The Master Fiddler Part 10

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Her eyes opened reluctantly. The full light of a morning sun streamed through the window. A gray lethargy dulled her senses. For an instant, she couldn't even remember where she was. She felt bruised and battered and didn't know why.

Throwing back the covers, she slid from the bed. A post offered support when her legs trembled weakly beneath her. Her dazed glance out the window focused on the shiny, spreading stalks of a cholla cactus. Choya. Memory contracted her stomach with sickening shame. She wanted to crawl beneath the covers and hide. For all her outcries denying his attraction, she had nearly succ.u.mbed to his advances last night willingly.

Robotlike, Jacquie walked to the closet and chest of drawers, dressing without any particular concern about her appearance. She was indifferent to the lateness of the hour. There was no curiosity as to why she had been al The Master Fiddler lowed to sleep so late, who had got the breakfast and seen Robbie onto the school bus.

Emptied of all feeling, she was hollow and insensitive. She walked back to the bed, shoving the blanket and bedspread to the foot, and began stripping the top sheet from the mattress.

Footsteps stopped outside her door. The k.n.o.b turned to swing it open. Jacquie glanced over her shoulder, her blank gaze focusing on Choya framed by the doorway. Tall, vitally masculine, he paused there.

The light in his tawny eyes was one she had never seen before. Not that she cared. At this moment she didn't care about anything.

"I thought I heard you moving about," he said quietly. "I guessed " his alert gaze swept appraisingly over her " you would sleep late."

Jacquie turned her head away. "I'll fix breakfast shortly." Her voice was as flat as her spirit.

"There's no need. Sam took care of it," Choya replied.

Shrugging her lack of interest, she started tucking the ends of her shirt into her jeans. She was aware that he was still standing there watching her, and his presence disturbed her.

Her nerve ends sharpened, focusing on Choya. There could have been a mortal wound in her heart and she would have felt no pain.

His firm stride carried Choya toward her. Jacquie heard it, but determinedly kept her attention on her shirt. When he stopped behind her, she didn't acknowledge his nearness with a look.

His hands lightly gripped the sides of her ~ waist, their touch unexpectedly paralyzing her for an instant. She didn't resist when he drew her back against the muscled hardness of his chest nor when his arms crossed around the front of her slender waist. Her hands hesitated away from her as she inhaled the l.u.s.ty scent of his maleness, familiar and intoxicating.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jacquie saw the dark gleam of his brown hair. Then he buried his mouth along the side of her neck.

"Jacqueline." He said her name in a huskily caressing tone.

For an instant, she relaxed against him, finding solace and nourishment for the emptiness of last night. Just as suddenly she hated his tenderness. She hated him.

Last night he had nearly seduced her. He couldn't come here this morning and expect The Master Fiddler her to forgive. Not once did it occur to her that she had been a more than willing partic.i.p.ant.

There was only cold hatred as she turned in his embrace. She wedged her arms against his chest, gaining distance from his bent head. The smoldering light of his gaze roamed possessively over her upturned face.

"If you'd warned me you were coming this morning, I would have worn my armory," she told him with chilling aloofness.

His head drew back sharply, his gaze narrowing to a piercing intensity. The jeweled brilliance of her eyes left Choya in little doubt of what she was feeling.

"Should I expect morning a.s.saults as well as evening from now on?" Jacquie challenged when he remained silent.

"Dammit, Jacquie, I " he began angrily.

"What do you have to swear about?" she interrupted, twisting free of his arms to glare at him indignantly. "It's a pity you didn't get your money's worth last night, you certainly tried."

"Stop it!" Choya grabbed her shoulders and gave her a vicious shake. It dissipated her anger to leave a freezing calm.

"I'm not becoming hysterical," she a.s.sured him.

He took a deep breath to control the anger she had aroused. "Do you think I liked what happened last night?"

A finely arched brow lifted. "I hope you aren't expecting me to apologize for my lack of encouragement."

"You know d.a.m.n well that's not what I meant." His lips were compressed into a grim line, heightening the ruthless quality of his features.

"What did you mean?" Jacquie challenged. "Are you trying to deny that your intention was to seduce me? Pay the fiddler, as you call it. And you are the master fiddler, aren't you?"

"I am not here to apologize for what I didn't do."

"If you didn't come here for that, then you must have had another reason." She began tucking in her blouse again.

"You're impossible!" Choya declared savagely. His hand snaked out to check her movements, his harsh gaze almost unwillingly slipping to the exposed shadowy cleavage.

Jacquie emitted an exaggerated sigh and shook back her hair. "I wish you would explain why you're here."

T.

"Why do you insist on making this difficult for me?" he snapped.

"Difficult for you?" she taunted. "What's the matter, Choya? Are you experiencing a few twinges of guilt and remorse for kidnapping me? Did you expect me to tell you it was all right and not to worry about it? Well, I can't and won't."

"I didn't expect you to," Choya replied tightly, a muscle twitching along his jaw.

Jacquie derived satisfaction from his growing anger. "Didn't you? I'll bet you expected me to let you force yourself on me. Isn't that how you were going to get the money for the repair bill on my car?"

"Will you stop it?" His voice trembled low and harsh.

"Why?" She rounded her eyes. "Are you planning to let me go? I hope not. I'd like Robbie to know what kind of a father he has before I leave."

"You leave Robbie out of this!" His fingers dug punishingly into the soft flesh of her upper arms as he jerked her against him, close to his glowering features.

"Why?" Jacquie didn't flinch from the fury in his eyes nor attempt to struggle from his grip. "He's been the cause of this from the be ginning. He's the reason we saw each other after the accident. Because I have hair the color of moonbeams trapped in a mountain pool." She mocked him with his own description. "Did you think about your wife last night?"

"No!"

"You once said that I was trouble, but you've only had a taste of how much trouble I can be," she threatened.

"I'm warning you to leave my son out of this," Choya stated ominously.

"I'll tell you what," she murmured confidently. "If you let me go, then I'll leave Robbie alone."

"Do you think I'm not tempted?" he snarled, tightening his grip on her arms.

Jacquie tipped her head, the silken curtain of her hair swinging to the side and brushing against his sun-browned fingers. "I don't know."

Choya released her abruptly as if the feather softness of her hair against his skin was a match flame. His jaw was clenched. A fiery yellow gleam was in his eyes. He pivoted sharply and walked from the room with long impatient strides.

When the outside door slammed shut, Jacquie sank limply onto the bed. Her taunting The Master Fiddler words had been a means of revenge, but they left a bitter taste in her mouth. The throbbing ache in her heart hadn't eased. No satisfaction had been gained from making him angry with her accusations and threats, only more hurt. The unexpected discovery confused her.

Previously Jacquie had avoided Choya. During the next few days, it was he who avoided her. Every time he was in a room with her or sat down at the table to share a meal, she could sense that he found her presence an irritant. Yet it was more than that.

When circ.u.mstances forced them to be together, his gaze rarely left her, but the gold mask never allowed her to see what he was thinking. He didn't come near her or indicate that he desired to touch her again.

Her relief was genuine. Yet, perversely, there were times when she would glance at him and remember the exciting caress of his hands and the mastery of his kiss. Then she would ^row hot all over and have to excuse herself from the table or the room to escape his alert gaze and rid her mind of its wayward thoughts.

On Sat.u.r.day, Robbie claimed her company. He conducted Jacquie on a grand tour of the ranch yard and his favorite places to play. The last stop was the barn. The shadowy darkness was a welcome change from the glare of the sun.

"I come here a lot," he informed her, his crutches clumping through the scattered pieces of old straw on the cement walkway. "There are a lot of neat places to play. I even have a secret hiding place in here." He darted her an uneasy sideways glance an instant after he had said that.

"I'd like to show it to you, but " he frowned.

Jacquie guessed the reason for his obvious dilemma. "If you showed it to me, it wouldn't be a secret place anymore," she reasoned.

"You don't mind, then?" Robbie breathed anxiously.

"Of course, I don't," she smiled.

"Come on." He started off again. "I'll show you my horse, Apache."

A gentle-eyed palomino leaned his head over a manger, whinnying at the small boy who approached. It was a small horse, a little over fourteen hands, the perfect size for a growing boy.

"You can ride him if you want," Robbie offered as he stroked the velvet nose thrust toward him. "He won't throw you or anything The Master Fiddler like that. Dad says he doesn't have any bad manners."

Jacquie stroked the sleek neck. "Thanks, Robbie, but I'm afraid I don't know anything about saddling a horse. Maybe another time."

"I can show you," he a.s.sured her hopefully.

"Why don't we wait until you can ride, too?" Jacquie suggested.

"That will be too long," he protested.

"Can you ride, Miss Grey?"

At the sound of Choya's voice, Jacquie pivoted sharply. Her sudden movement startled the palomino, metal hooves sc.r.a.ping through the straw bed to the concrete floor as he backed hurriedly away from the manger.

With the same cat quietness that had enabled him to enter the barn unheard, Choya walked toward them. His tawny gaze inspected her expression of wary alarm.

"I can ride fairly well," she replied. Abstractedly she was amused that he had addressed her so formally.

"I told her she could ride Apache," Robbie inserted.

Choya glanced down at the boy. "Why don't we let her ride Johnnycake instead?"

"What's that? The most vicious horse in the stable?" she accused, her anger surfacing with a sudden rush.

"Johnny?" Robbie questioned with a hooting laugh, missing the venom in her tone. Choya didn't as he surveyed her coldly. "He's real gentle, Jacquie." He glanced at his father. "She doesn't know how to saddle a horse, dad. I was going to show her."

"Would you like to learn?" he challenged. Jacquie hesitated. She wanted to do nothing that would bring her into prolonged contact with Choya. It had been several days since she had thought about escaping. But if she changed her mind, then a horse was the only easily accessible means of transportation. "Yes, I would," she agreed. "I'll get Johnny out of the corral, Rob," Choya glanced briefly at his son, "while you show her where the tack is."

With the gear collected, they met Choya at the corral fence. He didn't show her how it was done. He told her how to saddle and bridle a horse. His instructions were clear and concise and Jacquie discovered it wasn't as difficult as she had thought.

When the buckskin was saddled, Jacquie mounted and rode him around the yard. He The Master Fiddler was considerably more tractable than some of the stable horses she had ridden. She was br.i.m.m.i.n.g with confidence when she cantered him back to the barn.

Her smile faded as Choya caught at the bridle and stopped the buckskin beside him. "You're welcome to ride him whenever you like," he told her briskly. "But don't leave the yard unless someone is with you."

"Are you afraid I'll keep riding and forget to come back?" Jacquie taunted.

"That would be a dangerous thing to do," he replied grimly.

"Oh, I knew you would come after me." Her mouth twisted bitterly.

"The danger is being alone in the desert."

"Is it?" she mocked, and slid from the saddle.

"He's a good horse, isn't he?" Robbie thumped forward.

"Yes, he is," Jacquie agreed, directing her attention to unsaddling the horse.

Robbie rested his weight contentedly on the crutches and watched her.

"Aren't you glad you're staying here with us?" he beamed.

She flashed a glittering look at Choya. "It's certainly been an experience."

The line of his jaw tightened ominously at her innuendo. He shoved the reins into Robbie's hand and walked away with a muttered comment that he had other things to do. His abrupt departure seemed to take the sting out of her resentment. Her gaze followed the wide shoulders, a hint of melancholy in its jewel depths.

On Sunday, Jacquie rode again, keeping to Choya's edict to stay close to the house. Her ride on Monday was longer, a reconnaissance tour of the land surrounding the ranch yard. The following day her previously unused muscles began voicing a vigorous protest at the exercise.

A hot shower that night had eased much of their stiffness, but they still ached with uncomfortable soreness. Sleep promised to be an elusive thing and Jacquie tied the robe sash around her waist and walked into the kitchen. A cup of hot chocolate before going to bed might help.

The flavored milk was just coming to a boil when the back door slammed.

Jacquie tensed, knowing it had to be Choya since he had been out earlier nursing a sick bull. She had thought he had come back in already, but his appear The Master Fiddler ance in the kitchen proved that the supposition had been wrong.

Her heart turned over at the sight of him so tall and vital, despite the lines of weary concern etched around his grim mouth. She turned quickly back to the stove, trying to hide the clamoring reaction of her senses to his masculinity.

"I'm fixing some hot chocolate. Would you like a cup?" she offered stiffly.

"Yes." He walked to the cupboard, removed a mug and set it on the counter near Jacquie. His gaze impatiently raked her length. "Don't you ever wear anything under your clothes?" he snapped.

Jacquie colored, keeping her gaze riveted to the pan on the burner. "I've just showered," she answered defensively. The searing memory of their previous encounter rushed forward with all its vividness.