THE SHADOWED REUNION — Lillian Cheatham

It wasn't fair. Katie had come to Hawaii. Made a new life for herself. Her little crafts shop was her pride and joy. Once she had begged for Sacha's kisses, but he had betrayed her. Once she had left him. Could she stem the tide of passion that rose to meet his as he kissed her, stripping away her inhibitions as skillfully and swiftly as his sudden presence stripped away the years?

"DO YOU HAVE A LOVER?" SACHA DEMANDED.
"I refuse to answer that!" Katie flared. "Just because we were once married, you have no right to pry into my business! I don't have to answer any of your questions."
"Careful, Katie," he warned. "You're treading on dangerous ground. You either answer me here and now, or you'll find yourself answering a lawyer's questions in court."
"Oh, all right!" she said sullenly. "There's no one. I don't have a—a—lover. I haven't had anyone since I— left you. I've been too busy trying to earn a living for myself and my child!" she said defensively. "There! Does that answer your questions?" 

Published by 
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Copyright © 1981 by Lillian Cheatham
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A Candlelight Ecstasy Classic Romance
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Printed in the United States of America, One Previous Edition August 1987
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CHAPTER I
  §
Katie Lockwood was stacking old newspapers to be used in packing glassware in her little shop when she saw the name out of the corner of her eye. For a dizzying moment her heart stopped beating as she took a long, deep breath and licked suddenly dry lips. She and Sacha had been parted for almost five years, and it took no more than that—the sight of his name—to cause this reaction. Feverishly she pulled the paper to her and flattened it out, her eyes seeking the bold, black headline for the two-column article in the center of the page. "Sacha Kimberly, renowned artist, in local showing." Beneath it was a picture —a publicity photo that showed a dark, saturnine face wearing a slight scowl as he gazed aloofly at the camera.
Katie's hands were trembling as she folded the page. "Julian Fine, owner of the Fine Galleries, announced today that he had obtained permission to exhibit a series of Kimberly paintings for the month of April." And today was near the end of April! How had she missed seeing something about this before now? Her eyes skimmed over the rest of the article. "Mr. Fine feels that Honolulu is fortunate to be granted this unprecedented glimpse of Kimberly paintings, a comprehensive group on loan from private collectors as well as from the artist himself Mr. Kimberly, although only thirty-four years of age, is one of the new young artists gaining a reputation both in the United States and abroad. His paintings are in great demand in European capitals and have an immediate market at home." And then a little biographical note had been added. "The artist is the son of Paul Kimberly and Mrs. 
Marjorie Tillotson, the sugar heiress. At one time his face was familiar among the younger members of the jet set, but in recent years he has abandoned his playboy image to devote his time to painting." The reporter went on briskly to add that "the collection, which is insured for one million dollars, includes the famous 'Dreaming,' for which Mr. Kimberly won the international Llewellyn Memorial Prize."
Katie was shaking as she searched through the newspapers for the issue dated April 1 and found at last what she was seeking. Fearfully she searched for any hint that he was expected to accompany his paintings to the showing, but it was more or less a repeat of the former article with a few more quotes from Julian Fine and one small, significant addition. "When asked how Honolulu came to be so favored, Mr. Fine said that the credit must be given to Mrs. Claire Wetherell, a close personal friend of Mr. Kimberly's. Mrs. Wetherell has been active in cultural affairs since returning to her native Hawaii after several years on the mainland. She may be remembered as the former Claire Thorpe."
Katie sank to a chair and pushed the papers aside dazedly. How Sacha would hate that entire gushing blurb if he read it—informing the world that his mother was an heiress and he was an ex-playboy! He never referred to his mother, but Katie had gathered that she was a spoiled, pampered society woman, eagerly seeking her pleasures in the so—called fun spots of the world, and only remembering her son when she was between husbands and feeling sorry for herself. And Katie had never heard him mention his father, either, although she had been Sacha's wife for almost a year.
She wondered about Claire Wetherell, who was a "close personal friend." Was that a hint that she was something more—the latest in a long line of "close friends," traveling companions, or whatever they called mistresses nowadays? Katie's hand spasmodically clutched the newspaper, and the pain that sometimes tore at her when she remembered Sacha became an acute ache. Unwillingly, she recalled Claire Wetherell, whom she had seen on one memorable rccasion. The silk patchwork skirt that she had made for sale in the shop. At $250 it had been a little steep and she had not expected to get her price right away. But it had sold the very first day to a gorgeous, dark-eyed brunette, a —iOdel—type beauty whose exotic looks had been made for its strong, vivid colors. She had paid by check, and automatically her name had gone on Katie's mailing list. Claire Wetherell.
Carefully Katie tore out the picture and put it on the table. As she moved about the kitchen making her breakfast, taking the boiling kettle off the stove, spooning instant coffee into the cup, placing a slice of bread in the toaster, her eyes turned again to the dark face, the cynical, all—knowing eyes. Her thoughts were chaotic, churning mostly around the coincidence of Sacha's paintings turning up here in Hawaii—an ocean away from San Francisco, which had been their home while they were married. Apparently, it was all due to Claire Wetherell. At their one meeting Katie had assumed that she was a haole, like herself a newcomer to the islands. But apparently she was a native Hawaiian and well known to the moneyed society. Katie wondered if she was still married, divorced, or what. In spite of having lived here for five years, she knew next to nothing about the people who frequented the society pages of the newspapers, and although she might make inquiries, she didn't want any hint to float back to Claire Wetherell of her interest. There was a possibility that Sacha might visit her here—might even now be visiting her. Katie's heart lurched at the thought, although she was not apt to meet him. She couldn't afford to, she reminded herself painfully. He had probably already forgotten her anyway, his marriage a bad memory of misunderstandings and turmoil.
"Mommy, is it Wednesday?"
A small, dark-haired boy stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. He was accompanied by a small white dog with a curly tail, who left him to investigate the contents of a food bowl under the sink. Katie held out her arms, and with a chuckle the child ran into them. His little body was still warm from his bed, his hair sleep-tousled. 

He looked up, laughing, and Katie caught her breath as she wondered if anyone else could see the resemblance that was so obvious to her—to the face that was even now staring at her from the newspaper clipping on the table. Black eyes and hair and the slim, coltish look that meant, even at age four, that he was going to be a tall man like his father. He did not get it from her, for she was of average height with a deep bosom and full hips that gave her a voluptuous look in spite of her slimness. It contrasted oddly with the demure innocence of her face. What had Sacha called her? His Passionate Puritan. With a deliberate effort Katie tore her mind away from painful memories of Sacha and concentrated on her son.
"Yes, it's Wednesday." She knew what that query meant, and a dimple appeared briefly at the corner of her mouth. "And—we're going to do something special! How does a picnic grab you, young man?"
"Sammy, too?"
"Sammy, too. And Trisha."
With a sigh of pure bliss, the little boy leaned against her for an extra hug before climbing to the table to eat his breakfast. As he tackled his eggs and toast, Katie sat opposite him and sipped her cooling coffee. This was one of the favorite times of her day, the few minutes she had alone with her son before opening the shop. Her eyes warmed with tenderness as she watched him feeding Sammy bits of egg—soaked bread. He was such a dear! And so good and patient about accepting that she had to put the shop first. From babyhood, he had had to take second place to her necessity to earn a living for the two of them. Her eyes roamed the small, serious face wearing a milk moustache. He looked so much like Sacha. One look at the two of them together and it would be obvious. The only feature he shared with her was her mouth, which was generous and vulnerable, with well-shaped lips. It was her best feature, along with her widely spaced gray eyes that reflected so truthfully every mood. Shadowed by thick, gold-tipped lashes beneath finely arched brows, they were tender right now as she watched her son. She had the wholesome, golden look of a girl who was often exposed to the hot Hawaiian sun, and indeed, the gold that powisred her brown hair attested to that fact.
Reluctantly Katie finished her coffee and cleaned the kitch, sponging off the counter and tabletop before starting on peanut butter sandwiches. Those, along with drinks THAT she could buy at the beach and a couple of dog bisCUITS for Sammy, would be their picnic. She sent Kim and izmmy outside to play, then opened the shop door, but refore she did so, she carefully put away Sacha's picture between the folds of lingerie in her drawer. Then she re— rrrned to the shop and unlocked THE door and raised the shades to show they were open for business.
The shop was her pride and joy, her independence. Five years ago, when she had arrived in Hawaii on Aunt Anna's doorstep, scared and pregnant, she had needed something to pull her together and restore her slipping confidence in herself. At the time she had not known that her aunt was dying. Aunt Anna kept her secret well until her illness became obvious even to Katie's inexperienced eyes. By then, however, Aunt Anna had a plan—a plan to help her keep her baby. She had suggested opening a shop in the front two rooms of the dingy little bungalow, and before Katie could voice an objection, "Katie's Place" was begun. Aunt Anna had lived long enough to know that she had been right before she died.
The shop was a modest success right away. Aunt Anna had seen its possibilities, for the location was ideal. The house was surrounded by commercial developments, and right next door was a luxurious apartment complex with a ready—made market for customers. The shop occupied what had once been the living and dining rooms, and Katie kept her stock in the kitchen and wherever else she could find space, using a corner of the kitchen also as her office. After Aunt Anna's death the baby and the shop had been Katie's salvation. It wasn't good, raising a baby under these circumstances, but at least it had the advantage of being able to keep Kim nearby so that when he cried or needed her, she was right there. Later, when he was older, she had fenced in the small backyard, overshadowed by the towering buildings on either side, and it was here that Kim played with his swing and sandbox.
At noon Katie's neighbor, a bouncing blond divorcee with a single child like herself, came over to work in the shop. Wednesday was early—closing day, and Katie usually spent half of it with her son. She was fortunate that Pat Merritt was willing to work whenever she needed her, and in return, Katie included Pat's five-year-old Trisha in whatever plans she had made for Kim.
Pat lived next door in one of the towering high-rise apartments that looked down upon her little house. They had clicked immediately when Pat came into the shop one day, and stayed on for coffee and conversation. Katie, lonely and starved for an adult to talk to, had taken to her at once. Pat had confessed that she was frequently bored and idle, and Katie had offered her a part—time job on the spot. Since then, Pat had roped her in on some of the active social life that went on in the apartments, although Pat so far had been unable to come up with a man that interested her friend more than a fleeting few minutes.
Lately Katie had been toying with the idea of expanding the shop—throwing open all the rooms, or most of them, and taking an apartment next door. It was a big move and would require a mortgage, taking on extra help, perhaps even a partner. The trade was there, but the idea scared her to death. Right now she made enough to get by, but if she was ever to have a comfortable margin, extras, time off for an occasional vacation, she was going to have to expand. She was considering asking Pat if she would like to buy into the shop.
"Hi!"
Pat, with Trisha trailing her, looked brisk and cheery. Mother and daughter were much alike—full of self—confidence and drive. Trisha had the advantage of more than just a year's seniority over Kim. She was smarter, quicker, taller, although, of course, that picture would change as they grew older.
Katie, emerging from the back with Kim, saw that Pat was dressed for work in the long, colorful muumuu they both wore in the store.
"I may as well warn you that Trisha is counting on a picnic. I hope you had it in your plans." Pat surveyed Katie, who was wearing a skirt of faded denim and a red shirt instead of her usual shorts or jeans when she had die afternoon off. "Oh, no," she said doubtfully. "I can see that you aren't."
But I am," Katie broke in hastily at the look on Trisha's face. "I have one little errand to do first, honey, " Then we'll go to the beach."
Trisha, who was wearing shorts and carrying her pail snd shovel, grinned back at her.
"Errand? Shopping?"
Since there was no reason to make a mystery of it, Katie said briefly, "No. I want to see a showing at Fine Galleries of a—collection of paintings. By Sacha Kimberly." It was the first time she had said the name aloud since Aunt Anna's death, and it felt strange on her lips.
Pat's reaction was disinterest. "Sorry. I'm a peasant myself. I don't know the slightest thing about art. But it's your thing, isn't it, Katie? Why not leave the kids here with me until you're through, so you can see it in peace?"
Katie struggled briefly with the temptation, then reluctantly withstood it. Later she was to wonder bitterly what Trould have been the outcome if she had followed Pat's suggestion. "You might get busy and they'd be in the way. No, I'll take them and leave them in the car outside the Galleries. I won't be in there long."
On the way out Katie gave the little shop a final look as she always did before leaving it. It was a pleasure to know that everything she saw was her owh, and had been gotten through her own efforts and hard work. She was supplied by a small, reliable list of craftsmen to whom she paid good returns for good work. She was too far off the beaten track to appeal to the average tourist, so that meant she had to depend on returnees or customers who were willing to pay for specialized articles that were handcrafted locally.
 
One room was devoted exclusively to children's things—exquisite little handmade bonnets with deep brims and enormous bouffant crowns, smocked baby dresses, delicately crocheted blankets, wooden toys. There were stuffed animals and rag dolls with painted faces and a profusion of baby pillows, each a confection of lace and ruffles, tossed with careless abandon into a Victorian baby stroller. The other room was filled with an assortment of items designed to appeal to adults with tastes for anything from rope hammocks, baskets, pottery and plants, woven and quilted items, wind chimes, jars of preserved ginger and pineapple to a wide range of sketches and watercolors by local talent.
"Quit gloating over the merchandise and get out of here." Pat's voice was good—natured behind her. "Go on and enjoy yourself."


CHAPTER II
The Julian Fine Galleries was on a broad, palm-lined street filled with exclusive shops selling expensive items. Katie was no stranger to it—in line with her work, she had met Julian casually several times and knew him to be a pleasant man who was fanatically devoted to promoting talented artists.
She was fortunate to find a parking place directly in front of the building. Leaving the children in the car with Sammy on guard, she maneuvered herself out of the cramped seat of the little Volkswagen. There was a drink machine at the corner, and she brought them two pop-up cans of soda, then with a final admonition, "Don't talk to strangers," she left them with a promise to hurry.
The smoothly modern front of the Galleries was in keeping with the decor of the street, with potted palms at the entrance to a tiny courtyard and a lacy ironwork balcony overhanging the double front doors. Inside, the interior was cool, dim, and luxurious, with muted blues and grays predominating in the carpet and drapes. Already, the gallery was comfortably filled, the discreet murmur of voices mingling with the piped—in music. The fashionable, silver—haired woman manning the telephone desk at the entrance waved Katie toward the Kimberly rooms upon her inquiry.
Katie was unprepared for her reaction when she saw the first painting, "Country Girl." A windswept sky, a cabin, and a long hill yellow with sunflowers. And a girl she knew to be herself. Leaning forward, she read the neatly printed card, "Property of the artist." She drew a shaky breath. He had not sold it. But if this was the way she was going to react, she had better not try to see the rest of the paintings. Cautiously she glanced around the gallery but was reassured to see that nothing else was familiar to her.
Striving for composure, Katie moved on. There were about twenty paintings in all, covering the walls of three rooms. There were no prices, of course, for none of them were for sale, but she knew that each square of canvas and oil represented thousands of dollars. Not that Sacha needed the money. Her mouth twisted. As the heir to the Tillotson millions, he would never have to starve in a garret or sell his paintings to pay the rent, as many of his fellow artists did. He had been unduly sensitive to the fact that his circumstances were different from theirs, too, so much so that very few of them had any idea of his background. She herself had been in the dark when they were married. It had taken Irene to enlighten her that she had married a rich man.
But no one could deny that he could paint. Money hadn't given him his talent; he had earned every scrap of praise wrung from the hostile critics, reluctant to give him any credit. As she studied the paintings, she saw a depth of richness and perception that grew with each canvas, and for the first time, Katie began to appreciate the full scope of Sacha's genius.
In the last gallery a group of people were viewing the highlight of the showing, the award—winning "Dreaming." It was a portrait of a woman who sat dreamily combing her hair by the light of an open window. She was half— naked, and the light shone on her raised arms and full breasts, outlining them with rich detail. The portrait had been pronounced erotic, not because of the subject matter, but from the sensuality of the woman's expression. Her face literally glowed with sated passion.
"Dear God," thought Katie frantically, "is this how he saw me?"
She had never seen the finished portrait and she was in a panic lest she be recognized. She had read the controversy at the time of the award—Sacha had admitted that the portrait was of his wife—but at the time, studying the crude newspaper reprints, she did not think it resembled 
&er Now it seemed glaringly obvious. She looked at the scher people covertly. No one was noticing her, but innoctively, her only thought was of flight.
She shied backwards, bumping into the opening door of Julian Fine's office as she did so. A tall, dark-haired man emerging at the same time, saying over his shoulder, "Until Monday, then, Julian." He automatically reached to catch her as they collided, and she looked directly into dark, astonished eyes.
"Katie!"
Katie pivoted frantically, desperate to get away, and as she did so, her temple struck a corner of the door. Hard.
 As she crumpled, she felt the arms holding her tighten, she knew nothing else until she came to lying on a couch in Julian Fine's office. She recognized the furnishes and Julian's big, square desk facing her. There was Julian himself, perched upon an edge of it, his pleasant, fc: mely face wrinkled with anxiety. As soon as he saw her eyes open, he asked solicitously, "Are you all right, Mrs. Ic skwood? Do you need a doctor?"
"I—I don't think so," she said unsteadily. So far as she could see, they were alone. "I think I'll be all right."
She started to push herself upright on her elbows when a brown hand and slim, tapering fingers appeared out of nowhere and pushed her firmly back upon the sofa pillow. Katie caught a glimpse of a gold watchband half hidden by springing black hairs before it disappeared.
"Lie still," Sacha said sternly. "We don't know if you're all right or not. We may have to call a doctor yet."
Obediently Katie lay still, frozen with shock, her half—open eyes watching as he placed a damp towel on her forehead. As Sacha leaned forward, she closed her eyes abruptly, her nostrils assailed by a combination of remembered odors that meant Sacha—the spicy tang of his shaving lotion and the subtle, yet familiar, scent of clean, male flesh.
Yet he had changed. For one thing, instead of his usual paint—stained jeans, he was wearing a crisp, gray business suit that fit his tall, supple frame like a glove, and she had caught a glimpse of a dark red silk tie and pale blue cuffs before she closed her eyes. His hair was shorter, too, covering the top of his ears and clearing his collar in the back. Katie was amazed at how comprehensive her brief look had been, but it was as though every nerve—ending in her body was registering impressions.
"Julian." Katie's heart quivered at the sound of the deep tones, then steadied. "Would you be good enough to allow me to talk privately to Katie for a minute?"
"Katie?"
"Yes. Mrs. Lockwood and I are old friends."
"Of course."
Even the sound of the closing door was reluctant. Julian must be dying of curiosity, but he knew better than to protest, thought Katie, just as she did. She knew Sacha too well. If he intended to talk to her, then he would do it, either here or elsewhere, so it had better be here. Closing her eyes tightly, she reminded herself that she merely had to remember not to fly into a panic and lose her head.
"Sit up if you like." Sacha sounded as though he did not believe in her faintness. "If your head spins, put it back, but I think a little of Julian's good brandy will get the color back into your cheeks."
Katie's hand stole to her cheeks, then she cautiously raised her head and swung her feet onto the floor. She felt weak but not dizzy. Sacha removed the towel from her forehead, then handed her a tumbler half filled with a golden liquid. Their fingers touched fleetingly and Katie flinched from the resultant electric shock as though she had been bitten.
As she sipped the brandy, she studied him through her lashes. The change was more than merely a suit instead of his habitual blue jeans, or a shorter haircut. New, deeper lines had been added to his face, and his mouth looked taut and bitter, as though he had often been unhappy. There was even a brush of gray at his temples. What had happened to make him look so hard? Had his affair with Irene turned out badly? Or was there now someone else? Divorce was so easy nowadays, as she had reason to know. Perhaps Sacha was even married now. That there would be someone, she knew. A man as handsome, as virile, as
Sacha did not lack for female companionship, for a— seeping partner. But Sacha did not like brief, one—night s odes. He had once told her that one of the best things tbout their marriage was waking up and finding her in bed
re—side him.
Deliberately Katie slammed the door on her memories, red suddenly became aware that he was studying her just 15 intently as she was him.
—Well?" she asked pertly. "Have I changed?"
"Yes. Superficially, it's nothing more than you're wear— in j your hair up, instead of in a braid as you used to do. And your—er—outline is rounder and more feminine." He shrugged. "But there's more. You seem older, more mature."
"Even I eventually grew up." Her voice was brittle. 'What are you doing here?" he asked patiently, ignoring the dig.
"Looking at your exhibit," she said brightly. "I read about it in the papers and I wanted to see it. Just curios— iry, you understand," she added airily. "Old times' sake. The paper didn't mention that you would be here."
"I didn't care to have it publicized," he said briefly.
I'm staying on a ranch on the island of Hawaii. But that isn't what I meant, and you know it," he added harshly. "I want to know what you're doing here, in Honolulu? I searched San Francisco and the entire state of California or you, but it never occurred to me you'd do such a hare-brained thing as leave the mainland!"
She stared at him blankly. "Searched? Why?"
"Why?" he asekd violently. "Surely you realize that I —as concerned for you? You were my wife; you didn't draw any money from our account, and none of your friends heard from you. In fact, you literally vanished off the face of the earth after you signed the papers in Martin's office. Naturally, he expected you to return to the apartment, and I certainly did. I didn't try to get in touch with you at first, thinking I'd give you time—. Anyway, it was ten days before either of us realized that you were missing."
"Oh." Katie sipped the brandy, and although it burned like fire going down, she was cold. This was worse, much worse, than she had imagined it would ever be. "I am sorry you were inconvenienced," she said carefully. "I assumed that no one would care if I went away after I signed the divorce papers."
"The hell you did!" Sacha said bitterly. "You must have known damned well that I would be concerned about you."
"I I—left a note," she faltered.
"And it told me exactly nothing! A few polite words writing me out of your life. But never mind that now. You are here, and I want to know why you came here. You and your parents always lived near San Francisco."
Katie was bewildered. He sounded almost accusing, as though he suspected her of some ulterior motive in coming to Hawaii. So far as the other was concerned—his assertion that he had heen concerned about her—she was not surprised about that. Sacha's conscience might have troubled him after she left, although she would have thought he'd be too relieved to be rid of her so painlessly to worry overmuch about her. But he had always acted as though she was dim—witted, needing guidance. Even now—wings of panic beat in her throat at the thought of what he might discover if he persisted. She finished her brandy and put her glass down carefully, the action giving her a breathing space in which to think of what she must say.
"I've been here five years," she said mildly. "And doing very nicely, too, thank you. My only living relative, my mother's sister, Anna, lived here, and when she learned of Dad's death, she wrote and asked me to come and live with her. The letter was a long time in reaching me, for the only address she had was the one we had when Mother was alive, and finally, it was forwarded to the Institute then on to me. As a matter of fact, I—I—got the letter the day that I—you—we split up. That's why I didn't mention it to you." As I was in the habit of doing, babbling every single thing, every secret, every thought I ever had, thereby boring you to tears, no doubt. "Afterwards," Katie added, her throat so tight that she got out the words with difficulty, "Hawaii seemed like a good place to go."
He must know why. He must know that she couldn't live stayed on and watched him with Irene. He had been dying her closely as she stammered out her wretched 2nle story, and he asked abruptly, "Julian said that you were a widow. Is that true? If so, why are you calling yourself by your maiden name?"
Her mind frantically jiggled dates, years, before reluctantly coming to the conclusion that she had better stick to ne truth, more or less. Sacha would be quick to spot any discrepancy if she tried to lie too elaborately.
Aunt Anna preferred for her friends to think that I was—a widow, rather than a divorcee. She was old—fashioned that way."
He raised his eyebrows quizzically, but thankfully, did not press the point. "Was?" he asked gently. "She is dead, then?"
"Yes. I—we had a little shop. Together. Since her death, I run it alone."
"So Julian said." He had been leaning against the desk, and now he stood up abruptly. "Well, if you're feeling better, let's go."
"Go? Go where?" she asked blankly.
'To your place. A restaurant. Any place where we can talk," he added impatiently.
"Talk? Why do we need to talk? I've told you everything about myself you need to know!" Her voice rose shrilly.
"Not everything," Sacha said dryly. "If you think I intend to let it go at this, you're mistaken, Katie. You've just had a bad experience, and you shouldn't be allowed to drive—or walk—home alone. Do you have a car, by the way?" Her straw handbag had been lying on the desk, and he picked it up and casually thrust his hand in, as though he had a perfect right to explore its capacious interior. What the hell is this?" He dug up the wrapped package of peanut butter sandwiches. "Is this your lunch? Were you planning to eat across the street in the park? Or—ah! Car keys!" They dangled from his fingers. "I'll have Julian move your car to the parking lot behind this  for personnel of the Galleries. We'LL go in MY, Katie stood up abruptly and reached for the keys. In the back of her mind danced a v.: . ? > small children and a little dog patiently wai::—: r her car. She was appalled—and frightened—i way Sacha had taken charge of her. "Give tbzn a she cried. "I'm not going anywhere with you; I— you later if you insist, but for now—"
"What's the matter, Katie?" he taunted. meeting a man after lunch? Or was he sharir r m wiches with you? I'm sorry, but he'll have :: :: > ardor under a cold shower until I deliver you :c
Katie was too panicky to resent the "There's no man! It's merely—that is, I have i :: ? and—and—I have to get back to it!" she p:: ..r bj thought of Sacha sticking determinedly to her s : some perverse desire to thwart a man he imagire meeting made her giddy with apprehension.
"Fine," he said smoothly. "I'd like to set place, Katie. On second thought, we'll take y: I'll return here in a taxi to pick up mine."
He seemed to sense her desire to get away saw, with a sinking heart, that she had no her; him. He was already leading her inexorably door, and Katie knew that once they walked : — door of the Galleries, they would be hailed the children. She had to delay and hope sh; away while his attention was diverted.
What would have happened if she had beer Katie never knew, for they were interrupted : — tapping at the door, and it was flung open BY gant receptionist, who was looking, at the mc~. flustered.
"Mrs. Lockwood, there are two children and : here looking for you," she said fussily. "I— Fine said to ask you if—" Before she could what Julian had said to ask, however, the ver Katie had been at such pains to prevent—the : that she had been trying to avoid—happened.
20 

Kim and Trisha, the little girl holding a struggling Sammy in her arms, erupted into the room, almost under the skirts of the indignant receptionist. Kim darted forward to hug his mother's knees just as Trisha dropped Sammy, who promptly gave a flying leap into Katie's arms that automatically opened to receive him.
"We waited and waited, Aunt Katie, but she wouldn't let us come in!" She glared at the receptionist who sniffed audibly as she slammed the door behind them. "And then Kim 'sisted he was sick!"
The little boy raised an eager face and beamed at her. "I was, Mommy!" he said with devastating clarity. "I was sick! An' I wanted to see the pictures, too! You don't mind, do you, Mommy?" he added coaxingly.
"Mommy! Katie, who—who is this?" Sacha's voice was hoarse, ragged, as his disbelieving eyes met hers.
Katie swallowed convulsively. She had always known that this moment would come some day—it had been part of her worst nightmares. Now that it was here, she was defenseless, helpless to stem the tide of rushing events. She squared her shoulders bravely and managed to speak through trembling lips. "Kim's—my son."
She was not unprepared for the awful blaze of anger that lit his eyes, but nevertheless, his words shocked her by their savagery.
"And mine! You bitch!" he ground out between clenched teeth. "I could kill you for this!"
 
CHAPTER III
Katie's first thought was to get the children out of the way before Sacha said anything more, and she called them to ze outer door in a desperate, strained voice that brought .—".em at once.
"Children, come here! There's a garden out here with a fountain in the center—see?—and a large fish, a dolphin, with a boy riding on its back! W—will you play in the rarden with—with Sammy while I talk to the man?" she : battered. She felt Sacha looming up menacingly behind ber, and she literally froze. Kim had not noticed the : idness in her voice, but Trisha was looking at her curiously.
Katie already knew about the garden. It was very private, enclosed by a brick wall and reached only through be Galleries. Julian often used it as a background for the elegant little parties he gave for visiting celebrities. Katie bad attended such a party once, herself. She was fumbling with the door catch when Sacha spoke.
"I'll take the children out," he said harshly. "I want to speak to my—the boy, alone."
9


 
After that, Katie had no choice but to remain inside. Of course, she had always known that Sacha would see that Kim was his, once he saw the boy. His artist's eye would see the bone structure, the eyes, the shape of the head— oh, there were a thousand and one clues! And he was calling the tune now, and he was angry. She quivered at the thought of what an angry, resentful Sacha might do. She —•.'atched as he dropped to his haunches before Kim and spoke. Kim replied, his little face gleaming with curiosity, rut Sacha's answer apparently shook him, for his little thumb slowly crept to his mouth. Katie almost broke down then. Hot tears filled her eyes and spilled over, scalding her cheeks. She fumbled for a tissue and was wiping her eyes when Sacha returned.
"Damn you, Katie, he's mine, isn't he?" he flung at her in a low, savage voice.
"Sacha, I—I—" She stopped, unable to go on.
"I asked his name—my own son! I had to ask his name! You even had the unmitigated gall to name him for me, didn't you? Yet you stopped short of letting me know you were pregnant! What did you do—label him a bastard?"
She shuddered, her shoulders hunched defensively under the hail of angry words. "No. He—he's—you're down on the birth certificate as his father. His name is Sacha Kim— berly."
"Well, that makes things easier," he grated, "but it comes a long way from making up to me for the four lost years of my son's life! Why didn't you tell me you were having my baby?"
Katie dropped her head, then crossed her arms helplessly over her chest. Standing before him this way, she felt like a prisoner before the bar. With an exasperated exclamation, Sacha gripped her shoulders and gave her a shake that brought her head bobbing up to face him.
"I asked you a question, damn you!" His eyes were black pools of anger. "Didn't I have a right to know you were carrying my child?"
A long shudder rippled through Katie's body and he tightened his grip, as though he felt her longing to get away. "Did you know before you left San Francisco that you were pregnant?"
Briefly Katie considered the possibility of lying to him but discarded it for the truth. "Yes," she said baldly.
His mouth tautened to a harsh gash. He almost threw her away from him. "Yet you left anyway, you little bitch, and put me through hell looking for you! Wondering if you were alive or dead! Why?" He almost spat the words at her.
Katie's voice trembled. "I was going to tell you th—that night when you returned from New York. Y—you remember, you called me from Kennedy, so I w—went out, bought —Ine and candles for a celebration dinner—but when you got in, you asked me at once for a divorce." She glanced away, her face hardened by the remembered pain. "I— fid n't think about the baby at first, but when I did, I knew I must have someone of my own. And I didn't think you ould care," she added, desolately.
His face was inscrutable as he listened. "Didn't it occur to you that I wouldn't have wanted a divorce if I had •mown about the baby?"
"No."
"Most women would have thought of that at once."
Katie could have told him she was not like most ~omen. She had never been clever about men and hadn't the slightest idea how to keep one who was growing tired of her. She had been too open about her feelings, and —hen she was hurt, which was often, she struck out with "=old accusations of unfaithfulness, threw scenes and tan— trams, and cried. In other words, she did all the wrong things. She had made such a scene before the New York :rip, but then, after learning about the baby, it seemed as though everything was going to be all right. Until Sacha returned, requesting a divorce. It had shocked and frightened Katie into begging for another chance. Even row, the memory of her abject pleading seared her with humiliation. His refusal had been curt, abrupt, even harsh, hut he must indeed wonder why she hadn't used her pregnancy to bludgeon him into staying, now knowing it had reen that final weary, bored utterance, "Please, for God's sake, don't let me have to listen to you beg. I'd like to remember you as having a little dignity," that had stopped; old every wild promise trembling on her lips.
She had let him go without another word, watching silently as he packed the rest of his things. Then, not looking at her, he told her that she should see his lawyer the next day, and if she wanted anything at all, she was to ask Martin for it. She could almost hear his unspoken words, and don't bother me!" She had thought of the baby then, hut by that time he was gone, and after a sleepless night, she had remembered Aunt Anna's letter. 
Shrugging slightly, as though touched by the memory of the brutal way he had dismissed her, he said, "Very well, Katie. Let's forget it. I am as much to blame as you. Anyway, we have the future to think of now and the son we have made between us. We have to "talk, come to some understanding. I intend to have a share in my son's life, and for a start, I want him told right now that I am his father. He asked my name, and when I told him it was the same as his, he was confused." Katie remembered the small, bewildered thumb. "Will you tell him or shall I?"
"You—do it. I don't think I can," she replied tightly.
"Very well. Where were you going from here?"
"To the beach. The shop—Trisha's mother works for me at the shop on Wednesdays." She swallowed nervously.
"Then we won't disappoint them. We'll go to the beach." His eyes rested thoughtfully on her drooping figure. "Is that why you had the food with you? It was to be a picnic?"
"Yes."
He raked impatient fingers through his hair. "Then I'd better arrange something if I'm to get some lunch," he said ruefully. "I'll call the children in now."
Kim's reaction to the news that Sacha was his father was enthusiastic. "You mean my very own daddy?" he asked, round—eyed.
Sacha was kneeling beside him. "Your very own daddy," he assured him solemnly. "You may call me daddy if you like."
Kim looked blissfully at Trisha. "Will you come to see me on Sundays like Trisha's daddy does?"
"I'll see you a lot more than just Sundays. In fact, from now on, I intend to see you all the time," he added deliberately, glancing at Katie coolly.
Kim threw his arms around his father's neck and Katie caught her breath on an indrawn gasp. She knew a sudden piercing pang of jealousy as sharp as a knife thrust to the stomach, and she knew from the cold mockery in Sacha's eyes that he was perfectly aware of what she was feeling. But why not? she thought resentfully, even as she flushed with shame. Jealousy might be a demeaning emotion, but it was certainly a natural one. Hadn't she been Kim's rock and anchor since he was born? She had been mother, father, and family to him. Now, suddenly, another person had appeared, filling his horizon temporarily—another p arent—and it hurt a little to watch how quickly Kim accepted the change.
"A daddy! A daddy!" He chanted almost to himself. I’ve been wanting a daddy so—o—o long!" He gave a sigh of deep satisfaction.
Sacha stood up, Kim still clinging to his neck. "Did you tnow he felt like this?" he demanded accusingly.
Katie swallowed nervously but said nothing.
Sacha's face darkened. "That means you did! God, Kane, I could—" He stopped abruptly, suddenly conscious of the child he was holding. His mouth tightened. "Are you ready to go?"
"Yes."
Trisha's little hand slid forlornly into hers, a very sub— faed little Trisha, who until now, had had one vast advantage over Kim. Now she was feeling rather lost and '.eft out, and Katie knew exactly what her emotions were a: the moment. She gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze, then, calling to Sammy, she picked up the little dog and, with Trisha, followed Sacha out. Fortunately, the gallery "^as empty except for Julian, who stood murmuring to his receptionist. From the sidelong glance he directed at her, Katie knew he had already recognized her as the model for "Dreaming."
Sacha handed him her car keys. "Julian, would you be ; r good as to have my wife's car parked until I can have it ricked up?"
Katie was taken aback, too surprised for a minute at his choice of words to appreciate Julian's quandary. Julian had —ondered about her exact status, for of course, being no fool, he remembered the controversy at the time of the a*ard. There had been a lot of discussion about the artist's estranged wife, and more than one reporter had won— fered openly about her disappearance. Sacha had refused ro comment, so the press had been forced to draw its own :inclusions. There had even been some speculation that she might be dead. And Julian, being from the art world, would remember all of that, as well as the fact that Katie Lockwood had been calling herself a widow all these years and had a child. That it ws Kimberlv's child was beyond dispute. But why had the famous artist said that she was his wife, instead of his ex—wife? Presumably because she was his wife, and in the conversation that had just been conducted behind the closed doors of his office, they had come to terms. He had made his peace with his estranged wife. Julian would have given his soul to know what went on during that reconciliation—he could have sold the story ten times over to the gossip columns—but as it was, he had the scoop of the year so far as the art world and Honolulu was concerned, nnd it was going to do his Galleries no harm either. So he carne forward with a wide, beaming smile and said easily, "Nonsense, Sacha, I'll see to it that the car is returned to Mrs. Kimberly's shop at once."
Sacha agreed, seeming to accept Julian's deferential courtesy as his due, and delayed in the outer corridor long enough to make a phone call. With Kim still in his arms and her keys in Julian's possession, Katie had no choice but to await him at the front entrance. She was still shaken, but it was taking all the reserve energy at her command to avoid betraying that fact to the probing eyes of Julian and his staff.
Outside, Sacha settled the children and Sammy in the backseat of a silver—gray Mercedes, then held the front door open for Katie. Previously he had owned a low—slung Lamborghini, but this discreetly luxurious car seemed to fit his new image.
They made one stop, at Carlos, a famous restaurant that Katie knew of by reputation but had never been inside. The parking lot was filled, but Sacha waved away the attendant and pulled into an empty slot.
"I won't be long," he promised as he unbuckled his seat belt.
He wasn't, for within a few minutes, he was back, carrying a picnic basket and followed by a waiter with a tablecloth draped over one arm and a cooler under the ether.
"What's this?"
"I called from the Galleries and asked them to prepare something for four," he explained briefly. With the — liter's help, he saw to the storage of the basket and cooler, then handed the man a bill that had him still smiling and bowing as they drove away.
He seemed to know just where he wanted to go. Passing ~>"aikiki, he headed for a deserted stretch of sand that was sheltered from the wind by a line of palm trees. They had ".he cove all to themselves, an unbroken line of smooth white sand; the glittering, restless ocean, and almost as far as the eye could see, on the edge of the horizon, twin ~hite flags of a sailing ship making its way across their line of vision. It was such a beautiful place that in spite of aerself, Katie felt herself relaxing, responding to its soothing restfulness.
The only jarring note was Sacha. She felt herself Tightening with nerves every time he came near or even spoke, and she was as aware of him as she had been in the fays of their marriage, except that this time, her feelings —ere mixed with dread and apprehension. Following her ro the spot that she chose, he dumped their gear with a mump that brought her eyes reluctantly to him. He had already tossed aside his coat and tie in the car, and now he a a buttoned the top buttons of his shirt and began to roll up his sleeves. He seemed unconscious of her fear—filled eyes as he called the children to him and added, coolly, Tm taking them along the beach to hunt for shells. Why don't you spread out the lunch while we're gone?"
She watched them go uneasily, watched Kim slip a con— ifing hand into his father's. What was Sacha asking him, asking them both, for Trisha was doing her share of the calking? Of course, there was a battle building up, and Rare knew that Sacha was no longer going to allow her full custody of his son. Apparently, he was not married, at least a: the present time; hence his casual reference to her as ins wife to Julian. And she felt sure that Sacha was not g: ing to allow Kim to remain in Hawaii, while he lived on 
the mainland—which meant that her little shop, her independent life, was gone, for of course, wherever Kim went, she would have to go, too. Desperately she considered the alternatives. She would just have to wait and see.
She turned to the picnic basket. Sammy had elected to remain with the food, and he watched with a wagging tail while she reluctantly unpacked the hamper. It was one of those that are fitted with glasses and silverware, and as she lifted out one delicious container of food after another, she realized that the restaurant had provided it all. Everything that could possibly be wanted on a picnic. Sandwiches, crusty fried chicken, a foil—lined box of potato salad, another of fruit salad, raw vegetable snacks, caviar—an item that raised her eyebrows slightly—strawberries, peaches, and ice cream cups packed away in ice. And in the cooler was lemonade and beer. And neatly folded in the snowy white tablecloth were napkins and a package of wet wipes. Nothing could have been a greater contrast to her own picnic plans of soggy sandwiches and pop—up cans of soda on a crowded beach.
The children fell upon the food with whoops of pleasure when they returned.
"I'm glad to see Carlos did right by me," was Sacha's comment as he dropped to sit cross—legged beside Kim.
"Do you know Carlos?" Katie wondered.
He shrugged evasively. "Slightly."
But Carlos, temperamental, a prince among restaurateurs, would not have provided an impromptu picnic Innch for someone he knew "slightly." Katie remembered the odd way Sacha had questioned her motive in coming to Hawaii. Could he be living here himself, she wondered dazedly, and thought she followed him? But no, he knew better than that. And there had certainly been no hint that he was a resident in the paper.
She watched him uneasily, and for the first time, realized how much progress he was making with Kim. Of course, he was very masculine and exactly the sort of father a small boy would want. And Kim had never had a father figure, except for the occasional interest displayed in him by Trisha's dad. Oh, she was mean—minded, jealous,
30
possessive, she told herself ashamedly, but she was scared. Sicha wanted Kim, and although he might be sympathetic i: her, that didn't mean a thing. When it came to a custody battle, sympathy went out the window, and she felt sore, she knew, that Sacha wouldn't give up possession of s son. Moreover, Kim had needs that Sacha was more _=n willing to supply, and Sacha had money and could if ord a long, drawn—out custody case. Katie couldn't. It
was as simple as that.
Just knowing that she was going to have to negotiate for ie most important thing in her life had brought on a : tidache that had Katie's temples pounding with a near— ir raizing pain. It was—it had become—urgent to get :::ha alone and try to learn just what his intentions — ;:e—of putting an end to this cat—and—mouse game. But : ::ha didn't seem to be in any hurry. Smiling, he watched Krm feed Sammy, and she could have sworn that he had .rrgotten all about her. Suddenly Katie found herself i;::ely resenting his cool self—possession, his power, his supreme arrogance. He was too sensitive a person not to czrw what sort of state her nerves were in!
She made a small, betraying movement, and he looked it His eyes narrowed slightly on her pale face and he eied. "What's the matter? Why aren't you eating your k=ch?"
"I don't have your appetite," she snapped nastily.
Too bad," he drawled blandly. "Perhaps you don't fere my clear conscience."
He was laughing at her! Katie trembled with fury. "5;:ha, I've got to talk to you. This can't go on! We've r:: :o discuss what we're going to do. I—I realize you
tar.e rights—"
Kind of you," he murmured sarcastically.
But I'm Kim's mother," she added awkwardly. "My—
ttt rights come before yours—"
He flicked a warning glance at her, but fortunately, just Csea, Sammy provided a diversion by snatching a drum— seek from under Trisha's nose, and scampering off down ±£ reach with it, his two white ears flying like two little
31 
flags behind him. The children jumped up and pursued him, shrieking. Sacha turned to her quickly.
"Yes, I agree. We are going to have to talk, but not before the children. I don't want Kim disturbed until we come to terms, and Trisha seems to me like a young lady who would easily pick up a lot of loose information and repeat it. So—o—o, we'll discuss it later, although I may as well tell you now, Katie, that I don't intend for my son to grow up as I did, with his time divided between two warring parents."
"I gathered—from what you said to Julian—that you haven't remarried?" she murmured diffidently.
He did not reply for a long moment. "No, I haven't," he agreed cynically. "Does that relieve your mind?"
She flushed. "It—makes things easier. For the custody thing, I mean. If there aren't any stepparents. An—another wife would—might—resent Kim."
"You are quite right," he agreed smoothly. "It does make things easier. I remember an occasional husband of my mother's getting in on the battles between her and my father. She had six, you know. Husbands. And my time spent with her was usually a battle with one of them for her attention. I don't intend to have that sort of thing for my son."
"I have no plans to remarry," Katie said stiffly, in case he was laboring under some sort of misconception. "I— don't have the money to fight you in court, Sacha," she added desperately, "but I won't give him up."
"I have a good idea of your financial situation, and the necessity to agree to my terms," he drawled callously. "You may not like them—in fact, you might as well prepare yourself to make sacrifices. If you want to discuss this now, I can send the kids down the beach and we can talk."
"No!" Now that she was faced with it, Katie sought desperately to postpone their decision—making talk. "I—I have an awful headache. C—can't we go home?"
He glanced at her quickly and noticed that her eyes were cloudy with pain. "Why the hell didn't you say so earlier?" he asked roughly. "I'm not a monster! I don't en— ;cy putting you through pain!"
He packed away their supplies efficiently, then whistled id the children and the dog. Unlike their usual ploy with Katie, they didn't argue when he told them crisply that they were returning home. Katie climbed limply into the front seat, and Sacha saw to fastening her seat belt before re closed the door on her then strode around to the driver's side.
They hadn't gone far when he pulled up at a small roadside store boasting a couple of deserted—looking gas r umps out in front. "I thought I remembered this place," ae murmured. "I'll see what they can do for you."
He was back in a minute with a bottle of aspirin in one hand and a paper cup of water in the other. He handed her the water and shook two aspirins out onto the palm of has hand.
'•"With any luck, your headache will be gone by the time — s get back to your place," he remarked.
Returning to the driver's seat, Sacha climbed in, then adjusted his seat belt and shifted to make himself more :rmfortable. Katie opened her eyes cautiously. He looked grim and overpowering, and his face wore a scowl as he rared through the windshield. Suddenly he turned partially uu die seat and looked directly at her.
You're worrying yourself sick, aren't you?" he asked. His voice was a blend of concern and exasperation.
Katie bit her lip. Tears rose to the surface and she : nked fiercely to hold them back. She couldn't speak at frst, then, "Shouldn't I be?"
You were always a little noodle!" he said ruefully. You leap to conclusions and then you jump—straight u::o the frying pan! And then wonder why you're famed!"
You're mixing your metaphors." Her voice held a gu: s: of laughter.
He grinned. "So I am. But before you start worrying
: urself into a state of nervous collapse, suppose you wait until you hear what I have to say. It might be the solution •: all our problems." 
 
CHAPTER IV
Sacha's words had given Katie a slight glimmer of hope— : much, to be sure, but some. By the time they arrived — rae, her headache was gone, eased by the wind in her and the security of knowing that the children had • ed without murmuring Sacha's order to be quiet. She had to do no more than give her address, and Sacha : found his directions effortlessly—another indication he knew more about Hawaii and Honolulu than she — first suspected. 3ack home, the gray Mercedes looked out of place parked in the narrow driveway behind her shabby little : —kswagen. Sacha got out first, flexing his muscles tiredly it ; massaging his neck as though he, too, felt a need to ;ise his tension. Katie watched him covertly, trying to r.ess his reaction to her little shop. A great deal would de— upon whether he thought it was a proper place to je a child, and he was looking at it inscrutably, a look feat immediately put her on the defensive. She had to ad— t± that it was not showing up well at the moment. The Scde stucco bungalow had started life in the 1940's, and it had not improved with age. Operating on a shoestring, Kate had tried to perk it up with the slaphappy addition of cce orange paint, but that had long ago begun to peel, n: a sagging porch gave it a general air of decay. A k ght improvement had been made by the placement of a :: _rle of plants in gay—looking pots at the door, and out— s_e. on a stake driven in the ground, a brightly painted s~ proclaiming this as "Katie's Place" added a banner of
CClCT.
Meantime, everyone had tumbled out of the car, and
Sammy had headed straight for the shrubbery to establish ownership rights. Kim began to run around in circles, too excited to stand still, while Trisha watched him sourly. Compared to Kim, who looked as though he had been pulled through a sand trap backwards, she was as prim and clean as when she started out that morning.
"Would you like for me to baby—sit Kim while you and Mr. Kimberly finish your talk, Aunt Katie?" she asked hopefully.
Katie's lips twitched. "No, that's not necessary, Trisha," she said gently. "I am sure your mother is expecting you at home. Besides, Kim needs to take a nap now."
"I don't take naps," Trisha observed. "I'm too old for naps," she added, ignoring Kim's howl of outrage. "Very well, I'll go, then." She sounded reluctant. "I'll tell Mama that your daddy is back, Aunt Katie. Good—bye, Kim. Good—bye, Aunt Katie. Good—bye, Mr. Kimberly. I did so enjoy meeting you." The look she threw at Sacha was al—most adult and wholly feminine.
He watched her go amusedly. "Good Lord! What an accomplished little flirt! She must make mincemeat of poor Kim. The female of the species is always deadlier than the male," he added mockingly.
"That is an observation that was, no doubt, begun by a male," Katie snapped coolly. "As a matter of fact, Trisha is a very insecure child, and right now, rather jealous of Kim. She sees her father irregularly, and then only on Sundays, but she has always been generous in sharing him with Kim." Katie's mouth trembled briefly.
Sacha's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing more as he watched the self—possessed little girl greet the doorman at the canopied entrance to the apartment house, and him lead her inside to put her on the elevator. "Shall we go in?" he asked gently.
Katie was thankful that the interior of her shop needed no apology. With the lights on, the glass shelves sparkling clean, it looked fresh and modern. Sacha glanced around appreciatively.
"Nice," he commented lazily. "Shall I carry him to bed for you?" he added, picking up Kim. The little boy had " een rubbing his eyes, but at Sacha's words, he stiffened I'd protested that he wasn't sleepy. However, his father :;=lt with that minor little rebellion with a single crisp trmmand and followed Katie down the dingy back hallway.
Kim's bedroom was hot, small, and cluttered with his toys. As Katie snapped on the small revolving fan, she wished despairingly that the air conditioning that cooled the shop had been extended to the rest of the house. She : shed. As always, it had been a matter of money, but —hen Kim woke up drenched with perspiration, as he usually did, she had no doubt that Sacha would see it as another indication that she couldn't care for him properly. While she went through the preliminaries of getting him down for a delayed nap, Sacha stood at the window and roked out on the play yard in the back. Katie had made a riant effort to keep the grass growing, but was only partially successful. There were a couple of stunted trees, a i : :ng, and a sandbox, but the whole was shadowed by the : wering buildings on either side. Katie watched his mouth ? rhten ominously, but he said nothing, either about that : r the airlessness of the bedroom.
Finally, after the ritual of the stuffed duck and the teddy bear had been observed, and Sammy, who had been waiting patiently beside the bed, had been settled at his feet, Katie turned away to lead Sacha from the room.
"We can talk now, if you like," she said uneasily.
"Talk?" Sacha sounded absolutely astonished. "I can't tzlk on an empty stomach. I'd like something to eat frst, if you don't mind."
"Something to eat?" Katie asked blankly. "You mean— igain?"
"Well, you made me leave before I finished my lunch," he explained plaintively. "Surely you want me in a good rumor before we have that talk, don't you?"
Katie pinched her lips together. "This way," she —zapped.
She led the way to the kitchen, small and crowded by the addition of a rolltop desk and a table that she used as i catting table. Motioning Sacha irritably toward a chair, 
she opened the refrigerator door and peered inside. "Would you like to have what I was planning for dinner tonight?" she asked sarcastically.
"That sounds fine," he said easily.
Katie did not quite snort with indignation but her back was rigid with it as she put eggs into a saucepan to boil before shaking some prepackaged rolls out onto a cookie sheet. As the eggs boiled, she washed lettuce, minced celery, mixed it and a hint of onion with tiny shrimp in a bowl, then added dressing. She worked quickly, a slim,
flashing figure in blue denim, with brown legs above her barefoot sandals.
As she worked, she was aware that Sacha was watching her closely, and she was uneasily aware of the male magnetism he exerted by his mere presence. He had not changed; he still had sex appeal and charm going to waste, she thought dourly, and without the slightest scruples about using it whenever necessary. She looked up once and saw his dark eyes intent on her as she peeled eggs AND popped rolls into the oven. Good grief, she wondered in amazement, is he really hungry? Or is he curious to see if I've learned how to cook?
Finally it was ready——the shrimp on its bed of lettuce, iced tea, and hot rolls. Sacha took a cautious mouthful, then smiled slightly.
"Congratulations," he said dryly. "You used to be a lousy cook."
"Is that why you wanted lunch?" she asked suspiciously. "To see if I could cook?"
He shrugged dismissively. "Aren't you having anything?"
"I'm not hungry."
His face darkened. "What are you trying to do—starve yourself? You didn't eat a bite at the beach!"
To silence him, she put a small portisn of the salad on her plate, then proceeded to push it aimlessly from one side to the other to disguise that she wasn't eating. Sacha's mouth tightened, but he said nothing more, and as soon as he had finished, she rose quickly.
"I'm too nervous to eat. Let's get this settled." She added reluctantly, "I suppose we'd better talk in the living room."
Viewing the small living room through Sacha's eyes, it looked dingy and depressing. A small black—and—white television set mingled with a coffee table, a sagging couch, and a couple of overstuffed chairs to provide the furniture. Limp curtains hung at the windows. The room had started life as a bedroom, and it still looked out of kilter and overcrowded.
Katie dropped tiredly onto the couch, and Sacha seated himself at the other end, his trousers tautening along the line of his muscular thighs as he casually crossed one leg over a knee and laid his hand on his ankle. Desperately anxious to appear equally at ease, Katie picked up a package of cigarettes she kept on the table and lit one jerkily.
"You never used to smoke." His narrowed eyes met hers through the defiant puff of smoke she exhaled.
"So what? I do now!" she replied sharply, then immediately took a firm hold on herself. This was absurd. She was taking everything he said as criticism. As for smoking, she almost never did unless she was nervous, so why try to pretend that she was a three—pack—a—day smoker? But why, she added defensively, did he have to be so relaxed, when she was on pins and needles?
She stubbed out her cigarette angrily. "Sacha! I—about this talk—what are you going to do?"
"I think we'd better clear up all extraneous material first," he began easily.
"Extraneous material?" she asked blankly.
"Yes. Your marital status, for instance. Obviously you've not remarried, but is there someone—some man— who is playing stepfather to my son?"
Katie gasped as the meaning of his words penetrated. "How dare you?" Her face flamed. "And if there is, what of it? You have Irene, haven't you?"
"Irene?" he asked, and she could have sworn he was as— .rnished. "You mean—Irene West? That poisonous girlfriend of yours?"
"Certainly! Wasn't she the reason you wanted a divorce? Or have you forgotten that I found you in her apartment the next morning after having plainly slept there all night?"
"Yes, I had forgotten that," he drawled. "So—that's how you figured it out? Poor Katie! No, I asked you for a divorce because I got tired of that tendency of yours to magnify every trifle into a sure thing and make scenes over nothing. I went over to Irene's that night to try to make some sense out of some of your accusations, and in the process, I learned something about that woman's influence over you. She kept you tied in knots with her hints and innuendos, didn't she? We sat up half the night talking, and she made a bed for me on the sofa. I spent the rest of the night fending off her advances. When you rang the doorbell, I was about to leave."
"I thought—I thought—" she mumbled.
"You thought—as you always did—that she was my mistress," he said dryly. "No, Katie. But your best friend was about as faithful as a rattlesnake."
"I know that—now," Katie said dully.
"There may, then, be hope for you yet," he said sardonically. "However, none of this has anything to do with our present problem. I asked you once—do you have a lover?"
"And I refuse to answer that!" Katie flared. "Just because we were once married, you have no right to pry into my business! I don't have to answer any of your questions."
"Careful, Katie," he warned softly. "You're treading on dangerous ground. You either answer me here and now, or you'll find yourself answering a lawyer's questions in court."
She stared at the grim lines of his face. "Oh, all right!"
she said sullenly. "There's no one. I don't have a—a—
lover. I haven't had anyone since I—left you. I've been too busy trying to earn a living for myself and my child!" she said defensively. "There! Does that answer your questions?"
"One of them," he replied with a slight smile. He had relaxed at her answer, and now he rubbed the back of his neck as though releasing tired muscles from their tightness. "See how painless it was?" he added dryly. "Things might have been complicated if you'd picked up a husband or even a lover in the past four years, but as it is, there are no impediments to our living together again. And think how much simpler it will be for Kim," he added, ignoring her shocked gasp. A lazy forefinger trailed a tingling path across her cheek to the edge of her mouth where it deli—cately outlined the shape of her lips. "Poor Katie," he murmured provocatively. "No man, eh? How you must have missed me. You can't have enjoyed living alone. Not you. You were always an accomplished little sensualist."
Katie jerked away indignantly. "How dare you suggest that I am ready to fall into your arms like ripe fruit! You're a conceited egotist, Sacha Kimberly! I've learned to live alone and like it, and I've learned to take care of myself, too! I'm not some silly little girl who is falling all over you to take her to bed! I don't need you! I am my own person, and if you think I intend to remarry you merely because it suits your plans, you're wrong!" she idded furiously. "We'll come to some other arrangement about Kim! I've learned that the only good marriage is an equal marriage, and by that token, ours was lousy."
"Bravo," he said ironically. "You have grown up. There've been times today when I've thought you were still the old Katie, who was often a whining bore. I infinitely prefer your new independence. But make no mistake, Katie," a steely note crept into his voice, "I do not intend to put up with outright defiance."
"You won't have to put up with anything!" she snapped angrily. "I tell you, I will not remarry you!"
"My dear girl," he said dryly. "Who said anything about remarriage?"
"You mean—?" She stopped, sputtering, then started again, on a rising note of outrage. "You mean—if you :'—ink I'll enter into some kind of irregular arrangement with you—some kind of bohemian setup—" She stopped a rain, disconcerted by his laughter.
"Are you visualizing our living in sin, Katie, with our trn an everyday witness to it?" He chuckled, his dark eyes a light with amusement. "Haven't you listened to a word I've said today? Don't you understand what I want—what
41 
I intend to have—for my son?" He reached for her and jerked her around to face him. "Let me tell you again, and this time, you listen!" he said sternly. "I don't intend to be a casual, part—time father! We're going to be his parents, you and I, which means that we eat together, we sleep together, we have other babies. And in case your busy little mind is at work on how to get out of it—don't! We're still legally married."
"Legally married?" Her face whitened. "B—b—but I signed papers—the next morning—"
"And I had Martin drop the divorce eight days later!" he said impatiently. "You would have learned it, if you'd stayed around long enough or left a forwarding address. No, we're very much married, Katie. Which means that Kim was born legitimately and I have every legal right to him. More so than most fathers, for you deserted me and kept his existence a secret from me for four years. I think a judge would hand him over to me if I cared to follow it up, so make no mistake, either you play ball with me or you lose your son! It's as simple as that. I want him, Katie! He's mine, and I'll fight for him if I have to," he added deliberately.
Katie's throat grew dry with horror as she listened to the biting terms of his proposal and the alternative he threatened. "No. You wouldn't!" she gasped. "Surely you wouldn't do that to me?"
"Try me," he replied calmly. "Just try me and see. I'll do anything to get my own way. Haven't you told me so often enough?"
"But you—wouldn't take him away—from me?" she faltered. "I—it would kill him to be parted from me."
"No," he corrected her coolly. "It would kill you, Katie. He would adapt, particularly if I gave him a father to take your place. I've been showing you all day how quickly he has taken to me, and it has just about killed you, hasn't it? You've made him your life, haven't you?"
"Of—course I have!" she cried distractedly. "How can you sit there and talk about taking him away from me as though it was nothing? He's been mine since the day he was born. I—I can't give him up!"
"I've given you an alternative," he reminded her cruelly. "What sort of alternative is that?" she demanded. "I am to submit to your terms—"
"Precisely. You are to submit—to become my wife in every sense of the word. It shouldn't be too hard," he added sardonically. "As I remember, we've always been able to communicate in the bedroom."
Katie flushed. His words brought back memories that she would have preferred to forget, especially just now when she needed every ounce of self—control to keep Sacha from guessing how shaken she was. In spite of herself, however, her eyes brightened, and she could not prevent herself from saying, half—provocatively, half—sarcastically, "Does that mean if I please you, I'll get time off for good behavior?"
She should have known it would be a mistake to challenge Sacha. His eyes narrowed slightly on her curling lips. "Are you trying to tell me that you'll find it a hardship to be married to me?" he asked smoothly.
With a gesture that was insultingly effortless, he reached out lazily and pulled her off—balance. One lean, strong hand lightly clasped her wrists, rendering her hands ineffective, and the other held her immovable across his chest. After the first shock she struggled wildly in an attempt to free herself, but soon gave up and lay helpless, panting, her face upturned to his. Beneath her cheek, she could feel the rock—hard muscles of his chest, cushioned slightly by a thick growth of hair. "You've admitted that you've had no one since you left me." His eyes glinted slightly as he took in her flushed, startled face. "That means you've gone hungry, and if I know my Katie, you're very hungry indeed. You were my wife too long for me to not remember just what turns you on, Katie. No matter how hard we fought, I could usually bring you around when we shut the bedroom door, couldn't I, Katie? Our sex life never gave us any trouble. I think we'll find a common meeting rround to patch up our differences." His taunting words had their effect, and Katie began to struggle again, angrily impotent against his superior strength. She pulled desperately at his hand, seeking to free her wrists, but the loose 
grip tightened like a vise. He watched with a sort of cool curiosity the straining pressure of her upthrust breasts against the thin, red—checked cloth of her shirt, then, idly, he put out a tentative forefinger and brushed one of the taut points.
Katie reacted like a scalded cat. Her imprisoned wrists jerked spasmodically, and she shrank back against his chest.
"Let me go, Sacha!" she cried hoarsely.
"Uh uh." He smiled slightly, but only with his lips. The dark eyes remained watchful. "That's just what I won't do until I show you something about your own needs." He gripped her hair roughly, dislodging most of her carefully placed pins and bringing a golden—tipped brown cloud tumbling down about her shoulders. His strong, cruel fingers forced her to remain absolutely still as he studied her face thoroughly, his eyes roaming from the wide, frightened eyes to the tremulous mouth, before finally pausing to study a frantic pulse that was beating wildly at the base of her throat.
"Oh, God, please, Sacha—" she moaned desperately.
"You used to beg for my kisses like that," he mocked, then his mouth covered hers with a suddenness that took her by surprise. She struggled briefly before she admitted herself the vanquished in the uneven battle. Helplessly, she could not stem the tide of passion that rose to meet his as he soon had her lips gentled beneath his own, stripping her inhibitions as skillfully as his hand explored the intimate contours of her body. A warm tongue, trailing a burning path from the corner of her mouth, paused at the delicate lobe of her ear while his plundering hand teased her breasts. Automatically her body responded to his expertise, and Katie could do nothing to stop it. She was drowning in a soft, warm cocoon of darkness. Unable to stop herself, she lifted an arm and brought his face closer to hers.
Then, abruptly, Sacha withdrew his mouth and set her upright with jarring suddenness.
"Snap out of it, sweetheart! Our son is calling you."
Katie blinked dazedly. She felt bereft, as though Heaven itself had slipped from her grasp. Then she heard it—
Kim's plaintive "Mommy!" A cry that usually had the power to drag her from the very depths of sleep; yet in Sacha's arms she had heard nothing. How long had he been calling? A slow tide of crimson covered her neck and :ice as she realized that her blouse was open, her bra ranging loose, and her taut nipples gave lie, if nothing else, to any claims she might make to being indifferent to Sacha. Moreover, he was watching her amusedly, and she inew that he hadn't missed a thing.
With a stifled gasp she jumped to her feet and flew from the room, her cheeks burning with shame. Snap out of IT, sweetheart! At that moment, she hated him. He had accomplished what he had set out to do—which was to rrove to her that he could still summon a response from her willing body, even after five years. She reminded herself fiercely that although she had loved him desperately when she left him five years ago, he had not loved her. AND nothing had changed! Dear God, she was right back —here she started! It suited Sacha to take her back as his wife—because of Kim. And she must never forget that that was his reason. She knew now that she still loved him, rut she couldn't allow him to know it. To love without r rpe of return was to become a slave. If he had an inkling "that what she felt for him was anything but the most basic physical need, he would use it ruthlessly to his advantage, ro matter how much he bruised her heart in the process. No! If she was going to survive in this marriage, and she had to survive, or lose Kim, she was going to have to hide her love with every weapon at her disposal. 

  
45
44 
CHAPTER V
Kim was sitting up in bed, waiting for her, and his first words revealed his fast—growing dependence upon his father.
"Where's Daddy?" he demanded, with an edge of fear and uncertainty in his voice that tore at her heart. "He hasn't gone, has he, Mommy? Please, Mommy, Daddy's s—still here, isn't he?"
"Of course he is," she reassured the little boy. "He's in the living room—" But she wasn't able to complete the sentence, for Kim was already out of bed and racing down the hall toward the living room, Sammy yipping excitedly it his heels.
If she had wanted her answer, Katie thought tiredly, she had it now. She followed Kim slowly. Sacha had already rained a place as a necessary person to his son's happiness. She couldn't take that away from Kim any more than she could deny him her own love. She was necessary, too. Basically, the age—old law of nature still held true—a child reeded the love of both parents.
"Are yon going to stay here with us, Daddy?" Kim was in his father's lap, and there was something convulsive about the grip around his neck. "Say you're going to live with us, Daddy! You're not going to leave, are you? Please! Mommy wants you to stay, too, don't you, Mommy?"
Sacha's eyes glinted as they met Katie's. "Well, Mommy? Would you like me to stay?"
"It looks like it's all settled," she said expressionlessly.
'Then we'd better leave soon," he said briskly, "if we're to get home before dark." 
"Home?" Katie asked blankly.
"I should say, to my father's home." He corrected himself. "He lives on a ranch on the island of Hawaii. While 1 you're getting a couple of bags packed, I'll make arrange— 1 ments to have a helicopter standing by."
"But—but—your father? Paul Kimberly? I—I didn't know he lived here in Hawaii."
He shrugged. "I gathered you didn't, or that your aunt hadn't mentioned it."	 
"My aunt? Would she have known him?"	 
"She might have." He was noncommittal. "You said she had lived here a long time, and he is well known locally. However, my mother is the newsworthy one, because she's the heiress. Dad only wants to be left alone to attend to his business. On the whole, he shuns publicity."
"Has he always lived here?"	 
"Of course. He's a kamaaina."
"A—kamaaina? You mean someone who is born here?"
"Yes. His ancestors, too. My grandmother is a native Hawaiian. You'll meet her, too, for she lives with my father. My grandfather is dead. He was one of the early white settlers on the island." He grinned narrowly. "Poor Katie. You fled me as though I was a devil, only to arrive at the homeland of my ancestors."
She shrugged. "How would I know?" she demanded bitterly. "You never talked about yourself. Everything I know about you, I learned from the newspapers or other people."
"Are you rebuking me?" he asked wryly. "I am afraid I tried to avoid unpleasant subjects during the brief, halcyon days of our marriage. The memories of the battles my parents fought over me were all too bitter for me to want to dwell on them. And—I had other things to think about those days."
"Yes. You reminded me that our conversation was mostly confined to the bedroom," she agreed tonelessly.
"Better that than the courtroom," he reminded her dryly. "This time, I shall try to satisfy your curiosity, Katie. There'll be no secrets between us. You asked'about my father—he's a rancher, with a cattle spread in Hawaii. He also raises pineapples, orchids, and coffee, and prefers outdoor life to an office, but inevitably, has to involve himself in a certain amount of business. He did not remarry after his divorce, and my grandmother, who is a very formidable old lady, oversees the running of his house." He paused and looked at her speculatively, as though struck by a thought. "Does that make a difference?" 
 "What?"
"That my grandmother is a Hawaiian." She stared at him uncomprehendingly, then suddenly understanding, flushed. "I am not a racist, Sacha." 
"I just wondered," he said mildly.
"Have you been living here since—since I left?" The question had been nagging at her from the beginning.
He frowned. "No. I have been back here often, and I spent a year on Kauai painting. Why do you think Julian was able to prevail upon me to have the show here?"
"The paper said Mrs. Wetherell persuaded you." He laughed shortly. "No. The reporter got that little piece of misinformation from Claire, or perhaps Julian, who thought it made good publicity. Can you imagine the hell of knowing that my son has been on this island since his birth," he added with brutal abruptness, "so close, yet I didn't know? God, I could kill you when I think of how I have missed the first four years of his life!"
"Mommy? Daddy?" Kim's anxious little face showed that he was aware of the deliberate note of cruelty in his fisher's voice.
Sacha hugged him and said lightly, "How about it, Kim? Shall we visit your grandfather's ranch? There's a swimming pool."
"I can't swim," Kim said doubtfully. Then you'll have to learn," his father said briskly. 'You can't be a kamaaina without knowing how to swim."
"Then you plan to remain in Hawaii?" Katie asked carefully.
Sacha did not answer directly. "Even if I did not, Kim would still be a kamaaina because he was born here, just is his father was," he said evasively. "Incidentally, I would prefer you not to get into a discussion on this subject with my grandmother. She is old and opinionated, and she wants me to live at home—with her—on Hawaii."
"B—but how can I keep my shop if you live on Hawaii?" Katie faltered, dismayed.
"You can't. I suggest that while we're at my father's house, you see about having it put on the market. My father employs a good firm of lawyers who can handle the details for you, if you'd like."
"Put my shop on the market! I won't! I've worked too hard building it up just to—to abandon it like that!" she sputtered.
"My dear Katie, what else do you expect to do?" he asked patiently. "No matter where you live, you're going to be too busy to run a shop. Even if you found someone to do it for you, I have no intention of allowing you to supervise it. Far better to put it on the market now, before it starts to go downhill, and sell it while it's a going concern. But of course, you may do just as you like. It's your shop, after all, and if you want to walk off and leave it, it's your business."
Which meant, of course, that the shop would be worthless if she did. Sacha was right about that. And she had a shrewd idea he would prefer her to do just that, for the few thousands of dollars that this land and the contents of the shop would bring meant nothing to him, but to her, they represented a kind of independence.
"I'll sell it," she muttered sullenly.
Once having the decision made for her to sell the shop, it was almost as though fate stepped in to take a hand, making it possible to sell Katie's Place overnight—to Pat Merritt. She came flying over as Katie was wandering helplessly around her bedroom, trying to put things together in a suitcase. Sacha had proven himself surprisingly competent by offering to bathe Kim while she packed, and had then proceeded to push up his sleeves and, with a minimum of splashing, get the little boy in and out of the bathtub in record time. Katie had left him to it, a little disturbed by the intimacy of Sacha in her bedroom and bathroom. She had lived alone too long; it was vaguely unsettling to have him bring a naked, wriggling little Kim ~to her bedroom and towel him dry.
Once Kim was powdered and pajamaed, Sacha paused, lis hands resting lightly on lean hips.
'Don't worry too much about packing," he drawled. You can buy what you need on Hawaii. As for the rest of this stuff," his eyes flicked the cheap bedroom furniture contemptuously, "I presume it will go with the shop?"
Katie looked up sharply, spoiling for a fight, stung by lis offhand dismissal of what she had taken so long to build up. Her life's work. And this was her home, and whatever he might think of it, it had some value to her! But she stopped short, biting her lips, when she saw that he was waiting for the angry words that were trembling on HER lips. In any quarrel, Sacha would remain devastatingly DIE master. How often she had ranted and railed at him, wantly to have him demolish her emotional arguments with a FEW taunting, cutting phrases! In the past it had infuriated HER and gained her exactly nothing. Well, she had gone DOWN that road too often to make the mistake of challenging him with no better weapons than her tongue and temper. So she met his sardonic eyes calmly and nodded.
Thinking about Sacha, and the most potent weapon he used to keep her under subjection, she realized that she hadn't been entirely honest with him today. Not that she had any intention of telling him everything about her past! She had dated other men, but nothing serious, and they had been casual dates arranged, for the most part, by Pat, who was anxious to link her up with a second husband. But at the first sign of intimacy, even a kiss, Katie had broken off at once. She had no intention of telling Sacha that Pat had once asked her if she had trouble "loosening up" with her husband, and in a roundabout way, Katie knew, she was asking her if she had been frigid during her marriage. Far from it! Katie had never allowed her to know the truth—that there was no one who could compare to Sacha.
It was ironical, therefore, that Sacha would think she was so man—hungry that she would respond to any man the way she responded to him. And it gave her an idea of what the future would be unless she asserted herself. Whatever else happened, she was determined that Sacha was not going to find her a pushover, easily mastered, subservient to his wishes, as she had been before. Easy and boring, in other words, thought Katie grimly. Something she hadn't been in a long time and, please God, would never be again!
"Katie, who in the world is that gorgeous man in the kitchen, feeding Kim cornflakes? Is it true that he's Kim's father?"
It was Pat, who had bounced into the room in her usual abrupt, unannounced fashion. Katie took one look at her familiar face and sat down on the side of the bed and burst into tears. Between sobs, she managed to gasp out part of her story, or at least enough to give Pat an idea of what had happened. Until now Pat had assumed, like everyone else, that Katie was a widow, and she could feel Pat's shock from where she sat. But Pat loyally remained at her side, rubbing her shoulder and handing her tissues between clucks of sympathy.
"But, Katie," she said at last, hesitantly. "I don't know what the problem is, sweetie. Most women would give ten years of their lives to have a man like that. Rich, handsome, famous, and wanting you to come back to him. Oh, yes, I understand that he asked you for a divorce," she interrupted herself hastily, "but so what? You have a baby now, and that's all past history. Try to forgive and forget as he has. Unless," she added, with a trace of embarrassment, "Katie—is it—your old trouble? Does he—er—turn you off?"
Katie laughed a little wildly. "Far from it! All he has to do is touch me and I'm on fire! In fact, he doesn't even have to do anything but look at me for me to—" She stopped, biting her lips, too humiliated to complete her confession.
"For you to want him?" Pat asked gently. "Okay, honey, I understand now. And I understand something else, too—why none of the men I introduced you ever made the grade with you. But, Katie, is that wrong? To want your own husband?"
"But—I don't want to be like I was before," Katie said desperately. "I don't want to lose all my self—respect. Oh, Pat, you don't know! I was such a silly little fool then! I—he was my teacher, you see, at the Art Institute. He was eleven years older than I was and a perfect dream— boat—and already a famous artist! He didn't need the money, but they persuaded him to take just one class. It meant a lot to the school just to have his name on the faculty list. I used to hang around outside just to watch him leave, or turn up looking for a table in the school cafeteria 
while he was having coffee. Oh, I was so transparent!" she added ironically. "Finally, he asked me for a date—well, why not? I practically threw myself at him! He must have thought I was an experienced little nympho, but during the course of the evening, he made the obvious discovery from my reactions that I was a virgin. I was only eighteen and had just lost my father and had never really known my mother and—and I was all alone in the world and—I ended up sitting on his lap, bawling my eyes out. I think he must have been appalled and amused, too, but he certainly wasn't in love with me! However, he apparently felt responsible for me after that, for he told me—not asked me!—that we were getting married. Oh, I was a spineless little fool."
"But you're not spineless now, Katie," Pat reassured her stoutly. "At least, I don't think you are. You're the strongest person I know. Look how you took hold after your Aunt Anna died. You hadn't a cent and you had a baby to support, yet you turned this place into something worthwhile single—handedly. And all from nothing!"
"I hope you're right—about me, Pat, because I'm going to need every bit of the strength I have. Sacha isn't going to be satisfied with anything less than total capitulation."
"Is that what he wants of you?" Pat asked curiously. "Is that what went wrong the last time?"
"Oh, no, I'd probably still be clinging like a helpless little barnacle if he hadn't kicked me out," Katie replied drearily. "I knew what the score was, of course. He didn't love me, but for a while it was enough just to love him and know that I was his wife. But finally I got greedy—I started wanting more. I wanted him to love me. I had a friend—Irene West—who wanted my husband—only I hadn't the sense to see it. She convinced me that he was cheating on me and prodded me into throwing scenes and making accusations. Sacha got irritated—and bored—and when Sacha was bored, he showed it, which made me worse. Finally, he asked me for a divorce."
"I think he may be surprised this time around." Pat grinned. "You've grown up, honey. You're not boring, and you can pack an awful wallop of your own if anyone starts pushing you around. And how." The grin widened. "Now! One of your troubles is over. I want to buy this place if you're serious about selling it. I've been thinking of asking you about a partnership for some time, now that Trish will be going to school in the fall and I'll need something to keep me busy."
Katie was overwhelmed with relief. Although details had to be worked out—she to come to a fair price and Pat to hit her ex—husband for a loan, as she put it, she could relax now that her hard—won little shop was not going to fall into unappreciative hands. "And if you ever decide you're bored and want to come back," Pat promised, "then I'll sell you a half interest back."
But Katie knew she would not be coming back. She had not told Pat about Sacha's ultimatum, but so long as he held that over her head, she knew that she had to make this marriage work, no matter how much humiliation she had to suffer in the process.
Back in the kitchen, Pat told Sacha the news, flirting with him the way she did with most men. Katie watched tolerantly. Once, Pat's smiles and blushes would have set her on fire with jealousy, not to mention that gleam in Sacha's eyes as he watched her, but she had come a long way since then. It was Katie who insisted on Pat staying and having a drink to celebrate the sale. She unearthed a half—empty bottle of sherry in the cupboard and divided it among three coffee mugs, and Sacha, propped against the old rolltop desk, toasted the new management.
"Who made those framed collages in the nursery, Katie?" he asked idly.
"Katie did!" Pat bubbled. "She's a talented gal! Give her a few scraps of cloth and an embroidery needle and she can turn out a picture, or a wall hanging or—or a patchwork skirt! But then, you know that—you were her teacher."
"I'm afraid I don't know that," he replied smoothly. "Of course, as her teacher, I knew Katie couldn't paint. Some times I wondered what she was doing in my class." His eyes gleamed with mockery. He had known why she was in his class, Katie thought sickly, squirming at the memory of her love—sick idolatry. "But I am glad to hear that she has unsuspected talent, for the collages are very good. I just hope I can provide her with enough scope when she
begins decorating our home."
Katie was stunned by the unexpected compliment, but Pat was unflappable. "Oh, she'll do a marvelous job!" she enthused. "She had a flair for color and design. In fact, you're lucky all around, for Katie is also a marvelous cook."
Sacha looked amused. "Really?"
Katie kicked Pat under the table, stopping her in mid— phrase. "Isn't it time we were going?" she asked pointedly.
"Of course. I'm afraid I forgot the time—the conversation was so interesting," Sacha added wickedly. "I'd love to hear more about Katie another time, Pat, but we have a long trip ahead of us and two very anxious persons at the
end of it."
"They know we're coming, then?"
"Yes, I called my father while you were packing. He's very excited at the prospect of seeing his grandson." 

CHAPTER VI
"Just walk away and try to forget the shop ever existed." Pat was dangling Katie's keys from her fingers and hanging over the car window, bright—eyed with excitement.
"We're trying to," Sacha murmured under his breath, but his voice held an undertone of laughter, as though he found Pat's bubbling enthusiasm amusing.
The suitcases had been loaded into the car; Kim and Sammy were in, as well as Katie, but Pat was still talking.
"I promise I won't call on her for a single thing, not even if there's an emergency," she said to Sacha.
"May we count on that?" he asked ironically.
He sat beside Katie, his hands resting loosely on the wheel, watching narrow—eyed as he listened to Pat. He was cool and in control, not giving anything away by so much as an inch, thought Katie. As she huddled in one corner of the front seat and held a sleepy Kim in her arms, she wondered if his veins held ice water. It was always that way—from the beginning Sacha had never lost his head, whereas she had always been an emotional little fool, easily led, easily swayed. Suddenly she was panicky. What was she doing here, anyway? This wasn't like her. She wasn't usually so meek! She was a fighter—or she had been until today. But Sacha had easily turned the clock back to the way it was before. She wondered if she could have worked something out, retained custody somehow, if she had stuck by her guns and refused to be intimidated. She thought of the torment, the wondering, doubting, craving Sacha's love and receiving instead, as a sort of palliative, his lovemaking, and she felt absolutely certain that she had let herself in for an outsized dose of heartbreak. 
She stirred restlessly, and as though he had read her mind, Sacha cut Pat off with a quick, crisp good—bye and backed the Mercedes out of the driveway.
He drove as he always did—efficiently, but without wasting time. Katie watched him apathetically. He was frowning slightly and was confining himself to a minimum of conversation. She had no idea where they were going, and found it almost too easy to leave it in Sacha's hands, but when she saw the helicopter awaiting them at the airstrip, she was shaken sharply out of her apathy.
It was red and blue, and across the door was a dashing inscription, "Kimberly Ranch." Sacha's impatient hand at her back forced her forward, reminding her to control her flying fears before Kim. As she was being buckled into her seat belt and given Sammy to hold, she was attacked by an irrational panic. She had flown once—to Hawaii—but that was in a large jet, which gave one the illusion of being in a train. But this was different, with the blades clacking overhead and the earth rapidly dropping away beneath one's feet. She could hear Kim's excited voice as he was lifted into the seat behind her, and then, to her unspeakable horror, she saw that Sacha was calmly climbing into the pilot's seat and was strapping himself into his seat.
She drew in a sharp, terrified breath.
"You—you don't mean you're going to d—drive this thing!" she stammered.
He glanced at her sharply. "I've been a licensed pilot since I was eighteen," he said dryly. "My father was too busy to depend upon commercial aircraft, and he pressed me into service." He seemed unaware of her nervousness as he put on a very efficient set of earphones. "I won't be able to talk while I'm wearing these, so you and Kim will have to amuse yourselves. Kim," he added, over his shoulder, "don't touch that seat belt while we're in the air."
The giant whirlybird rose smoothly, hovered, and began a southward course. As they swept over Oahu and then out to sea, Katie gingerly noticed a familiar landmark or two, but she was too tense to look down or attempt to turn around to answer Kim's questions. Sammy gave a little yelp, and she realized that she had been squeezing the little dog. He climbed out of her lap reproachfully and climbed into Kim's, and Katie gave herself over to trying to quell her nervous fears and quiet her equally nervous stomach.
Sacha glanced at her once or twice, but he said nothing until the aircraft tilted, and he pointed out that they were coming in to Hawaii. Katie looked down cautiously. In the light of the setting sun, Hawaii glowed like an emerald set in a field of iridescent colors, mostly a range of blues shot through with gold, green, and an occasional flash of red. Katie had never been here, since the infrequent vacations she allowed herself had, of necessity, to be spent on Oahu. She knew little about it, except as the largest of the group of islands that made up the state of Hawaii, and that it was considered by many people to be the most beautiful, with its rising cliffs, silvery waterfalls, and a volcano that brought thousands of tourists each year to stand at its edge and gape. She saw none of that, but gained a fleeting impression of green fields, roads, a sparse settlement or two, and then—the airstrip. The helicopter hovered like an awkward, ungainly, noisy bird, then slowly it began to descend. Katie relaxed with a deep sigh of relief.
This time, their car was a battered station wagon. It was driven out from a heavily padlocked garage as soon as the helicopter blades came to a stop. Sacha swung the suitcases into the back, then stood talking in a low voice to the uniformed guard who had driven the car onto the field.
Meantime, Katie settled into the car with Sammy and Kim. The interior was shabby—looking and, from the way Sammy was using his nose, had probably been used at one time to haul fertilizer. Katie found it reassuring to know that Sacha's father was a hardworking rancher, rather than a rich dilettante playing at work.
Kim crawled into her lap, his thumb in his mouth, just as Sacha opened the door on the driver's side.
"I'm sleepy, Mommy."
"I'm not surprised," she said tartly. 
"Don't let him get too comfortable. We haven't far to go." By the reflected light from the dashboard, Katie saw he was frowning as he leaned forward to turn on the ignition.
"What's the matter?"
"Probably nothing, but Frank said that a stranger has been been around the airfield, asking questions." 
"A stranger?"
"We try to be careful, discreet," he explained, quietly. "This car, for instance; an electronic fence; alarms; guard dogs; but inevitably, a rich man's family is a target for— er—cranks."
"Are you talking about kidnappers!' Katie gasped. He shrugged. "Perhaps." His voice was carefully emotionless.
She clutched Kim closer. "B—b—but p—people don't know— Would they have learned already about Kim? There was only that one time in the paper that your mother was mentioned—" she begged.
"No," he agreed gently. "Kim is not in danger of kidnappers because of my mother, but my father." 
"Your father? You said he was a rancher!" A fleeting look of amusement crossed his face. "He is also a rich man. Oh, don't worry, we have good protection," he added roughly. "The estate is well guarded, and the men he employs are loyal."
"B—b—but——" Katie sputtered, then came to a halt, the mental image of a hardworking rancher vanishing to be replaced by a vision of electronic fences and guard dogs. What was she getting into? In San Francisco, she and Sacha had lived simply, their home an old carriage house that they had remodeled themselves. There had been no lack of money, but she had been a great little economizer, eager to show her husband just how thrifty she could be. It had taken Irene West, a fellow student, to tell her about the man she had married. She had been angry, she remembered. It had been the first of many quarrels, as she gradually came to realize that Sacha had simply not trusted her to tell her the truth.
By this time they had arrived at a pair of forbidding gates set in a heavy steel fence, half hidden by shrubbery. The gates opened smoothly to the touch of an electronic
switch in the car. The headlights briefly picked up the outline of a dark, tree—lined drive before the car was swallowed up in the blackness of a tropical undergrowth on either side. The drive lasted about half a mile before the strong beams illuminated an inner gate guarded by a pair of stone rams and they entered a courtyard paved with crushed stone. Katie saw the outline of a house, a large, impressive—looking place with a recessed second floor sur—
i rounded by a balcony.
As the car came to a stop, outside lights sprang up, the front door was thrown open, and an elderly Japanese manservant in a white jacket hurried down the steps.
"Welcome, welcome, Mr. Sacha." He was beaming. "Your father awaits you. Most anxious to see the little one."
"Thank you, Yoshura," Sacha replied easily. "This is Mrs. Kimberly, and this little sleepyhead is Kim," he added, lifting him carefully from Katie's lap.
Yoshura bowed smilingly, then busied himself with removing the luggage from the car. Sacha led the way into the house, carrying Kim, and Katie trailed behind uncertainly. By this time, she was feeling extremely apprehensive, her stomach fluttering with nervousness, her mouth dry. She knew that part of it was hunger, but her feelings were not helped when she saw the rich interior of the house.
Sacha led the way into the living room and she followed, gaining a confused impression of spaciousness and light, of muted furniture and carpets accented by the glowing colors of an antique Chinese screen, Oriental paintings, and a priceless collection of porcelain and art objects in a lacquer cabinet. But before she could assimilate what she was seeing, she was meeting Sacha's father.
Paul Kimberly was shorter than his son, and his skin was swarthier, but they had the same dark eyes and thin— lipped mouth, as well as thick black hair, which in the father's case, was liberally sprinkled with gray. He was dressed casually and comfortably in a loose—fitting tunic that had been belted about the waist with a sash and was worn over a pair of loose cotton slacks.
He greeted her warmly. "So, at last I meet you, Katie! I bid you welcome to my house."
"Thank you, Mr. Kimberly." Katie took his outstretched hand.
"Please, you may call me Paul if you cannot bring yourself to say 'Father,' but I object to anything more formal," he commanded smilingly. He turned away to look at his grandson. Sacha had put the little boy on his feet, but Kim was clinging to his leg. An oddly moved look crossed the older man's face. He drew a deep breath. "Ah—h—h! He looks exactly like you, Sacha. A mirror image! Thank God, there'll be no awkward questions asked now."
"He's my son, Father. I wouldn't expect anyone to ask me questions," Sacha said grimly.
"Yes, yes, I know. But you can't halt gossip, my son," his father reminded him impatiently.
"Is that why my grandmother isn't here?" Sacha demanded. "Because she thinks the child isn't mine?"
His father looked slightly embarrassed. "She is—old," he murmured. "Give her time to come around."
Sacha knelt and disengaged the little boy's clinging fingers then whispered something in his ear. Solemnly Kim walked over to his grandfather and tugged at his hand. When the old man bent down, he planted a moist kiss on the lined cheek.
"He's—wonderful, Sacha." There was a slight break in his voice. "Thank you for bringing my grandson to me."
Sacha's hands curved possessively around the small waist. "Yes," he said deeply. "Katie has borne a nice child."
"Er—yes, of course." Obviously, Paul Kimberly had forgotten all about her. "A fine boy, Katie."
Katie, who had been feeling almost like an Indian squaw relegated to await her master's pleasure in the back of the tent, wondered wryly how much credit he really gave her in producing Kim.
"Bless my soul! What is that—thing?" Suddenly, Paul had noticed Sammy, who was hovering anxiously at Katie's feet, his worried little face indicating all too plainly .hat he considered himself to be lost.
Sacha's rueful eyes met Katie's. "Sorry, Father, but that's—er—Sammy. And where Kim goes, he goes, too. He's housebroken and we'll try to keep him off the furniture, but you know how it is with a boy and his dog."
"Of course, of course, Son. I like a dog, but your grandmother may think his place is outside."
"No!" Kim dropped to his knees and clutched Sammy in his arms. "I don't want him to go outside. He is my dog!"
"No one is going to take Sammy away from you, Kim," Sacha said gently. "But he must eat his dinner right now. Would you let Yoshura take him to the kitchen if he promises to bring him back before you go to bed?"
Kim looked at the smiling Japanese butler, then handed Sammy reluctantly into the waiting arms.
"I have good dinner in the kitchen for little fellow, Kim," Yoshura promised.
"Katie is dead on her feet, Father," Sacha added. "The sooner she and Kim go to bed, the better. Perhaps they can have a tray in their rooms?"
"Of course," Paul replied courteously. "You take them upstairs, Sacha. You know the way. I think your grandmother set aside the master suite, with that little dressing room next door for Kim. Meantime, I'll see Yoshura about a tray."
The first thing Katie saw in the big, luxurious bedroom was the king—size bed, covered by a rich raw silk bedspread. It was opulent, suggestive, and it seemed to her tired eyes to dominate the room. She whirled to look at Sacha, and from the wickedly amused look on his face, she knew just what he was thinking. Her mouth tightened.
"I'm not sharing that bed with you, Sacha!" she hissed.
"You are, you know," he said gently. "Sooner than you think. However, I agree that tonight you are in no condition to fight for your virtue. Come. Let me show you."
He led her through an adjoining door to another bedroom, just as luxurious but with slightly more masculine furnishings. "This is where I will be sleeping." 
On the other side of her bedroom was a dressing room about the size of her bedroom back in the bungalow. It was fitted with wall—to—wall, ceiling—to—floor closets, more space than she could ever imagine needing. A crib had been set up, and a small chest of drawers had been hastily shoved into a space by the window. Through an adjoining open door Katie glimpsed the fixtures of a bathroom.
"I'm too old for a crib." Kim's lower Up was thrust out and his mouth was trembling.
"Of course you are," Sacha agreed cheerfully. "We'll get rid of it, first tiling tomorrow."
Kim brightened. "I want to sleep with Mommy!" he demanded. " 'Less you are, Daddy—are you going to sleep with Mommy, Daddy? Trisha says daddies and mommies sleep together."
"They do in the best families," Sacha said solemnly. "What about it, Mommy?"
"Little pitchers have big ears," Katie replied blandly, swooping down and lifting Kim into the crib. "If you don't sleep here, what's Sammy going to do? He won't have anyone to sleep with."
Presented with that argument, Kim's thumb crept into his mouth as he considered. "I'll sleep in the crib—just for tonight," he agreed, briefly releasing his thumb.
Just then, a discreet knock heralded the entrance of Yoshura, with a covered tray. Sammy trotted beside him, and it was obvious that he had been fed, from the way his small pink tongue was busily licking his mouth. He thoroughly investigated his new home, then settled down with a sigh beneath Kim's crib. While Katie was hunting for Kim's duck and bear, there was a dead silence from the dressing room, and when she went in with his tray, it was to find Kim asleep and Sammy stretched out full length, his head on his paws.
"He's asleep?" Sacha murmured, just behind her.
"Yes."
"It would be much easier," Sacha mused as they came out and shut the door behind them, "if we began tonight as we mean to go on. I could share that supper with you and then, the bed—"
"No!" she cried stormily. A flush colored her cheeks and throat.
"We did make a bargain, you know," he said thoughtfully.
"You'll have to wait!" She swallowed convulsively. "I'm not ready to—to become a wife again. After all, it's been five years—"
"But you are," he said sardonically. "I think I proved that today. Do you really think I couldn't have had you then, if I hadn't been the one to call a halt?"
"All right, I'm vulnerable," she agreed painfully. "I admit it And you're an expert. After all, you've had plenty of experience, and you know exactly what buttons to push to make me want you. But—th—that doesn't mean Fm willing."
"Indeed? What a little hypocrite you've become, Katie!" he said ironically. "At least you used to be honest. Are you trying to tell me that if I had taken you today, it would have been against your will?"
"In a—way." Her cheeks reddened as she met his eyes.
"And what is the magic formula?" he sneered. "At what point do we stop calling it rape and admit that we both want to make love? Or," his eyes glittering dangerously, his voice deepened. "Is that what you want, Katie? For me to rape you so that you can pretend it was against your will?"
She paled. "No!"
"Don't panic. I don't intend to oblige," he said coolly. "I don't intend to give you an out that way. Neither will I become your whipping boy, Katie, while you try to psychoanalyze your feelings and desires."
"It's not that." Helplessly, she tried to explain.
"It's just that—this time—I want it to be better—"
"There was nothing wrong with our marriage the last time except that you needed to grow up," he interrupted brutally. "Time has taken care of that Now—you have been presented with a dilemma, which is whether to take me willingly or make a show of reluctance so as to punish me a little. I had thought you mature enough to recognize your own needs, but apparently I was mistaken." 
She hung her head, miserably conscious that she could not articulate the way she felt. A great deal had been said about needs, she thought bitterly, but they had all been of the flesh. Nothing had been mentioned about the needs of the spirit and heart, and she could not bring it up, since he had not. God knows, she hadn't much pride, but she had too much to expose herself so pitilessly.
"Meantime, I'm serving notice on you, Katie. You're on borrowed time. No matter how much you wriggle and twist, we're married, and we're going to stay that way, for the boy's sake—if no other. We can't afford to indulge ourselves first. Accept it, Katie! We're yoked together from now on whether we like it or not."
Such grim, unyielding words! They fell like a death knell on Katie's hopes of gaining Sacha's love. This, then, was how he felt?
He waited, and when she did not reply, he strolled over to the door and flung it open. "Good night," he said savagely. "And pleasant dreams!"

CHAPTER VII
"Good morning, Mrs. Kimberly."
Katie sat up in bed and stared at the uniformed maid, the unfamiliar greeting still ringing in her ears. The girl was very pretty, with black, almond—shaped eyes and a delicate, pearl—like complexion. She was carrying a tray that she placed on a table. "Here is your breakfast." She lifted silver covers from various dishes. "Mr. Sacha said to let you sleep as late as you liked, but the Old Madam said to awaken you."
"What time is it?"
"Nearly ten o'clock, ma'am. The Old Madam wishes to see you in the atrium as soon as you finish breakfast." She went over and pulled the silk curtains back with a swish, letting in warm air and sunlight Through an open window Katie heard a child's laughter, and she glanced at the closed dressing room door.
"My son—where is he?"
"He and his father were up early, ma'am. They are at the stables now, I believe. Mr. Sacha said something about teaching him to ride." 
'To ride!" Katie cried sharply. "But—he can't! Kim's never been on a horse in his life! He's only a baby!" She swung her feet over the side of the bed and started to scramble hastily through the suitcase she had been too tired to unpack the night before.
"Here. Let me do that." The girl took the clothes from her hands and folded them neatly. "He'll come to no harm, ma'am. Mr. Sacha will see to that. There are some very gentle horses in the stables." Her words were meant to be reassuring. "Now, come over and have your breakfast."
Katie went over to the table and sat down slowly. The fragrant odor of coffee tantalized her nostrils, and her stomach gurgled protestingly. She took a tentative mouthful and discovered that she was ravenous. Last night, her dinner, a chicken casserole redolent of various herbs, mushrooms, and wild rice, had been delicious, as had been the accompanying salad and the light chocolate mousse that followed, but she had been too tired and tense to eat much of it It had taken hours to fall asleep in spite of her exhaustion, and then when she finally slipped off near dawn, she had slept as heavily as though she had been drugged. But she recognized the absurdity of becoming upset merely because Kim was at the stables. Sacha would not allow any harm to come to him. After all, wasn't that what this reconciliation was all about?
The food was good—iced melon, fresh orange juice, a fluffy omelet with bacon—and although it was more than she usually ate, she was enjoying it. "What is your name?" she asked the girl, who was busy unpacking her case.
"Lurilana, ma'am."
"Are you Hawaiian, or——" Katie paused, not knowing low to phrase it.
"Half and half. My father was Chinese. In other words, I am a typical Hawaiian," the girl added, giggling.
Katie smiled. It was true—Hawaii was the home of a variety of people with different backgrounds, cultures, racial mixtures, all living together and meshing very well on the whole, in spite of—or perhaps because of—their differences.
"You said something about the Old Madam," she said slowly. "I presume you meant my husband's grandmother?"
"Yes, ma'am. Now, she is a pure Hawaiian!" Lurilana commented admiringly. "She married old Mr. Kimberly when there weren't too many white men living on this island. He is dead now, of course. And I have been told that she had many children but only Mr. Paul survived to become an adult. He was her youngest."
"There was a great deal of infant mortality in those days," Katie remarked absently.
She sounded—imperious, Katie thought wryly, and found herself dreading the meeting. She looked around the room speculatively as she sipped her coffee. Everything spoke of money, even the bathroom, which was lined with some sort of rare, fragrant Oriental wood. And these were only two of the rooms in this house! What other girl would look for difficulties when she had a husband who was the heir to a place like this?
Katie sighed. The problem was to find a way to live with Sacha and maintain her self-respect Oh, she could rive in and allow Sacha to drug her into forgetfulness with his undoubted expertise, his sensuality. That was how it had happened last time. For a while that kind of passion might even pass for love. For a while he might even be faithful to her. But sooner or later, not only she but Sacha was going to want more, for he was basically a very sensitive man. So how long would it take before he started seeking someone who could give him something else, something that was not merely a physical relationship? Would he then turn to someone like Claire Wetherell?
Katie got up restlessly and went to the bathroom to take a shower. When she came out, Lurilana had gone, leaving draped over the bed a navy polyester skirt and blouse, full-flowing and sleeveless, with a tie belt under the bed was a matching pair of high-heeled sandals. Apparently, this was her choice for Katie to wear when meeting the Old Madam, so Katie took the hint. It was loose and comfortable, and had always been a favorite dress of hers. Anyway, she didn't have that many choices among her limited wardrobe.
She confined her makeup to just a touch of lipstick, a swirl of the mascara brush, and a dash of a light floral scent that blended with, rather than masked, the clean, subtle fragrance of soap and water. Her long, blond-streaked hair was clipped at the nape with a favorite slide. Leaning forward, Katie surveyed herself dissatisfiedly in the mirror. I look like a milkmaid, she thought disgustedly. 
Even to the freckles on my nose. A memory of Claire Wetherell's cool beauty slid unwillingly into her mind.
Downstairs, she found the atrium without any difficulty. It was situated in the center of the house and was surrounded on all sides by a covered porch, with chairs and tables placed at convenient places. There were also pots and jars of blooming plants and miniature shrubs—hibiscus, oleanders, and gardenias. They had apparently just been watered, and gave off a damp, woodsy odor. The atrium itself was patterned after a Japanese garden, with strategically placed rocks and stone lanterns.
Two elderly women were seated on the porch, playing cards at one of the tables. Katie had no trouble deciding which was Madam Kimberly. Her companion was small and shrunken with a face like a withered apple. The Old Madam was in a wheelchair, and as her brown, arthritic hands dealt the cards, diamonds flashed on most of her fingers. Her coal—black hair was worn in a chignon, with a jeweled fanlike comb thrust through its knot. She was wearing a black silk muumuu that matched the snapping black eyes that she raised at Katie's approach.
"You know who I am, of course?" she asked arrogantly, in a hoarse, cracked voice.
"Naturally," Katie replied coolly. The old woman was intimidating, but Katie had no intention of allowing her to see that she was inwardly quaking.
"Sit down." Madam Kimberly waved a clawlike hand. "My son says I owe you an apology for not meeting you last night. Frankly, I wanted time to think about what I had just heard. The old, you see, are slow to accept new ideas, and it was most disconcerting to learn that I had just acquired a new great—grandson."
Does she call that an apology? Katie wondered indignantly, but she kept her face and voice expressionless as she asked, "And now that you've had time to think about it?"
"Now that I have met my great—grandson," Madam Kimberly went on, after giving her a sharp glance, "I know, whatever else I might think, that he is Sacha's son."
"He is the absolute image of my husband, except that my husband's eyes were blue. Oola agrees with me."
"Oola?"
My companion."
Katie glanced at the other old woman, who was watching her with brooding black eyes. "I see," she said iy. At the moment she was keeping down her simmering temper with an effort, and only by reminding herself mat Sacha had implied they would be here only a short
"Have you been well treated? Made comfortable?"
Yes, thank you. My room is very comfortable, and my breakfast this morning was delicious."
I am glad to hear that the servants are maintaining their own perfect standards. It is not the custom of the family to breakfast in their rooms," added Madam Kimerbly blandly, "but we are always willing to oblige our guests."
The implication that she was not of the family was not lost on Katie. Speaking politely in an effort to change the subject, she asked, "Are Sacha and Kim still at the stables?"
"No, they are not. Claire came over earlier and drove ±em back to her ranch, which is quite close by." A faint whitening of the lined features told Katie that Madam soberly approved of Claire. "She raises thoroughbred horses on her ranch, and she thought she might have a ride  that would do for Kim."
"I shouldn't think we would be here long enough to bother with buying a pony," Katie said aloofly and was taken aback by the old woman's violent reaction to her essual statement.
"Not be here! How dare you? Sacha will be here, immeminent Miss, and so will his son! This is his home!" An iizry flush mottled her face. "So already you want to changes in his life! You want to come into my home, abuse my hospitality, and take my grandson away! I m. not surprised—I was told to expect this from you! Well, I shan't allow you to destroy our home this way! Go sway! You're not wanted in this house!"
Oola stood up, alarmed, and Katie quickly tried to calm the old woman, who she saw was growing violent. "Please, Madam Kimberly, don't upset yourself," she said soothingly. "I am not trying to take Sacha away from you or break up this home. I—I didn't know."
Madam glared at her. "No!" she agreed, angrily, "you don't know! You count for nothing in Sacha's life. He will not be influenced by a chit of a girl like you."
Oola had poured out a glass of water, but she waved it away petulantly, "Don't fuss so. Sit down, sit down, both of you. It's time I learned something about you—er—Katie? Tell me about yourself! Do you ride?"
Katie sat down and watched her cautiously. Her outbreak had certainly been revealing. Madam Kimberly did not want her here, and she wondered if Paul's friendliness had covered a similar dislike. "No, Madam. My childhood was not privileged and riding lessons were out of the question. Although we were not poor, we did not have money for luxuries. My mother died when I was four years old, and my father, who was an artist, was not successful enough to make much money."
It was a blunt, unadorned statement, and successfully glossed over the happy years of her childhood spent with a gay, feckless father who managed to invest even the economies they had to practice with a sort of adventurous fun. Not for anything would she describe her foolishly impractical father to this awful old woman, she thought viciously.
"Humph! I see! So—you're not from Sacha's world, and you don't even know how to ride a horse! What else, I wonder? You do realize, don't you, that you'll be left out of things around here? Sacha spends a lot of time on horseback here at the ranch!"
Katie managed to look both bored and disinterested. "Really?" she drawled. "I presume Mrs. Wetherell rides very well?" she added.
Madam Kimberly's black eyes snapped with malice. "Very well, indeed!" she said triumphantly. "She carries away all the blue ribbons. She was Sacha's childhood sweetheart, you know. She married Wetherell when she learned of Sacha's marriage to you, and divorced him when she learned that you and Sacha were separated." Poor Wetherell, Katie thought. "She bought the ranch next door just to be near Sacha."
Katie wondered if she was supposed to congratulate Claire's perseverance, but she contented herself with murmuring that she seemed like a good friend. Unfortunately, Madam had no sense of humor and took it at face value.
I wouldn't say that. They were going to be married— until yesterday when you came back into his life."
What a dreadful old woman, thought Katie furiously. And what was one supposed to reply to such an outra— seous remark? "Sacha can't marry anyone else—he is already married to me," she said stiffly.
A mistake that can be corrected—" Madam assured iter smoothly. "Sacha will gain a great deal if—when—he marries Claire. She is another kamaaina, she loves Hawaii nd will always want to live here, and also, he will have i important sponsor in Claire's father, who is a famous scCector and connoisseur of modern art."
Indeed?" Katie's hands were shaking, but she managed to hide them in the folds of her skirt. "Are you implying that I should step aside for Claire Wetherell, Madam Kimberly?"
I would not presume to meddle between you and your fensband, my dear girl," Madam said silkily. "I am merely ryiiig to acquaint you with the plans that were afoot until yesterday."
"I did not force Sacha to take me back—"
How, otherwise, would he get his son?" Madam demanded.
Shocked, Katie realized that she had forgotten Kim termporarily. Of course that was why the reconciliation— hadn't Sacha himself told her so?
'Sacha may have a divorce if he likes—" she began slowly.
"Yes, I know," Madam purred hoarsely. "As soon as he heard about the child yesterday, my son, Paul, called his Lawyers. They have assured him that Sacha has a good case to gain complete custody of the child. I am not sure if he will agree, however. He has—pity for you."
"Pity? For me?" Katie leaped to her feet, humiliated and outraged. Had Sacha been discussing her with this evil old woman? 
"He needn't pity mel" she said indignantly. "If he wants a divorce, he may have one, and it won't cost him a cent! But just let him try taking Kim away from me, and I'll fight! Just let him try!"
She turned and ran out of the atrium, the memory of Madam Kimberly's triumphant look following her. Inside, she hesitated. The faint humming of the vacuum cleaner and far—off voices told her that the servants were busy upstairs. Where could she go? She wanted to run back to Honolulu, to the mainland, but she knew that running away was no answer now. Even if she succeeded, she couldn't hope to hide from Sacha, and this time, he would have the full resources of the law backing him.
No—better play it cool, remain calm. Madam Kimberly was a pinprick. Her fate depended upon Sacha, and he wanted her, not a divorce. Even though it was on Kim's account, there was something comforting about knowing she was valued for some reason. After all, she told herself bravely, although he might want Claire for a wife, it was she who was Kim's mother, and that made her position invulnerable. She must keep telling herself that, and she would be all right. And hadn't the Old Madam perhaps needled her deliberately in the hope that she would hysterically demand that Sacha give her a divorce? Yes, the more Katie thought about the recent scene, the more pat it seemed. The old woman was clever, and it would suit her immensely to have Katie throw a scene, while she wore the bewildered look of innocence.
Meantime, Katie desperately needed a breathing spell, and she could not get it in here, where, at any moment, Madam Kimberly might decide to wheel herself through that door. With a shudder, Katie dashed out of the room, through another, and out of a door that opened upon a patio and outside.
A row of distant rooftops made her think that this might be the way to the stables. She cut through some so—obbery and followed a well—worn path to what was —feed the stables, very trim and smart, encircled by a green open pasture. A tractor stood idle at the end of a sweep if graveled driveway. There were no ranch hands about,  Kim was hanging onto the fence, gazing raptly at the horses frisking in the pasture. And of course, there was Sammy, stretched out, waiting, his tongue lolling as he watched his little master.
A little red sports car—Katie had no idea of its make or model—was in the driveway, and beside it, lost in a world their own, were Sacha and Claire Wetherell. Katie recognized her instantly and, with a sinking feeling, saw that she was as beautiful as she remembered.
Claire was doing all the talking. Sacha was propped trainst the car hood, his arms crossed and a slightly amosed smile playing about his lips as he listened to her. rTery word or two, as though to emphasize a point, Claire cooly place a proprietary hand on Sacha's arm or touch him in some way. Once, she reached up and caressingly rroahed his cheek.
She was dressed in riding boots and jodhpurs. Her shirt tight, the scarf knotted loosely about her throat were bright yellow, a color that contrasted vividly with her brunette beauty. Sacha, on the other hand, looked achingly familiar Katie in a pair of faded denim jeans that fit him like a second skin. With them, he wore a short—sleeved red shirt wat gaped open slightly at the neck, revealing a strong —own column of throat blurred by the hint of shadowy aaokness at its base.
Sammy saw her first and hurled himself at her, barking furiously. Then Kim flung his little body into her arms, coating, "Mommy! Mommy! Guess what!" Katie bent over and kissed the damp, rumpled hair. "You should see horse! Claire says she has been saving it for a little boy just like me! He's brown with a white star on his forehead and Daddy says I can have him if you say it's all right! Please, Mommy, it is all right, isn't it?" The darkness were suddenly, heartbreakingly, uncertain.
Katie felt a rush of gratitude to Sacha. She had not expected such consideration from him, especially after what  had occurred last night, and she looked up gratefully to find him watching her oddly.
"Did you have a good rest?"
"Umm."
He put out a careless arm and pulled her to him. He smelled warm and horsey, mixed with the strong odor of perspiring male flesh. An overwhelming wave of sensuality swept over Katie, and she buried her face weakly in his shoulder. His arm tightened.
"Come on, now, you two! No canoodling!" Claire's voice was gay—very gay—and lightly amused. "I know you!" she added, as though she had just made a delighted discovery. "You sold me that marvelous patchwork skirt! Remember, Sacha! I wore it to the country club dance."
"And very beautiful you looked in it, too," Sacha drawled.
Kim broke in impatiently. "Can I, Mommy? Please say I can!"
Claire leaned over and ruffled his hair. "Of course you can, ducky! Your mommy wouldn't think of disappointing you, would she?" She glanced ruefully at Katie. "Better say yes, Katie! I'm afraid I ruined any chance you have of getting away with a no. Incidentally, I adore this little son of yours. But not your dog." With a booted foot, she indicated Sammy, who backed away, showing his teeth. "Your dog and I don't take to one another, but if you don't watch out, I’ll steal your son."
Katie looked up quickly and caught a flash of pure hatred in her eyes before the lids dropped and Claire smiled sweetly at her.
"If you can," Katie said gently.
"Oh, oh, the girl has issued a challenge!" Claire crowded delightedly. "That was a mistake, wasn't it, Sacha? You know I can't resist a dare."
"Don't be a menace, darling," he said affectionately.
"A menace, am I?" She cocked her head pertly. "I'd rather be alluring!"
"Surely you aren't fishing for compliments, Claire?" he asked quizzically. "You know you're beautiful."
But you've never painted me," she pouted. "Are you afraid you won't be able to get the real me on canvas?"
"You haven't a paintable face," he said dryly. "You're not like Katie, for instance."
Oh, now I know what you mean by a paintable face! So, thank you, I'd rather be beautiful and alluring!"
The words were meant to be an insult, but Sacha only —mned and said indulgently, "Don't be a brat. Behave yourself! I like to paint Katie because her face is a as iter's delight—it shows every mood."
"In other words, she's predictable and lacks mystery?" Claire said innocently.
The whole exchange had become a sparring match between Sacha and Claire. Katie thought Claire was rather be a soft little kitten trying out her claws in the hide of a Serge, deceptively lazy lion. The scratches that the little fciaen inflicted were mere pinpricks; the real claws were far Katie.
Mommy's face gets real red when she's mad," Kim Had thoughtfully, and Sacha burst out laughing.
"Stop teasing your mommy," Claire scolded him softly. She can't help her face. It's not kind of you two!" She turned to Katie, the warm smile she was wearing not quite hs img the malicious glitter of her eyes. "I've been telling Sacha that I want to give you two people a party. All of Sacha's old friends will want to meet his wife, and of course, your friends will be anxious to meet Sacha. What time will suit you? A week from Friday?"
Katie looked hesitantly at Sacha. He was watching her expressionlessly. She wanted desperately to refuse, but mere was no way she could phrase it without sounding impossibly churlish and ungracious. She hoped he would take : ant of her hands and refuse for her, but he wasn't saying a thing.
"Is—is it all right with you, Sacha?"
He regarded her thoughtfully. "It's a good way to meet temple—make friends. You’ll be rather lonely if you fact"
"I suppose so," she muttered reluctantly. "What sort of party will it be?" she asked Claire.? 
"What sort would you like?" Claire asked ironically.
Katie flushed. "I was thinking about clothes," she said awkwardly. "I—I didn't bring many things with me."
Laughingly, Sacha took Kim's hand. "Come on, son. If your mom is going to talk clothes, it's time we disappeared."
"Don't go!" But Sacha ignored Claire's wail, and she watched his retreating back with a hungry look that she did not bother to hide from Katie. Finally she turned back to her impatiently. "What sort of party?" she echoed blankly. "Oh, something simple, small and outdoorsy— around the pool. Any old thing will do. I'm going to wear a black jumpsuit myself. Why don't you run up something clever on your sewing machine, darling?" she added spitefully.
"I might, at that," Katie replied evenly.
Claire laughed, not even bothering to disguise her contempt. "I'm glad to have the opportunity to reach an understanding with you," she said venomously. "I'm sure you've been told by his grandmother that Sacha and I had planned to be married when you appeared on the scene. What she doesn't know is that we've been lovers—a long time, and will continue to be, no matter what sort of arrangement he has made to pacify you. Nothing has changed about our marriage plans, either. They've merely been temporarily postponed until Sacha gets the business of Kim straightened out."
"There's nothing to straighten out," Katie said sharply. "Kim is mine." She felt sickened by what she had heard, and she knew that her face must have paled, from the triumphant look on Claire's face.
"And Sacha's," Claire reminded her smoothly. "I am sure that Sacha explained to you about his determination that no child of his was going to be raised as he was—in a divided home. Therefore, any woman he eventually marries will have to show that she can be a mother to Kim."
"Kim's mine!" Katie repeated desperately.
"I've already made a good start," Claire added. "It will be just a matter of time before I win him over."
"I won't give him up!" Katie felt as though she were resting her head against a stone wall. Claire was only listening to herself.
"You see," Claire added thoughtfully, "I've always been everything I want. And I am ruthless. Now, I don't ; I have to ask to know you're soft as butter!" She contemplated Katie with half—closed eyes. "One of these days you’ll see for yourself that you're tearing Sacha apart by staying marry to him, not to mention Kim, and you'll get out of the picture altogether. I can do it, you see, because I have Madam Kimberly on my side. We both want the same thing—Sacha married to me and living here in Hawaii So think about it, my sweet, and consider if youself! Don’t be wise just to get out now, before you get hurt more than you are already." 

CHAPTER V
Madam Kimberly did not appear for lunch. Katie wondered if it was merely an instance of strategy on her part, as time passed and no one mentioned their quarrel, she realized that Madam had told no one about it. Doubtless she was hoping that by keeping quiet, she would Katie trap herself by mentioning it first, but Katie had no intention of obliging her.
As it was, she was having a hard time trying to put out of her mind what she had been told by Madam Kimberly sad Claire. She reminded herself that she would be foolish to believe them. Hadn't she once believed everything Irene had told her, and hadn't it subsequently wrecked her marriage? And hadn't Sacha reminded her that she needed o grow up? But—these women, his grandmother and Claire, knew him better than Irene West did, better even tea Katie knew him. Wouldn't they know the truth about hew he felt? She could argue that Claire might He, because she had an axe to grind, but his grandmother loved him; ime wanted him to be happy, and she had said that he fared Claire. Of course, Claire had gone beyond that and waived Kim, too, but hadn't that also had a ring of ruSi? And Katie had always known that a man like facka, imaginative, sensitive—an artist—would someday IL: kt love. It's just, Katie told herself wistfully, that it wasn't Claire. She is not worthy of him. Not even far Kin's sake could she like her. Although, she reminded herself, if the divorce had gone through, Sacha would have already married Claire. There might even have been other cilirea, Katie was surprised at the unbearable ache that thought gave her—the thought of Sacha's other children, mothered by another woman.
As lunch progressed, Katie sat quietly listening to Sacha and his father. Kim, propped up by the addition of two thick books in his chair, was not having much to say, either. Katie was not aware of the wistful quality of her stillness, nor how often both men looked at her. Paul, especially, watched her thoughtfully. Suddenly, Claire's name was mentioned, piercing her indifference, and the conversation took on an intensely interesting note.
Paid mentioned that his mother had invited Claire and her father to dinner that night as their guests, and Katie, listening closely, learned from the dryly ironical way Paul said his name and Sacha's reply, that neither man liked Claire's father. Apparently Mr. Thorpe did not live in Hawaii, but was visiting his daughter from the mainland Whether Claire's mother was dead or divorced, her father had been married a couple of times since. Nothing was said about the famous art collection that Madam Kimberly had mentioned, but there was a sarcastic reference to the press coverage that had been given Mr. Thorpe's affairs with beautiful, well—known women. And Katie gathered that there was a tendency on the part of the women to cling, long after he had tired of them.
"Claire is thankful that he didn't bring his current mistress and expect her to extend her hospitality." Katie thought sadly that Sacha must love Claire, to become so indignant on her behalf.
"Oh, I don't think so," Paul said mildly. "Ben may be a cold—hearted devil, but he has never shown disrespect to his womenfolk. Claire couldn't have seriously thought he would insult her."
Katie, listening thoughtfully, wondered about the differ—ence between father and son. No one could accuse Paul of being weak, yet he was gentle and kindly, unlike Sacha, who was apt to show his anger violently, even savagely. And Paul was master in his own home, too, in spite of his mother's strong personality. One occasionally glimpsed the hint of iron beneath that deceptively mild manner, but on the whole, he must have been easy to live with. She won— fflsrsd idly what had caused his marriage to fail. From the of sensuality in his face, Katie suspected instinctively that he had not been without feminine companionship all these years, but he had never put another woman in Marjorie’s place. Did it mean that he still loved his ex—wife?
“What's the matter?" Sacha asked unexpectedly. "Don't you like your lunch?"
Katie jumped. He was speaking to Kim, but she had a feelingng that he was exasperated with her, too, no doubt as i carry—over from his anger with Claire's father. As a matter of fact, she did not like her lunch, which was an Italian dish that was too rich and highly spiced. With it, they —ee drinking a light wine that was delicious, and under normal circumstances, it would have been a meal that was fit for the gods, for the cooking was superb. But Katie wondered who had chosen the menu, for the meal was too rich— for such a warm day, particularly when there was to be a dinner party that night. It might do for Sacha and been out all morning on horseback, but it was too much irr her and Kim.
"It’s too runny." Kim's mouth drooped.
"He doesn't like spicy food," Katie explained hastily, hate it," Kim added peevishly, for good measure.
Sacha's face darkened. "I have no patience with food faddists. You’ll learn to eat whatever is put before you, young man—the same as everyone else. The cook doesn't rare time to cater to your individual taste, as apparently, your mother has been in the habit of doing!"
Kim's mouth trembled, but before Katie could fly to his rarf her defense, Paul broke in hastily. "Kim, if you like, I’send one of the ranch hands over to the Wetherell place after lunch to pick up your pony."
Kim's face lit up. "Can I start riding lessons tomorrow
"I don't see why not. But you'll have to get on with —' anch, for the rest of us are waiting on you."
That’s alright Grandfather." Kim began to eat briskly, —face wearing a dreamy smile.
'looks like I have a lot to learn." Sacha grinned ruthfully 
"I'm afraid he's gotten a little spoiled." Katie made own apology. "Although the food is rather rich for child—although very good," she added scrupulously.
"Of course it is—much too rich. For all of us. But—I don't see anything amiss with speaking to the cook about preparing Kim's meals separately," Paul added brisklv "As for his being spoiled, I disagree. You've done a good job of raising him all by yourself, Katie. Don't blame yourself for his little quirks. On the whole, he's a good child."
It was generous praise and went a long toward helpir Katie forget his mother's cruelty that morning. In spite herself, she felt warmed. As they were rising from table, Paul harked back to the subject of the horse.
"How about you, Sacha? Do you want to go with Tom to get the pony? And take Kim?"
"Thanks, Father," Sacha drawled lazily. "But Kim's due for a nap. I think Tom can be trusted to make the pickup alone. I have something else planned with Kim this afternoon."
"Suit yourself." Paul shrugged, apparently unaware that Katie had been holding her breath, wondering if Sacha would use this opportunity to see Claire again.
Which meant, Katie thought, carefully letting out her breath, that his "something else" with Kim came before Claire, but then, she knew that, anyway. Even Claire had admitted that Kim came first with Sacha.
Katie put Kim down for his nap in a new bed that had been hastily erected in place of the crib, then slipped on her bikini with a matching terry cloth jacket. She was headed for the pool. She had discovered it that morning while she was doing a tour of the grounds, and had been struck by its natural look which had, of course, been carefully created by a first—class garden designer. It blended in so well with its surroundings that at first glance it looked like a rock—bound tropical pool that had been trapped in a lush undergrowth of ferns and flowers. Then one noticed the careful pruning and trimming, the natural tiled sides built to resemble the banks of a pool, the cleverly concealed lighting hidden under rocks and plants.
There was plenty of wooden furniture about, and Katie pnled one of the loungers into the sun, then slipped out of coat and sank upon the cushions. With her sunglasses were firmly on her nose, she picked up her paperback, but she didn't get beyond the first page before the sun and tie heavy meal did their work. The book slid off her lap as she fell asleep.
She was awakened by the sound of Kim's voice. It sounded shrill and frightened, n don't want to, Daddy!"
Katie sat up with a start, and looked around. Kim and Sacha were approaching the pool. Both were dressed for swimming in shorts and were barefoot. Sacha must have rooted through Kim's things to find his, which were last ni and too small for him. Sacha's shorts were a pair of at f blue jeans that began below the navel and left the hairy expanse of his chest and the lean, powerful legs bear. He looked big and overwhelmingly masculine, especially when compared to the small figure of his son with him.
Kiatie stared, then looked away quickly, but not before she registered the fact that Kim was hanging back, pulling in his father's hand, and eyeing the pool apprehensively.
What are you going to do?" Sacha was obviously surprised to see her. "I'm going to teach him to swim," he said evenly. "And this is lesson number one." He dropped his towel, then left Kim to wait worn, he slid into the pool. A couple of strokes, and he back beside him. "Come on, son." He held up his hands
It’s too cold today." Katie put down her book and swang her legs around to stand up. She was uncertain at K the wisdom of making an active protest, especially when she saw Sacha throw her an impatient look.
Don’t be ridiculous!" he snapped. "The pool is kept at an even temperature all year round. Besides, the sun is hot. Come on, Kim. Take my hands."
"Mommy?" Kim looked appealingly over his shoulder.
Katie rose. "Sacha, wait. Don't you think he's a little young to be taught to swim?" With an effort, she kept her voice low and controlled.
"Are you serious?" Sacha stared. "What are you trying to do anyway? Make him nervous of the water?"
"N—n—no, but—"
"Then shut up unless you have something constructive to say." By this time Kim had taken Sacha's outstretched hand and had been pulled reluctantly into the water. He was clinging desperately to his father's neck.
"The first thing we're going to do is get you used to getting your face wet," Sacha explained in a gende, soothior voice. "Its very simple. See?"
Kim lowered his face gingerly, and came up gasping. "No! No! I don't want to! Mommy! Mommy!"
Katie had abandoned all attempts to be casual and now standing at the edge of the pool, frankly wringing ha hands. "Sacha, I know you think you're doing the best thing, but the child is frightened to death. You can't—"
He glared menacingly at her. "All you're accomplishing is his terror. If you would stop dithering and offer somi encouragement, he would stop being frightened. Suppose you get in and show him you're not afraid!"
"No, I—"
"How about it, Kim?" He placed the child on the side of the pool, and smiled mischievously at him. "Mommy is going to come in and swim for you. She'll show you there's nothing to be afraid of."
Kim laughed. "Is Mommy really going to swim?"
"Of course she is! Or else! Coming, Mommy?" he jeered, his mocking eyes following an upward path along the trail of the brief bikini that revealed more than it covered. His eyes dwelled appraisingly on the flaring hips and full breasts. "Good thing we're secluded, darling," he drawled lazily. "You'd be arrested for indecent exposure if you wore that thing on the beach. Motherhood has certainly broadened your figure."
 Katie reddened and fumbled nervously with the gapins neckline of her bra. "Sacha! Please!" she mumbled embarrassedly.
'Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked crisply. Come on in."
—I can't, Sacha. I can't—swim. I never learned how."  His eyes widened in astonishment. "What? You mean the object of all that panic was because you're afraid of the water yourself?" 
“Well, I—yes."
What the hell was your father doing to allow you to grow up without learning to swim?" he demanded angrily, i doubt if he ever knew it," Katie murmured uneasily. " — i—he just never bothered with me."
Sacha swore, briefly and violently. Katie felt inadequate—lacking. It was almost like having a social disease, this shameful secret she had kept to herself for so long.
Everyone was supposed to know how to swim. She wonder what Sacha really thought about it, for of course, like Claire would be proficient in all the sports— riding, skiing, swimming.
“Well you're damned sure going to learn how, now! Right now! My God, Katie, no wonder Kim was so terrified. He's picked up your panic! He can watch while you get your first lesson."
I can’t, Sacha," Katie said simply. "I'm scared."
"Daddy won't let you drown, Mommy," Kim consoled her.
I dont'i think I can do it," Katie moaned.
Get in here!" Sacha roared.
Katie jumped and did as he said, although she was panicy when Sacha gripped her hand and towed her out into slihhtlt deeper water.
"Don't clutch me so," he scolded, but gently, as though he wasn't as angry as he had sounded. Finally, with an undertone of laughter, he added, "Katie, honey, if you keep clinging to me like that, we aren't going to get around to a lesson. I can't keep my mind on what I'm doing.”
I can't help it, Sacha," she panted, clinging to him like gmpet. Her legs were wrapped around one of his d her arms around his chest. She raised a stricken arm over the wet, matted curls. "I'm scared to death."?
"I know you are, darling," he soothed. "But try to relax. Just stretch out and let the water hold you up. I’ll keep my arms under you. You don't have to do a thing but float."
Cautiously she followed his directions, struggling to conquer her panic so that she wouldn't frighten Kim. She found that Sacha projected an enormously reassuring sense of security. She stretched out gingerly and lowered the back of her head into the water, and finally, to her own amazement, she was floating.
"Good girl," Sacha said approvingly. "Well have another lesson tomorrow. You and Kim."
Suddenly, Katie was surpremely happy. She smiled de—lightedly and put her hands on Sacha's shoulders. Placing his hands under her arms, he lifted her out of the pool, hii lips lightly brushing her breasts and leaving a trail of tingling fire. She drew a sharp breath, but Sacha had already turned away, his face an expressionless mask.
Suddenly a slim, tanned body made a graceful „ through the air and entered the water within a couple feet of Sacha. It was Claire, and as her body was buoye upward, Katie saw that she was wearing a clinging look' bikini that barely covered the necessary spots.
Katie scrambled hurriedly to her feet. Kim's horse had been picked up this afternoon, and obviously, Claire had expected Sacha to make the pickup. When he hadn't beea on the truck, she had gotten over here as fast as she could, perhaps bringing a bathing suit with her, in case. Or perhaps, Katie thought cynically, she keeps a bathing suit like that over here all the time.
"Hullo!" Claire raised a friendly hand to Katie. "Am I interrupting something? Did my eyes deceive me, Sacha, or were you teaching your wife to swim?"
Sacha grinned. "The child never learned," he agreed, apparently without the slightest idea of the humiliation Katie was feeling. "I'm trying to teach both of them, and you're just in time to help me with Kim. He needs someone to show him his strokes, and you're my gal."
"Oh, I'd love to help! Hullo, my little rabbit," she breathed to a dazzled Kim. "Will you come swim with me?"
As though he was hypnotized, Kim held out his arms obedientely, and slid off the side of the pool into Claire's waiting arms.
The little devil!" Sacha laughed. "He screamed bloody murder when I tried to get him to come in!"
'He couldn't help it, Sacha. Katie's nervousness was an affect him," Claire said sweetly. "Actually, it might be wise to teach Kim to swim first. Then he can get him out of showing his mom how it's done." Having tacsd her subtle seed, Claire then turned to Kim. "Oh, you’s a darling! I love you!" She buried her beautiful face in his neck, and Kim giggled.
Like the traitor he is, Katie thought sourly, and was then immediately ashamed of herself. Kim couldn't help but surpress to Claire's blandishments and charm. He was a male, wasn’t he?
She turned away abruptly. She'd only make a fool of herset if she stayed here. Competing with Claire in her own arena—astride a horse, in a pool—would be an exercise in futility. But there were other ways, Katie promised herself grimly, as she left the pool. Claire, in spite of her  superiority, was not yet Sacha's wife. Katie was still that, and she intended to take advantage of that fact she would give him up to Claire. 

  
CHAPTER IX 
Standing before the mirror, putting on the last of her makeup, Katie felt nervously unsure of herself. The occasion, if one could call this dinner that, did not promise to be a plesant one, which made it all the more important that she do justice to herself. She had debated over her sparse selection of clothes before deciding upon one of her own patchwork skirts. Unlike Clair’s, Katie’s skirt was rather muted with brilliant hues of blue shading into vivid pink silk. She had washed her hair after the swim and brushed it until it was as smooth and shiny as silf floss, then twisted it into a smooth coil on top of her head. The style suited her, showing off the classical shape of her profile and her small delicate ears. She had decided to shoot the works on makeup and make an exception to her usual habit of wearing no more than a touch of lipstick and mascara.  
Her foundation had blended her freckles into her tan, obliterating her eyes and her lips were outlined into a pouting fullness with a new wet—look lipstick called “Pouting Pink.” Leaning forward she frowned slightly and increased the inviting curve of her mouth.
“I don’t like it.”
Kaite jumped, slashing her chin with pick. 
Do you have to creep up on me like that?” she demanded crossly. "You scared me to death." She picked a tissue and began to scrub her chin.
"I thought you might want company." Sacha's eyes hers in the mirror. He was dressed for the semifc night in a combination of black trousers and white that accentuated his lean, dark good looks.
He was starting to turn away, but Katie called him 1 hastily, "Sacha! Yes! I—I do want company. Thank you."
He smiled slightly at her capitulation. "You look beautiful," he said generously. "But I don't like that lipstick. It isn't you. However," he reached in a pocket, "my father gave me this tonight to give to They were my mother's."
Nestled on the lid of blue velvet was a heart—shaped i mond pendant on a silver chain. With it was a pair matching diamond earrings.
"Now, this does look like you." Sacha took the pe out of the box and fastened it around her neck.
"Th—thank you," Katie stammered. With trembling gers she removed her fake pearl buttons and inserted diamonds in her ears. "I have never had anything so beautiful before." She raised shining eyes to his.
"Certainly not from me," he agreed lazily. He se amused by her delight "Poor little Katie. You didnt much from being married to me, did you? Your home  a stuffy little apartment,  and all the time, I owned the entire city block! Did you know that, I wonder? My mother gave it to me when I went to San Francisco to study, he said ironically. "And your only piece of jewelry been that plain gold wedding band you're still wearing."
Katie rested it briefly against her flushed cheek " I didn't marry you for a house or jewelry," she said in subdued voice.
"No. We both know why we got married," he said in a pleasant voice. "It was a strong mutual—er—itch for each other, complicated by the fact that you were a virgin and; had a conscience."
Katie was stung by his cool acknowledgment of was no more than what she had admitted to Pat the dm before.
' You didn't have to marry me. I didn't hold a gun to your head,'" she flared defensively.
"Not precisely. But I think you underestimate your effect on my senses, Katie. We've always had this strong thing between us. It's still there—to the point, in fact, if we weren't due downstairs right now, I'd be tempted to tumble you upon that bed right now and prove it to you.”
For a moment his eyes lit with a look of naked desire, Katie trembled, unable to move. Her limbs were drugged with a lethargic sweetness—her body could feel his hands, mess. Although he hadn't touched her. Catching her lower lip   between her teeth, she made a valiant effort to throw off the sensual effect of his words.
"Sacha I—please, there's more to it than that. Than just— lust. There has to be love, too, for it to be good."
"Indeed" And you don't think there's love, Katie?" He sound idly curious.
“Well—only on one side." Her little face tightened into m f o : sd mask. She had said enough, all that she intended for one night. She had no intention of further baring her soul for his amusement.
“I see. You are greedy, Katie. Personally, I think that would be enough to build on."
“It would be hard—the one who—loved." Her voice shook thinking just how hard it would be. How hard it been.
"Well it sounds too complicated a subject when we’re overdue for dinner." He sounded bored. "Claire and her father will be waiting, so let's get down before my grandmother sends for us."
bes fsz snubbed. She followed him out of the room, r_=hed with humiliation. Obviously, he wanted 
Katie war snubbed. She followed him out of the room her face flushed with humiliation. Obviously he was prepared to build a marriage on just that and her love for him. But he had certainly made it clear that his feeling for her was sexual, only. For the first time, Katie faced up to it—that this might be all she would ever have. Why continue to hope for more? Why not accept the onlt thing he could give her, for oh, God, she thought desperately, I can't give him up! But am I justified in b my own happiness at the expense of his and Claire's?
As they entered the room, Paul looked up from he was dispensing drinks and gave her an encom, smile. It was a little vote of confidence that Katie ne for he was the only friend she was likely to have tonight She saw Madam Kimberly in her wheelchair, talking to Claire. This time, her muumuu was of heavy ' silk, rich with gold embroidery and lace. The loose sk~ fell away from the elbows to reveal diamond bracelets each arm. A number of gold chains, one of linked monds, circled the wrinkled old neck.
Claire showed no sign of the afternoon swim. Her h hair was shiny—smooth, and she wore a delicate lacy s of pearls and diamonds in it. Her dress was simple and seductive, ivory banded with gold at the vee-shaped neckline. The knife—pleated skirt was short and swingy awA showed off her long, slim legs.	 
At the sight of Katie, her eyebrows arched slightly, as though she questioned her choice of clothes. Her eyes Iingered on the necklace and earrings, then she smiled slowly.
"How—sweet you look," she drawled. "And in one of your own skirts, too! What a charming idea!"
If Katie had been less self—conscious, she would have seen that Claire's spitefulness stemmed from her shock Katie's appearance, but Katie, already insecure, felt self—confidence plunge.
Claire slipped a possessive arm under Sacha's elbow cooed in his ear. "Darling, did Kim like his horse?"
"He did." Sacha grinned. "I could hardly tear him a tonight"
"Oh, he has all the instincts of a good horseman. I wonder—will it be all right if I run upstairs and see him? Will you take me?"
"Better not He may be asleep, and besides, Katie met your father yet."
Benjamin Thorpe was not the bloated, lecherous ty Katie had expected, but a trim, handsome man with ing hair and a pair of dark, humorous eyes. Whatever his daughter might think of Katie, it was immediately clear that he was charmed with her. Katie was temporarily stunned  to realize for the first time who he really was—the owner of one of the most famous art collections in theworld. His name was a formidable one in Sacha's —the world Katie had once aspired to. 
"How do you do, Mr. Thorpe?" she murmured uneasily. "I can’t allow a beautiful woman to call me that! You me Ben," he commanded smilingly, taking her hands.
Obviosly, he was a man appreciative of femininity, but also a man used to getting his own way. He had passed on to his daughter that arrogance and self—confidence, along with a good share of his good looks. Plus all that money. Katie added dismally. And money had a depressing habit of marrying money. Tonight Katie had learned just what Claire could offer the man she loved in HBXCB to that—the support of her father, a recognized authority on modern art. No wonder she had confidently predicted that, given time, she would have Sacha. 
Suddenly she realized that while Paul was taking orders for drinks, there had been a gradual reshuffling, and somehow Claire had managed to draw Sacha away, leaving her standing alone with Benjamin Thorpe. 
'I feel as as though I know you already, Katie," he commended 'Because of 'Dreaming,'" he explained, as she rozzled. "I was on the board that made the decision about the Llewellyn prize, although frankly, my mind ad e up as soon as I saw the canvas. I've often wonder, my dear, if Sacha painted what he saw or what he to see."
Katie flushed. "I did pose for it" she admitted awkwardly.
"Do you realize how many men envy him when they look at that painting?" he persisted, lowering his voice to an intimate murmur.
Katie cleared her throat embarrassedly. "I didn't realize—that is, I saw it for the first time yesterday."
“I wanted to buy it from Sacha. I even asked him to name his own price, but he wouldn't sell."
Sacha has some other paintings that are better." Katie's
discomfort grew. If she read the signs aright, Mr. Thorpe was flirting with her, in full view of Sacha and his family not to mention Claire. Miserably she wondered if Clair had asked her father to divert her attention so that would have a clear field with Sacha. "I can't imagine you would want that particular painting."
"So that I can make myself believe that the girl in it belongs to me," he answered promptly. "So that I can i that it is I whom she is looking at, and we've just finished making love."
Katie reddened. He had had a lot of experience this sort of innuendo, and she had had none. "I think you should talk like that," she muttered.
"Is Ben saying something he shouldn't?" It was Paul handing her the sherry she had asked for. "You must watch him. He's an accomplished wife stealer." There was a slight edge to his voice.
Ben looked amused. "I am simply exercising the leges accorded a member of the family, Paul." He chuckled at Katie's blank look. "I was, for a brief period, Sac stepfather," he explained. "In other words, I was married to his mother."
Katie drew in a sharp breath of surprise.
"Only for a year or two," Ben added, swirling the Iiquid in his glass reflectively. "That is about the life of jorie's husbands. The lady is strong stuff.",
Katie wondered with a lurching heart if Sacha co^j ever talk about her that way, in that terribly indiffen bored manner. If Ben was the cause of the breakup tween Sacha's parents, that might explain Paul's si chilly attitude, although they had apparently rer friends.
"Then—that makes Sacha and Claire a—sort of brother and sister," she said wonderingly.
Ben laughed, and even Paul smiled slightly. "I assure you, my dear, Claire doesn't feel sisterly," Ben wickedly.
Paul didn't like that. He frowned and made a protesting movement, as though he disapproved of his guest's blunt speaking. But at that moment dinner was announced, and Ben fen annexed Katie with a firmness that ignored all opposition. Aa Sacha came forward to wheel his grandmother into the dining room, he threw her a cold look that bewildered her What she had done to merit such disapproval, she didn`t know, unless he thought she was monopolizing much of Ben's attention. But Katie could have informed him— that one did not stop Ben Thorpe; he did just as he pleased. Already, she knew that much about him. 
The table was set with priceless antique Imari china, with a low, Chinese red bowl containing white orchids in the center.  The seating arrangement was informal, allowing the conversation to be general. Katie soon saw that Claire had every intention of excluding her from the conversation,  but she reckoned without her own father. His daughter might have her own axe to grind, but no one manipulated Benjamin Thorpe. He intended to talk to Katie even though it meant speaking across everyone's heads. Finally he pushed his glass aside and spoke directly to Sacha, I want to commission you to do a painting. Name your own price. I make only one stipulation: Katie must be in it_"
Katie saw with a thrill of alarm that Sacha was furious.
"My wife is not a model."
She was your model for several of your earlier paintings, `Ben interposed sharply.
"None of which are out of my possession, if you notice" Sacha replied grittily. "I paint my wife for my own pleasure, not for anyone else's."
"What a singularly unaccommodating chap you are, to be sure.' Ben said softly. "It's unwise for a young artist so stiff—necked." It was a veiled threat.
"You have my permission to reject anything of mine you wish to."
 Ben laughed spontaneously. "Reject! Hardly that. No, on the contrary, I buy up everything of yours I can lay my hands on. "
There was a general laugh and the tense moment passed. But Ben referred to it again as they were making their farewells.
"Since you won't allow me to have a painting of Katie, perhaps you will allow her to accompany me to the one afternoon for a drink?"
Sacha was poker—faced. "That's up to Katie."
Katie felt a flash of pique. Did he have to make his difference so obvious? Smiling sweetly at Ben, she declear "I'd love to go."
When the door closed behind the departing guests, she excused herself and fled upstairs. She had managed to pass the whole evening without addressing a single direct to Madam Kimberly or Claire, and the effort had exhausred her.
Kim was sound asleep, arms and legs outfiung, hand touching his teddy bear. The duck, she knew, w be somewhere under his pillow. Katie hung over his brooding over a glimpse of long, sweeping lashes fan out upon a flushed cheek, a dimpled clutching Sammy, who had looked up briefly and welcomed her a thumping tail, eyed her reproachfully, his head res— on his paws, obviously wondering why she continued disturb his sleep when all was well.
Finally Kate returned wearily to her bedroom, she stripped herself of her clothes. Skirt, blouse, stocking and high—heeled sandals followed one another in a pile on the floor. Then, in bra and bikini panties, she went the bathroom. What I need is a long soak in a warm tub and maybe while I'm soaking, she thought wryly, I can ; my head together. Leaning over the tub, she turned on the water, then adjusted the taps to the right temperature, cloud of steam arose and she shook bubble powder ii the flow and watched it foam up into pearly suds, mounted higher and higher until it came up almost to the level of the edge of the tub, and Katie hastily turned the taps. Something about the waiting stillness alerted and she turned quickly, to find Sacha leaning against the bathroom door, watching her.
"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply. She very conscious of her near—nakedness, and she shrank against the edge of the tub.
"Looking for you."
Kaite sallowed convulsively. "Well, now that you've found me, perhaps you'll let me slip on a robe." She looked around warily for something to cover her nakedness
"Nope." He settled himself comfortably against the door. "I like you better the way you are." He was probably naked, too, under his dark blue robe, which was belted fchoct his waist, giving a disturbing glimpse of arms and legs.
"Wh—what did you want to talk to me about?" she
Before he could reply, there was a rap at her bedroom " Mr Sacha, you in there?"
He turned away, muttering an oath half under his and strode toward the door. Katie, straining her ears to listen, heard him open the door violently and ask curtly, "What do you want, Oola?"
"It`s Miss Claire, sir. She come back just now, have some horse paper she say you must have. Madam say for me to fetch you.
It first time Katie had heard Oola's voice, which was high—pitched singsong.
Sacha swore. "For God's sake, Oola! Those papers can wait! Tell my grandmother that I'm already undressed and ready for bed! I`ll see Claire in the morning!" 
"Yes, sir."
Katie had lost her opportunity to escape from the bedroom. She was fiddling nervously with the bath taps when Sacha returned. She had been highly gratified by the brusque message he had sent to Claire, by way of his grandmother, and she was wearing a flush of excitement that brightened her eyes. He eyed her amusedly.
"At one time, you would have been waiting for me in the bathtub" he murmured silkily.   The blush deepened. "Sacha!" she cried breathlessly. "Sometimes—I—I—feel as though you are a stranger." 
"A stranger?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Well—not my husband. It has been so long, you can`t— mean—how can you expect me to act as though nothing had happened? As though we had been together all along," she explained confusedly.
"Are you trying to raise a barricade of objections again?" he asked, moving toward her purposefully.
Katie left the vicinity of the tub hurriedly, sure had every intention of dunking her in, and began sidle along the wall toward the door. Halfway there, Sacha tured her by the simple expedient of putting both on the wall and pinning her firmly between them.
"My mistake has been in giving you too much time— growled huskily. "I thought you needed it, and I want to rush you, but—" He broke off to nuzzle her He was very close, close enough for their breams mingle, but he did not touch her. Her hands were w ea. she flattened them desperately against the wall, the digging into the cool tiles as though seeking an escape hind her.
"I do." She shivered, although she was burning heat. "I do need time—"
"No." He contradicted her softly. His breath fanned hair at her temples. "I know you, Katie. It's fatal to give you time to regroup your defenses. I should have followed my first instinct and taken you at once. When our recociliation has become an established fact, you'll fee', 'tetchy' about it."
"About—it?"
"About our making love." His mouth quirked and watched it fascinatedly. "You're torn, Katie, fc: wanting me and what you probably think of as your ter nature.' In other words, that prim, inhibited sids you."
His lips touched her ear, then he lightly bit the delicate lobe before running his tongue along the outer curl, It was an unbelievably erotic sensation, and Katie thought dizzily that her better nature had just given up with a whimper defeat. She closed her eyes as his exploring mouth down her throat and found the pulse that beat frantically at its base. A warm tongue tested its vibrating heat, and Katie turned her head restlessly, her lips blindly seeking his . 
"Sacha," she murmured urgently. 
"Want me?" he teased, then kissed her. It was a caress so feathery that Katie could have broken the contact moving her head slightly. In fact, he was not touching her but letting his lips speak for him in the age—old language of the kiss.
Every sared thought, every objection, fled Katie's mind as she responded to the unbearable sweetness of his lips, her lips tremblingly, and the kiss deepened. Unconciously Katie swayed closer, and he gathered her allowing her to feel the thrusting hardness sey. She was racked by such a wave of intense fear mrdnctively, her body arched, molding its soft c ha hard—muscled frame.
"Say you want me," he whispered against her lips. 
Katie moaned softly. "Sacha, please—" Katie repeated, raggedly. 
"I want you to make love to me." 
"Sacha—Sacha—" Restlessly, Katie groped and burrowed beneath the open throat of his robe, her lips seeking the hair—roughened chest.
"Put your arms around me."
With the mindless obedience of a robot, Katie's arms his neck. He bent and lifted her swiftly, then set her on the bedroom. As he was lowering her to bed she grew aware of a distant pounding and calling.
"Mr Sacha! Mr. Sacha!" 
Sacha swore softly under his breath and loosened his arms reluctantly.
"What`s wrong, Yoshura?" he called.
The Japanese butler must have moved to Katie's door, for his voice was stronger, louder.
 "It`s the old Madam, sir. She say you to come. Quick." 
"Why? Is she ill?"
"I not know, Mr. Sacha. Miss Claire say she sick. She say you come, quick."
Sacha swore again. "I'll be there as soon as I get something on". 
I will be back as soon as I see what the trouble is." Katie felt as though she had been slapped. She was totally vulnerable, now, still trembling in the aftermat of her overwhelming need.
"There is no trouble!" she burst out irrationally. "They know you are here with me, and they want to get away!"
"Don't be silly." Sacha's hands were gentle as he gaged her clinging fingers. "Something is wrong, mother may be ill."
Katie wanted to scream. She was appalled at the ease with which he had crumpled her defenses. She could not even accuse him of forcing her, for she had begged him to take her, but he could leave her as easily, at the first snap of his grandmother's fingers. Horrified, she heard herself begging, "Sacha, don't go! Stay with me! Show me you want me more than you want her—them!"
He glanced at her impatiently. "You're being childish he said crisply. 
"Of course I want you—but my grandmother—"
"I know about your grandmother!" she broke in passionately. "She wants you to marry Claire, and she’ll do anything to part us! She's pretending to be ill, so that she can get you out of this bedroom! Oola—Oola went down stairs and—told her where you were and—"
"Shut up!" A thin line of white around his showed the violence of his anger. "You're jealous and resentful and petty! I thought you'd changed—that you’d grown up, but you haven't! You are still full of delusionsand fantasies that are fed by your own spiteful, mean little nature! My grandmother is incapable of the sort of behavior you are talking about! Now get yourself together. Katie! I'm going downstairs, and if I find that it's nothing, I’ll be back! Otherwise, I won't!"
Katie huddled back against the headboard of the She hurt—all over—as though Sacha's hard words been sticks that had beaten her. There was only one to be said, and she said it.
"If you come back, don't bother to try the door. It will be locked."
An ugly look crossed his face. "I don't intend to go through this again," he warned her icily. "A warmed—over reconciliation is about as indigestible as warmed—over food. 
Next time you’re going to have to beg for me a lot harder than you did five years ago."
Katie flinched, sickened by the reminder of her abject pleading. He bad turned his back on her then, too. Her humiliation was complete.
"Please go" she said shakily. 
With an angry expletive, he left her, slamming the door  behind him.
 Shivering, Katie buried her face into the pillow. From heaven to hell in one swift fall, she thought dully. When did she come in Sacha's affections, anyway?
How far down the ladder?
She forgot her threat to lock the door, but finally, after a long time passed, she burrowed beneath the sheet. If Madam was really ill, someone would go for the doctor, and since her bedroom overlooked the garages, she should hear the car  when it drove out. But there was no sound a from there. Unless Claire went in her car? Katie huddled, listening for noises that would indicate what was happening.
She still did not doubt her instincts that there setting wrong with Madam, but as time went on
Sacha’s footsteps did not go past her door, she began to wonder if she could have been mistaken. And if she new desolately that Sacha would never forgive her. Suddenly Katie was brought upright by the sound of a slamming door, a car motor, voices, all below her window. She ran over in time to see Sacha handing Claire into the back seat of one of the ranch cars. It was being driven by one of the ranch hands. Claire was still dressed as she had been earlier, and Sacha had apparently slipped on a shirt and slacks before going downstairs. Claire was laughing about something, and Sacha's answering laugh floated up through the open window.
He stood at the window of the car and talked for another minute before waving them away. After a suitable interval, Katie heard his footsteps along the corridor, then the sound of his closing door. He had not bothered to try her door. Katie lay in bed, dry—eyed, until dawn, into a restless sleep. 

  
CHAPTER X
For the second morning in a row, Katie overslept. She dressed hurriedly in a loose silk blouse with matching skirt before looking  into Kim's room. It was empty; the drawers had been pulled out and the clothes tumbled as though a small whirlwind had wrecked itself on the room. Apparently he had been awakened and taken downstairs by Sacha. She stood hesitantly before Sacha's door before filed then looking in. It was empty, too. 
Downstairs Katie looked uncertainly around the cold, silent dining room.
Missy want breakfast?" Yoshura materialized at her elbow.
"Y—yes please. Where is everyone?"
"Mr Paul out in fields; Mr. Sacha with Kim at stables. Family eat breakfast in this room," he added, leading her into a smaller dining room, informally furnished with wicker and yellow pottery. Chairs were still pushed back as though the room had just been vacated.
Everything seems so quiet this morning, she said wistfully.
Old madam had attack last night," Yoshura replied, piling dirty dishes on a tray. "You want bacon—eggs—maybe? "
An attact? You mean—a heart attack?" 
No. Stomach, I think. You not know?" 
She shook her head numbly.
When missy Claire leave last night, she come back with some papers. While she here, Old Madam get sick.
 She send for Oola to tell me to fetch Mr. Sacha." 
Katie’s had paled. Oh, God, she thought sickly, he was right and I have been a criminally jealous fool! Aloud, she asked, "What did the doctor say about it?"
Yoshura shook his head. "No doctor. She no want doctor. Just Missy Claire and Mr. Sacha."
Something odd in his voice made Katie ask, did you see her, Yo—sbura?"
He gave a gigantic shrug. "I no see her. Just want Mr. Paul, just Mr. Sacha," he added expressionlessly. Abruptly, he quit the room, carrying the loaded tray.
After breakfast, Katie knocked timidly at Madal Kimberly’s door, prepared to eat crow if Sacha was there with his grandmother. The door was opened a cautious slit by Oola.
"I just learned that Madam was taken ill last Katie explained anxiously. "May I see her, please?"
"No see her," Oola replied flatly.
"But, surely—"
"No see her," Oola repeated. "Missy Claire now."
"Is she worse then?" Katie asked. "Has the doctor been to see her? What did he say?"
"Who is it, Oola?" It was Claire's voice, brisk sured.
Oola looked over her shoulder. "Missy Katie. She want to know why you no send for doctor."
The door, released by Oola, swung open slowly, and Katie could see in the sickroom. The bed was empty, but a card table had been pulled up to it, and Madam Kimberly and Claire were seated at it, with a hand of gin spread out before them. Madam was also drinking a cup of coffee, and her head was wreathed in smoke from the cigarette she was holding. She did not look ill, and the expression of consternation that spread over her face when she looked up and saw Katie, it was obvious that she was aware of the impression she was giving.
"Get her out of here!" She commanded, with a moan of distress. "Claire, please! I'm too weak to cope with anyone just now!"
"I'll see to it," Claire murmured soothingly.
Outside in hallway, with the door closed firmly behind her, Clair faced Katie determinedly.
What is this all about?" she asked crisply. "Madam Kimberly is very ill—she mustn't be disturbed! Can't you leave her alone.
Katie opened mouth to indignantly protest her innocence then closed it again. "How ill is she?" she askedshrewdly. "Has she seen a doctor?" 
Clair flushed. "How dare you?" she hissed. "How dare you imply she is not ill? That last night was a put—up job between us!”
Kaite blinked. She had only meant to imply that Madam’s illiness had been exaggerated, but as soon as Clair spoke, she realized that her defensiveness was motivated by fear—fear that Katie had guessed the truth and might be able to  persuade Sacha of it. 
"Was it a put—up job?" she asked gently. 
Of course not!” Claire wouldn't meet her eyes. "You have a nasty suspicious mind to think such a thing! Just wait until I tell Sacha's grandmother what you have accused her of—“
"I thought she was too ill to be disturbed," Katie said
Clair’s  eyes flashed. "Go away!" she snapped and flounced bact into the bedroom.
Kaite stared blankly at the slammed door, trying to recover herself by drawing steadying breaths.
What’s the  matter? Is my mother worse?" 
It was Paul, and in spite of his anxious question, he was an smiling quizzically  at her. "What are you doing outside her door, looking as though you've been thrown out? Is that what happened, Katie?"
"No— no" she stammered. "I think she may be better this morning."
He nodded calmly. "Probably. These attacks don't last long. "
"She had them before?" 
And will continue to, so long as she is a glutton and eats the kind of heavy meals she ate last night.
The doctor warned her— In fact, this might be a good time, while she is—er—temporarily indisposed, for you to take charge of the house, Katie. Particularly, the menus. He grinned conspiratorially. "My mother needs to be put on a sensible diet, for she is too fond of rich, spicy food.
Perhaps you could do something along the line of what you mentioned yesterday and plan the menus to include a better diet for my mother. What about it?"
Katie hesitated. "Of course, I would—but I don’t think your mother will like it. The cook won't—"
"Mrs. O'Connor will do whatever you say so long as she knows you're acting under my orders," he replied crisply.
"But your mother won't like it," she remindedhim. I think you should know—she would not mind Claire interfering, but—not me—"
"This is my house, Katie, and my mother merely resides here. If I ask you to supervise the kitchen, then it is my privilege to do so. I'll back up anything you want to do.” He added, picking his words carefully. "Claire Wetherell is not Sacha's wife. You are. It is my dearest wish—and my mother's—for Sacha to live in Hawaii, but I can't see that happening if we make his wife feel a stranger home."
Under the circumstances, Katie could hardly then. She made her way to the kitchen to confront cook, whose skill could not be faulted. Every meal had been a culinary masterpiece. Last night's dinner would have done justice to an exclusive restaurant, and from the way Claire and her father had spoken, the Kimberly family was lucky to have her. The last thing Katie wanted to do was upset the cook and have her leave.
The room was empty except for a large, fat Haiwaiian lady who was enjoying a midmorning snack of coffee and pastry. When she saw Katie, she surged to her feet, beaming.
"Sit down, Missy Katie. Sit down. I am glad you I to visit my kitchen. Have some coffee and a bun. " 
"How is Old Madam?"
Katie was taken aback. This was Mrs O'Connor? She was pressed into a chair and handed a cup of delicious coffee and a generous slice of coffee cake that was so rich and mouthwatering  good that it melted in her mouth. 
"You wouldn’t keep Old Madam in bed, not that one." Then she never give up. She have arthritis so bad that she almost no can walk, but she still boss."
Katie proceeded delicately. "Mr. Paul hopes that I will take some of the responsibilities off her shoulders for the time being, " she began. "He asked me to help, and one of the way is to—er—plan the menus with you. While she is ill Madam Kimberly must have a bland diet." 
"That's right." Mrs. O'Connor nodded delightfully as if she was encouraging a backward child.
The doctor say I cook too spicy." 
Katie’s jaw dropped. "Then—you know—?"
 Miss Katie, "was the kindly assurance. "I cook whatever you say. You be the one to make Old Madam eat it.
Katie gulped slightly. "Then it will be difficult?" 
Mrs. O’Connor’s eyes twinkled. "We—e—ell. You'll have Mr. Paul and Mr. Sacha to help you." 
“Very well, O'Connor. You cook it and I'll see that she eats it!” Katies eyes sparkled determinedly.
The cook broke into deep, satisfying laughter. "Just you keep Old Madam fromblaming me!" 
It took Katie a while to work out the week's menus with Mrs. O’Connor’s help. 
 The meals were not to change that much, except for the rich, spicy casseroles and desserts.
She found that Mrs. O'Connor had a lot of ideas on how to vary them for a sick person's bland diet, which was not so surprising after Katie made the discovery that she had once been a hospital dietician. They were in perfect accord when Katie finaily left her. As she emerged from the kitchen, she met Sacha on his way upstairs. He had just come from his grandmother's room and was looking for her.
“I wanted to talk to you—in private." He gripped her wrist and yanked her into the study.  I understand you called on my grandmother this morning!” he went on angrily, as soon as he had closed the door behind them
"I called on her, yes. I was told that she was ill and it seemed only polite to ask about her. What's wrong with that?" she flashed.
"Nothing—if politeness was your reason," he said grimly. "To call on an elderly lady and inquire illness is kind, but then to subject her to an inquinsinuate that she has been lying merely because refused to see the doctor, is vicious cruelty! I toldyou before, Katie," he added coldly, ignoring her gasp of dislief. "I won't have you worrying my grandmother, call me whatever names you like and accuse me of whatever infedelities you care to, but when it comes to Gran, keep your sick little fantasies to yourself! I won't have you distrubing her. In other words, I don't want you to go into bsr j again unless I'm with you. Is that clear?"
"Very clear." Katie, white—faced, jerked her arm out of his iron grip. "May I ask who told you all of this?"
"Oh, come off it, Katie. You know it was Clair. She didn't want to do it, but she had to tell me! She couldn't be allowed to upset my grandmother ass that!"
"Couldn't you have asked your grandmother if I upset her?"
His mouth compressed. "I did. She said you'd insisted on a doctor because you didn't really believe she was ill. She may be a bit of a hypochondriac, but she's anyone call her a liar before! As a matter of fact, Clair and I had already decided that she should see a doctor, but we knew better than to put our suggestion like that. Gran is scared to death the doctor will put her in the hospital, so she's hysterically opposed to having his in. So I always call him quietly without telling her thing about it."
"I see." And Katie did. Of course, it sounded plausible—and why not? If she hadn't seen Madam Kimberly in such obvious good health and if she hadn't catght that look of guilt before she began her swooning act, she would think her ill, too. As it was, she had been nipped bud, so to speak, by Claire reaching Sacha first story that made Katie seem suspicious and mean—minded.
And Madam Kimberly had backed her to the hilt, so that Sacha believed whatever outrageous, vicious lie Claire chose to tell about her. Well, she knew where she stood now. She didn't expect to have Sacha's loyalty when it conflicted with Clair's.
"Is that all?" she asked proudly.
He scowled. "It is! I think you've done enough damage I hope you'll try to confine your activities to taking some of the burden of housekeeping off Gran's shoulders, particularly while she's ill. It seems the least you can do. "
"Very well," She turned away. 
"Under the circumstances," he stopped her, "I should the decency to apologize for your suggestions last night."
She turned back. He was regarding her frowningly with a vague look of dissatisfaction.
She was shaken by a storm of resentment that she could not control.
Oh, no, Sacha!" she said bitterly. "You can't have everything! I’ve  agreed to stay away from your grandmother. I’ll even stay away from Claire if you like, and I will certainly do the housekeeping. But you can't expect me to mouth words that I know are lies merely to satisfy your pride. "
His lips curled. "I should have known you'd be too childish to ackowledge your mistakes. You still haven't
grown up, have you, Katie?"

The next few days were hell for Katie. On the brighter side the improvement in Kim. Overnight, it seemed, he had turned into a sturdy, self—reliant little boy,who was out all day—at the stables; in the pool; riding his tricycle; running through the house shouting, with Sammy yapping at his heels. His activities were too numerous and varied to name. Katie was no longer the center of his life; Sacha had assumed equal importance, and Katie had to admit that the change in Kim was due to the relationship with his father. The babyishness and clinging had disappeared now that he had a male figure to pattern himself after.
 The child made a great difference to his grandfather, too, which was another bright score in Katie’s ledger of accounts. Paul adored Kim, and gave credit to Katie in full for the child’s sturdy independence and instinctive good manners. He also went out of his way to show that he liked and approved of her, too.
He had business associates who dropped in frequently, they often stayed for lunch or dinner and sometimes were accompanied by their wives. Paul deferred to Katie as his hostess and demonstrated clearly that he was pleased with his new daughter—in—law. Which made a distinch change from Sacha’s chill tolerance.
As the days passed and obviously Aacha still disapproved of her, it became difficult to even be in the same room with him. Katie became rather adept at avoilding occasions when she might be alone with him, and since the ranch was a big place, itt was not too hard to do. She knew tghat he was seeing a lot of Claire, who was at the ranch everyday, using as her excuse Kim’s riding and swimming lessons.
As soon as Katie saw that Claire had every intention of being present for the swimming lessons, she dropped out. Rather than watch Claire’s triymphant success with Kim and expose her own shortcomings, she elected to bow out, and from the way Sacha’s lips curled when he asked her about it, she knew that he saw it merely as another instance of her cowardice and sick obsession with her fantasies. That made it much more important to stick during riding lessons. She reasoned that she could watch and encourage Kim without laying herself open to any of Claire’s taunts. She arrived that first morning to find a highly efficient Claire alone with kim and giving competent, crisp orders. Quite maturally, before too many days had passed, Kim was turning to Claire rather that his mother when he did something well. It was Claire’s praise that  bought a big grin to his face, and one day, he said impatiently, oh Mommy, you don’t know anything about it” Katie knew that he was merely echoing what he had overheard. Her face must have reflected what she was feeling, for Sacha, who happended to be present for the first time that day, strolled over and said impatiently, “Claire is an wxperienced teacherr, she knows everything about this subject, and it is her opinion that Kim shouldn’t be destracted by outsiders while he’s having his lesson, so ——   let’s leave her to it, shall we?”
So Claire had managed to pry her out of her prearious clutch on the riding lessons, too. After that, Katie did not return. Katie did not see anything of Madam Kimberly during the week following her so—called attack. She had a good idea of the old lady’s frame of mind. It must be extremely frustrating to know that Katie was now in charge of her home, and when news items filtered through by way of Oola of Katie’s domistic activies, she made an attempt to assert herself by changing some of her orders. But Paul and the doctor stood firm. They may have had a pretty shrewd idea that Madam’s illness was  artially feigned, but she played into their hands, and now they were using the opportunity to force her to slow down.
Anyways,Katie thought cynically, Madam should be happy enough with her success in providing Claire with an entrée into the house. She was in and out all day, and almost invariably was present for lunch. That, plus her deteriorating relationshp with Sacha and the gradual slipping of her ties with Kim occupied Katie’s mind too much for her to be concerned with an old woman pouting alone in her bedroom.
One afternood she was particularly depressed—things had built up until she knew she had to get away, be alone and try to gain a reasonable perspective. She strolled off on her own, intending to follow the line of the electrified fence to the very end of the Kimberly property. As she walked, she was struck, as usual, by the way the volcanic orgins of the islands had provided Hawaii with some of the most panoramic senery on earth. When she finally stopped, she was standing on a hill overlooking a valley of indescribable beauty. In the distance she could see a sweep of white sand ringed by palm trees, ending in the sea. Glittering beneath the sun, it faded into a fofter blue at the horizon's edge. In the nearer distance, the flat large house nestled among the hills, and alt_. would need binoculars to be certain, she did not think it was the Kimberly house. Whose, then?
With a tired gesture Katie dropped to the drew her knees up to rest beneath her chin. Tiedness brought her head up swiftly to see a lees man approaching. It was Benjamin Thorpe.
"Hullo." He smiled as he brought the horse and slid lithely to the ground. Looping the reins nearby bush, he strolled over to where she sat and dropped beside her. "This is my lucky day! What brings you all this way?"
"I've been for a walk. Why? Am I very far from home?"
He whistled slightly beneath his breath. "About three miles. You are on Thorpe land now."
She frowned. "I didn't cross the electronic fence."
"That fence merely guards the house compound. There are miles of acreage that are unfenced. Not really cure to anyone who approaches from our direction. Didn’t you know?"
"No, I suppose not. You said this was Thorpe land,” she added, hesitantly. "You mean Wetherell land, surely?"
He laughed. "Legally, it's Thorpe land. Mine. I support Claire. Wetherell didn't give her a cent. One can’t blame him, poor devil, since the divorce was her idea.” He  paused and eyed her with a cynical gleam. "Aren't you going to ask me why?" he added slyly.
"No," Katie replied calmly, thinking how much like a small, naughty boy he sounded. "But I have you're going to tell me."
He laughed. "Touche. Obviously you know why. It doesn't worry you?"
"Of course not." With an effort, Katie kept her voice light and uncaring, knowing that what she said probably find its way back to Claire. "What Clare has nothing to do with my life."
"Most wives wouldn't be so—er—cooperative sharing their husbands."
“What do you mean?" she asked sharply.
“Sacha is at our house many nights. Surely you knew?" he asked blandly.
"No." Katie thought of the nights where Sacha disapeared immediately after dinner. She had thought he was in his studio, for lately he had begun to paint again.
"Sacha has always been close to Claire. I think you said once— like brother and sister." The voice held a thread of amusement. "Of course, I don't know what happens when I go to bed and leave them. Perhaps—just more talk—"  he paused michievously. 
Katie turned away abruptly, hiding her face from him, her nails biting deep into her palms as she tried to stiffen herself against the pictures that began to unfold in her mind. Truly Benjamin Thorpe was a master at the art of insinuations. "You could do something about it, you know," he said suggestively.
"What?” she turned back, her face naked to his sharpened eyes.
 "Provide some competition. Let Sacha know that what's sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose. Etcetera. It has been known to work."  
"I don’t believe in playing games with people's feelings." 
"Not even to save your marriage?" 
"No, thank you."
Well if you should change your mind, I'll be glad to cooperate.” His voice roughened. "Oh, yes indeed, I'll be glad to cooperate.”
"Is that your horse or Claire’s?” she asked, in an effort to lighten the atmosphere, which had suddenly grown tense.
"it is mine when I visit Claire, although one of the – hands exercise it when I'm not here. The brute is much too strong for Claire to ride. Will you ask Sacha to sell me ‘Dreaming’?” he added abruptly.
She burst into laughter. "You are persistent, aren't you?”
"My dear, of course. I never give up when it's someone Iwant as badly as I want you."
 She sobered instantly. "I thought we were talking a painting."
"You don't really think we are, do you?" His eyes held a twinkle as they roved her uneasy face. "I am lost in admiration of the painting, but I would be stupid to prefer it over the real thing. Quite suddenly, it has occurred that I might have such an opportunity. You are no fool—you must know that I want you." His voice roughened. "Would you be interested in accepting  me as your lover? I wouldn't insult you by citing the mater, advantages to you—although there are many, but I know that wouldn't weigh. But, I promise you would find me a considerate, skillful lover."
"No, Ben. If it ever comes to that point, it will only be because I don't have a marriage or a husband."
"Naturally," he said dryly, without belaboring the obvious point. "It was merely a thought, and I hope you won’t allow it to distress you until you are ready to think again."
He rose then and prepared to take his leave. Together they walked over to the horse. There was no trace of embarrassment in his manner as he talked lightly springing up into the saddle, and Katie began to wondered if she had dreamed that this man had just asked her to become his mistress, and although there had been no word about love, he had certainly made it clear that he desire her. However, when he leaned down from the saddle and take her hand before departing, she caught a naked look in his eyes that made her shiver slightly, and she was reminded forcibly of Benjamin Thorpe's reputation getting what he went after.
The next morning Claire deliberately sought while she was in the breakfast room polishing silver. Claire was wearing jodhpurs and from the trace of dampness on her forehead, had apparently just come from Kim's riding lesson.
"I want to talk to you," she said abruptly.
Katie rose and followed Claire, who led the way into the study with as much assurance as though she was the lady of the house. Standing with her back to the desk, she faced Kaite,	Her exotic beauty a flaming contrast to the somberness of the room.
"I want you to stay away from my father," she drawled insolently. Kaite opened her mouth, but Claire forestalled her. "Oh don’t try to deny it. I know you met him yesterday— and on my land! You had done your homework well, and found out that he was in the habit to taking that that ride every day. "
"I have no intention of denying it," Katie replied. Her  cheeks were flying red flags of anger, but she kept her voice steady with an effort "Why should I? The meeting was accidental, If he told you about it, he surely made that clear to you".
  "As a matter of fact, he didn't tell me about it. One of my ranch hands saw you and mentioned it to me. My father is not given to talking about the details of his—er— affairs to me. " she added insultingly.
Katie clenched her fist to avoid slapping the beautiful haughty face, "Then I suggest you ask him about it, unless you’re afraid that he might tell you to mind your own".
"Which is exactly what he would do!" Claire laughed bitterly.
"He doesn’t like my interference when he's pursuing a woman. I know him too well. I saw that he was – attracted to you the moment he met you, and of course, he would understand that —and that you would be at loose ends when Sacha divorce you."
 "You seem certain that he will."
Claire eyes glittered.  "I assure you that he will. He is on the point now of asking you to live apart from him, Where are you going?" Her voice changed sharpely.
"Out of here. Away from you. I don't intend to listen to this.”
"Oh no, you’re not!" With a leap, Claire was at the door barring the way her blazing eyes and flushed face showing her emotions. Katie eyed her measuringly. They were the same height, and she wondered if Claire could prevent her from leaving if she made an attempt to do so. 
Claire eyes narrowed slightly as she read her thoughts.
"Don't try it," she said dangerously. "I am stronger than you, and I don't intend to let you leave until you out."
"Say it then," Katie said boredly.
Claire looked slightly disconcerted. "I won't to get your hot little hands on my father and his money!”
"Which is what you're really concerned about. Katie mused. "I wonder how he would like it if you had taken a hand in his so—called pursuit of me?”
 Claire's face whitened and Katie knew she had struck a nerve. She pressed on. "You said he doesn't like interference, and I suspect he can be quite ruthless if you displease him. As ruthless as you are yourself, perhaps
He told me that he supported you, which must mean you are dependent upon his goodwill. And I don't think we are talking about your father making me his mistress. Claire? You must be used to that situation by now, you are afraid that he might want to marry again, particularly if it's to a young woman who might have a child. For some reason, you suspect that he might enjoy the opportunity to cut you out of your inheritance, don’t you Claire?" she added, making an inspired guess. She saw by Claire's face that her reasoning was correct. "What’s the matter, Claire? Isn't Sacha's money enough for you, can it be that you aren't so sure of Sacha as you say you are!"
Claire fumbled with the doorknob, then flung the door open. Her face was twisted with rage and fear. "Get out!” she hissed, in a low, throaty voice. "Get out of here before I slap that smirk off your face. I—hate you!"
For once in their many one—sided encounters, Katie had gotten the best of her enemy. Head high, she strolled out, her bearing insolent and triumphant. She felt good; in fact, she felt wonderful. 

CHAPTER XI
Don’t worry Katie, I'm coping, although I'm over— whelmed with admiration at the way you managed this shop and child single—handedly except for an occasional assist from me. How did you do it?" Pat's voice, over the telephone was as welcome as a drink of water in the mist of a parched desert.
All by sleight of hand, my dear." By trying very hard, Kaite was able to make her voice sound light. "Then—you n don’t need me at all?" She hated to push, but she desperately needed a bolt hole—some place to go where she gain a breathing space away from the oppressive atmosphere of this house. Not that Sacha would believe that it was necessary to dart over to Oahu at the drop of a crisis but just the same, if there had been an honest—to goodness one… Although nothing had been said about putting a car at her service, and considering that a trip to Honolulu would mean complicated traveling arrangement . it was perhaps expecting too much of Sacha that he would agree to her leaving to help Pat out at the shop, 
You must be having a marvelous time," Pat went on brithely, oblivious to the irony of her words for Katie. Everyone has been telling me how lucky you are."
All the people who have been crowding into the shopthe last few days!” Pat's laughter was rich with delight. You'd be amazed at the customers I've had— and all of them dying to learn something about you! I had no idea that  your husband's people were so important. Did you?”
"N—no.”
"Well, they are. Hawaiian aristocrats, if there is such a thing. They've been here since the year one, and papa—in—law owns a good slice of Hawaiian real plus having his finger in quite a few pies, busine What's the house like?"
"Fabulous," Katie said weakly.
"That's what everyone says," Pat agreed. "I’ve hearing quite a bit about the Kimberlys this week. Everyone seems to know about you—that you're over the family home, living with your husband again—but  they all have made excuses to drop by the shop, and — they're here, quizzing me about you, they're shopping. Katie," Pat's voice dropped dramatically, "what's this Claire Wetherell?"
"What about her?"
"Several of the women have been more than talk about her. Seems that she's a beauty who's eye on Sacha for years. Her father married Sacha’s mother: In fact, the story goes that he broke up her marriage to Sacha's father. Well, when the split—up came, and the remarriage, Claire was a little girl, and Sacha took her under his wing. Her mother was dead, father was too busy to care about her, and of course, his mother's solution to the whole problem was to put her in a boarding school and forget all about her. Well, big brother, Sacha sort of adopted her. During summer vacations, when he came to Hawaii to see his people, she came along. No one cared about her at home. Anyway, she was like the family, and when she got her divorce, she bought the place next door to the Kimberlys'. She had always loved horses, and that's what she's doing, breeding horses and  keeping in touch with Sacha through his father and grandmother."
"I see." Somehow, hearing the whole story like seemed much more plausible—and more depressing Sacha's attitude toward Claire, for instance, was protectiveness, and apparently it stemmed from e their childhood. How could he, therefore, believe that she would lie to him, especially when compared to Katie, who he already beleeved was capable of any sort of childish, irrational behavior to get her own way?
"They say it nearly killed her when Sacha married you. It wouldn’t have happened if she hadn't been on a cruise at the time. Anyway, she immediately married Tom Wetherell, who'd been in love with her for ages, and divorced him just as quickly when she learned that Sacha’s marriage had gone on the rocks. Er—Katie, is she hanging around.”
Katie was conscious of a hysterical desire to laugh. I – I think I can safely say that she is," she replied carefully. And that is the understatement of the year, she added to herself.
I hate to make you nervous on your second honeymoon but forewarned is forearmed. Keep your eyes on Claire. From what I've been told, she'll never give up hope of getting Sacha. The only time she let him slip the leash, he married you, and she's told all her friends that it’s just a matter of time before she has him again."
"A matter of time, a matter of time"— The words rang in Katie’s eary with the insistence of a buzz saw. Suddenly she was aware that Pat had asked her a question and was waiting for her answer.
"I— I’m sorry. What did you say?"  
"This party, What are you wearing?" 
"Oh you got your invitation, then?" 
"Yes. All formal and correct."
"Formal?
Well— elegant, anyway. Engraved, RSVP—that sort of thing.”
“That’s odd, Pat.  It's just supposed to be an informal barbecue.
"Uh –uh, Katie. I don't know where you got that idea, but it’s a dress—up affair. I understand she's hired a Hawaiian band for music. I think I'll ask Chuck to escort me,” Pat added musingly. "My ex may think he's God's gift to women, but one thing I can say for him, he makes a terribly good impression when he wants to." 
"B—but, Pat, I don’t understand," Katie faltered. "Claire gave me the definite impression that this was just going to be a small party—a few friends—and I had expected to wear something casual."
There was a long silence, then Pat said softly, did she say that she was wearing. Or did she?"
"A jump suit."	 
There was another pause, even lengthier, then, "Oh, lordy, Katie, there was a jump suit in Martelle's window— If that's the one—" Pat stopped, apparently shocked into stunned silence by the vision of Claire in the the jump suit. "Katie," she added urgently, "you'd better get something new to wear to that party! Something beautiful! After all, you're the guest of honor, and if it takes every cent you have, honey, you'd better blow it on an outfit that will knock her dead!"
When Katie left the phone, she was still feeling bewildered by Claire's spite. Reviewing their conversation about the party, she could not remember that the other had said anything to make her believe the party was small, casual affair. Perhaps it had been the mention of the jump suit, but nevertheless, that was the that she had been given. And Katie knew that Claire had done it deliberately, hoping that Katie's dress was hopelessly wrong. But why? The answer was right to try to humiliate her and make Sacha's friends for his choice of a wife. And make Sacha that choice, for of course, he would not blame Claire merely regard it as just another wrong impression of Katie's. He might even think she had done it deliberately in an attempt to embarrass him. Anything was possible if Claire got through with her poisonous little innuendo. It had been nearly a week since their quarrel, thing were rapidly going from bad to worse. Yesterday was the worst yet. All day, Sacha had been terribly in an icy, civil way, and Katie suspected that Claire managed to make something of her meeting with her father though that would credit Sacha with jealousy. And Katie knew that was impossible. It was more likely that Claire had given him a distorted view of their conversation in the study. Katie had toyed briefly with the idea of going to Ben with the story of Claire's inerference, but she knew she couldn't do it. He would be angry—
Claire's n white face had told her that—and she sensed that he would punish his daughter accordingly. Ben Thorpe would make a bad enemy. Like Sacha. When he looked at her nowadays, she received a chill blast that felt as though it came straight from the North Pole.
  She knew that Paul was puzzled by his son's behavior, and she tried to pretend that all was normal, but last night, by the end of dinner she was exhausted, her stomach churning with tension. Sacha had left immediately afterwards and she knew now that he was seeing Claire. 
Then this morning, after the conversation with Pat, Katie made a timid effort to break the deadlock between them.
“Sacha." She caught him as he was leaving the house, and she hated the impatient way he halted.
We’re going to have to talk. We can't go on like this.  It – it’s no good.”
You know what you can do about it." His face had hardened.
You mean —— crawl?"
His mouth tightened. "I mean act like a responsible human for a change! You're right—we do need to talk.” He looked around, and dragged her into a small room off the back entrance that was used for flower arranging and odd jobs by by Yoshura. He slammed the door and leaned against the sink, eyed her consideringly. 
"Look, Katie," he began patiently. "When I met you again –in Honolulu— I was filled with admiration at the job you had done  with yourself and Kim. You had raised him, made a superbly and made a success of your shop, and according to Pat, even when your aunt died, you didn't go to pieces but kept right on. I was even willing to concede you the privilege of waiting before consummating our reconciliation.” His mouth twisted with self—derision. "I thought it was unwise, but I could understand your objections. Howeverk this is different—these sick delusions you're having about Gran and Claire—especially Gran, who is just a sick old lady who loves me! I admit that Claire teases you sometimes, but you've no one but yourself to blame for having started the whole thing by showing her you're jalouse! Frankly," he added grimly, "I don't know if you need a psychiatrist or a marriage counsellor, but  personally, I believe the whole thing is nothing more than the irrisponsible actions of a spoiled brat!"
Katie stared at him helplessly. It was all so plasible— and so untrue! How could she begin to refute it? Knowing how Claire felt about him?
"You don't think I have a right to resent the fact that you are seeing Claire all the time—more than seeing me?" she asked stiffly.
"Ask yourself why, sometime!" he said savagely. "For God's sake, Katie, Claire is one of my oldest friends— and one of the dearest! I don't intend to give her up merely because you're unable to handle that fact! Especially; he added with deliberate cruelty, "when she occupies a place in my affections that you could never aspire to! If what you're asking, then forget it!"
He wrenched open the door and flung himself out. Katie watched blindly as he took the path to the stables. He was going to find Claire; he was going to tell her thing that had been said and reassure her that he his wife firmly in her place. And she knew now just what that place was! She shivered and bent over the sink, staring blankly into the mirror that reflected her white and haunted, fearful eyes.
Suddenly the phone shrilled beside her, startling her so much that she jumped and knocked it off its cradle. Then she had to answer it, for the connection had been open.
She cleared her throat and picked up the "Hello?" she quavered, then repeated it. "Hello?"
"Katie! Is that you, Katie?"
It was Benjamin Thorpe. Katie hoped that her voice did not sound strange.
"Yes, Ben. How are you?"
"I'm glad you answered. I was hoping you would. Incidentally, I looked for you yesterday while I was riding.
"L—looked for me?" she asked blankly. "I—I don’t think I walked yesterday."
 Hey,” he chuckled.  "Did I awaken you? You sound like you’re half asleep. I called to see if you would like to have that drink with me you promised. This afternoon,
About four o’clock, if that is okay with you?"
This  afternoon?'' Katie hesitated, then said slowly. "Would you be able to run me into Honolulu instead, Ben?” he was silent, apparently taken aback by her unexpectied request, and she added swiftly, "If you can't take me, I’ll have to go alone.”
Now wait a minute— don’t be so quick to back out. This sounds interesting. But—isn't that a little far to go for a drink?” The smooth, clever voice sounded a little dry.
Oh, that’s not  why I asked you to take me." The the thought had burst into her head full—blown, and she spoke without thinking.  'I wanted to go shopping." 
Shopping? he asked blankly.
Yes, I need something to wear to your daughter's party. I’ve just discovered that it's going to be much— er—dressier than she led me to believe, and I haven't a thing to wear. I’ll leave it to you to come up with her motive,” she added blandly.
 He burst out laughing. He could not only appreciate Claire’s motive, but admire her ingenuity. "Katie, my love! This is the first time a woman has put me to use in such an obvious manner since I cut my wisdom teeth. I can’t argue with your honesty. There is only one thing that puzzles me.” His voice dropped suggestively. Why me, when you have a husband who has a boat and a plane to put at your disposal? However, who am I to question my luck when it seem to be on the side of the angels. "
"When would you like to go?" 
"Right away?” she asked tentatively.
Shall we say in an hour?" he countered amusedly. 
"I have to arrange a car and a helicopter. I'm only a visitor in Hawaii, remember? I haven't the amenities of your father—in—law.
"Oh, Ben, I can’t allow you to go to that expense. Forget it! I – I’ll find some other way to get there."
 "You wouldn’t be so cruel! He said swiftly. “Deny me a chance to do you a service? Never! Besides, I have business that I need to attend to in Honolulu, so it’s just as well. And if it makes your frugal little soul feel better, we'll plan to return by commercial aircraft. All right. "You wouldn't be so cruel!" he said swiftly, m a chance to do you a service? Never! Besides, I business that I need to attend to in Honolulu, so it’s just as well. And if it makes your frugal little soul fed we'll plan to return by commercial aircraft. All right."
"All right," she said weakly. "Thanks, Ben. How ever repay you?"
"Oh, I'll think of a way," he said smoothly. For starters, what about letting that drink stretch to cover dinner too?"
Katie dressed carefully for her shopping trip, since she planned to wear the dress to dinner, too. She wore a loosely tailored dress of polyester crepe de Chine, with a slit skirt that gave a revealing glimpse of her slim legs. The color of crushed raspberries, it brought a p her cheeks and an added sparkle to eyes that ments earlier had been sad and haunted. She was  determined to look her best and enjoy herself for a change. What had Ben said? What's sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose! At the last moment she decided to her hair, and she hummed as she saw that the style had exposed the graceful curve of her neck and the gold hoops she wore in her ears.
She found her reward in the look in Ben's eyes' saw her. I can't help it, she thought defensively. It feels good to know that I look good! To see admiration in a handsome man's eyes. It boosted one's ego, when said ego had received quite a battering lately, she added wryly.
They were on their way in to Honolulu in a limousine when Ben leaned forward, closing the window between themselves and the driver, then taking her hands, he raised it, palm up, to his mouth.
"Ben," she said uneasily, trying to detach her hands.
"Please."
No!” he said sternly. Surley you’re not going to deny me the pleasure of holding your hands? It’s harmless enough, surely? What’s going on between you and Sacha, Katie?” he added, as she reluctantly subsided.
"What do you mean?"
Don’t fence with me! How close are you two to the breaking point? You're not even communicating enough so that you can ask him to take you to Honolulu! Instead, you are forced to ask a favor of someone whom you might consider a prerfect stranger!" 
Her heart plunged.  "Are you a perfect stranger, Ben?"
She had only wanted to turn him aside from questioning her, but she saw from his swift reaction that she had pharsed the question so that it sounded provocative.
"I hope you don't regard me as one!" he said passionately. I don’t feel that I am a stranger to you. "
" I’m sorry, ben, " Katie apologized humbly. "That was a stupid thing to say. You must think I'm trying to flirt with you.”
"Only a little, he said quizzically. "But I meant what I said. I hope you regard me as more than a mere acquaintance. It goes deeper than that with me. As a matter of fact I’m falling in love with you, Katie."
She flushed "please! Don't. I don't want to hurt you, —and I—I thought you understood what I said the other day. I will not become your mistress, Ben." 
That was adamned fool thing for me to ask you!" he said volently. I’ve been kicking myself for it ever since I left you. I tried to call you a couple of times, meaning to apologize and get on another footing, but every time, Sacha answered the phone and informed me icily that you weren’t available to talk!"   
"He – did? She asked blankly.
 Yes!  Damned dog in the manger. He doesn't want you, to hang on to you until he makes up his mind about Claire. He knows she's besotted with him, but she tells me she has to prove herself with the child before he’ll have her! Meantime, I'm in love with you, Katie! Thank God you called today and gave me a chance to tell you. I'm not asking you for anything so damned insulting as an affair! I want to marry you as soon as you’re free. I’m serious about this, Katie. I know I'm a but this time is different, this time I'm really in love, first time in my life," he protested almost sulkily, and she wondered how many other women had heard those words form Benjamin Thorpe.
 Ben,” she began gently. “I told you— I’m married. I have a husband, and –"  
And he’s leaving you!” he said triymphantly. And then you’ll be alone, poor darling. I’ll wait. Sooner or later, you’ll see it for yourself.”
"What makes you say those things?" she demananded
 "Claire." He said it as though the name explain everything. "I know my daughter too well, my dear. I have underestimated her determination to get her won way. Perhaps she's like me, but she has her own ruthlessness. She has been possessive about Sacha was a child. She turned him against his own mother then, making herself out to be the unwanted stepchild. Even to— day, Sacha believes Claire to be the victim of neglectful parents. I came in for my share of villainy, too. That's why Sacha hates me today—that and my affair with poor old Marjorie. He resented her because she got custody after a bitter court battle with his father. I guess he and Claire united in the face of a common enemy." 
"How old were they?" 
"She was nine and Sacha about thirteen. Claire tell you it's a long time to love one man. I guess her flings—but she always comes back to him, will. Even if, by some miracle, your marriage to survived, you'd always have Claire around his neck'
Katie shivered slightly as he went on, his voice cynically indifferent as he spoke of his own daughter, she was always something of a handful after her mother's death, but I didn't see what was happening until it was too late. By then, she'd turned Sacha against both of us—Marjorie and me. Just as she will you, too, Katie. You don’t stand a chance. Claire has everything on her side, including the old grandmother—whom Claire will cut out of Sacha’s life just as just as ruthlessly as she will his father or anyone stands in the way of what she wants. So—cut your losses, my dear, and give up. You'll only be destroyed if you fight Claire. Sacha trusts her." 
I can’t give up." Katie said sickly. "It's not just him. There’s Kim
Oh. The child?" He sounded slightly astonished. "Does he mean so much to you, then?"
Katie thought it was a measure of how little Ben understood her that he could even ask such a question. "He does, she said bleakly. Then I might be able to help you there," he said swiftly. I have the money to hire lawyers to fight a custody suit.”
Katie was not such a fool as to think he would finance such a suit until she was his wife, but to even talk about it, to admit the possibility, was to make it seem real. "I'd never fight a bitter court battle over Kim," she said shrinkingly.
My poor little innocent, haven't you listened to a word I’ve been saying?” he demanded roughly. "Unless Sacha will agree to give him up, you'll lose him! Claire will fight tooth and nail to keep him if that's what it takes to hold Sacha!”
She’s your daughter!" Katie cried despairingly. "Can't you control her? Demand that she stop breaking up my marriage?”
His face hardened. "I want you," he said brutally. "I'll use every wepon I have to get you. I won't stop Claire, because if your husband doesn't care enough to hold you, then it’s better for you to learn it this way, now! He's had two chances with you, and he has thrown away both of them. Now its my turn."
He pulled her into his arms and planted passionate e and mouth. At first Katie struggled, but
He was too storng for her, and she gradually subsided. His kisses hadn’t the power to move her, anyway. They meant nothing. They didn’t have the power to blot out for a second the memory of Sacha and the sensual pleasure she received from his kisses. Finally, he released her, and from the look of satisfaction on his face, she realized that he had not found anything lacking in her failure to respond.
I’ll be back about five, and we'll have dinner before we go back to Hawaii,”he murmured caressingly.
She looked up.  They had stopped before the the chauffeur was holding the car door open, his face as impassive as a judge's.
"Ben I Ican't have dinner with you, if you—"
"Darling! I shan’t say a Word!" He smiled irresistibly, and taking her hand, kissed it long and lingeringly I promise to keep the conversation strictly impersonal—but you did promise me dinner! Remember?"

CHAPTER XII
Katie stood on the curb, watching the limousine pull away, and thought ruefully that, at times, Ben reminded her of a very spoiled small boy. She did not doubt that he believed himself passionately in love, but his love had an element of selfishness in it that she knew would never find responsive chord in her own heart. She knew, too, that inspite of his promise  if it suited him he would renew his proposal at dinner and even put pressure on her by pointing out its advantages. No, there was nothing selfless about Ben’s love and she sometimes wondered if he hadn't merely transfer his obsession with "Dreaming" to her, and even getting a kick out of the thought he was thwartinng  Sacha at the same time. But she wish she could fall in love with Ben. It would be an easy way out.
unfortunately, there was only one man who had the power to turn her bones to water, and that was Sacha. She was a one—man woman, and he was the man.  And although Ben’s warnings had done nothing more than confirm what she al ready knew, she realized that she could never ask him for a divorce. If Sacha wanted one he would have to ask her for it. She only hoped she could keep her self—respect when he did and not fold up.
She turned away from the curb and noticed the house for the first time. Pat was evidently preparing to have it painted, for it was surrounded by scaffolding, and drop aped over the shrubbery. The painters had already began scraping away the peeling stucco, and it looked garish and ugly. She wondered what Ben had thought when he saw it. In spite of its unattractive appearance, it held the charm of familiarity, and Katie felt a wave of homesickness for it and her old, uncomplicated life.
Inside, Katie was met by a gum—chewing dressed in her old muumuu. "Good morning, May I help you?" she asked loftily.
"Hello. I'm Katie. I'm looking for Pat." "Oh, yes, Mrs. Kimberly!" the girl gushed. Its obvious that she had picked up some of the gossip been circulating all week. "Pat's in the kitchen."
The bright, crowded kitchen, flooded by sunlight from the old—fashioned bay window, was reassuringly familiar. The cutting table was still littered with scraps, and Pat sitting at the desk, had the telephone resting on her shoulders as she scribbled on a piece of paper. She looked waggled her hand, then grabbed desperately at the slipping phone.
"Be with you in a minute," she whispered. The conversation was over in a few minutes, and Pat with a relieved sigh. "Well! This visit is marvelous though I can't say it's any surprise!" she added impishly.  Just then, the phone pealed again and Pat snatched it up with a grimace. "What? Oh, yes, just walked in. She looked up, cupping a hand over the mouthpiece, and grimaced again. "He's been calling every five minutes.'  What happened? Did you go AWOL?"
 "What? Who?" Katie asked blankly.
 "Sacha. Who else? Come on, you can sit at the desk. Pat handed her the phone and Katie put it to gingerly.
"Hello?" she quavered. "Katie, what the hell are you playing at?" Sacha sounded furious. "Is this your idea of a joke or something?”
"I don't know what you mean. Didn't you get— that  is, I told Yoshura where I was going."
"Oh, yes," he replied savagely. "I got the message— and the implication. Are you trying to prod me into some sort of stand?"
"I don't know what you mean," she repeated. I’ve just came to Honolulu to shop."
 Then shop!” he said grimly. "
Have it finished by the time I get there.
You get here"' Katie was astonished. "You mean you are coming here?
" Naturally, he said ironically. "I'll be there in a couple of hours, and be at your place then, waiting on me, or – I’ll turn Honolulu upside down! I warn you, Katie, don't make me have to look for you!"
Katie hung up the phone and stared at Pat. "I think Sacha has taken leave of his senses. Why should he mind if I go shopping?”
Pat frowned. From what I gathered the first time he called, it wasn’t so much the shopping so much as who brought you. Who did you come with?" 
Katie flushed.  Claire's father." 
“Why should Sacha mind that?"
“Sacha doesn’t like him, although he's been very kind," Katie said defensively. "In fact, the way things are going, he may be the only friend I have on Hawaii soon." She didn’t mention Ben's proposal—how could one explain a thing like that. And to Pat? Katie hardly understood it herself. Pawing through the pigeonholes of the desk, she went on rapidly.  I had him bring me by here so I could get my checkbook . I’m going to to take your advice and blow in my savings on an outfit for the party. I'm tired of being taken for a stupid little fool who's everybody's dummy.' From here on, I’m through taking insults and sneers, Pat."  Pat looked shocked by Katie's bitterness. On the surface Katie seemed the same, but there was an underlying note of savage anger that wasn't Katie. Pat had noticed it the moment she walked in. Moreover, she was unhappy, and Pat suspected that she had not been getting enough sleep
Katie, what’s the matter?"
Katie kept her averted as she sifted through the papers on the desk.  I'm in an awful jam," she said in a muffled voice.
Naturally, Pat said briskly, as though it was the most unsurprising remark in the world. Inwardly, she was appalled. Claire Wetherell is a gal who doesn't care what methods she uses to get her man. I wouldn't be surprise if her father isn't the same. Anyway, Sacha doesn’t trust him. So—if he's angry with you, just remember it’s jealousy speaking, Katie. At least, that's the way he when I talked to him."
"Oh, no, Pat, he may be angry, but I assure he’s not jealous!" Katie said bleakly. "That would mean he cares—and he doesn't. You see, our marriage is over 
"Katie! Do you know what you're saying?" 
"Of course. I am saying that Claire has won. She has broken up our marriage. I won't go into detail about her methods, but they worked. She told Sacha a lie about me and he believed her."
"That doesn't sound like the man I met," Pat said stoutly.
Katie shrugged. "His grandmother backed her up. She wants Sacha to marry Claire."
"Yes, I've heard about her," Pat murmured. “But, Katie, how can you discuss it so—so calmly? What about Kim?"	 
A wave of pain crossed Katie's face. "I'm losing Kim, Pat. Claire told me she would win, and she has. She said she'd take Kim away from me, too, and she's doing it. I can see it happening before my eyes, and I can't stop her. She's too clever for me."
Pat was shaken by a gust of fury. If she had had Sacha Kimberly there, she would have slapped his face spot.
"You're going to fight, aren't you?" she demanded. Katie shrugged wearily. "I feel like it's a losing it were just Claire—but Sacha, too—" She dropped her head defeatedly upon her folded arms.
Pat was horrified. "Katie Lockwood, surely you're going to fight?" she urged. "You're not going to let that –that man—eater take over your child! As for your—your husband!" She stopped, too full of the injustice of it to persue her line of thought about Sacha. As it was, she had to be careful, for Katie looked like being on the brink of a breakdown. She had walked out of here a week stars in her eyes, and after just a week, look at her now!
I’ve wondered," Katie replied in a stiff little voice, "if it wouldn’t be better in the end just to fade out of Kim's life. It would only make him confused and unhappy to have his parents living apart, pulling him to pieces between them. Sacha was right about that."
Pat swore silently. She assumed that this was a recent statemtnt of Sacha's, and she was conscious of a strong desire to throttle him. However, it was obvious that Katie was in no mood to be reasoned with, so abruptly, she changed the subject. "Now see here, we'll talk about this after the party. You're too upset now to make sense. Go to Martelle’s and find yourself something stunning to wear.”
Something like Claire's?" Katie asked with a wan smile.
I’ve been thinking about that jump suit, and I know Claire wouldn’t wear a thing like that to a big party," Pat said briskly. Now, shoot the works, Katie, shoes, lingerie—the whole thing."
I don’t have much time. Sacha said he'd be here in an hour or two, and he wanted me through with my shopping by then.
Oh he did, did he?' Pat asked grimly. "Well, leave Sacha to me. I’ll soothe him down if you're late. Have you enough money?”
I have nearly five hundred dollars in my checking account—" Katie sriffled through her checkbook.
If that’s not enough," Pat said grandly, "just let them know who you are. They'll be glad to extend credit." It was nearly three hours before Katie returned from shopping. Pat was waiting on a customer. There was no sign of the gum—popping teenager. 
Did you get something?" Pat asked as soon as they were alone. She eyed the enormous green box tied with gold cord. The name scrawled across its lid in sprawling golden letters what was of a dress shop every bit as famous and expensive as Martelle's.
Yes. I felt – er— naked in everything I tried on at Martelle’s, so I went somewhere else. But you won't be disappointed, I promise you." She smiled slightly. Did – did Sacha come?"
"Oh, yes, he came," Pat said ironically. There was a slight aura of satisfaction about the way she said it. "He's in the. kitchen, using the telephone. Claire's father came, too," she added suggestively.
"Oh?" Katie stopped, "What happened?" she asked ap­prehensively.
"Surprisingly little. Your husband talked to him alone, but I did hear him say that you wouldn't need him, since he was now available to take you home. Mr. Thorpe re­tired gracefully. He's not the type to make a scene or give up easily, either," she added warningly.
"I suppose not," Katie said uncomfortably.
Pat grinned mischievously. "You didn't tell me what a charmer he is. Quite handsome, in fact. He chatted with me a few minutes, and before he left, made me promise to save him a dance. I don't know if it was my beautiful eyes or if he was merely trying to get around me because I'm your best friend. He told me that he was looking forward to seeing me at the party."
Katie smiled wanly. "So am I," she said feelingly.
Sacha was putting down the phone, a slight frown on his face, but it smoothed out as she walked in. He was dressed for the city, in a cream blazer and slacks that con­trasted with his dark eyes and hair, making her disturb­ingly aware of his masculine charm and looks.
Smiling pleasantly, he said, "Hello. Finished your shop­ping? Are you ready to go?',' He glanced at his watch. "We're going to have to hurry to make our connections,"
Katie was taken aback. Expecting hostility, she was con­fused by his politeness. What had happened? For days he had acted as if he could barely tolerate being in the same room with her, and now, suddenly, he was almost friendly. A possible explanation occurred to her. He had talked to Ben, so could Ben have told him that he was prepared to take Katie off his hands, and Sacha's geniality stemmed from the, relief of ridding himself of an unwanted encum­brance? Katie stiffened at the idea that she was being bar­tered about, like so much' merchandise. Sacha was barely hiding his anxiety to be gone, too, and suddenly, she was furiously angry.
"What's the matter?" she taunted. "In a hurry to get back to Claire?"
Sacha's expression hardened. "Cool it, Katie," he warned. "I'm in no mood for your bitchiness." 
"Really?" she drawled sweetly. "Well, I'm—not being hurried off merely to suit your convenience. Why did you bother to come, anyway? Ben was going to bring me home—and at least he was giving me dinner first!" His mouth tightened, "Yes, you and Ben have gotten quite friendly lately, haven't you?" he asked grimly. 
'That's Ben's specialty—becoming friendly with other's wives!"
"It's a pleasant change after being treated like dirt all week!" she snapped. "At least Ben is nice to me."
"Ben Thorpe is only nice when it suits him!" His mocking; voice invested the words with sarcasm. "It wouldn't —take much of a brain to understand what all that niceness
means—an overwhelming desire to get you into his bed!" She reddened sharply. "How can you imply that I—"
"Try to use your head for once, you little fool!" he cut in ruthlessly. "There are no late flights to Hilo by commer­cial aircraft, but I bet Ben Thorpe proposed to return that way, didn't he? He would have been very apologetic to about it, but by then it would have been too late to make other arrangements, and there would have been nothing to " do but stay in Honolulu overnight at some convenient ho­tel!" he sneered.
She gulped. "I don't believe Ben planned anything of the sort!" she declared hotly. "He's not like you. He hasn't a mind like a sewer. He's sweet and kind—"
She shrank backwards at the look of naked fury in his eyes.
"Really?" he drawled menacingly. "It's too bad you're NOt married to him then."
"It's not too late to do something about that" .
"And what is that supposed to mean?" 
"Exactly what it sounds like! He's asked me to marry him!" she cried defiantly. 
His face changed to a satanic expression that was so ter­rible Katie cried out in fear and when he reached for her, she instinctively flinched back, half expecting him to strike her. His lip curled sardonically then, and he gripped her arms with hard, hurting fingers that were so cruelly tight she almost fainted. Then he pulled her into his arms, crushing her breasts painfully against his hard, muscular chest, molding her slim legs and thighs and soft belly bru­tally into the rocklike contours of his body. He lowered his head, and the hard, cold mouth took hers. It was not a kiss, but a ravishment, a hot, fierce exploration of her mouth that was made with only one purpose: to punish and bring her as quickly as possible to her knees. She could not move, so she did the only thing possible—clung helplessly and sought to accommodate herself to this pun­ishing rape of her senses. She could feel every muscle in his body—indeed, he intended her to feel them—and she wondered dizzily if, when this was over, she wasn't going to be one long bruise from chest to knees.
At last, he moved slightly, and her legs buckled. He held her up by the elbows, and spoke through thinned, partially closed lips. "Listen to me, you stupid little bitch! You're not to open your mouth about Ben Thorpe again! I've never beaten a woman yet, but if I hear another word from you, I'll beat you, so help me! Is that understood?"
He shook her roughly, and she just managed to gasp, "Y—yes."
Just then, Pat's head popped in the door. "Sacha, that taxi you ordered is here." From the way her head popped out again just as quickly, Katie knew that she had over­heard most of their quarrel.
"We're getting out of here!" snarled Sacha. "So pick up that damned box and walk!"
She couldn't walk. Sacha could see that for himself. Muttering an impatient expletive under his breath, he half dragged, half carried her out of the kitchen, through the shop past Pat's astonished face,—and out into the street where the taxi waited, its motor idling. The driver took one look at Sacha's face and opened the door hurriedly, and Sacha shoved Katie into the cab. She barely had time to scramble out of the way before he was in after her, slamming the door. The explosive directions he flung at the driver sent the taxi spurting away from the curb in a burst of speed.
He "Not only are you never to mention Ben Thorpe's name again, but you're not to accept another invitation, any where, from him! I shall inform him tomorrow that he is no longer welcome in my father's home
 "I don't want to listen to any explanations," he interrupted harshly. "I mean what I say."  
 Katie looked at him warily. She had never seen Sacha lose his temper so violently before, and the kiss he had given her had been an exercise in savagery. His rages had usually taken the form of icy coldness. In the past, he could devastate her with a look, a flick of his brows. He had settled down some now, his rage reduced to a simmer, rather than a boil, but Katie did not want to see it provoked again. She rubbed her arms ruefully, conscious of probable bruises tomorrow, and wondered that she wasn't | more shaken than she was. In a strange sort of way, she had found Sacha's anger reassuring, but rather than investigate the meaning of that puzzle, she sought to think of " something, else. 
  Sacha spoke once, through grimly parted lips, as they were turning off at the airport exit. "The helicopter was busy, so we're returning by way of commercial aircraft. 5: You'd better do something about your hair." He had apparently arranged about their return tickets and they did not have to wait to board the plane for Hilo. As soon as they were seated, Sacha ordered a brandy soda for himself and a sherry for her, without bothering, toinquire her preference. After that he did not speak again, and Katie settled down quietly to endure the flight. After they landed, Sacha still made no concessions to her but made his way toward the car park with long  strides, leaving her to follow at a half run, carrying her dress box. Finally, in the middle of the strobe—lighted car park. Katie caught up with him. 
"What's the hurry?" she gasped, clutching his arm. 
He dropped his eyes coldly to her hand, and she flushed and hastily loosened her grip. His eyes were like chips of ice when they met hers.
"There's something wrong at home," he said coolly. "The chief of police answered the phone when I called."
She gasped and swayed, and Sacha watched with cruel detachment as she fought to regain control of herself. "Oh, my God, why didn't you tell me? It's Kim, isn't it? He's hurt—"
"The chief said no one had been hurt, but I was to get home as soon as possible, which is just what I intend to do."
He turned on his heel and continued toward the car, leaving her to follow or stay just where she was, with her legs like rubber and her body almost paralyzed with shock.
"You bastard!" she shrilled after him, and she thought he laughed.
By this time he had reached the car, and she saw that he had every intention of leaving her if she didn't hurry. She was frantically clawing at the door as he started the motor, and he leaned over unhurriedly and flicked up the lock. She just managed to fling herself inside as the car started moving.
"Did he say what had happened?" she asked breath­lessly.
He didn't answer. In the subdued light from the dash­board, his face looked as though it was carved from stone—just about as heartless and impervious to shock.
"Damn you, Sacha, answer me!" she half sobbed.
"Shut up," he said thinly.
She shut up.
The trip under ordinary circumstances would have taken about an hour, but they made it in less than half the time, taking chances that had Katie on the edge of her seat in horror, when she wasn't being flung up against the side of the door. Finally, she was moved to remonstrate.
"Sacha, it isn't going to help matters if we kill our­selves—"
He ignored her, but they were at the gate by that time, opening it with a touch of the electronic switch, zooming up the drive, and finally pulling to a stop with a squeal of brakes behind a line of cars, some of which were flashing blue lights.
Katie drew a long, quivering breath. "Sacha, please," she begsed, "Wh—what was it?" I "The police chief said it was a kidnapping."
Shock waves went through her. She did not know what she had expected——but not this. A kidnapping meant a child—and there was only one child here——Kim! In spite tr of her determination not to touch him again, she found herself gripping Sacha's arms with desperate fingers,  "A kidnapping? Oh, my God, it was Kim, wasn't it?" 
"I told you he was safe—now."
She fumbled with the door catch, but her hands were  too flaccid to make contact He got out and opened her door for her, then steadied her as she tried to hurry up the steps.
"Take it easy."
They were the first sympathetic words he had said to her, but Katie hardly heeded them. They were in the foyer now, and her eyes went frantically to the little knot of  people gathered there, uniformed troopers, plainclothes—  policemen, and Paul, who was still dressed in the boots and denims he wore while working.
Paul's eyes met hers. "Katie, don't be frightened— She pushed past him. Kim was seated on the couch, holding Sammy, and his great—grandmother was beside him, feeding him ice cream. He was wearing the frayed pair of cutoff jeans that he usually wore while swimming, I  but someone—no doubt Madam Kimberly—had flung a light fleecy shawl about his shoulders. From the look on  his face, he was evidently basking in the attention he was getting.
  "Mommy!" He slid off the couch, and Sammy began to  leap and bark hysterically. "Mommy! Something funny happened—today to Gran'pa and me! A man stoled us, but then he let us go! Daddy!" His eyes went past Katie as she lifted him into her arms and buried her face in his thin  little neck. "Daddy, the policeman let me ride in one of the cars with a siren!" 
Sacha reached out a convulsive hand that softened to gentleness as he touched his son's head. With an easy laugh he rumpled the dark, tousled hair. "Sounds like fun! What happened?" he added in another voice, an altogether different voice, as a powerful—looking man dressed in uni­form came into the room.'
"Your son and your father were kidnapped this after­noon by a couple of men, Mr. Kimberly. It was a bun­gling attempt—fortunately. Only two men were involved, and they were picked up almost at once. They were look­ing for you, only they accidentally got your son and your father instead, and having no idea what they had, they were talked into releasing them by Mr. Kimberly." A slight smile flitted across the hard features. "He managed to convince them that he was merely a ranch hand who had wandered into the house compound looking for the boss, and that the child was his grandson. Dressed as they were, the story was believed."
"You're all right, Dad?" Sacha's anxious eyes studied Paul's pale, haggard features.
Paul smiled ruefully. "Now that it's over, it's beginning to hit me, but at the time, thank God, I managed to keep calm enough to talk my way out of it. They had read that newspaper blurb about you, Sacha, and they were looking for someone to kidnap. If they hadn't been so stupid and ill—informed, it would have been a different story tonight, but when they thought they'd picked up a poor farmer and his grandson, they decided to drop us and avoid a brush with the law. Incidentally, this little mop contributed his share to their capture." His eyes dropped to Sammy, who was dancing about underfoot, his plumy little tail tightly curled upon his back. "He followed the car as far as he could, and when they started to look for us, they were partially guided by Sammy's barking."
"A most intelligent little dog," Madam Kimberly said in her harsh old voice. "I have always said so."
Since she had never said anything of the sort, Sacha and Paul burst out laughing, and although no one else knew what the laughter was about, everyone obligingly joined in.
There was a general relaxation of tension, and a move was made toward the front door.
"We're leaving a guard on duty tonight and a couple of them tomorrow," the chief murmured as he prepared to go. I don’t that I think there's any need. Those two were in it alone and hadn't enough brains between them to plan how to go about it."
Katie didn't hear him. She had put Kim down, but she was gripping his hand, unaware that Madam Kimberly was watching her closely until she said, "The boy needs to  go to bed, Katie. Would you like Yoshura to see to it?" 
"No," gasped Katie, looking blindly at Madam Kimberly. "No, thank you," she added politely, but still rather shakely. 
She met Sacha in the doorway, and he stood aside and raited until she went through. The eyes that followed her were inscrutable as he watched her mount the stairs, leading Kim.
 "What do you plan to do about this, Sacha?" His grand­mother sounded fearful. 
 "I think you know what I must do, Gran." He hadn't taken his eyes off Katie. "She isn't used to our kind of life. I’m afraid I forgot that for a while. She didn't expect this when she came here."
Much later, Katie was awakened by Sacha. She was still sitting beside Kim's bed, cramped and stiff and fully dressed, with Sammy curled up asleep in her lap.
"Time to get in bed, Katie." His voice sounded strained. "You slept through your dinner. Are you hungry?"
She sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes, puzzled by the foddness in his voice. "I'm so tired," she murmured, dingring helplessly as he pulled her to her feet.
"I know." He bent and lifted her into his arms and car­ried her to her bed. "Do you want something to eat?"
"I just want to go to sleep." His face was so close she could see the bruised lines of strain under his eyes. Now  that she was awakening, she knew she did not want to sleep, and she certainly did not want Sacha to take away. She needed the warm security of his arms. "Don't leave me," she whispered, clinging to his neck, her mouth brushing his cheekbones. He lowered her to the bed, but her weight caused him to lose his balance, and he toppled forward, half falling across her.
"Katie," he groaned. His hands cupped her yielding breasts, then reluctantly, he opened her dress to his explor­ing fingers. "Katie, you don't know what you're saying—"
"Stay with me," she begged. "Please, darling—"
He murmured something as he buried his face in the heated valley between her breasts and breathed deeply the perfume from heV body. Her body arched, following the line of his lips, and she moaned softly below her breath.
"Katie, this is madness," he cried hoarsely. "I can't stay with you, You—don't know what you're asking."
She opened her eyes. The room was wheeling in a slow, dizzying spiral that was gradually, ever so easily, increas­ing its tempo. As his words penetrated her consciousness, the spiral came to a swift, merciless halt. She raised her head slightly.
"Wh—what?"
He raised a tormented face. "Katie, you're tired and scared. You don't know what you're saying. I can't stay with you."
She sat up suddenly, clawing her way out of his relaxed grip. A deep blush suffused her face. She remembered that he had once predicted this—that she would heg him. She wanted to scream and hide her mortified face from his eyes.
"I know what I'm saying now," she said shakily. "And you're right. You can't stay with me. P—please go."
"Katie, sweetheart—"
She wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Please, Sacha, just go." Her face was closed in a stub­born little mask.
She felt him hesitate, then he gave a deep sigh and stood up.
"Yes. Of course." His voice was bleak. "I came in to ask you to get some rest tonight. We'll be making an early start tomorrow."
She nodded indifferently, not having the slightest idea what he was talking about. He waited, apparently expecting her to question him, and when she didn't, he added poolly, "That's that, then. Good night." 
She waited, holding her breath until the door closed, scared even then to let it and herself go until she was sure he would not be returning. Finally, after a long suffocating minute, she jumped up and ran to the door and locked it. Then and then only, she allowed herself to give way to the flacking sobs that tore her slim body until at last, from sheer exhaustion, she slept.


CHAPTER XIII
The following morning by nine o'clock, Katie was on her way to Kauai with Sacha and a laconic, tobacco—chewing cowboy, who seemed as much at home behind the controls of the helicopter he was piloting as he would have been astride a horse.
Kauai——the Garden Island, the green, green island. Here, legend said, the rainbow was born on an island whose origins were lost in a mist of time as vaporous as the mists that circled its highest mountain peak. Here the little people, the menehune, lived, and here the fire goddess, the legendary Pele, was born so that she could put the fires in the volcanoes that dotted the Hawaiian landscape.
Since coming to Hawaii, Katie had been fascinated with the stories of Kauai and with the idea of seeing it, but not like this, and certainly not without Kim. After the kidnapping and Sacha's rejection of her last night, she had been shocked that he would expect her to leave Kim and take off with him on some unexplained wild-goose chase. There had been a stormy hour until Katie's hysterics had to be subdued by force. Sacha had pointed out that the ranch was crawling with guards, and when Katie saw them out the window, patrolling the grounds with guns strapped to their hips, she had screamed that her child was not going to live like this, like a prisoner in an armed camp.
He had slapped her face then, and when she burst into loud, gasping sobs, she realized that she had been on the brink of hysteria.
When she had calmed down, she taunted him with Claire's party. 
"What if something happens and we can't get home tonight? Have you thought about what your precious Claire will think if you miss her party? Are you sure you want to take a chance on making your lover angry with you?"
A brief, ugly look crossed his face. "Shut up, Katie," he said coldly. "If you're trying to rile me into staying at home, forget it! So we miss the party. It won't be the first, or the last, I've missed. Don't tell me you're upset about that? I thought you weren't anxious to go anyway!" he added mockingly.
"And why are you so anxious to go to Kauai?" she de manded.
"I thought you'd never ask," he replied ironically. "I'll tell you in the helicopter."
The trip to Kauai was short and direct, veering in a northeasterly direction and passing the other islands on their right. The first land they sighted was one of Kauai's mountain—locked beaches. Katie, who was getting to be a seasoned air traveler, was gazing raptly when Sacha's voice suddenly spoke in her ear.
"Do you know anything about Kauai?"
It was their first exchange since leaving the house, and Katie briefly considered maintaining a dignified silence, but her natural curiosity would not allow her to forego an opportunity to learn more about the state she lived in. After all, she would only be cutting off her nose to spite her face. She shook her head stiffly.
"No? Well, it is our oldest island, according to the geol ogists, and the first one discovered by Captain Cook on his voyage of 1778. It has been largely left in its natural state, partly because of the difficulty in building roads and partly through the determination of the planning fathers to keep it from becoming commercialized and exploited. So, you can see it is the nearest thing we have in the islands to what Hawaii was once like. At one time Kauai was cov ered with big sugarcane plantations, but most of them have been broken up into small farms. You can see if you'll look out. I've asked Joe to take us for a little air tour of the island."  Katie stirred restively. Sacha was close, entirely too close, and when he leaned forward to point out something, he rested his other hand lightly and possessively on her shoulder.
Just then, the helicopter tilted and seemed to swerve, and what had been flat cane fields below became mountain Slopes threaded by rivers that began as waterfalls high on their misty peaks.
"Waialeale," Sacha murmured. "The rainiest spot on earth. And the Alahi Swamp, a bonanza for botanists and bird-lovers."
Suddenly, the scene changed to a cruel—looking gorge, its chiseled rock—bound sides bitten deeply by a narrow, twisting river that lost itself among the crevasses.  "Waimea Canyon," Sacha breathed, turning her gently. "A hunters' paradise. Wild boar, pheasants—and mountain goats. They're just about the only life form that can climb it." His voice held an undertone of laughter. He had re gained his good humor. Apparently he had forgotten their quarrel, or else the stunning scenery had worked a mira cle.
"This island has everything," he added, sitting back in his seat. "If you want the tropical paradise of Florida, the mountains and canyons of Colorado, or even the desert of the Southwest, you'll find a little of it all here. There's even Na Pali."
"Na Pali?" Katie asked in spite of herself.
He nodded, and she looked down and gasped. Joe had saved the most spectacular view for the last. Beneath her was a rugged coastline of valleys and cliffs that formed jagged ramparts above the sea. From the air, the cliffs were stark, bare, and wrinkled, while in the crevasses, like black shadows, were the lush valleys where the early Hawaiians lived. There was a mist hanging over it all that gave the area a dawn—of—creation look that made Katie shiver slightly with superstitious fear. Seeing it like this, it was easy to believe in the old legends.
 The helicopter bore inland, throwing its shadow before the sun, and Katie came abruptly out of the past into the very real present. So far, nothing that Sacha had said ex plained this sudden, inexplicable trip.
Beside her, he stirred, tightening the seat belt he had loosened in order to lean forward.
"Katie." 
By sheer effort of will, he was making her look at him. She turned reluctantly, seeing him, really seeing him, for the first time today. He had ordered her to dress for hiking, and he himself was wearing jeans and a pair of work manlike brogues. He carried a Dacron Windbreaker and one of her sweaters in his lap. He grinned mockingly, drawing her eyes to his face, and she noticed that the black lashes resting on his cheekbones were like Kim's when he, too, grinned. There were faint bruises beneath his eyes, as though he hadn't slept well, and he was watching her with an oddly speculative look in their depths that brought back a vivid recollection of how she had begged him to stay with her the night before. Some how, she knew he was thinking of the same thing. Redden ing, she raised haughty eyebrows. "Well?"
"I guess you're wondering why we've come here?" he asked quizzically.
"It had occurred to me" she said coolly, her shuttered face giving nothing away.
"This is where I intend to live. Down there." He jerked his head. "On Kauai."
Katie was dumbfounded. Whatever harebrained reason Sacha had for dragging her away like this, today—of all days!—;she had certainly never expected this. Live here on Kauai, and not with his father! For heaven's sake, she wondered, did his grandmother know about this?
"You see," he explained, "a lot of that land down there used to be Tillotson land. Before he died, my grandfather sold all the cane mills and parceled most of the land off into farms so that it could be, bought in small holdings. There were a number of reasons, but mostly, the growing of sugarcane was no longer so profitable. My uncle Oscar retained part of the land, about five thousand acres, for a cattle spread. He lives there now with my aunt Ellie—they have no children—and he runs about two thousand head of cattle on his spread."
"Like your father?"
"Yes, but with a difference. Uncle Oscar has always kept a low profile. I doubt if many of his neighbors think of him as having money. Unlike Father, he's never re ceived a glare of publicity from Mother's—er—exploits." His lips twisted derisively. "My mother thrives on publicity. She's a press agent's dream. Her marriages, her divorces, the whole jet set thing. And each time, my father gets the backlash."
And so do you, Katie thought with a flash of percep tion. And how you hate it! All those mixed—up feelings of love and hate toward your mother must have been painful to live with.
"That's why I'm getting out until things quiet down. My uncle bought me some beachfront landv and I'm building a house on it. That's where I intend to raise Kim."
Katie had been listening carefully, but she hadn't heard him say anything about her. Once she would have as sumed it, but not now, not after this past mixed—up ten days, and especially not after last night.
By now the helicopter was hovering over the airfield be fore setting down with such a minimum of fuss and jar ring that Katie knew Joe was a very good pilot indeed. As the blades revolved slowly to a clattering stop, Joe pushed the baseball cap he was wearing further back on his head and unwound his lanky frame from the cramped position of the pilot's seat. Taking careful aim with his tobacco juice out the open door, he drawled, "Any idea just when you'll be goin' back, Sacha?"
"No. Sometime late this afternoon."
"Well, no sweat." Joe aimed and spat again. "I'll be hangin' around here when you're ready to go."
Sacha crawled out the door, then held up his arms to help Katie down. In her jeans and shirt she felt self—con scious, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to them.
Sacha—put a casual hand under her elbow. "Look around for a Jeep," he suggested.
Which was ridiculous, since the car park was full of Jeeps. Nothing less would navigate some of these roads. Suddenly, before they had taken more than a few steps, Sacha was roughly seized from behind with a wild whoop that rang in their ears. Katie looked around in time to see him smothered in a bear hug.by a huge, barrel-chested man wearing cowboy boots and khakis. His sandy hair was liberally streaked with gray, and the weathered brown face over Sacha's shoulder was split by an enormous grin.
"Oscar!" Sacha disengaged himself long enough to get his breath before Oscar began to— pound him on the back. "Oscar, you old scoundrel! It's good to see you."
"I've been waiting for this day for a long time!" Oscar bellowed in what he probably thought was a normal con versational tpne.
"Oscar, this is Katie—"
"No need to introduce us. I know who the little filly is!" .
He seized her in a bone-crushing hug, then gave her a smacking kiss. Katie, slightly taken aback, looked up into a pair of kindly eyes beaming at her from one of the homeliest faces she had ever seen.
"I hope I haven't scared you, honey. How long has it been since I've seen you, boy? Katie, he used to be one of my best wranglers when he was just a shirttail kid. I sure hated to lose.him when he decided to leave me and go to the big city and learn how to paint pretty pictures."
The drawl was straight Texas. So was the battered stet son and the slightly bowed legs in faded khakis. He looked like a broken—down cowboy beside Sacha, who even in jeans and open shirt, projected an air of casual elegance.
Suddenly Oscar chuckled. "This little gal's wondering if I'm really your uncle. Guess we're nothing alike. But I'm his maw's brother, and if you're finding that hard to be—lieve, wait until you meet Marjorie. She's a first—class beauty, and you'll wonder how an ugly mutt like me can have such a gorgeous sister. Say, Buddy!'' The affectionate nickname made Katie's eyes widen. "Where's your little 'un? I thought you'd bring him with you."
"We left him with my father. I wanted Katie to see the site today. Another time, we'll bring him."
"Well, okay, but Ellie's going to be mighty disappointed."		
  This time Oscar was leadng the way to the waiting jeep. He heaved some farm machinery and bags of dog food into the back to clear a place for Sacha, and Katie was obliged to sit in her husband's lap. Oscar climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine, then went out of the parking lot on two wheels. Katie, wedged into place by a saddle that was digging a hole in her knee, clutched a handful of Sacha's shirt in a terrified attempt to keep her balance just as Oscar careened into the traffic, still on two wheels, and just ahead of an indignant motorist. He was forced to slow down then, to conform to the traffic, but he talked with his hands off the steering wheel, and only returned them when it became necessary to avoid an oncoming car.
Lihue was a town of balconied, two-story frame houses reminiscent of the Old West in the good old days. Oscar should feel right at home here, Katie thought ironically as they breezed through town, running its two traffic lights —while Oscar bellowed greetings to people whom he knew. By now Katie was frankly clinging to Sacha for dear life. When they were ready to turn off, Oscar had to slow long enough to put the Jeep into second gear, but when he turned into another road, he increased speed until he pulled up to a screeching halt before a gate. Katie got out shakily to open it and suggested that she walk the rest of the way, but Oscar was having none of that. . . . "Hurry up, girl, they're waiting on us!" he hooted.
Sacha was shaking with laughter as he pulled her up into his arms. She darted him a murderous look.
"Shall I open the next gate?" he breathed in her ear. But the next gate was opened by a cowboy mounted on a horse, and he gave them a mocking salute as they bar reled through before finally pulling to a bone—rattling halt —before the house. 
It was a big two-story house that looked as though it Jji'began life during the gingerbread, Victorian era of houses, bore no relationship to the modern Kimberly mansion. Built of weathered wood, with both a porch and a balcony, it was partially overshadowed by a flowering bougainvillea vine. Other flowers, as lavish and lush as though they had flourished naturally from seed, were in full bloom amonfr the many trees that filled the lawn.
Oscar sounded his horn with a flourish, and Katie began to gingerly move her arms and legs.
"By the way, Sacha," Oscar began with a faintly embar rassed air. "I should have told you—" 
He got no further. The front door opened, and about six bird dogs flew out and down the steps, baying, their tails streaming, followed by a pretty little brown—haired woman whose arms were outstretched.
"Sacha!" she screamed and flung herself into his arms.
He laughed and swung her up so that he could kiss her. "Ellie!"
Oscar was pounding both their backs. "Leave go, woman! He has someone with him you want to meet."
"Oh?" Ellie peered shyly at Katie over Sacha's shoulder.
Suddenly Sacha stiffened, then put his aunt down carefully with a curiously rigid gesture. Katie glanced at him curiously, then followed the direction of his eyes to the front door. Framed in it was a tall, slim woman with a mop of flaming red hair and one of the most beautiful faces Katie had ever seen. Her breathtaking figure was sheathed in a pair of tightly fitting white slacks and a soft chiffon blouse with a scoop neckline. From here, she looked a possible forty, although Katie knew she was fifty-four. She recognized her at once, having seen her picture on Paul's dresser, plus innumerable candid shots in papers and magazines. Marjorie Tillotson. Sacha's mother.

CHAPTER XIV
Marjorie slowly descended the steps of the old—fashioned porch, and as she emerged into the glaring sunlight, Katie  see that the illusion of youth had been fostered by distance. There were fine lines around her mouth, and the  haunting green eyes wore a look of weary cynicism.
"That's what I was trying to tell you, Buddy. I—we— called Marjorie when we heard about the boy," Oscar said apologetically.
'And why shouldn't we?" Ellie demanded defiantly. "She's the child's grandmother, isn't she?"
Marjorie cleared her throat nervously. "I—you don't mind, do you, Sacha?" she pleaded.
Staring from one to the other, Katie was shocked to realize that these three people were afraid of Sacha's reaction to what they had done. They were waiting with bated breath for that handsome, expressionless face to change either to anger or at the very best, tolerance. He frowned slightly, and she willed him not to hurt them. Slowly the taut lines of his face relaxed.
"Of course not, Mother," he said smoothly. "I'm glad to see you."
Marjorie's face lighted and she came forward swiftly— "Darling, thank you," she said huskily, embracing him. 
Somewhere beneath that carefully cultivated accent was a hint of Oscar's Texas drawl, but it was concealed beneath layers of sophistication. In spite of her age, too, she was glamorous in a way that made Claire seem phony and adolescent.
Sacha introduced Katie, and Marjorie hugged her con vulsively. To her surprise Katie found herself warming to this chic, beautiful woman. She had not expected to, but then'who could help liking someone who seemed almost pathetically glad to meet her?
"Marjorie was afraid for "us to let you know she was here," Ellie explained.
 "She was afraid you'd cancel your trip if you knew."
"I wouldn't do that," Sacha replied.
With a whoop of exultation, Oscar flung his arm around Katie's shoulders and led the way into the house. The liv ing room, or parlor as Oscar called it, was a big paneled room with a huge rock fireplace at one end. It was fur nished mostly with Victorian antiques, but a scrambled collection of oddities from Hawaiian artifacts and scrim shaw to Waterford crystal and Chinese "blue" jostled each other on the shelves, tables, and mantel.
"Now everyone sit down and visit while I get on with dinner," Ellie said briskly, whipping out an apron and tying it around her waist.
"No cook, Ellie?" Sacha questioned, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he eyed the little martinet figure.
"No one can cook as well as I can, especially when it comes to a company dinner!" she boasted, and bustled out toward the kitchen.
Oscar laughed. "The truth is, she doesn't want another woman in her kitchen," he teased, and she paused long enough to say threateningly, "Just you wait, Oscar Tillot— son!"
It was apparently an old exchange between them, and Oscar's eyes held a gleam of anticipation as he watched her retreating back. He turned to Katie when she had gone* and suggested that he show her around the house. She realized that his real purpose was to leave Sacha and Marjorie alone for a while.
' "Guess you're wondering how a big bear of a fellow like me was able to persuade that pretty little thing to marry me?" he queried as they were finishing their tour of inspection.
"Well, I—"
"I'll tell you how it happened. You see, my gran'pa came out here in the eighties from Texas and struck it rich sang sugarcane and pineapples. Sent back to Je and sent his son back there for his bride, too," Oscar drawled, his eyes twinkling  at hers. "We Tillotson men always went in for  women and footbalL When it came my time, I played for Texas and found Ellie sitting over there in the s' dormitory, just waiting for me. When Pa got out of the sugar business, lock, stock, and barrel, he invested in hedged stocks. It began to look like I wasn't going to be a dangcd thing to do all day but sit around and clip ons. I knew a few years of that and I'd get so mean bored that Ellie would leave me, so I finally figured I'd better find something to do quick to keep me busy, igthere wasn't anything I wanted to do more than raise
so here I am."  And the coupons?"  they get clipped." The drawl intensified. "And ocimally, I use my money to buy something I want. Like couple of hundred acres of prime beach property I "light for Sacha when I learned he wanted to come back re to live and work. It's waiting for you and that little of yours, Katie, and a dream house is going up on it. ith its windows looking toward the sea and nothing be en you and the whole Pacific Ocean. You know, Katie— he added, as he led her through the old—fashioned hall. "A man isn't worth much unless he's doing the ark he likes. It's the same with a woman. I guess that's has been wrong with Marjorie all this time. She's a pfotson, and she's just plain going against her nature. "ElIie doesn't regret not having a chance to live the sort of life as Marjorie?" Katie quizzed, smilingly. "
Ellie?" His eyebrows raised comically. "Good Lord, SijSj You just ask her for yourself. Come on." Iffifeled the way to the kitchen, and Katie saw that he wanted an excuse to put his hands on his wife. Ellie i flitting between the sink and the stove, and he came behind her and wrapped his arms around her so that xcouldn't move. |sFm busy, Oscar Tillotson," Ellie said automatically, she did not seem to be in any hurry to prove it.
"You think you're going to enjoy having Katie as your neighbor?" he murmured, pressing a kiss into the back of her neck.
"I'm just thankful Sacha found Katie again before he was tempted to take up with that snooty Claire Thorpe!" Ellie said tartly; "That would have really put the fat in the fire so far as I'm concerned! I can take a lot of things, but having that one around me; day in and day out, would have been too much."
Oscar chuckled. "You women always have your knife in poor Claire. I think she's mighty pretty, myself," he teased.
Ellie sniffed. "Pretty is as pretty does" She pushed him away. "Just go on out to the barn or somewhere and keep busy till you're called. It seems to me that's about all you're good for."
He paused in the doorway. "She's mad because I didn't agree with her about Claire," he laughed, winking at Katie."
"Men!" Ellie sniffed as the door closed behind him. Her cheeks were flushed and Oscar's nuzzling had disarranged the soft, fluffy hair.
"All right, Katie, what's this all about?" she demanded sternly. "I happened to be looking at you when I mentioned Claire Thorpe. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Katie said weakly. "I just don't like her, either."
"Uh—uh, it's more than that. You've been real sweet and said all the right things so far, but I've got a feeling that there's something wrong."
"Ellie," Katie began uncertainly. "I hate for you and Oscar to plan—to count on me as your neighbor. I—I think you'd better know there's a good chance I won't be living with Sacha in that new house Oscar was talking about."
Ellie looked stunned. "What on earth are you trying to say?"
"I'm trying to explain." Katie swallowed convulsively. "His—Sacha's—loyalties are d—divided. Right now, it's sort of up in the air."
“Up in the air?" Ellie screeched, then lowered her voice tow can it be up in the air? You're his Wife?" 
I shouldn't have said anything," Katie admitted miser— but you've been so nice and—you see, I guess you that Sacha and I recently met again after all Five years—" all that," Ellie said calmly. "He called and told Idle story. That's when we called Marjorie." Katie's eyes wavered and she gulped and started hen you probably know that he and Claire were atil I came back into his life." Don't know anything of the sort!" Ellie objected, lever told me that. But if he had wanted to marry he had plenty of time, didn't he? You and he have parated long enough." Saparated but not legally divorced—" was regarding her impatiently. "So what? A divorce is easily gotten—for desertion, if nothing else," she finished sarcastically. "And where did you get all this stuff 'him wanting to marry Claire? Did Sacha tell you?”
No—o—o," Katie stammered. "Claire told me—and and Madam Kimberly."
0h, that one!" Ellie sniffed. "I'd suspect anything she and Claire set out from the beginning to win her and over, and she succeeded——with the Old Madam. But ily lasted with Paul until he caught on that her pretty ways hid a mean spirit. She never did try it with Oscar and me, although she used to follow Sacha over here enough, goodness knows! But we're Marjorie's ily, and of course, she's always hated Marjorie."  
"Yes, I know," Katie muttered.
"Ha! Who told you?" Ellie pounced quickly.  
Ben. Benjamin Thorpe."
'He's there, too?" A trace of amusement flickered across Ellie's face. "It sounds like we're going to have you find Sacha as our neighbors quicker than we expected. No wonder Sacha wants to hurry the workmen up!" 
"He does?" Katie asked blankly.
"Sure he does. He's anxious to get that house finished. Listen here, Katie. I don't know what kind of muddle you've dreamed up, but so far as I can tell, it all boils down to one thing. Do you love Sacha?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, tell him so. You're his wife; the child is your son. And his. I can't see where you've a thing to worry about."
It did seem simple from Ellie's point of view, but before Katie could open her mouth and try to explain just how complicated it was, Marjorie came into the room. From the evidence of her slightly reddened eyelids, Katie sus pected that she had been crying.
"I'm goine back in the helicopter with you," she said huskily to Katie. "Sacha suggested it might be the best thing to do. Then I can see Kim tonight and be able to leave tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Ellie gasped. "But you've just gotten here!"
"Oh, I know, but it's all a drag, really," Marjorie drawled in a bored voice. "Anywav. Sonny Montford is organizing a vachting party for the fifteenth, and I have to get back to California and get something decent to wear."
"Marjorie Tillotson, shut up and sit down!" Ellie stood over her, glaring. "You know very well you came here prepared to stay until your latest divorce is final, and long er if necessary! For once, why don't you think of someone besides yourself? Katie's in trouble!" she added, with omi nous calm.	—
Marjorie's eyes flew to Katie. "Trouble?"
"Oh, I don't really think—"
"Yes! Claire Thorpe!"
Marjorie's face hardened and Katie saw that her mother—in—law could make a bad enemy— She might not be malicious, but when it came to ruthlessness, she would return tit for tat. In that, Sacha was more like his mother than he knew.
"So she's still in the picture?" she mused scornfully. Her eyes considered Katie thoughtfully. "And you haven't a lie as to how to beat her, have you? What does Sacha do about it?"
I — I think Sacha will soon be asking me for a divorce so that he can marry Claire." Katie confessed reluctantly, she was secretly appalled at what was happening. How in the world had she gotten into this discussion? Ordinarily feicent about her affairs, here she was, blabbing the whole feusiness to two utter strangers! "I'm sure you don't want to hear all this."
Rubbish' gave that statement the contemptuous silence it Served. Marjorie, fitting a cigarette into her long holder, merely said impatiently, "Go ahead,"
 Unwillingly, Katie complied, and when she had finished, Marjorie and Ellie exchanged a long look.
"It sounds like you could use some help," Marjorie said reflectively. "If it were just Claire. I'd say you have nothing to worry about until Sacha tells you himself. But apperently she has his grandmother on her side, and my —mother—in—law is another matter. If she wants this, she's dangerous. You haven't told Sacha any of this?"
"No!" Katie blew her nose fiercely. "Do you think he'd believe me?"
"Probably not," Marjorie agreed calmly. "He adores his grandmother—almost as much as he dislikes me. Well—, that settles it," she added abruptly. "It's time Claire Thorpe and I had it out. She ruined my relationship with my son, and because she was only a child, I couldn't fight her. She had all the advantages on her side, and boy, did she sense them!" She laughed mirthlessly. "But we're both adults now, and it's time we met with the gloves off." There was a sound of male laughter outside, and Ellie at once and, opening the oven door, began to check the doneness of the potatoes surrounding the roast. 
"Ellie, why don't you get Oscar to modernize this old kitchen for you?" Marjorie asked impatiently. "At the very least, get a microwave oven?" 
"What's wrong with my kitchen?" Ellie was demanding —as Oscar walked in with Sacha. "I like it the way it 
The house was a dream. Situated in splendid isolation, surrounded by a thick, tropical growth of trees, it was lo cated on a cliff top that overlooked the sea. The private beach below was gained by way of a set of rough steps that had been built into the side of the cliff. Sacha had borrowed Oscar's Jeep to get to the house, following a rutted logging road that had been used by the trucks carrying supplies to the site.
The workmen had taken off for the rest of the day and when Katie crawled out of the Jeep and stood looking at the house, she was greeted by a profound silence broken only by the sound of birds and the distant roar Of the surf. The house looked exciting, even from the outside. It had gone beyond a floor and framework; it had walls, a roof, even rooms and open windows. As Katie followed Sacha through the empty, echoing rooms, sniffing the unmistaka ble odor of raw lumber, she could visualize the way it would Took someday. It was a house that one could be happy in: a beautiful house, designed for living. In spite of its isolation, she could find no flaw: It was accessible to schools, and the big—city life of Honolulu was no further than the airport. Not that Katie had any hankering to return to that. And she would have Ellie and Oscar for neighbors.
But Sacha said nothing about who was going to live in the house with him. In the kitchen they paused while he pointed to where he intended to build a garage, with an apartment above it for a couple, a gardener and possibly a cook or a housemaid. Suddenly Katie couldn't stand it any more—the ambiguity, the uncertainty of not knowing. She lashed out frustratedly.
"I don't know if it will work out with Kim," she snapped pettishly. At the same time she was horrified by what she was saying. "I intend to have his custody part of the time, and I'm not sure I like the idea of shuttling him back and forth between Kauai and Honolulu all the time."
His face darkened.
"Really?" he drawled icily. "Surely you would be willing—for Kim's sake—to put up some sort of little shop in Lihue so you could see him once in a while?"
' She gasped, hurt, yet striking back wildly in a primitive r Urge to conceal her wound from his coldly probing eyes. ' 
"Go to hell!" She could feel the tears coming, and she turned and fled  blindly just as they gushed out of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.  "Where are you going?"
"Anywhere—away from you," she screamed hoarsely.
"Katie, come back here!" He caught up with her as she was trying desperately to on the ignition key. Snatching it out of her hand, he flung it on the floor of the Jeep and at the same time, yanked her out of her seat. By that time, she was frankly fed-up, and he was momentarily taken off—balance at the rage of her streaming eyes. She took advantage of it by pushing him with clawing nails and screaming fury.
"Oh, no, you don't, you little hellcat!" He clasped her flying wrists in a paralyzing grip, while with the other ?hand, he yanked her head roughly back. "Why are you crying?"
For answer she jerked her head forward and bit his oulder.	 
Damn!" He was angry now. "You've been asking for this! Today, for a change, you're going to grow up!" he ' promised grimly.
He started toward the house at a rapid pace, dragging her behind him. She was half running, going too fast to bite or kick, or any of the things she might normally have done. Once, she lifted her hands to bite his wrist, but the movement with which he warded off her attack smashed mouth against her teeth, numbing it with pain. At the steps, she fell, bumping her knees, but he didn't pause when she cried out. In the kitchen he stopped and faced her. She saw that was in a flaming temper, his face a white mask of fury.

I think," he said harshly, "that the bedroom would be the appropriate place, don't you?" And with a single fluid movement, he bent and tossed her over his shoulder, she screamed as enlightenment struck her, and began to on his back with her fists.
"You bastard! Let me go!"
She fell to the floor fighting, but he restrained her easily by the simple method of rolling over and holding her body down with his weight. Her wrists were captured, twisted and pinned above her head, and her hair was caught tautly beneath his elbow so that she couldn't move. Tears of pain sprang into her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, but she met his hard, unsmiling eyes defiantly.
Deliberately, at his ease, Sacha unbuttoned her shirt and bra, baring her body to his possessive eyes. She writhed and bucked as, with torturous slowness, his free hand cupped one of her breasts, his thumb beginning a sensitive rotating movement that wrung a hoarse cry from her lips. He studied her almost curiously, then lowered his hard, cold mouth to hers and took her lips. From that moment she was lost. From being an unwilling prisoner, she had become a willing captive. Sensing her surrender, his lips softened as he explored her hot, moist mouth, then trailed fiery kisses from the tender curve of her cheekbone to her damp, tear—stained eyelids, before pausing to breathe deeply the sweet—smelling perfume of her hair. He released her hands, and unconsciously, they sought his head as the slim fingers burrowed deeply into the thick black hair. His  mouth wandered tenderly to her breasts, pausing to kiss one rose—tipped peak before her soft moans forced him to seek hungrily for her mouth again.
At some period of time, he had removed her jeans, and now he guided her body gently beneath his own, filling her with such a shock of pleasure that she rose beneath him, his name an inarticulate cry on her lips. She clung to him, her body racked with tremors of rapturous bliss, her Joins aching with the need to find fulfillment. Her body heated and suffused her cheeks with a glow of color. She opened her glazed, passion—filled eyes and saw his face above her, dark, intense, rigid.
"I love you, Sacha," she breathed, then gripped his back, feeling the hardened, bunched muscles beneath her clutching fingers as the dizzying spiral increased in tempo.
Gradually the shivers subsided, and Katie lay limply in his arms. Raising himself upon his elbows,—he framed her face with his palms and softly kissed her trembling mouth, and back upon the hard floor with a sigh.
Katie rolled over and buried her face in her hands. She was desperately ashamed of the ease with which Sacha gained her willing cooperation. Would he remember what she had said? Had she lowered the last bastion in her se against him? She could only wait dumbly for whatever he chose to say or do. It came soon enough.
Rolling her into his arms, he bent over her smilingly. "Come on, baby," he commanded deeply. "Play time's over. Get up and get dressed. I don't want to miss Claire's party." 

  
CHAPTER XV
"But I miss—ted you, Mommy, I miss—ted you! And Sammy miss—ted Daddy! You should've waked me up so I could go, too."
"I'm sorry, darling." Katie bent over and kissed the dark curls as she struggled to thrust the wriggling little body into pajamas. "We had to go, but we've come back. And next time, Daddy says he'll take you with him. And Sammy, too," she added hastily. "Did you have" a lesson today, or was Claire too busy with her party?" she added diffidently.
"Claire came and she got mad," Kim said darkly. "She got mad when Gran told her you an' Daddy had gone. She said she wasn't wastin' her time unless Daddy was here, and then Gran got mad, too. I don't like Claire!" he added with a fierce frown.
They had found a very disgruntled little boy when they returned this afternoon. Not even Sacha could charm him out of behaving badly when he met his grandmother and later ate his supper, but as Katie got him ready for bed, he showed signs of forgiving them, and when she reached for his night—light, he wanted a kiss.
"Please let me stay up a little longer, Mommy. You're so pretty," he added coaxingly, and with such an obvious attempt at flattery that she burst out laughing.
"All right, you win, you little monkey." She was smiling as she left him. The light would still be burning when she came home tonight from the party, but sometimes it didn't hurt to relax the rules.
She had certainly tried to look pretty tonight, she told herself, for she was aware of just what this party meant. A chance to beat Claire on her own ground; a chance to meet Sacha's friends and, hopefully, impress them that she could be just as attractive, witty, and charming as their hostess. A chance to find out for once and for all the truth about how Sacha felt about Claire. And the truth shall make me free, Katie paraphrased cynically.
Was it only yesterday that she had bought this dress? As she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, she thought that it seemed more like a year ago since she had tried it on in the discreetly luxurious shop and decided then how well it would do for Claire's party.
She had chosen well. The color was hot pink, and the dress was sheer and swingy around her sandaled feet, with a camisole top that left her tanned shoulders and arms bare and clung lovingly to her bosom. With it she wore a matching jacket, its sheerness just enough for the outdoor chill. The whole effect, with Sacha's diamonds and her hair a shining, blond—streaked mass loose on her shoulders, was designed to make her look expensive, chic, and smart, all of the adjectives, in other words, that Sacha would au tomatically expect to have describe a woman he had chosen.
A soft tap at the door brought her head around. For a moment: she wondered if it could be Sacha, whose attitude had confused her ever since they had left the house this af—ternoon. He had stopped halfway home and turned to her with a mocking gleam.
"Better do something about that shirt," he had drawled, brushing sawdust from her hair. His hand had lingered at her throat. "You look like you've been thoroughly kissed; we'd better not give Oscar too many clues. His humor can be a little raw at times."
She had flushed scarlet and hurried to obey him, brush ing down her shirt and jeans. But since then, he had treated her with his usual cool indifference. In fact, the whole episode might not have happened except for an odd gleam when he looked at her, a sort of lazy complacency that had nothing to do with jealousy and might have a great deal to do with possessiveness.
With fast—beating heart, she opened the door to her mother—in—law, who was smiling nervously. Marjorie was in green chiffon with a skillfully swathed neck— whatever miracle she had worked on her face ten years off. Can I come in?"
“Of course." Katie stepped back.
Marjorie was carrying a large, gaily wrapped box. "I have something for Kim," she said brightly. "I dug it from my bag while I was unpacking."
As though on cue, Kim appeared in the doorway. His finger was in his mouth and his eyes fixed on the box in his grandmother's hands. He hadn't yet made  is mind about Marjorie, letting his "wait and see" atti— speak for him, but he was willing to meet her half—way like when it came to the matter of presents. Marjorie smiled at him, and Katie caught her breath. It the same coaxing smile that she had seen on Kim's ''face five minutes earlier.
"Would you like a present, Kim? May I give it to him, Katie?"
Katie wondered wryly if Marjorie really expected her to say no under the circumstances, but she willingly gave her consent. When the box was opened and the gifts discovered—toy soldiers and a cardboard cutout Old West Fort—Kim was thrilled, and immediately flung himself on the floor to play with it.
"It's absurd of me, I know, but I'm nervous about going downstairs alone. Would you mind if I went with you?" Marjorie pleaded.
"Of course. Is it because of Sacha?" Katie could sympathize with anyone who was afraid of Sacha. '
"Sacha? Oh, no, it's Paul. I'm—a little shy of Paul."
She was blushing slightly. Katie's eyes widened. She had thought Paul the soul of courtesy today when he met the woman who had left him twenty years ago for another man. Could it be—? Could Marjorie possibly be thinking of a reconciliation? There had been five marriages in between for her, and although Paul might be said to have remained faithful, one could not accuse Marjorie of the same thing. 
The flush deepened as though she had guessed what Katie was thinking. "He's turned into an amazingly attractive man," she said defensively.	
"Wasn't he always?"
"Perhaps he was, but I didn't see it. I was too crazy about Benjamin Thorpe to think of my husband or my son. I suppose I just had to—to grow up a little before I could appreciate what a wonderful man Paul really is."
"Then it's possible you and Paul may get back to gether?"
Marjorie looked confused. "Oh, my dear, it's too early to say what might happen. I'm just glad for the chance to be with him right now, so we can—er—explore our feelings, particularly now that you and Sacha have straightened out your differences."
Katie saw that her mother—in—law was an incurable ro mantic and would probably always be searching for the perfect mate. If she was lucky, this time she might convince Paul that she had had a change of heart. And it would really take luck to do that. So far as the, other was concerned, what gave Marjorie the idea that she and Sacha had straightened out their differences?
It would soon be time to leave for the party, for they were not having dinner since Claire was having a luau. As Katie accompanied Marjorie downstairs, she wondered how many people would attend. She had submitted a list of twenty names, and Sacha probably had more. There might be as many as seventy—five people there—a crowd. Katie wasn't looking forward to it, but a luau was in formal enough to make conversation easy.
Sacha and Paul were waiting for them, and Marjorie fluttered to Paul's side like a gauzy green moth fluttering to a flame. Sacha looked directly at Katie and held out her drink, willing her to join him. He was talking to his grand mother, and she crossed the room reluctantly. She saw his — eyes lingering on her bruised mouth, still swollen as an aftermath of his kisses. She licked her lips nervously and a gleam, almost of satisfaction, glinted briefly in his eyes before he half closed his lids. Katie found it disturbing, that flash of primitive man beneath the civilized veneer of nal cream velvet coat and dark trousers.
“Why are you looking at me like that?" he teased, you know why," she said accusingly. "You——you hurt me this afternoon, and I believe you are glad." Of course I am." His voice held an undertone of  titer. "I enjoyed it. And you may stop looking at me as wounded doe. You enjoyed it, too, if you'll admit the truth."
Katie flushed. "You—you're unspeakable," she whispered
"Beyond the pale," he agreed solemnly, but his eyes dancing as they sought hers. "Come on over here, I wants to speak to you." 'Madam Kimberly smiled graciously, as though they "slight never have quarreled. "How beautiful you look tonight, my dear."
"Thank you, madam," Katie said coolly. "I Understand you're going to live on Kauai?" Katie choked. "I—yes, I believe so.'
 "Good. I'm glad you're remaining in Hawaii. I did not know this, you understand? Claire said you would persuade Sacha to leave the islands," she added, apologetically.
Sacha frowned. "Claire knows no more about my business than anyone else. Oscar gave me that land years ago, after I expressed a wish to live there someday. I am sorry if it means leaving you and my father, Gran, but you know I'll see you often."
She looked at him reflectively, then at Katie. "Yes. Well, I only want you to be happy."
Marjorie sighed mournfully. "Indeed we do. It's almost impossible to achieve—'happiness —without love. I don't think I can live without love," she added theatrically.
A fleeting look of amusement crossed Madam Kimberly's face. "Indeed? You might do well to remember, Marjorie, that one can't roast a boar over a bed of cold ashes," she said dryly.
Marjorie gasped indignantly, and Sacha said quickly, "Aren't you coming to the party, Gran? I thought you wouldn't miss it."
"No, my dear boy. I'm too old for big parties, and besides, Claire and I came to a mutual understanding today that I would do well to remain at home."
"Shall we go, then?" Sacha put his glass down abruptly. "Shall I drive, Father, or you?"
In the resulting confusion Madam Kimberly rolled up to Katie and touched her hand.
"I mean what I said, Katie. I want you to be happy."
Claire's home was glittering with lights. They were strung in the trees and along the drive. With the band blaring, the incredible level of noise, and people wandering in and out, the house had all the brassy quality of a night club. As they pulled up behind a long line of cars, Katie panicked. All these people to meet her! Sacha, opening the door, took one look at her face and took her arm reassuringly.
"I won't know half of them, either," he murmured.
Claire was apparently waiting for them, for she met them at the foyer door. Her outfit made Katie gasp. Even Marjorie, who was used to the topless bathing suits on the French Riviera, raised her eyebrows. As she had promised, Claire was wearing a jump suit, a black one of some shiny material that hugged her svelte figure from the waist down like a second skin. But above the narrow silver belt, the black blouse was provocatively sheer, its two strategically placed patch pockets being the only concealment offered for Claire's nakedness.
Fully aware of the stunning impact she made, Claire flaunted them all a defiant smile, then pulled Sacha's head down and kissed him deeply on the mouth. She looked al most drunken with excitement, and there was a hint of desperation about her smile, as though she were risking everything on one throw of the dice tonight in an attempt to either make or break her relationship with Sacha.
He did not exactly repulse her, but he drew away as quickly as possible and at the same time, patted her arm fcggntly. Apparently, this was enough to encourage Claire, ?pfe'as she turned to greet Katie, her face wore a look of ?prely concealed malice.
'Hello, there," she purred. "I was told that you were on Kauai today seeing our house. I feel as though it's mine," she added, with a laughing look at Sacha, "since I helped with the plans and have been in on the whole thing ? from the beginning. I was the one who persuaded Sacha to face the studio windows so they face the ocean and the afternoon sun. And isn't the beach deliriously private? I'm looking forward to lying on that beach, sunbathing all day.
 Katie, of course, knew what she was trying to do, but it didn't make it any less painful to hear Claire talking intimately of the house she hoped to share with Sacha.  "Her imagination summoned up dozens of pictures of scenes like that one this afternoon, only with Claire and   Sacha the participants this time.?  
  A warm, possessive arm slid around her waist, and  Sacha pulled her to him. "I don't think Katie was noticing the beach," Sacha said—gravely. "We got tied up in the house. Er—in one of the bedrooms, as a matter of fact." He was looking at her, compelling her to meet his laughing eyes and share their secret. Blushing rosily, Katie darted a quick look at him, then away.  Anyone seeing her face knew exactly what had happened today.
Claire drew in a sharp, hissing breath, her face whitening with pain and fury. She looked blindly over their heads, then saw Marjorie.   "Darling!" she gushed, leaning forward and touching her cheek, "How marvelous you look! You simply must give me the name of your plastic surgeon. An old friend—of my mother's, actually—is looking for one, and I'm sure you can recommend yours."
It was a crude, unprovoked attack, and wouldn't have been made if Claire hadn't been slightly off—balance with if anger. But Marjorie was equal to it.
“WelI — "Precious," she cooed. "I'll be glad to. But are you sure it's for a friend? I thought perhaps when you dressed  tonight, you realized you needed something—er—lifted." 
Her eyes dropped significantly to Claire's breasts, clearly outlined beneath the sheer blouse. "It's sad but true that one needs a superb figure to go naked."
Claire's mouth tightened with temper, but she made a valiant recovery. "Which should prevent you from ever trying it, darling!" she said sweetly. "Please go on inside. You'll find food, drinks, dancing. There's even a little grass—smoking by some of Katie's friends."
They were soon separated from Sacha's parents by the crush of the crowd. They found the largest group in the big playroom at the back of the house, where the band had been set up. The air was throbbing with the rhythm of steel guitars, and a long line of hula girls in grass skirts was weaving through the dancing couples. On the fringe were little knots of people huddled together, screaming in an attempt to make conversation. The whole scene was madly disorganized, and the noise level was penetrating. Sacha looked around disgustedly and his mouth moved. She could only guess at his words, but when he plunged into the dancing couples, she flung herself after him.
He led her through the nearest doorway and into another room, where the quietness was like a benediction. Here most of Katie's friends had gathered, sitting around talking. One of the young men had a guitar, and he was sitting cross—legged on the floor, strumming it with muted notes. These were the people Claire had accused of smok ing grass, but the cigarettes Katie saw were not grass, and the drinking was confined to a few glasses of wine. They were mostly artists—the people who had supplied the crafts and art work for her shop—and they obviously felt out of place here and had gathered in one room to enjoy themselves.
"Hi there, hon."
It was Pat. She was talking to a bearded young man, and her ex-husband, Chuck, who was something of a ladies' man, was nearby, talking animatedly to a girl in a calico skirt and peasant blouse.
Everyone looked up at Pat's greeting and hailed Katie delightedly. Sacha, was introduced and soon absorbed into the group, for they all knew of his talent and respected it.
 Room was made for Katie on one of the sofas, and Sacha sat on the floor, leaning his head against her knee. From the relaxed way he joined in the conversation, she knew fethat he was enjoying himself.
Finally, Pat joined her, huddling on the floor beside Sacha.
 "Having a good time?" she whispered.   "I am now." Katie smiled. "What do you think of this place?"
"So far, fabulous! I haven't been all over the house yet,  but I couldn't see it, anyway. The crowd's too big. Have you been outside yet?" she added.   "No, we just got here."
"There's a luau, and the food is delicious. Chuck and I stuffed ourselves, but we were feeling kinda lost in that crowd of millionaires, so we sort of drifted in here. Can you believe it, Katie? Claire chartered a jet to bring over i her guests from Honolulu! It was one big party all the  way. Drinks flowing,  d'oeuvres, the whole bit. Now I know how the rich live."
 Katie frowned. "Not all the time, I assure you," she said dryly.	. .'.......
 "What do you think of Claire's jump suit?" Pat lowered, her voice. "She did buy it from Martelle's just as I told you. But how does she have the nerve to wear something like that in public? Everyone's talking about her! What's she trying to prove, anyhow? That her figure is good? We knew that already!"
Sacha rose abruptly. "Come on, Katie, let's get some I food."
She followed him out meekly. She knew he was leaving because he had overheard Pat's remarks. What did he expect, she thought resentfully. It was the truth. Did he think he could keep people from talking?
The passageway they were in opened onto the lawn. ' Here the bar and luau had been set up on tables and there were a vast number of white—coated waiters to handle the crowd. And more hula girls. The lawn was landscaped in a series of tiers, and the bottom tier contained the big swimming pool, complete with cabanas, loungers, and tables.
The underwater lights were on, outlining its clover—leaf shape in luminous blue. The crowd was dispersed all over the lawn, which was blazing with lights. Looking around bewilderedly, Katie wondered if half the population of the islands was present. All these people to meet her? It was ludicrous.
"First order of business. Would you like some food or a drink?" Sacha's grim face was unsmiling.
Katie felt a twinge of guilt. Loving Claire, Pat's words must have hurt. "Sacha, I'm sorry. Pat had no right to talk about Claire that way. She—"
"Save it, Katie," he interrupted curtly. "I don't want to listen to it, if you please. Claire's none of Pat's business, nor yours, either, so far as that goes. Now," he added, deliberately, "I asked you what you wanted—a drink or some food? I'll go on my own and battle the luau table if you like. I see Julian Fine over there. I'll ask him to stay with you."
Katie was burning with resentment. She had been put in her place with a resounding thump, and coming after his earlier championship, it hurt. Right now she didn't care what Sacha did, nor how he was hurt. He could go jump in that elaborate swimming pool for all she cared, she thought viciously. "Food, if you please," she said tightly. "But you needn't bother—"
Once again, Sacha anticipated her. "No bother," he re plied crisply. "I'm hungry, too. Julian, how about being a good chap and looking after my wife while I get her some food? We're both starving."
"With pleasure," Julian said promptly. He glanced at Katie's empty hands. "Shall I get you something to drink? What will you have?"
Not wanting to take out her bad temper on Julian, Ka tie made an effort to answer pleasantly. "Something cold and nonalcoholic, but please, I'd rather you wouldn't—"
'Til only be a minute. And here's Mr. Thorpe, so you won't be alone. Ah, sir, do you know Sacha's wife?"
"Very well. How are you, Katie?"
And with a sinking feeling of resignation, Katie turned 

CHAPTER XVI
"Katie, my sweet, I thought Sacha would never leave," Ben murmured as soon as Julian left them. "I must talk to you. Where can we go to be alone?"
His voice was husky with that mixture of suppressed passion and reproach that was supposed to make a girl feel excited and guilty at the same time, but Katie had his measure by now. The perennial adolescent, like Marjorie, he was always searching for the perfect mate. Oh, Ben was a charming rascal and Katie was even fond of him, but she had no intention of allowing him to destroy her mar riage merely in order to indulge his weakness for pursuing beautiful women.
"What nonsense! You know Sacha would not allow it!" she said lightly.
"And you know what I think of thatV' he replied roughly. His eyes darkened as they roved her face with practiced skill. "Very well, if not tonight, what about tomorrow? Same place as before, same time?"
"No, Ben, I won't let you smash up my marriage."
"I think it is my duty to show you the truth about your self—and your marriage," he said righteously. "I'll wait for you tomorrow."
Just then, she saw him stiffen and looked around to see Sacha —approaching them with a purposeful stride. Katie felt a twinge of fear as she met his dark, glittering eyes.
"Why in the hell are you hanging around my wife, Ben? Aren't you a little old for her?" Sacha's savage contempt must have flicked Ben on the raw, for he flushed with anger... 
Katie spoke up hastily, in an attempt to avert disaster. "Sacha, I'm perfectly capable—"
"You're not capable of a damned thing except the in ability to say no to this aging Romeo here!" She felt a humiliated surge of anger as his contempt spilled over on her. "You stupid little nitwit, he's just trying to get back at me through you. He has a notion it would be fun to add another Kimberly woman to his growing list. Well, Ben?" Sacha turned back to the older man. The passion that thickened his voice was so primitive that it only needed a word, a look, to explode into violence. "Do you want to take me on? I should warn you I'm not as civilized as my father. I fight dirty—just like you."
Ben's eyes gleamed. "Do you really care enough about her to fight for her, Sacha?" he queried sardonically.
Sacha's voice lowered to a growl. "What's mine, I keep. I've already demonstrated that to you with 'Dreaming.' "
Katie stood by, helpless to stop the jquarrel that was de veloping, furious with Sacha for ignoring her explanation, and thankful that, so far, they had not attracted attention. She was not so stupid, despite what Sacha said, as to imag ine that Sacha cared enough to fight for her. No, this quarrel had its roots in past years, in Claire.
"What's going on?" Claire's light, amused voice broke up the  tension. Suddenly, both men seemed to realize where they were. "You two look like you're ready to enter the ring for the championship boxing match! Can it be? Oh, no, let me guess," she added coyly. "Is it possible that Daddy is staking a claim at last, and you feel obligated to object, darling, because she's your wife?" Her clear, tinkling voice held an undertone of malice. "If so, don't waste your time. Daddy already has taken over your little mouse. It's too late now for you to make noises like an outraged husband."
Sacha looked at her impassively. "Claire, shut up."
She flinched and a hint of red appeared on the dusky cheekbone. "B—b—but Sacha, I'm just trying to keep you , from making a fool of yoursel f by chasing after a woman ?Epwho has already cut you out of her life! Be thankful for it. Bphe's not worth your time, anyway."
But?"—
'Sacha looked at Ben, who was watching Claire with a curious look on his face. "For God's sake, Ben," Sacha said wearily, "can't you do something about her? I’ve wet—nursed your daughter for years, trying to repair —the damage that your neglect has done. Pampering her bruised little ego, seeing her through teen—aged crushes and aborted love affairs, even a smashed marriage. But after tonight, I'm through. It's your turn, Ben. Can't you forget your damned womanizing long enough to clean up your own backyard? For instance, what in the hell were you thinking about when you let her wear that outfit tonight?"
Claire looked stupefied. It must have been the first time  in her spoiled, self-indulgent life that she saw herself as others saw her. She would have thoroughly enjoyed a fight with Katie, but for Sacha to criticize—her was a shocking revelation. Her beauty disappeared so suddenly that it was frightening, and she looked like a predatory animal about to strike as she hissed, "How dare you? I wore it because of you.
 You—you painted her." Her eyes, black with fury, moved stiffly to Katie. "You said I didn't make a good subject. I wanted you to see that I could—that I was— th—that my portrait could be as famous as 'Dreaming'! I did it for you," she added, on a wailing note.
"See what I mean?" Sacha asked Ben tiredly.
"My God. Claire, my child, take hold of yourself," Ben said compassionately. '
"Come on, Katie, let's get out of here," Sacha said bitterly.
They passed Julian, who, with a drink in either hand, stared after them wonderingly. Sacha had to pause several? times to acknowledge greetings from people who knew him, but he was short to the point of curtness, and he did not stop to talk until they reached the car.
"What about your parents?" Katie asked, as he held the door open for her.
"Leave them. They'll get a ride with someone, and if they don't, Ben will send them home in one of his cars.
 Don't make waves, Katie," he added tautly. "I want to get home. We have a lot of things to get out of the way that I've been putting off far too long."
At the entrance to the small living room, where the family usually met before dinner, Sacha stopped her. She followed him reluctantly as he pulled her into the room and closed the door, trapping them within its cozy intimacy.
"Please. Not tonight, Sacha." Her eyes were dark with torment. "I know you're tired and heartsick, but so am I. Just remember that things will be much brighter in the morning."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked harshly.
"Claire," she explained shakily. "Claire will be ashamed and sorry tomorrow, and everything will be back to the way it was before when you forgive her."
She cried out as he took a swift step forward, his eyes flaring with anger. Uttering a curse through tightly clenched teeth, he reached for her and, gripping her forearms, pulled her against the lean, hard arrogant lines of his body.
"Will it?" he asked sarcastically. "Will everything be the same tomorrow, my sweet wife?"
She was frightened, but she did not waver. "Yes." She met his eyes bravely. "You can't change how you feel overnight. I know that. You've always loved Claire, and you're not about to change merely because she has tem porarily disillusioned you. I just don't like being made a convenience of while you wait to make up your quarrel with her," she added a shade defiantly.
"It looks like there's only one way to shut you up," he said coldly.
She fought desperately to stop him from taking her lips, pushing and beating frantically at his shoulders, but her efforts were puny. He was too strong and cruel for her to withstand the insistent pressure of his arms. Sobbing beneath her breath, she turned her head from side to side, shivering at the feel of his cool mouth sliding over her soft skin. At last, he captured his desperately evading quarry once that predatory mouth met hers, Katie knew her— ilost. With a groan, she surrendered her lips, her mouth ling beneath the intensity of his fiercely possessive kiss, helplessly, she clung to him, long shudders rippling her she gave herself up to the drugging sweetness of. Finally, he raised his head long enough to mutter against her mouth, and with a soft moan of protest she encircled his neck and pressed her soft body his. He drew a sharp breath, then slid a warm eath her chin and tilted it to meet his triumphant
This is one way we have always been able to communicate—isn't it, Katie?" he asked unsteadily, ' Katie nodded dumbly, too drained of resistance to summons even a flash of her former defiance. 
This my Katie?" he teased. "No fight left? Does this mean you give up? Throw in the towel? Admit you're defeated?
Katie sighed, her blue—veined lids closing over eyes that to mask their shamed hunger from his probing.
 Katie?" His voice was whisper soft. "I'm waiting for surrender."
His lips captured hers again, but this time his kiss was very easier, its warm sensuality carrying her along on full tide of his passion as he frankly demanded the to— of her submission. He withdrew his lips and rail kem softly over the closed, quivering eyelids.
"You win, Sacha," she murmured huskily. "I love you. Please don't put me out of your life. I want to live with you on any terms. I'll even share you with Claire if I have to.”
She slid her arms convulsively around his neck and, standing on tiptoe, pressed hot kisses on the strong, brown of his throat. He had stiffened at her confession, for a brief, humiliating moment, she thought he was to throw it back in her face. Then, his voice husky; tender, he bent over her and lifted her into his arms, Katie! Dear heart! I am overwhelmed with shame! Is that what you believe? I said we had to have a talk, and I'm just beginning to realize how much."
He carried her to one of the deep, plump armchairs and sat down with her in his lap.
"My sweet, I've been cruel and hurt you. Will you for give me?"
Tempting as it was to give herself up to the seductive bliss of lying in his arms, she knew that she could not afford to do so, so she struggled upright. Darting him a quick look, she replied uncertainly, "I suppose I was sort of unreasonable at times myself."
He smiled and ran a finger down her flushed cheek, making her pulses leap.
"Not unreasonable. No. You had a right to my trust and I didn't give it. I just wish you had told me why you didn't want me to go to my grandmother that night. Why didn't you tell—me about the pressures she and Claire were putting on you?" he asked curiously.
"I didn't think you'd believe me," she said humbly.
His mouth tightened. "No, I guess I hadn't given you any reason to think I would, had I?"
"Wh—who told you?"
"Pat. And later, Gran confessed to what she had done." A slight smile flickered on his lips. "I was very angry that afternoon in Honolulu. Angry and fed up. I had reason to hate and fear Ben Thorpe, and it looked like you were falling for his line, behaving like the child I thought you were. I was breathing fire when I got to the shop, and Pat turned on me like a small virago. Within five minutes she had taken me apart, and in the process revealed more about how you felt and what you thought than I had got ten from you in the six years of our marriage. I was stunned to hear that instead of hating the idea of this reconciliation, as I had thought, you loved me. I was also shocked to hear what Gran and Claire had said to you and what you thought I felt about you. It was so totally untrue, darling. Oh, I had known Gran was very pro-Claire, but she knew how I really felt. And it didn't occur to me that you would listen to Claire when I had made it clear that I wanted you back as my wife."  
 "Claire said it all depended on Kim," Katie tried to explain. "And she was right. Kim was the reason you wanted B|" me back. You said so."  
  He turned her face gently to his. "Katie, I love my son, naturally, but surely you know that I love you even more. Not want you! I was just thankful that Kim gave me an excuse to force you back into my arms." He groaned softly. ''You little idiot, why do you think I married you?" 
I—
  "Because you wanted me and felt responsible for me;"  
 "Yes, I'm sure that was the impression Irene West fostered in you,'" he said wryly.
 "But wasn't it true, Sacha? And you said that you   needed a mother for Kim—"
 "I said a lot of damn fool things in an attempt not to   scare you to death about this reconciliation!" he interrupt— t . ed savagely. "I admit I didn't really understand my mo— | tives for marrying you, but it wasn't long before I saw that I— you were just what I wanted. But you were jealous and in— secure. I put it down to your age and kept hoping it would | change, that you might have a baby and that would help. I But the night I left for New York, when we quarreled, I I decided that a divorce was the only answer. Later, when I I learned from Irene West of the pressure she'd been putting on you, I knew it wasn't altogether your fault, but I hoped f that a few days of thinking about a divorce might work' f wonders. I came home expecting to find you properly humbled, and ready to fall into my arms. You, can imagine my shock when I found you had gone. I nearly went' crazy. I searched for you everywhere, and finally had to give up. After that, I finished 'Dreaming' and put it in the   contest, hoping to flush you out of hiding. When it dicing I pulled up stakes and spent a year with Oscar and Ellie, painting, little knowing that you were on the next island, struggling to make ends meet with a baby and a shop." 
 "I didn't know you'd want to hear from me," she confessed miserably. "I sometimes thought of letting you k— know where I was, but—I thought you might be embrassed to hear from me."
Embrassed? God, no!" he groaned. His warm breath jied the hair at her temples. "How could you think that??
Well easily enough, I suppose. I hadn’t given you reason to think anything else." His firm mouth trembled slightly and for the first time since she had known him, his face was naked and totally vulnerable to pain. Even after I learned what had been happening to you, you made me so damned jealous about Ben that I was brutal. It wasn’t until we got home, and I saw your reaction to the kidnapping and learned from Gran what she had done, that I began to see what we Kimberlys had put you through. Gran’s sorry now, Katie, but she almost destroyed us didn’t she. "I thought I'd wait and see how you felt.” Her voice gave away very little of the agonies she had been through. "But it did seem to be Claire- all the way 
"I could kill her! She was jealous of you, of course, for she always had my attention, and and she couldn’t stand to give it up. But, Katie, you've got to believe me- there never anything between us. Never. She was like a sister, a spoiled, demanding sister.  I’ve seen her through everthing 
from measles to a smashed-up marriage, and when it blew up in her face, I encouraged her to buy the ranch next door to us because we're the only family she’s ever had.”
 "But she left her husband because of you”
 "Is that what she told you? A lingering trace of gall remained in his smile. "He threw her out, but I had nothing to do with it, I assure you."
"But everyone said—even Ben—” 
 "Everyone was wrong, including Ben. He said bleaklyl.
"He had his own reasons for to you. But Tom Wetherell threw her out- and I was not the ‘other man involved. Oh. I knew she hinted that I was the cause of the breakup, and I let it slide rather than make a fool out of her by denying it and didn't seem to harm me. but I never dreamed she’d try to peddle that story to you ' his mouth twisted. 
He sounded so cross and irritavle that Katie put her arms around his neck and kissed his mouth. It was the first time she had ever had the opportunity to feel superior to  her husband and she felt like making the most of it. Really, she thought amusedly. Sacha had been rather naïve about Claire. Another woman would have had her measure a lone time ago
Hmm, nice." he breathed, gathering her closely into his arms.
No. she planted her palms firmly on his shoulders and held him away from her. "Not until I've had a few more explanations, if you please. Sacha! I'm serious," she  added breathlessly.
Oh very well." He released her reluctantly. "What do you want to know?"
 Why were you so upset and angry tonight about— well--- about way people were talking about Claire, if you really don’t love her?”my anger was with Claire, not with other people," he said quietly. 
I recognized that she was making a final attempt to hold on to what she had, and that she was headed for a breakdown if she didn't get her own way. I knew Ben. He would probably expect me to assume the res[onsibility for her, as usual. By then I had learned that she had systematically worked to undermine our marriage, and I wasn’t having any more of it. You see," he added serioudly, “Claire knew what that trip to Kauai meant, even if you didn’t. “It meant that I was pulling out, leaving hands of the whole sickening mess, at last. She nevery had been my responsibility, really, except that I had known  since I was a boy how neglected she was, and felt sorry for her."
“And I had tocomplicate things for you by being so jealous!” she mourned.
Don’t apologize.”  He grinned. "That jealousy was just about my only comfort when I thought you didn't care anything about me. When I finally cut through all the hostility and noncommunication, and learned what was going on, I was determined to get you to Kauai, kicking and screaming, if necessary," the grin widened, "and present you with the accomplished fact of a home. I knew you were trying to back-paddle your little canoe as fast as you could, but I didn’t intend to let you get away with it this time. I thouhgt I’d lead up to it nice and easy but, then, you gave me that prissy little speech, and all hell broke
loose." He reached out and stroked the outline of her mouth with caressing fingertips.
Not that I am at all sorry. It was the most satisfying half hour of my life, and personally, I haven't regretted a moment of it. No matter how many times we make love in that bedroom, I’ll never forget the first time."
"What will happen to Claire	now?” she asked when her blushes had begun to subside. "'Will s-she continue to live here?"
He recognized the fearful note in her voice and said reassuringly, "I don't think so. Ben is not chairman of the board of a dozen companies for nothing. He has a great gift for organization. Now that he recognizes the problem, he he'll deal with it, very efficiently, and the first thing he'll do is take Claire away from here. Who knows? The whole thing may be the making of him.”
She looked up warily. "You were angry with Ben tonight."
The dark flash in his eyes was savage. I could have killed him!" he said thickly. "When he laid his hand on your arm, I wanted to break it in two. I’ve never felt that way about anyone before. You're mine, Katie, and I’m not going to let anyone take you away." He buried his face in her throat, pressing his lips against its base.
Her hands tangled in the black hair, and she ran her hands through it tenderly before cupping the hard, arrogant face between her palms. "Love me, darling, she begged, achingly, "Love me now."