The Master Fiddler Part 9

When she sat down to write the first draft, she found it was going to be more difficult than she had first thought. She was caught again in the same trap. If she told them about Choya's blackmail and threat and they came The Master Fiddler out here to rescue her from his villainous clutches, they would hear his false story that he had only offered her a job as his housekeeper so that she might earn the money to pay for her debts. And there wouldn't be any way for Jac-quie to disprove his claim and many ways for him to prove it.

The several sheets of crumpled stationery in the wastebasket revealed her number of failures. Finally Jacquie crinkled up the last partially written letter and threw it in the basket with the others. A letter was not the answer. Tomorrow while Sam was taking his afternoon nap, she would telephone them again, and this time she wouldn't reverse the charges.

The house was silent as she stepped from her room. She paused in the hall, glancing at her watch. As impossible as it seemed, it was after ten o'clock. The absence of any sound indicated that everyone else was in bed. She walked across the small hall to the laundry room and bathroom, piling her long hair on top of her head and fastening it with two hairpins as she went.

A brisk shower chased away the tension and frustrations that had built when she had been trying to compose the letter. She still had no idea what she would say when she talked to her parents on the telephone, but she was confident she would think of something when the time came.

With most of the water from the shower spray wiped from her skin, she wrapped the oversized bath towel around her and tucked the fold securely. The terry cloth material nearly reached the middle of her thighs, its soft roughness warm against her skin.

Her cosmetics were on the shelf above the sink. Reaching for a jar of moisturizing cream, she removed the lid and began creaming her face. As she was working it into her forehead, the door opened and Choya walked in.

After a startled look, Jacquie took a hasty step in the direction of her clothes, then stopped. "You could have knocked," she said sharply, and dabbed more cream on her face.

"I could have," he agreed, walking over to stand by the sink where Jacquie was.

Unwillingly her gaze slid to the male reflection joining hers in the mirror. The ruggedly hewn features were unreadable as he watched her intently.

"What did you want?" Jacquie asked with studied indifference. She wished for the robe that was in her room, although its short length The Master Fiddler would not have offered much more cover than the towel did.

"It's been a long time since I've watched the nightly ablutions of a woman," Choya commented idly.

Her stomach began somersaulting nervously and she rubbed the cream more vigorously into her cheeks to give them some color. She didn't believe for one minute that was the reason for his visit, and she was afraid to guess what the real reason might be. She lowered her lashes to conceal the trepidation her expressive turquoise eyes might reveal. Devoid of darkening mascara, they lay long and thick, a light brown against her skin.

"Really?" she mocked in a sarcastically doubting tone.

Not for anything did she want him to know the way his nearness was disturbing her. The breadth of his shoulders silently intimidated, his height dwarfing her reflection.

Choya seemed to withdraw, watching her with an aloofness that was unnerving.

"Someone stopped me today to see if congratulations were in order. It seems there's a rumor circulating that I've remarried."

"I certainly didn't start the rumor," Jac-quie denied crisply.

"You wouldn't happen to know who did, would you?" His tawny gold eyes had narrowed on her, glittering and dangerous.

"How could I?" she laughed bitterly. "I haven't spoken to anyone except you, your father and Robbie since you kidnapped me."

"And you don't think it's possible that one of them might have mentioned you?" Choya persisted.

The incident with Robbie was vividly recalled. The recollection must have flickered across her face, because his expression hardened.

"Of course it's possible," Jacquie hedged, reluctant to admit that Robbie had let his cla.s.smates believe that she was his new mother.

"It's even possible that my son has told his cla.s.smates and teacher about you in such a way that they might believe we're married, isn't it?" he taunted.

"I really don't know," she lied, shrugging one bare shoulder.

"If you did, you certainly wouldn't condone or encourage Robbie, would you?" The line of his jaw was set in a grimly forbidding line.

Nervously, Jacquie moistened her lips, wondering how much Choya actually knew w

and how much he was only guessing. She smoothed some of the moisturizing cream over the fine bridge of her nose.

"That's a silly question," she smiled as if it was too ludicrous to merit a reply.

"Then answer it," he challenged.

"Robbie is not the type of boy to lie or tell tales. He would never claim that I was his new mother when he knows that I'm not," Jac-quie stated in an attempt to avoid a direct answer.

"Robbie claims that you agreed to be his pretend mother."

Jacquie took a slow, deep breath. "He did?" So much for the ability of little boys to keep secrets!

"Not willingly. He was very persistent in his denials until I confronted him with the questions his teacher asked me," Choya stated.

"After that, he felt in the need of a total confession."

"It was a harmless game of pretend." She screwed the lid back on the jar of moisturizing cream.

"Harmless as far as you were concerned," he jeered cut tingly "Robbieis just a little boy. You probably thought it was cute that he wantedto pretend you were his mother. It certainly wouldn't hurt you when the game was over. What do you care about the hurts of a small child?"

"It was just a game, nothing more," Jacquie protested. "Robbie knows I'm not his mother and never will be."

"He might say that. He might even believe it right now, but if the two of you keep playing this 'game' " with sarcastic emphasis " soon he will believe that it isn't just pretend."

Jacquie replaced the jar on the shelf and turned to face Choya. "Inother words," she tipped her head to the side in a confident manner,"he'll become too attached to me. That was one of the risks you tookwhen you brought me out here, remember?"

He studied her for long, measuring seconds through half-closed eyes. "I underestimated you," he stated huskily. "I never believed that you would deliberately hurt my son to get back at me."

A muscle was twitching uncontrollably along his cheek. It had never been her intention, consciously or unconsciously, to use Robbie to

punish Choya. To deny it would be a waste of energy. Choya would never believe that she genuinely liked his son.

If she couldn't fight him, she would join him. Robbie was obviously his vulnerable spot. She might as well try to make use of it while she had the chance.

"Robbie doesn't have to get hurt, you know." She blinked her sea-green eyes at him, keeping them round and blank of expression. "The game of pretend only started today. It can be stopped now before he begins to believe it."

"How?" A cynical brow arched doubtfully.

"It's very simple," she shrugged. "If you let me go, I'll leave Robbie alone. But if you continue to force me to stay here, I'll keep up this game of pretend. You can't watch me every minute of the day. And Robbie will only start to hate you if you try to come between us. You give me my car and I'll give you back your son."

A smile of satisfaction curved the fullness of her lips as Choya glared at her in a cold fury. For once, she had him trapped. It could not have worked out better if she had planned it. The impulse to drive home her victory was too great to resist.

"You think about it." She lightly patted a lean cheek with the tips of her fingers.

Instantly her fingers were seized and crushed together. Jacquie didn't attempt to free her hand even though the grip was painful. Boldly she met the savage fire in his gaze, a smug gleam in her own eyes.

"You're trying to call the tune again without paying the fiddler, aren't you?" he snarled. Jacquie's smile merely deepened, but she didn't make a verbal response. "It's time there was a demand for payment."

There was a second to blink at his unexpected declaration. In the next, she was being swept off her feet, an arm pinned between her body and his chest. The other was caught in the vice of his circling grip. Blood hammered in her ears, her breath taken away.

"Put me down!" Fear shook her voice.

Choya laughed harshly and kicked the hall door open wider. Jacquie twisted and strained against his hold, her feet flailing empty air in useless scissor motions as he carried her to the bedroom. The blue coverlet of her bed loomed ahead of her. She was dumped onto its darkness.

The mattress dipped beneath his joining weight. Jacquie opened her mouth to scream, but her cry was smothered by his mouth. She was trapped beneath the hard length of his The Master Fiddler body. Dizzying waves of fear washed through her, but she fought them back.

When her long fingernails began to dig into his muscled shoulders, her wrists were seized and arms forced above her head. The heat of his body consumed her flesh in hot flames while the musky scent of his maleness filled her lungs.

She tried to elude the bruising pressure of his mouth and almost succeeded as she twisted her face into the blue coverlet. Choya shifted slightly, letting one large hand hold her wrists, freeing the other to capture her chin.

"No!" Jacquie managed before his mouth closed over hers in angry possession.

Brutally he forced her throbbing lips open with his thumb, tasting the honeyed sweetness of her mouth with primitive pa.s.sion. Her resistance wavered under his sensual a.s.sault. His savage lovemaking sparked an animal response within her, forcing her to struggle with herself as well as Choya.

With her efforts divided into two battle-fronts, her strength weakened. Alternately she fought his kiss and returned its fire. His hand slid from her chin along her throat and over the nakedness of her golden tan shoulders. The roughly sensual caress sent quivers down her spine.

Sensing it, Choya followed the trail of his hand, nibbling at the sensitive area below her ear lobe and the hollow of her shoulder. An unwilling sigh of delight escaped her lips. While his mouth continued its exploration of her pleasure points, his hand moved downward, encountered the protective towel and pulled at the tuck that held it in place.

Briefly the action revived Jacquie's will. "No," she protested. "Please, don't!"

In answer he lifted his head. Fascinating tawny eyes studied the reluctantly aroused expression on her face. The cares sive light stole her breath as desert star fire flickered through the window to bronze his features.

Never had he seemed so stunningly male nor so disturbingly attractive as he did at that moment. He freed her wrists and lowered his hand to spread strong fingers through the molten silver of her hair.

"No?" His mouth quirked and began its descent.

As it mobilely captured hers in persuasive ardor, Jacquie brought her numbed hands down to press against his muscled arms. Then, almost of their own volition, they slid to the The Master Fiddler solidness of his back. The wildfire racing throughher veins burned the last bridge of inhibition. The searing longinginside her for his possession was transmitted in the hungry response toher lips.

The crispness of his clothes was rough against her skin, yet its abrasive quality stimulated her nerve ends to a fever pitch of awareness. The beat of his heart was drumming to the tempo of her own.

When he moved away from her, Jacquie was still caught in the spell ofhis seductive touch. She was frozen, incapable of movement at thewithdrawal of his body warmth. Every fiber pulsed with her need ofhim. Weakly, her lashes lifted.

"Choya," she whispered in an aching plea for him to return.

An arm slipped beneath her, hair rough against her skin as he half lifted her toward him. There was another movement, then she was being pressed back against the coolness of the sheets, the bed covers cast aside.

Afraid he would leave her again, she reached out to cling to him. Herhands slid around the rippling bareness of his shoulders, drawing himdown. The fiery warmth of his skin melted away the last vestige ofchill.

The hungry demand of his kiss removed the fear that he might leave her.

Jacquie gloried in the knowledge, her breast swelling under his arousing touch. The world had spun away, leaving only the two of them in the universe.

The wild song in her heart was a rhapsody under his guidance. Theintimate exploration of his hands provided the melody, the notessoaring to new un reached scales. It was an age-old tune that Jacquiewas experiencing for the first time, the crash of cymbals shudderingthrough her with ecstasy. He was the master fiddler calling the tuneand she was spinning and whirling and learning the new steps.

His lips opened warmly over hers. The tempo softened, its pagan beatleashed. In the momentary lull of sensation, Jacquie floated slowlyback to the ground. The mindless bliss began drifting away. Sheclosed her eyes tightly to shut out the reality that she was actuallyinviting him to make love to her. She shivered against him when shefailed to block out the knowledge. He gathered her more closely tohim, brushing a rough kiss on the silken ma.s.s of hair near her ear.

Her hands violently pushed him away. "Leave me alone! Go away!" Her voice was hoa.r.s.ely bitter with the loss of her self-pride.

Choya tensed as if to employ his superior strength and Jacquie held her breath.

At the shifting movement of his weight off the bed, her heart cried out for him to stay and to hold her tightly in his arms. Stiffly she stayed where he had left her, listening to his silent movements and holding back her pain until he had left the room.

One tear fell, then another. Finally there was a river of tears rushing down her cheeks to drench the pillow. She buried her face in its dampness to m.u.f.fle her sobs.