughter and the man of his choice grew dimmer.

Had he been privy to Brett's dreams and Sabrina's thoughts, Alejandro wouldn't have been so downcast. Sabrina might have frequent dealings with Carlos, but she was in no danger of losing her heart to him. He was her cousin and her friend, nothing more. And as far as she was concerned, he never would be anything else to her despite his efforts to change the relationship between them.

In the beginning, numb and unhappy, Sabrina had only listlessly countered Carlos's amorous advances. As April gave way to May, and May faded into June, she found herself growing more and more annoyed and ill at ease in his company. She didn't like the position she was finding herself thrust into more and more. Nor was she ever comfortable with repeating to Carlos conversations that she had either had with Brett or overheard between Brett and her father. There was something so very sneaky about it.

Carlos's constant harping on what a fortune hunter Brett was, how they must watch and be ever alert for his schemes, also began to wear on her patience. To her surprise she began to argue back with him. "Carlos," she said firmly, one day in late June when they met at the gazebo, "you're wrong about Brett using the sugar cane as a means to get money from my father. He isn't getting one peso! Instead, we are gaining a very competent overseer who has accomplished much during these past weeks—look at how many acres have been cleared. Look at how swiftly the sugar mill is progressing." An admiring gleam in the amber-gold eyes, she murmured, "He may have had dealings with smugglers, but I think he must have put that part of his life behind him. I've seen nothing and heard of nothing that should alarm us."

An unbecoming flush staining his cheeks, Carlos snapped, "Have you forgotten about the girl? The one he cut up and disfigured in New Orleans?"

Her eyes shadowed, Sabrina turned away. "No, I haven't forgotten, but people do change...."

His face twisted with thwarted fury, and Carlos raged, "I do not believe this! This man is a smuggler, a thug, and a bully, a defiler of young women, and you dare to make excuses for him. Bah! Run along, Sabrina. Run back to him and let him whisper lies in your ears. Let him work that charm of his on you until you are no more than a fawning bitch running at his heels like Constanza Morales!"

Nothing could have been better calculated to bring Sabrina once more under his influence. Seeing the angry flash of her amber-gold eyes and the determined slant to her finely molded jaw, Carlos smiled.

But while Carlos could poison her mind against Brett and arouse her temper, there was one thing he could not do. He could not stop her from discussing events with her father. And there came an afternoon when Sabrina and Alejandro found themselves alone as they shared a tall glass of lemonade on the patio. They were seated at the iron table, relaxing in the cooling depths of the shadows of the tall pine tree that overhung the patio. It was the first time in ages that they had spent any time alone together, and each was savoring it. The conversation was desultory, and then somehow, out of nowhere, the subject of Brett's days in New Orleans came up. From there it was only moments before the truth of Brett's activities came out.

Alejandro stared at Sabrina's stunned face and murmured teasingly, "Chica, I cannot believe that you thought I would harbor a criminal in my house! When the smuggling was mentioned the night of the fiesta, I naturally assumed that you and Carlos knew the truth. It never occurred to me that all these weeks you've been under the impression that I have been in the clutches of a—what did you call him? A monster?"

Sabrina sent him an embarrassed smile and nodded. Defensively she muttered, "We had no way of knowing otherwise. Carlos's meeting with him was brief. How could he have known that Brett was only there to trap his friend's murderer?"

Alejandro's voice hardened. "I am surprised at Carlos. Surely he must have realized that I would never have introduced such a man to my relatives and friends, let alone allowed him free access to my house?" Shaking his head, Alejandro finished, "I do not understand Carlos these days. He must know that his father needs all the help he can get to save the rancho, and yet Carlos does not appear willing to raise a hand to help him." His face grew grim. "Instead he spends his time filling my daughter's head with nonsense!"

Sabrina hastened to reassure him, and the conversation went on to other topics. She did not mention the girl. Carlos's strictures on the need for complete secrecy were too deeply embedded in her brain. But with the news of Brett's real reasons for being in the smuggler's den, her faith in her father was restored, and if the treatment of the girl in New Orleans had tarnished her image of Brett, at least she felt easier about him.

The next day, she ran to meet Carlos with a happy glow in her cheeks, and almost merrily she blurted out the story to him. As could be expected, Carlos was not well pleased with the situation.

"And you believe this tale?" he sneered.

"Why shouldn't I?" she asked with obvious bewilderment.

"Because, you little fool," Carlos ground out, "it is apparent that Dangermond must have concocted this lying story to appease your father. Are you so stupid, so blind, that you, too, will be tricked?"

If this confrontation had come the day after the shocking news of Brett's involvement with smugglers, Sabrina might have been swayed by Carlos's words. But as it was, she'd had time to deal with her hurt and disillusionment, and her own common sense had reasserted itself. Brett's actions these past months had not been those of a villain, and while she might concede it was all an act to lull them into a sense of security before he struck, she doubted it. And she certainly did not appreciate Carlos's inference that Alejandro was both stupid and blind. Her face cold, she said icily, "My father is neither stupid nor blind! Nor, may I add, am I! I think you are the one who is being blind, amigo! You have nourished a dislike against Brett, with what I will admit appeared good reason, but now it is you who will not recognize the truth. You want him to be a smuggler, and because of that you will not listen to the real story."

Aware that he had crossed onto dangerous ground and unwilling to destroy the tenuous thread that existed between them, Carlos quickly capitulated. But it wasn't quite the same. Now that there was obviously no longer the need to spy on the men of her household, Sabrina found herself more and more disinclined to meet so often with Carlos.

If the rapport between Sabrina and Carlos lessened, the current of awareness that flowed between Brett and Sabrina did not. Now that she knew the truth of his days with the smugglers, Sabrina caught herself once again responding foolishly to his potent masculinity. She hadn't forgotten what he had done to the girl in New Orleans, but she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps there wasn't some explanation for that, too.

Brett noticed the change in her attitude toward him immediately, and he speculated warily on what had caused it. Where before she had scowled when he entered her presence and had thrown him a look of scathing dislike, she now spoke pleasantly and even, upon occasion, smiled at him. Bemused by that sweet smile, he hadn't been able to resist her shy overtures of friendship. And when Alejandro had explained the misconception she had been laboring under, Brett had been astounded at how delighted he was that Sabrina had discovered the truth and was no longer treating him as if he were a leper.

His affair with Constanza had been extremely carnal in nature... and short-lived as well. By the time mid-July arrived, that casual liaison had ended amicably. And whatever satisfaction he may have gained from Constanza's ripe, willing body had been negated by the unsatisfactory dreams of a certain flame-haired young witch that haunted his sleep all too frequently. Grimly denying the unwanted attraction he felt for Sabrina, he had thrown himself into the physically exhausting work of taming the virgin wilderness. He was not often to be found at the hacienda; he rose at dawn and worked until twilight despite the increasingly hot and humid weather.

After Sabrina's conversation with Alejandro, the atmosphere at the hacienda lightened perceptibly. Brett began to stop work earlier and earlier in the afternoons. Arriving back at the hacienda, he would swim in the lake by the gazebo and then spend the remainder of the day with Sabrina and Alejandro. They whiled away long, enjoyable hours in the cool, shaded courtyard, sipping tall, icy refreshments prepared by the servants. With pleasure and relief, Alejandro noticed that Sabrina no longer met with Carlos so frequently. Alejandro almost began to hope that his fondest desire might actually come true—Sabrina had taken to wearing her prettiest gowns for their afternoons together, and Brett didn't appear immune to her beauty.

Sabrina's eighteenth birthday was less than a week away and the hacienda was bustling with preparations for a grand fiesta. Staring at Brett and Sabrina one evening as they slowly wandered through the outer grounds of the hacienda, Alejandro could not help thinking that if his dearest dream came true, the night of the birthday fiesta would be an excellent time to announce their betrothal.

The swiftness with which this wonderful state of affairs had come about had been startling to both Brett and Sabrina. They had put aside their reservations and were enjoying a rapport that was similar to the one they had shared years ago—with one very vital difference—Sabrina was no longer a child. Watching her laughing face as they walked through the forest, Brett wondered how he had ever thought that Constanza's opulent charms would over shadow the powerful attraction that Sabrina held for him. That realization had caused him to end his relationship with Constanza weeks earlier. In the time that had followed, as he fell more and more under Sabrina's spell, that brief liaison faded from his mind. There was only room for Sabrina in his thoughts, and for the first time in his life, the iron guard around his heart slipped.

Constanza was only a faint niggle in the back of Sabrina's mind; she was certain that he was no longer seeing the other woman. When she glanced at Brett and saw the warm glint in his eyes as their gazes met, her heart leaped. Surely he wouldn't look at her like that if he was still seeing Constanza? A bubble of joy surged through her as she sent him a blinding smile.

Brett blinked at the charm of that smile and said huskily, "Infant, you should warn us poor males before you flash that sweet smile—it can have a devastating effect on the unprepared."

Sabrina dimpled and Brett was unable to stop himself from reaching out and gently caressing her mouth, his finger lingering on her bottom lip. Sabrina nipped him lightly and Brett smiled, a smile no other woman had ever seen. Softly he said, "I think you are bewitching me. I find that I am looking forward to these afternoons together far too much for my liking—if I am not careful, you will command all of my time."

"Would that be so very bad?" Sabrina asked breathlessly.

His smile faded and his gaze wandered over her upturned face. "No," he said slowly, "no, I don't think it would be at all."

Sabrina looked away. Shyly she murmured, "I have noticed that you spend more time at the hacienda... is there nothing in Nacogdoches that holds your interest these days?"

Brett turned her face to his. His expression was tender as he said quietly, "Nacodgoches has nothing for me—it really never did, only I was too blind to see it...."

If the situation at the hacienda had grown better, the situation with Carlos was deteriorating rapidly. Though Sabrina refused to meet him as often as she had in the past, she did see him frequently. But the encounters between them were uncomfortable and strained. She was unhappily aware that Carlos had not really changed his opinion of Brett, and there were even times, late at night, alone in her room, when she wondered if she wasn't allowing herself to be caught up by Brett's dark charm. Perhaps Carlos was right.... No! She didn't want to believe it. But if she who loved him had doubts, how could she possibly condemn Carlos for his suspicions?

On the Monday afternoon before her birthday fiesta on Friday, Sabrina made her way toward the gazebo to meet Carlos. She had made up her mind to tell Carlos that there was no longer any need for these secretive assignations. If felt wrong and unsavory and it was time to stop. Past time.

The day was hot, and even though she had just donned a gown of cool lavender linen, by the time she reached the gazebo it was sticking uncomfortably to her back. Pushing back a strand of the red-gold hair that tumbled across her forehead, she entered the welcoming shade of the gazebo.

Carlos was already there, lounging against the bright yellow and green pillows.

At Sabrina's entrance, his petulant expression vanished and he standing up, he smiled warmly at her. "Querida, you came! I had just begun to fear that today also you were going to disappoint me." Censure in his voice, he added, "I miss you a great deal, and since you no longer meet with me as frequently as you once did, I find my days long and lonely."

Sabrina sent him a strained smile. Moving nervously around the gazebo, she said distractedly, "I would have thought that you would have been very busy of late. I know that Brett is."

Seeing the way Carlos's eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened, Sabrina could have bitten her tongue. "But, of course, he wouldn't be if it weren't for the sugar cane lands," she muttered quickly.

Carlos snorted. "Sugar cane! Do not speak to me about that! I still cannot understand your father's reasoning. If you want my opinion, it is a foolish waste of time and money. Brett Dangermond is the only one who is going to gain anything."

Knowing it was useless to try to convince him otherwise, and aware of a small flicker of doubt within herself, she said coolly, "Perhaps. But I didn't come here to discuss either Señor Brett or my father."

Recognizing that he was doing his own cause little good, Carlos forced himself to act naturally. His black eyes soft, he patted the orange cushion next to him. "Come, querida. Come and sit by me, and let us talk. Of late it seems too often we quarrel."

Sabrina cast a longing glance at the doorway and then walked over and sat beside him. Wanting the unpleasantness over as soon as possible, she said abruptly, "Carlos, I don't really think we have much to talk of these days. I... I..." She hesitated and sent him a troubled look. "I don't want to come here to meet you anymore." Having got the most difficult words out, she smiled encouragingly at him and said in a rush, "We can still see each other as often as you like—you know that you are always welcome at the hacienda."

Carlos stiffened, and something ugly entered those black eyes. His voice edged with anger, he snapped, "It is Dangermond, isn't it? He has turned you against me." Warming to his theme, he raged, "I have seen it coming! The way your eyes light up when you say his name, the way you praise him, and now you will allow him to destroy what is between us."

"That's not true!" she retorted. "There never was anything between us and you delude yourself if you think there was."

"Oh, do I?" he said, in a tone of voice alarming to Sabrina. That and the way he turned to look at her, his mouth twisting into a smile that wasn't a smile at all. Slowly the black eyes roamed over her face, and then, to her surprise, he reached out and touched her cheek. His voice low, he muttered, "I think you delude yourself. Always there has been something between us, but you will not let it grow. You hide from it, but I tell you that it is there, and I cannot let you ignore it any longer." Almost crooning, a glazed look in his eyes, he went on, "You are meant to be mine, querida. And I will not let Dangermond poison your mind against me. Today I shall have to prove to you how completely you are mine." An arrested expression flickered across his face, and he murmured almost to himself, "Of course. Why didn't I think of it before?" His hands moved to capture her shoulders, and he dragged her up against his chest. His mouth inches from hers, he muttered, "Forgive me, querida, for what I am about to do, but there is no other way! You must be mine, my wife, and I can see only one way in which to bring that about."

Sabrina didn't understand what he meant, but instinctively she fought, her hands pushing ineffectually against his chest. Carlos ignored her struggles, his mouth pressing down avidly on hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth.

Furious and frightened, Sabrina fought like the tigress she so often resembled, but while she and Carlos were of much the same height, he was much stronger, and her attempts to escape were fruitless. He was like a man possessed, his hands tearing at her gown and his own clothes. Sabrina's dress was torn from her shoulder, and with mingled rage and fear, she felt his hand fondling her naked breast. To her horror she realized that he had ripped away the upper portion of her gown and she was naked from the waist up.

Aware that she could not best him in a battle of strength, she stopped her wild thrashings, and freeing her mouth from his, attempted to reason with him. "Carlos, querido," she pleaded, "please, please..." Her sentence wasn't finished as Carlos muffled her lips with his.

During their fight, Sabrina had been pinned down on the cushions by Carlos's heavier body. She hadn't been deeply frightened at first, but as the moments passed, and Carlos showed no inclination to stop his assault, fright grew within her. His hands seemed to be everywhere, his mouth plundering hers with increasingly passionate, probing kisses that affected her quite, quite differently from Brett's kisses. Nausea rose in her throat—that and hysteria. When his hand slid up her thighs, pushing the lavender gown up around her waist, Sabrina knew a quiver of pure panic. He was going to rape her!

She heard the sound of her delicate undergarments being torn away, and it galvanized her into frantic fight. Uselessly her fists beat against Carlos's back, and violently she twisted and squirmed beneath him, trying desperately to throw off his crushing weight. Her mouth ached from his brutal kisses, and feeling him pressing his loins against hers, feeling his body slipping between her thighs, terrified her. This was no delight; there was no joy, no pleasure, in what was happening to her. Full of fear and fury, blindly she struck at Carlos's face.

He muttered gutturally under his breath, his chest heaving with his exertions and the passion that consumed him, but her blow did not slow or deter him. If anything it seemed to goad him on, and he groaned deep in his throat, grinding their bodies together in an obscene parody of lovemaking. His hand fumbled with the fastenings of his calzoneras, and for one sickening, terrible moment, she felt his hardened flesh probing between her legs.

She stiffened in shocked rejection of his actions, her mind refusing to accept what was about to happen. This can't be happening to me! Carlos would never treat me this way! But he was, and his hand stroking the soft hair between her thighs, his fingers preparing the way for him, infused her struggles with a new, maddened strength. It had no effect on him, and with something akin to enraged despair, she sensed he was readying himself to join their bodies together as he braced his hips and pulled her closer to his engorged manhood. Then, like a frigid blast from the Arctic, an icy voice inquired, "Am I interrupting something?"