Part 9 (1/2)

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.”