Chapter 17

 

Sabrina had found sleep no easier to obtain than Brett had, but at least she wasn't driven by the same demons. She did, however, have doubts of her own.

She didn't regret what had happened tonight. And even though she lay sleepless in her bed, her body aching from Brett's lovemaking, a warm feeling of happiness surrounded her. She had become a woman tonight, Brett's woman, and nothing could ever diminish that joy. But in the back of her mind there was a faint, niggling worry, a worry that as time passed became larger and more dominant.

Brett had said he would speak to her father, and it was only natural that she assumed he meant to ask for her hand in marriage. Soon she would be his wife, and while she was flooded with joyous anticipation, she could not entirely banish a persistent feeling of anxiety... of foreboding.

At first she suspected it was the memory of all the gloomy things that Tia Sofia had written about Brett that disturbed her. But finally, after much twisting and turning, she decided that it wasn't those letters and what they contained that was behind her sensation of uneasiness. It was Brett himself. She wasn't naive enough to think that he was going to change overnight into a perfect suitor or even husband; she was aware that there were bound to be obstacles in their path to happiness. But if they loved one another...

Love. They had made love tonight, wildly passionate love, and she had no reservations about the depth of his wanting—his body betrayed it, and even he had admitted it. But wanting wasn't loving, and not once tonight, even in the throes of his deepest passion, had he mentioned or hinted that he loved her.

Restlessly she turned over in her bed. What did that matter? she asked herself rebelliously. She hadn't mentioned love either. But I do love him, she thought fiercely. So much so that I cannot even bear to think of life without him. But does he love me?

She wanted to believe that he did. It was incomprehensible that he could have acted as he had, done the things he had to her, and yet not love her. But he hadn't said so, her brain insisted slyly. He said he wanted her, and men were vastly different from women. They didn't need love to make love.

Sabrina sat up in bed, and pulling her knees to her chest, she stared blankly through the dawn-filled room. Could she marry a man who didn't love her, who only wanted her? And was it only her body he wanted, or did the del Torres fortune have any influence upon him?

Angry for even thinking such a thing, she pushed that thought aside. Carlos's suspicions have begun to haunt me, she thought. And she wondered, for the first time, what her cousin had meant by his comments about Constanza.

Assailed by the memory of Brett dancing with Constanza, Sabrina was startled at the wave of jealous fury that swept over her. He was hers, and she would not share him. But how did one tame such a man, bind such a man so tightly, so strongly, that he would never ever wish for another woman?

She didn't know the answer, but with a determined expression on her exquisite face, she made a grim vow that she would find a solution. There was much, she realized, that she would forgive him, but another woman was not one of those things—his past she could live with, but his future...

She giggled. She was going to have to make him want her so desperately, so powerfully, that he would never have a second in which to even think of another woman. And perhaps, just maybe, she could make him love her as much as she loved him—then nothing could ever come between them; their love would conquer any difficulty they might confront in the future.

Satisfied, Sabrina yawned and slid back between her sheets. She smiled and drifted off to dream of Brett, of the wonderful life that was going to be theirs.

That morning, Alejandro was surprised to discover that he would be breakfasting alone. Sabrina, Bonita informed him, was sleeping soundly, no doubt worn out from yesterday's festivities, and Ollie had said that his master was doing the same. Somewhat thoughtfully, Alejandro ate his morning meal. He had been up as late as the others, he was much older than the others, and yet he had found it no trouble to rise by mid-morning. He smiled, remembering certain moonlit conversations with Elena during the halcyon time of their courtship. Ah, if only...

That lazy afternoon, he was to have his fondest wish come true. A polite note from Brett requesting to meet him in the library at three o'clock sent his hopes spinning wildly and when at the appointed hour Brett presented himself and formally requested Sabrina's hand in marriage, Alejandro could hardly contain himself.

An affectionate grin splitting his handsome face, Alejandro cried joyously, "But of course you have my permission to marry my daughter! It is what I have hoped for, dreamed of since..." He stopped and sent Brett, standing politely in front of the sofa where he sat, a sheepish look. An embarrassed flush stained his cheeks, and almost shamefacedly he admitted, "When I sent you the invitation to visit with us, to discuss the planting of sugar, I have to confess that I hoped that you and Sabrina would fall in love and wish to marry. The sugar was only an excuse to invite you." A twinkle in his eyes, he murmured, "I trust you will forgive you father-in-law-to-be for this deception?"

An answering twinkle in the jade-green eyes, Brett admitted, "You know, I wondered about that invitation—and your tepid interest in the growing of sugar." He bowed mockingly. "You played your cards very close to your chest, I'll grant you that. Remind me to be more wary of you in the future—especially when you send me invitations."

Even though Brett had told Sabrina he would speak to her father, he hadn't been as certain about the outcome as he would have liked. And as the hour had approached for him to face Alejandro and actually bring up the subject of marriage, Brett had been aware of a feeling of uncertainty and nervousness—he who was always confident and assured and never nervous. It had occurred unpleasantly to him that Alejandro might withhold his approval of the match, and he had been shocked at the tight ball of tension that had lodged in his chest when he finally met with Alejandro. Relieved to have the business done with, Brett relaxed and allowed himself to be caught up in Alejandro's enthusiasm.

They discussed possible dates for the announcement, then the possible places and dates for the wedding itself. It was at that point that Brett remembered something of vital importance. A rueful smile curving his chiseled mouth, he said, "I think before we proceed much further, sir, that I had better ask your daughter what she feels about the situation." Wryly he continued, "She could, you know, turn me down."

"Unthinkable!" Alejandro burst out. Almost beseechingly, he asked, "She won't, will she? You won't let her refuse you?"

Brett grinned. "I believe you are the one to give me encouragement, not the other way around."

Alejandro pulled a face. "I know, but with Sabrina I am often helpless." He shot Brett an appraising look. "You know," he said, "it was because I thought you could control her, tame her if you will, that I considered you as a son-in-law. I wanted someone strong for her, someone she would not lead around like a pet bull." A smile crossed his face. "And you, amigo, were the only person I could think of. The only man I wanted for my daughter. I wanted her safe and I wanted her loved, and I believe that you will do both—protect her and love her."

Feeling humble and crass, Brett replied levelly, "I promise you that I shall spend my life doing just that." The enormity of what he had just committed himself to struck him like a blow. Did he love Sabrina? Protect her he certainly would... but love her? Love was a word that had never entered his vocabulary. Though he would admit to a powerful attraction, a compelling affinity, he wasn't yet ready to call it love. He wanted her in many ways, not just her body but all the things she was: he wanted to marry her, wanted her as his wife, wanted the right to call her his own... but love?

Alejandro was too taken up with his own thoughts to realize that Brett had never said that he loved Sabrina, and rising from the sofa, Alejandro walked to the door. Opening it, he motioned to his majordomo, Clemente, who was hovering nearby, and said, "Find Señorita Sabrina and request that she join us, por favor."

A beaming smile on his dark face, Clemente hustled away. That a betrothal was imminent would have been impossible to conceal from the house servants—and after yesterday's scene at the bull ring, the entire ranch was speculating about the situation. Clemente found Sabrina just as she was coming down the stairs, and a benevolent sparkle in his brown eyes, he delivered Alejandro's request. After watching her walk toward the library, he rushed to the kitchen, eager to share this tidbit with the others.

Sabrina had taken special care with her toilet this day, and she looked breathtakingly lovely. The red-gold hair tumbled in artless array about her shoulders, framing her bewitching features. There was an expectant glow in the amber-gold depths of her eyes, a soft smile curved her full lips, and her gown of crisp white muslin intensified the golden sheen of her skin. High-waisted in the latest fashion from Europe and trimmed with a profusion of frothy lace at the modest neckline and puffed sleeves, the gown heightened her exotic beauty, the full skirt fluttering delightfully as she entered the room where Alejandro and Brett awaited her.

Brett was conscious of a rush of some indefinable emotion through his body when he saw her, and in that instant nothing mattered anymore except that he must have her as his wife. A glitter flickered in the depths of those jade-green eyes, not quite tender, not quite savage, and yet wholly devastating.

Shyly Sabrina's gaze met his, a flush attractively staining her cheeks at the expression in his eyes. She had forgotten the impact he had upon her, and now, facing him in the sane light of day, seeing that lean, handsome face, remembering the taste of those hard lips on hers, her pulse quickened.

Alejandro observed them with pleased satisfaction, and feeling decidedly de trop, he approached Sabrina and took her hand in his. Sending her a smile full of warmth and love, he said softly, "Chica, Brett has something he would like to ask you. And like the good father I am, I will leave you alone with him to hear what he has to say. I hope most fervently that you will find his conversation very appealing."

Alone with Brett, Sabrina discovered herself tongue-tied. Her eyes fixed on the top button of his gaily embroidered waistcoat, she wondered wildly what to say to him. Buenos dias seemed a tepid and formal greeting to a man in whose arms one had lain naked and abandoned the previous evening, and yet to blurt out "I love you!" was unthinkable.

Brett was in exactly the same predicament, although confessing to love wasn't his problem. Sophisticated and urbane as he was, he had never before proposed marriage. Words whirled through his brain, emotions he had never even guessed at beat frantically in his heart, and yet he was speechless. He was aware of a fierce yearning to sweep her into his arms, to rain soft kisses over her face, to whisper he knew not what in her ear, but he was as helpless and backward as an untried youth.

He should have followed his natural inclinations, but as the silence spun out and grew strained, he finally said stiffly, "I asked your father if he would allow us to marry—he said it would please him. Would it please you?" It wasn't how he had meant to propose, and silently, bitterly, he cursed his clumsiness.

He made no move to approach her, and Sabrina didn't realize the effort it had cost him to say those seemingly indifferent words. Numbly she stared at him, conscious of a pain in her heart, a feeling of dismay and disappointment creeping through her. How cold he sounded. How very unloverlike, she thought with a flick of temper.

Slowly her eyes searched his shuttered face, pondering the enigma he represented. Where had the impassioned lover of last night gone? Why did he seem so very cold and aloof, almost intimidating? And again it occurred to her that he had never mentioned love. Hadn't even told her that he cared for her now.

Unable to stand the suspense, filled with an alien nervousness, Brett demanded, "Well? Are you going to marry me?" He was aware that he was mishandling the situation, but he was unable to do anything else. Where, he questioned sourly, is my facile tongue? Where are the words that I really want to say? How can I explain what I feel? How do I tell her of the yearnings, the intoxicating sensations, she arouses within me? The pleasure and excitement I feel whenever she is near me?

His proposal and manner struck Sabrina as insulting, and for a moment she toyed with the notion of refusing him. But the reality of the situation held her fast—she wanted desperately to become his wife, and despite his surly offer of marriage, she knew what her answer would be. But there was a sparkle of resentment in her eyes as she said as curtly as he, "Yes, yes, I will marry you."

He felt greatly relieved. A surge of painful joy engulfed him, leaving him light-headed. Fatuously he grinned at her and said devoutly, "Thank God that's over with!" And he could have bitten his tongue off the second the thoughtless words had left his lips.

Sabrina stiffened, and her face unfriendly, she started to make a scathing reply, but Brett reached her in one swift stride. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her warmly, tenderly, almost, Sabrina thought, astonished, apologetically.

Lifting his mouth from hers, his hands lightly holding her shoulders, he said ruefully, "Forgive me, infant! I haven't much practice in offering for a wife."

Not the least appeased, although she did feel encouraged, Sabrina sent him a look. "I am not," she spluttered, "an infant! And in the future you would do well to remember it."

A smile that made Sabrina's hand itch to slap his cheek curved his mouth. "As you say, madame wife-to-be," he replied meekly enough, a mocking gleam in the jade-green eyes.

Trapped between a sudden desire to giggle and an urge to smack that infuriating smile from his face, Sabrina stood in the circle of his arms. A small silence fell, and gradually the smile faded from Brett's lips.

Intently they stared at one another, a powerful, fierce emotion exploding between them, and with a muttered imprecation, Brett jerked her to him and found her mouth with his. Passionately they clung to one another, their arms locked around each other, oblivious to anything but the sheer, heady rapture that consumed them.

Alejandro's polite tap on the door they never even heard, and after waiting a few seconds longer, he tapped a little harder. Still no response, and impatient to know the results of his matchmaking, he opened the door. Seeing the embracing couple, he sighed happily, an expression of delight crossing his face. He hesitated and then coughed politely.

Reluctantly Brett raised his head and slowly released Sabrina. Looking across to Alejandro, he stated simply, "She said yes."

Alejandro laughed. "I assumed so." And clapping his hands, he ordered, when Clemente appeared, "A bottle of our very best wine—the bottle of claret that I laid down when Sabrina was born." His voice filled with satisfaction, he added, "Your mistress is to be married, Clemente. Wish her well!"

Grinning from ear to ear, Clemente did just that and then raced away to do Alejandro's bidding and to spread the word. Their Señorita Sabrina would marry the handsome Señor Brett! What joy had come to the household of the del Torreses.

Sabrina remained in the circle of Brett's arms, her face glowing with exhilaration. She was to marry Brett! She was to be his wife. Oh, but the saints and the angels had been good to her. The man she adored would be her husband.

Appraising the expression on her face, Alejandro chuckled. "I don't need to ask if you are happy, chica. Your eyes give you away."

Sabrina blushed, and she thought she felt Brett's mouth brush her hair the moment before she rushed into her father's arms. Smiling at Alejandro, she confessed, "I am happy. Are you?"

"But of course, chica! Didn't I plan it?" he asked with mock affront.

A frown creased her forehead. "Plan it?"

Alejandro's mouth twisted wryly. "You will not be offended and wreak your wrath on us poor helpless males?" he demanded teasingly. When Sabrina shook her head, he continued, "I wanted a good strong man for you. Someone you could love and respect. Someone who would insure that you had the kind of marriage I shared with your mother. There was no one I could think of until I remembered Brett. And that," he said with a wide grin, "is why I wrote to him and invited him to visit with us. Why I appeared to be so interested in growing sugar."

Sabrina laughed with her father, but there was a hollow feeling in her chest. Was this an arranged marriage then, after all? Had her father and Brett arranged things to their satisfaction while she, poor, silly fool, had blindly gone along with their plan, even to the extent of falling in love? She thrust the notion away, trying to recapture her euphoria.

It proved to be ridiculously easy to accomplish. The wine arrived, and with Brett's warm, strong arm around her waist, the look in his eyes vanquished her fears as her father offered a toast to them. They drank the toast from the same glass, Brett, his gaze intent upon her face, placing his lips where hers had touched.

Alejandro was ecstatic, full of plans, full of satisfaction and a sense of peace. Lightly he touched the turquoise and silver bracelet Elena had given him. She will be happy, querida, he promised silently.

Happily he called to Clemente again, insisting that the house servants come and join in the toast. The hacienda was soon full of laughter and excited chatter, the news spreading like wildfire down to the stables, to the vaqueros and their families.

Flushed and jubilant, eventually Alejandro and the betrothed pair found themselves seated on the patio, recovering from the irrepressible outpouring of good will and good wishes the engagement had occasioned. And it was then that Carlos arrived at the hacienda.

That something momentous had occurred was obvious from the animated buzz of conversation he heard when he rode up to the front of the hacienda and dismounted. Clemente's beaming smile and his, "Oh, Señor Carlos! Such good news! But come, come to the patio and let Señor Alejandro tell you." gave him an inkling of what was to come.

Carlos hid his fury well. Alejandro never suspected the rage and hatred that churned in his nephew's breast when he called out gaily, "Hola, Carlos! Come and join us. If we all seem a trifle giddy, it is because just this afternoon, shortly before you arrived, Brett and Sabrina became betrothed."

The black eyes opaque, Carlos flashed a polite smile to the trio. "My congratulations," he said, his voice without warmth or enthusiasm. Fixing Sabrina with an assessing stare, he added, "I trust that you will be happy, cousin, with your choice."

Brett had risen when Carlos appeared, and standing next to Sabrina's chair, he laid a strong hand lightly but meaningfully on her slender shoulder. His dark green eyes full of challenge, he promised softly, "She will be, you have no concern over that."

The hostility between the two men could be felt, and Alejandro moved uneasily. With a forced joviality, he said, "Join us, please, in a toast for their future together."

Just short of rudeness, Carlos declined. "I am sorry, Tio," he said, "but I cannot linger. I only came to tell you that the bandits are active again."

"What?" Alejandro demanded. "When and where have they struck?"

Expressionless, Carlos replied, "Last night, as your guests were leaving the fiesta. Apparently they were waiting for them and robbed several of our neighbors and friends as they rode homes. No one," he finished, "was harmed, but the ladies were much frightened, and in some cases, family jewels of great worth were taken."

"This is an outrage!" Alejandro burst out. "My guests! Robbed as they leave my home!" His cheeks flushed with his emotions, Alejandro rose to his feet, his fist slamming down on the iron table. "Something must be done this time. They must be stopped! No one is safe from them."

Watching Carlos's face, Brett asked, "How did it happen? Were they robbed all at once, in a group? Or separately?"

For a second Brett thought Carlos wouldn't answer him, but then the Spaniard glanced at him and said flatly, "Separately. From what has been said, there were no more than three or four bandits and they waited to strike until each family was alone on the road."

"Three or four? Doesn't anybody know how many there were?"

Carlos shrugged. "Some say three, some say four. Who knows? There is such fear and anger over what happened that there could have been a dozen armed men, but the victims cannot remember."

Dismayed, Alejandro looked to Brett. "What is to be done? We cannot let this continue. Now no one will be safe."

"There is to be a meeting tonight at our hacienda," Carlos snapped. "We will devise a plan to trap the bandits then."

"I seem to remember something like that last April, but nothing came of it," Brett murmured.

Carlos's face whitened. "And do you have a better suggestion, gringo?" he demanded hotly.

Brett nodded. "A trap. A trap we three concoct." He slanted a teasing look down at Sabrina, his fingers curling one of the silken locks of her bright hair. "We four, rather," he added.

"Bah! You don't know what you are talking about," Carlos bit out.

"Yes, I do. Have your meeting tonight. But let us now make a plan of our own. A plan that only we shall know about—making it unlikely to fail because of wagging tongues." He sent Carlos a level glance. "With only the four of us, five if you count my man Ollie, there is no chance of failure."

Alejandro nodded slowly in agreement, although there was a slight frown on his face. "What do you intend for us to do, amigo?"

"Tomorrow is Sunday," Brett said. "As usual we will ride into Nacogdoches to attend Mass. But after Mass, when we are talking with your neighbors and friends, we will mention that you are most concerned for all the many treasures that are here at the hacienda, Sabrina's jewelry and other valuables. We will tell everyone that you intend to bring them into town on Monday for safe keeping."

"Just like that?" Carlos questioned. "No guards? Nothing to protect them from thievery? Do you really believe the bandits are that stupid? They'll know it's a trap." His lip curled contemptuously, and he added, "If they even know about it."

Brett's eyes narrowed. "I think you've forgotten precisely how swiftly talk travels in a small community. I would be willing to wager a goodly sum that by tomorrow afternoon, there will be hardly a soul in the Nacogdoches area who doesn't know what was discussed after Mass in the morning."

Alejandro nodded."That's true. Conversation after Mass is almost as good as a town crier for spreading the news."

"Very well," Carlos conceded ungraciously. "The bandits will hear of it, but why won't they smell a trap?"

"Because," Brett said smoothly, "Alejandro will tell everyone that he is going to fool the bandits by secreting the jewels and objects in a load of hay he is selling to Señor Gutierrez at the livery stable. That he will be driving the cart himself and will only bring along two vaqueros to accompany it. He doesn't want to be guarded for fear the bandits—and remember, we don't know really how many there are—will guess what he is about and will summon more of their own number and attack him."

"Excellent!" Alejandro said approvingly. "And you and Carlos will be the two vaqueros?"

Brett smiled and shook his head. "No. Carlos, Ollie, and I will be under the hay, armed and ready to strike."

"You have thought it out well, gringo," Carlos said with grudging admiration.

Brett inclined his head. "Thank you." Then, glancing around, he asked, "Are we agreed then?"

The other two men nodded. "Si," they both replied, and Alejandro rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Only Sabrina had objections.

Her eyes fixed on Brett's, she asked, "But what if something goes wrong? What if there are more than three or four bandits? You could be hurt!"

"Not a chance, sweetheart. There are four of them at the most, possibly only three; there will be six of us, and we will have the element of surprise."

Almost wistfully she muttered, "I wish I could come along, too. I am proficient with the pistol. I could hide under the hay with you."

There was a resounding "No!" from the three males, and Sabrina reluctantly put the idea from her.

Carlos left immediately. "There are others I still must see, keeping with the original plan," he said, and hurried away.

For some moments after he had departed, the other three continued to discuss the bandits and Brett's plan, but eventually the conversation not unnaturally returned to a more pleasant topic—the wedding that would be arranged within the next few months. Sipping his claret, Alejandro leaned back in his chair and remarked, "It will be lonesome for me once you two are married and you have gone to live at Riverview. I trust you will come back often to visit me?"

Sabrina started to protest that she didn't want to live at Riverview in Natchez, that aspect of being married to Brett not having occurred to her previously, but Brett halted her exclamations by saying, "We won't be living at Riverview."

Alejandro quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? Why not? Since you are heir to the estate, I assumed that you would wish to live there. Someday, after I am gone, you will have to make some decisions about the rancho, but that is in the future."

"Far in the future, I hope!" Brett said with an affectionate smile. His face sobered, and he confessed, "I am no longer the heir to Riverview—it is to go to Gordon, my young half brother."

"What?" Sabrina inquired, every suspicion she had ever entertained about Brett rising up before her.

Brett sent her a hooded glance, his face unsmiling. "Exactly what I said. Riverview is not mine—will not ever be mine." An odd note in his voice, he continued, "I have a plantation in the lower Louisiana Territory. It is not Riverview, but you should have no fear that I am not able to provide well for you." He made no mention of his other wealth, intensely curious about her reaction to the news that she would never be mistress of his father's elegant mansion and wealthy estate.

The fact that she was a considerable heiress hadn't ever bothered Sabrina. It probably wouldn't have even now if Brett had said he loved her and had explained earlier about Riverview. As it was, she couldn't help but wonder about his proposal, couldn't help but be aware of how very little she actually knew about the man she had just consented to marry. Carlos's tale of the knife-slashed girl in New Orleans came back to haunt her, as well as his comments about Constanza, and Sabrina felt sick. If she had been more confident in her love, if Brett had been more forthcoming, more honest about his emotions and situation, there would have been no doubts, no unpleasant suspicions running through her mind.

Because she was silent, that the news of his loss of Riverview troubled her was obvious to Brett. That she might be thinking he was the fortune hunter never crossed his mind. But then he had never been privy to Sofia's letters about Hugh threatening to disown him, had never realized that there might be some speculation about his reasons for suddenly appearing in the wilds of Spanish Texas. And of course, there was Carlos....

Carlos had done his work well on both of them, the sly innuendos he had flung at Sabrina now taking root, raising all manner of uncertainty in her mind. As for Brett, he had the memory of Lady Diana's disdain, as well as Carlos's ugly statement that Sabrina was interested in his fortune, to arouse demons he had thought he had conquered.

They were both appalled at their thoughts, guilt-stricken and horrified that they could harbor such disgusting ideas about the person they had just agreed to marry, and yet, like a tiny sliver under the skin, the suspicions would not go away. Both refused to think about the distasteful subject, and both thrust the ideas away as nonsense, but the seed had been planted, and they were hampered by their lack of trust in one another.

The disclosure about Riverview didn't faze Alejandro in the least; he knew the full extent of Brett's fortune. If anything, the lack of Riverview pleased him, and he said, "Well, since Riverview has no claim upon you, why don't you consider settling here?" He smiled faintly. "I am approaching the day when I will be relieved to loosen the reins of the Rancho del Torres, and nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see it fall into your capable hands."

It was a tactless remark to have made in front of Sabrina. Completely unaware of its effect upon his daughter, Alejandro sent her an affectionate look and compounded the error by saying, "It has long troubled me, chica, the idea of you running the rancho single-handedly. A woman needs a strong man to care for her, and now that Brett has undertaken that responsibility, I know that I can rest easy."

Inadvertently made to feel like an imbecile, Sabrina fought down her humiliated anger. Her face stiff and set, the rage and resentment that were stirring in her breast apparent to Brett—rage and resentment he wrongly attributed to the news about Riverview—she stood up and said tightly, "I didn't realize that becoming betrothed automatically stripped me of the ability to take care of myself. What would you have done, Father, if Brett had not offered for me—put me in a nunnery?" She gave a bitter laugh and sent both men a hostile look. "Excuse me, I must go now and say prayers of thankfulness for the fate I have been spared."

In shocked dismay, Alejandro watched her sweep from the courtyard. Horrified at her reaction, he glanced helplessly to Brett. "She is so young and proud," he muttered. "I should never have said a word about her needing someone to care for her—she is quite certain that she needs no one, that she is as competent as any man."

Brett's eyes fixed on Sabrina's departing figure, almost to himself, he murmured, "But perhaps it wasn't that which made her angry. Perhaps it was"—his voice hardened—"something entirely different."