# The Thawing of Mara
# Janet Dailey
# Mills and Boon 1980
#
#This book was typed onto the computer by
#Elaine Vail in the Dept. Electronics and Computer Science
#IT HAS NOT BEEN THOROUGHLY CHECKED
#AGAINST THE ORIGINAL
#Mills and Boon have NOT given permission for this work
#
#Markup is COCOA - A for author, T for title, C for chapter
#
#Sebastian Rahtz      January 6 1987
#Computer Science
#University
#Southampton S09 5NH
#0703 559122 ext 2435
#e-mail spqr@uk.ac.soton.cm
###################################################
<T The   thawing of  Mara>
<A Janet Dailey>
<C 1>
'MARA?'

Over the whine of the electric mixer, Mara heard her name called, but she 
didn't bother to acknowledge it.  Instead she added more sugar to the egg
whites and continued to beat them until they formed stiff peaks.  She was
spooning the meringue on to the pie filling when she heard the hum of the
wheelchair approaching the kitchen.

'Mara, the mailman just drove by.'  The chair rolled to a stop inside the
room.  'I'm expecting some correspondence from Fitzgerald.  Will you see if
it's come?'

Mara didn't turn around.  I'm busy at the moment, Adam.'  She continued to
spread the meringue thickly over the pie, ignoring the instant of tense
silence.

'Will you please stop calling me that?'  The request sliced tersely through
the air. 'I am your father and you will address me as such.'

Over her shoulder, Mara glanced at the man whose surname of Prentiss she had
rightfully carried since birth.  Her heart turned to stone at the sight of the
handsome man imprisoned in the wheelchair.

His hair was as black as her own, except at the temple where wisps of silver
gave him a distinguished air.  They shared the same deep colour of eyes.
There was enough similarity in their sculpted features that there was no
mistaking they were father and daughter.

'I'm not denying my parentage, Adam.'  Her voice was as cool as her attitude.

He whitened at her continued usage of his given name, his fingers tightened
on the armrest of his chair.  Mara noted his reaction with indifferent
satisfaction and let her attention return to the pie.  After swirling the
white top into decorative peaks, she opened the door to the pre-heated oven
and set the pie inside to brown the meringue.  All the while the man in the
wheelchair remained silent.

'It looks good.'  Her father forced the words out, striving for lightness
and a degree of familiarity.  'What kind is it?  Chocolate, I hope.'

'It's lemon,' Mara retorted, not changing the temperature of her voice.

'You should make some chocolate cream pie some time,' he suggested.

'I loathe chocolate pie.'  She set the beaters and bowl in the sink and 
filled them with water from the tap.

'You didn't always hate it.'  It was almost a challenge.  Then his voice 
became warm and reminiscent.  'When you were growing up, we used to argue
over who got the last slice of chocolate pie.  We usually ended up splitting
it.'

'That was a long time ago.'  Her curtness dismissed the idea that the past
had anything to do with today.

'Your mother made the best chocolate cream pies I've ever tasted,' Adam
Prentiss went on.  'I don't know Rosemary got the recipe, but-----'

Mara pivoted.  Anger blazed in her dark eyes, burning off the frigid
aloofness that usually encased her.  It consumed her with an all-raging
hatred.

'How dare you speak my mother's name!' she accused in a seething breath.

'She was my wife,' he stated, levelly meeting her glare.

'Was she?'  The taunting challenge was drawn through tightly clenched teeth
as years of bitterness trembled through Mara.  'You conveniently forgot about
that when you ran off with that little tramp, didn't you?'

'I didn't forget it,' Adam Prentiss denied.

'You had a wife and a child.'  Her voice was raising in volume.  'You
abandoned us without so much as a backward glance!'

'You were only fifteen at the time, Mara,' he attempted to reason.  'You
couldn't know______'

'I was there!' she flared.  'I know what happened.  When you walked out on
my mother for another woman, it killed her.  It just tooka few years before
she literally died.  She adored you, she worshipped you.  She ate, breathed
and slept for you.  You were the only thing that mattered to her.'

'Do you think I wasn't sorry?' her father retaliated.  'Do you honestly
believe I didn't wish there was another way?  So you think I didn't care?'

'All you cared about was that young blonde,' Mara retorted, and turned away
in disgust.  'My God, she was only a few years older than I was!'

'I was in love with Jocelyn and I won't apologise for that,' he said quietly.
'But as strange as it sounds, it is possible to care about two women at the
same time.  I did care about your mother.'

'I don't believe you.  I saw the callous way you treated her,' she reminded
him.  'Even before that blonde, you flirted with everything in skirts.'

'For Gods sake, Mara, those incidents were perfectly harmless.'  His impatient
reply was angry.

'Harmless?!'  A bitterly amused sound came from her throat.  'Yes, Mother
always used to haugh them off, but I could see the hurt in her eyes.  You
must have seen it, too.  But it never bothered you, did it?'

'I don't have to justify my behaviour to you.  I've never pretended to be
perfect.'  He was coldly indignant.

'But you managed to convince Mother you were.'  Mara continued her attack with
vindictive zeal.  'She used to think she was the luckiest woman on earth
because she was your wife.'

'I was in love with someone else.  Do you honestly believe I should have
stayed married to you mother when I knew that?' her father challenged. 'Both
of us would have been miserable if I'd done that.'

'So you walked out on her.  That way she was the only one who was miserable,'
she pointed out spitefully.

'All right, I hurt you mother, I admit that,' he declared in agitation.  "But
give me credit for providing for her financially.  I turned everything over
to her, the house, the land, money, everything I owned except my clothes, I
had nothing.  I still have nothing.  You got it all when she died.'

'Did you think she'd leave it to you?' Mara jeered.

'No.'  It was a sighing answer, a mixture of defeat and exasperation.  'Haven't
I paid enough, Mara?  Jocelyn was killed in the crash that did this to me.
I'm permanently crippled.  The doctors have even warned that as I grow older,
my condition may deteriorate to the point where I won't even be able to get
around in a wheelchair.'

As the fight went out of his voice, Mara's fiery anger left, too.  An icy
calm stole through her, cooling her features into a frozen mask and freezing
her senses to his plight.  She walked to the oven where the curling peaks
of the pie's meringue were the colour of golden toast.

'If you're attempting to arouse my pity,' with a pot-holder, Mara took the 
pie from the oven and set it on a wire rack to cool, 'you're wasting your
time.'

'I'm attempting to understand you,' her father replied wearily.  'Why am I
here?  After my accident, you went to the doctors and told them that you 
were bringing me here and you would take care of me.  At the time, I thought
you'd finally forgiven me.  But you haven't.  So why am I here?'

'Unlike you, I felt a sense of family obligation.'  Mara returned the
potholder to its drawer.  'Regardless of how I feel about you, you are my
father.  It's my duty to take care of you.'

'And that's why I'm here.  Because you consider it's your duty.'  He studied
her, brown eyes measuring brown eyes.  'Are you sure I'm not a convenient
excuse to shut yourself off from the rest of the world?'

A smile twisted her mouth.  'It's my responsibility to take care of you.  But
I'm sure you don't understand that since you don't know the meaning of the 
word.'

'You're so rightous.  Mara, that I sometimes expect to see a halo circling
you head.'  Adam Prentiss commented dryly.  "Yet you have few friends.
Whenever anybody invites you somewhere, you always turn them down because
you have to stay here to take care of me.  Hardly anyone calls any more.'

'It doesn't bother me.'  Mara lifted her shoulders in an uncaring shrug.

'You rarely went out when your mother was alive either, did you?  You spent
most of your time with her.'  There was a shrewd gleam in his look.

'Mother was very lonely after you deserted her.'  The flatness of her statement
was calculated to lash at him.  'She needed me.'

'You used her as an excuse the same way that you're using me,' her father
accused in a low, quiet voice.  'You like to look down on the rest of us from
you lofty position of piety.  What are you afraid of, Mara?  Are you afraid 
if you step down from your pedisal, you'll discover you're as imperfect as
the rest of us?'

'Believe whatever you wish, Adam.  I couldn't care less what you think.'
With a mildly arrogant smile, she turned from him and walked to the coat
rack.  Taking her wool plaid jacket from an iron hook, she put it on.  'I'll
go and see if the mailman left anything in our box.'

'Go ahead and run from the conversation, Mara,' he interposed.  'It's as 
ineffective as shutting yourself away.'

At first she made no response as she paused at the back door.  When she
turned, her gaze sought the man in the wheelchair.

'You're only trying to rationalise your own feelings of guilt, Adam,' she said.
'You know you need someone to take care of you, but you prefer to pretend
that I'm doing it for some other reason because it makes you feel better.'

'Oh, Mara!'  He shook his head sadly.

Her gaze strayed from him to wander over the old, cosy kitchen.  The oak
cupboards and cabinets had been installed over a century ago, but time hadn't
dulled the rich lustre of the wood.  The walls were papered in a cheerful
yellow and white check design to match the tieback curtains at the windows.

An ageing oak table and spindle-backed chairs stood in the middle of the
room.  The tabletop was covered with a bright yellow cloth, a small wicker
basket of red apples and oranges on its centre.  The floor was covered with
a continuous length of white linoleum, speckled with red, yellow, and green.

'I know it bothers you that this is my home,' Mara said.  'You're only here
at my sufferance.  Knowing how you BBBBBBBBBbandoned us, it probably irritates you
to be so dependent upon me.  But you're really very lucky, Adam.  Here, you
have a comfortable place to live and you can continue your work.  Plus, you
not only have me as nurse and housekeeper, but also as a typist and researcher.
Why don't you think about that instead of seeking an ulterior motive for
something that only I'm doing out of a sense of family duty?'

When she was answered with silence, Mara turned and opened to back door.
'Don't let the wind blow your halo off,' came her father's biting words of 
caution.

Her lips thinned as she pushed open the second door, its screen replaced with
storm glass panes.  She closed the inner door while stepping outside.  The
second door swung shut on its own when she released it.

A brick path circled the house to the front entrance, then continued out to
the gravel road.  There was an autumnchill in the air, September's breath.
A few leaves were scattered around on the green lawn even though there hadn't
been a killing frost yet.  The tree were still full and green, but soon they
would be painted with autumn colours.  Then the Pennsylvania countryside
around Gettysburg would be arrayed in hues of gold and scarlet and rust.

With her hands in her pockets, Mara held her jacket front together and
followed the brick wall out to the road.  The carriage of her head was
naturally high, but after her father's biting rejoinder, it was held even
higher.  She despised him.  The force of the emotion clenched her hands into
fists in the pockets of her jacket.

How typical of him to try to make someone else feel guilty!  Mara remembered
how her mother had anguished over what she had done wrong when he'd run off
with that other woman.  Mara had insisted it wasn't her fault.  The only
blame she placed on her mother was for being such a fool over him.

A squirrel scurried about, busily stashing his winter supply of food.  Overhead
there was a flash of scarlet as a cardinal flitted among the tree branches.
But the wildlife didn't draw even a passing interest from Mara.

At the mailbox, she pulled down the door and removed the letters inside.
Pausing, she glanced through them.  Most were addressed to her father, although
there were a couple of bills for her.  Typically she received no personal
correspondence.

It was true that she had few friends, but she had never felt any great sense
of loss at her lack of companionship.  In fact, Mara often felt sorry for
those who had to constantly be with others.  She was content to be alone,
not depending on someone else to entertain her.  She viewed it as a trait of
strength.

It was something that had developed over her twenty-two years.  Part of it
came from her environment, being raised in the country with none of the close
neighbours having children her age, and with no brothers or sisters.  Part 
came from the circumstances of her life.  Her schoolmates had sympathised with
her at her father's sudden departure, but they hadn't understood the sense of
betrayal Mara felt.

His desertion of them for another, younger woman wasn't something that could
be kept quiet.  Adam Prentiss was a noted Civil War historian, an authority
on the Battle of Gettysburg.  Everyone in the area knew what had happened and
why.

Mara had been in her first month of college when her mother took sick.  Mara
had left college and cared for her mother until she died six weeks later.
Then there had been the arrangements for the funeral and all the legel business
of settling the estate.  Finally there had been her father's accident two 
years ago.  All of it had contributed to Mara's unconscious decision to rely
on no one but herself.

Sher closed the mailbox and turned to retrace her steps to the two-storey red
brick farmhouse with its white windows and door.  A car came down the country
road.  It slowed as it approached and honked its horn.  She recognised Harve
Bennett, the darkhaired driver.

'I have some good news for you!' he shouted out of the opened car window, and
turned into the driveway that ranparallel with the brick walk.

An eyebrow lifted in fleeting curiosity before Mara started towards the house.
It obviously had something to do with the cottage on the far corner of the 
property.  Harve Bennett was a young real estate man Mara had become acquainted
with while ironing out some title questions during the settling of her mother's
property and estate.

The cottage had once provided rental income.  After her father had left, it
had become neglected and too run down to be rented.  A few months ago, Harve
had finally succeeded in persuading Mara to make the necessary repairs and
fix it up.  Mara had agreed partly because her father had advised against it,
in sisting that she wouldn't be able to recoup the cost through the nominal
rent she could charge for the small one-bedroom cottage.

All the major work had been completed a week ago.  Mara had leisurely begun
to furnish it while Harve started advertising for tenents.  Mara had not
felt the need to rush to finish her task.  Judging by the wide smile on Harve's
face as he waited for her at the front door, she thought she might have been
wrong.

'Hello, Harve.'  Her mouth curved in a polite reciprocation of his smile.
'You said you had some good news.  Is it about the cottage?'

She walked past him and opened the front door.  Entering the house, she took
it for granted that Harve would follow her.  Which he did.

'It's about the cottage,' he answered.  'I had a phone call from a man today
who's interested in it.'

The wide entry-hall split the house in half.  At the end, an L-shaped staircase
that had once been enclosed led to the second floor.  The sliding oak doors
to the study, formally the parlour room, were open, hardwood floors glistening
from beneath an area rug.

From inside that room on the left Adam Prentiss called, 'Was there any mail
for me, Mara?'

'Yes.'  She paused and separated the envelopes addressed to her father from
the others she hd in her hand.  'I'll only be a moment,' she said to Harve,
and walked into the study.  'Here you are.' She placed the mail on the desk
his wheelchair was positioned behind.

Her father glanced beyond her to the man standing in the hallway.  'Hello,
Harve.' he greeted him affably.  'How's business?'

'We're selling a few houses,' was the falsely modest response.  'How are
you, Mr Prentiss?'

'Fine, fine,' was Adam's dismissing reply, and he degan looking through his
mail.

As Mara turned to rejoin Harve, she let her gaze inspect his features.  
Cynically she thought that freshscrubbed, faintly freckled facehad probably
been responsible for selling quite a few houses.  Although in his early
thirties, Harve Bennett still possessed the wholesome innocence of a boy---
a trick of nature, Mara was sure.

'Shall we go into the kitchen?' she suggested smoothly.  Whatever Harve had
come to discuss, it was no business of her father's.  And she didn't want
him listening in on their conversation.

'Sounds great.  I could use a cup of coffee if you have any made,' he said
unabashedly.

'I think there's some left from lunch.' she admitted, amused by his naturally
pushy behaviour rather than irritated.

Pushing open the swinging door to the kitchen, she walked to the coat rack.
Harve was there to help her out of the wool jacket.  She smiled a cool 'thanks'
to him before hanging the jacket on its hook.

'You said you had a phone call from someone interested in the cottage.'  She
reminded him of the reason for his visit as she walked to the counter where
the electric coffee pot was plugged in.  'Someone local?'

'No from Baltimore.'  Harve pulled one of the chairs away from the table and
sat down, rocking it back and clasping his hands behind his head.

'From Baltimore?  Why?  Are they moving here?'  Mara filled two coffee mugs
and carried them to the table.  'Cream or sugar?'

'Haven't you remembered by now that I take it straight?' he chided her, and
let all four legs come down on the floor with a resounding thud.  'It seems
your prospective tenant is looking for a weekend retreat so he can get away
from the hassle of the cityand the pressure of work.'

'I suppose he wants to see it,' she concluded logically.  Sitting in one of
the other chairs, she mentally began to calculate hew long it might take her
to complete furnishing the cottage it she devoted all of her spare time to
it.  'I have the bedroom furniture and the kitchen appliances there, as well
as a sofa, but____'

'He doesn't want to see it.'  Harve interrupted.

'You don't mean he's going the rent it sight unseen?' Mara looked at him in
frowning surprise.

'I didn't mean exactly that he isn't going to see it,' Harve qualified his
previous statement.  'He can't get away now and I__er____' he grinned,
'__gave him the impression that you already had several enquiries about the
cottage and wouldn't be inclinded to let it set vacant until her was free to
come hee to look at it.'

'So how is he going to see it?' she persisted.

'When I told him it was out in the country, secluded and quiet, he said it
sounded like just what he was looking for.  I almost got a commitment from
him over the phone,' said Harve, the pride in his selling ability surfacing
with the claim.  'To make sure he wasn't renting a log cabin instead of a
cottage, and to speed things up, he wants me to send him some Polaroid
pictures of it.  I promised I'd send them to him in tomorrow's mail.'

'Tomorrow?  That's worse than I thought.' she muttered.  'Why did you do
that, Harve?  You knowit isn't completely furnished yet.'

'I told him that.  He said he was only interested in the bare necessities.'
Harve sippedat his coffee, cradling the mug in both his hands.

It was all beginning to sound too good to be true.  Mara felt a surge of 
scepticism that all wasn't as wonderful as Harve seemed to think.

'Who is this man?  What do you know about him?' she demanded.  'Is he young
or old?  After all the money I've spent fixing the cottage up, I'm not going
to rent it to some wild young kids so they can wreck it partying all
weekend.'

'It's difficult to judge people over the telephone,' he defended himself.
'His name is Sinclair Buchanan.  He sounded mature and well-educated.  I
bumped the monthly rental a hundred dollars higher and he didn't even hesitate
when I told him the price.'

'A hundred dollars?' She was stunned.

'I thought that would get your attention.'  A smug smile curved his mouth.

'But why?'  As far as Mara was concerned, the price they had been going to
charge would have allowed her an ample profit for the repairs.

'He sounded as if he could afford it.'  Harve shrugged.  'If he sqawked at
it, I could always say I'd read it wrong.  As it is, you stand to make a
handsome profit.'

His reasoning was logical even if Mara found his ethics questionable.  She
lifted the coffee mug to her mouth, refusing to be stampeded into something
because of some dollar signs.  She sipped at the coffee and set the mug down.

'Still, Harve, I'm not going to rent it to just anybody, regardless of how
much money is involved.'

'Don't worry, Mara.  If, after he's seen the pictures of the cottage, he wants
to sign a lease, I'm entitled to ask him for personal and credit references.
I'll check Mr Sinclair Buchanan out thoroughly,' he promised.

'See that you do, because I'll want to see the results,' Mara informed him,
the tone of her voice carrying an underlying warning.

'We have to take first things first.'  Harve wasn't concerned by her lack of
total confidence in him.  He had an extraordinary amount of confidence in
himself.  'And the first thing I have to do is take those pictures I have to
send to him.  To do that, I need thekey to the cottage.'

'I'll get it for you.'  Mara rose from her chair.

Harve was instantly on his feet.  His hand was on her arm when she started
to walk past him.  'Better yet, why don't you come with me while I take 
those photos?'  He was standing slightly behind her, his low coaxing voice
coming from the general vicinity near her ear.

'I'm busy.  Maybe another time.'  She coolly brushed aside his invitation
and would have walked out of his light hold, but he tightened it at the last
minute.

'You'realways telling me another time,' he protested.

Mara felt the warmth of his breath against the bare skin of her neck, exposed
by the short, smooth style of her sable black hair.  There was a fleeting 
irritation that if Harve was aware of the number of times she'd put him off,
why hadn't he got the message?

'It simply isn't possible today.'  Her response was firm and unmoved by his
veiled criticism.

There was an instant of silence, and Mara sensed that Harve was debating 
whether this was the moment to press the issue.  Finally his grip on her arm
loosened and he stepped away, checkling softly.

'I don't know what there is about you, Mara,' he commented.  'With most girls.
after the second refusal I'd stop asking.  But with you, I keep leaving
myself open for rejection.'

'I'll get the key to the cottage,' she said.

'Is that all you have to say?'  His exasperation was tinged with amusement.
'Doesn't anything ruffle that cool composure of yours?'

Her lips curved in a semblance of a smile, but she didn't respond to his
question.  She doubted that Harve had really expected a reply.  Leaving the
kitchen, she walked to the study where she kept the key to the cottage in
the desk drawer.

'Are you going to the cottage?' her father asked when she removed the key.

'I'm not.  Harve has to go over to take some pictures for an out-of-town
party who's interested in it.'  She took secret delight in relating the news
to her father, considering his scepticism for the project.

'I thought it wasn't finished yet.'

'All the repairs are done.  It just isn't all furnished yet, but this person
doesn't seem to mind,' Mara explained, but she didn't mention the possibly
higher rental income from the cottage.  That was something she would keep
until a lease agreement was actually signed.

'Just make sure you know what type of person you're renting to,' her father
cautioned.  'There's more to being a landlord than just collecting rent.
There are those who tend to be destructive or careless with other people's
property.'

'I really don't need your advice, Adam,' she retorted stiffly.  'I've been
handling my own affairs all by myself for quite some time.  Virtually from
the day you walked out.'

He sighed, 'I'm not trying to_____'

'I know what you're trying to do,' Mara interupted with freezing contempt.
'You may live in this house, but you won't control my life the way you 
controlled Mother's.'

She turned on her heel and swept out of the room.  Harve waited in the kitchen.
His gaze moved over her as she entered.  Mara'a arctic indifference to his
caressive look made him take a deep breath of confused frustration.

'Here's the key.'  She handed it to him.

He looked at it for a second before his fingers closed around it.  'I'll
bring it back when I'm finished.  It shouldn't take too long.'

'All right,' said Mara, since some kind of answer seemed to be expected of
her.

'Are you sure you won't change your mind and come with me?'  Harve tipped 
his head to one side, half expecting to answer he received.

'No.'

'Tat's what I thought.'  A wry smile crooked his mouth.  'See you later.'

'Yes.  Goodbye, Harve.'

'And don't worry about the cottage or Sinclair Buchanan.  I'll make sure it's
a clean, sweet deal,' he winked.  'Or we'll pass it.'

When Harve had gone, Mara lingered in the kitchen.  The decision would be
hers.  She was not going to be influenced by Harve or money, most especially
not by her father.
<C 2>
A week later Harve telephoned to let Mara know that Sinclair Buchanan was
definitely interested in leasing the cottage.  A few days after that Harve
came to the farmhouse with the references supplied by Buchanan.

'You see, he checks out,' Harve declared triumphantly as Mara went over the
information.  'He's not only a solid citizen with impeccable personal 
references, but I'm almost enbarrassed that I questioned his credit.

Mara studied the papers for a moment longer, almost wishing she could find
something to fault.  There was nothing, but she couldn't shake off the
feeling of unease.

'It appears you're right,' she agreed, however reluctantly.

'You could be a bit more enthusiastic,' he grumbled.  'This is a great deal,
Mara.  You're unbelievably lucky to get an offer like this for the cottage.
It wouldn't hurt you to show a little excitement.'

'I'm aware of my good fortune,' Mara insisted, and stacked the pieces of
paper neatly to return them to the folder.  'I simply think it's wiser to
wait until I see his signature on a lease agreement before I begin 
celebrating.'

'His signature and a cheque for the first and last months' lease payment.
Don't forget that,' Harve reminded her.

'I haven't forgotten,' she assured him.

'In the meantime,' from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he removed a
folded document, let's get your signature on the agreement so I can forward
it to buchanan for his.'

He spread the printed form on the kitchen table and handed Mara a pen.  She
read it through before placing her signature of 'M. Prentiss' on the line 
Harve indicated.  When it was done, Mara felt better as if she had made some
important decision.  It was really quite ridiculous.  It was a simple lease
agreement, hardly likely to change her life.

'Why look so worried?' he chided.  'From this point on, it's merely a
formality.'

'I'm not worried,' she denied.

As Harve had predicted, the final phases of the agreement proved to be mere
formality.  The lease had been mailed to Sinclair Buchanan.  By return mail
Harve received Mara's copy of the lessee's signature affixed to it and a 
cheque.  When he brought it to the house, Mara guessed the reason for his
visit by the expression on his face.

'Here it is.'  He produced the envelope with an air of self-satisfaction.
'All signed, sealed and delivered.'

On the last word, he handed it to her with a slight flourish.  Mara took it,
removing the papers from the envelope and glancing at the signature scribbled
across the line to be sure it was there.  A cashier's cheque was paperclipped
to the agreement.  Mara glanced at the amount and raised a questioning 
eyebrow at Harve.

'This isn't the right amount.  It's too much,' she said.

'Yes, I know,' he admitted, and gestured towards the papers she held.  'There's
a letter with it.  Mr Buchanan is driving up Friday evening.  He sent a list
of supplies he'd like stocked.  That's why he sent the extra money---for the
supplies and any inconvenience his request has caused.'

Mara found the letter and skimmed the list.  It consisted of mainly staple
food items with a few basic supplies.  Her first impression was that his
request was arrogantly presumptuous, butshe conceded that he appeared willing
to pay for this extra service.

'Mr Buchanan is very generous,' she observed, unable to keep the hint of 
asperity out of her voice.

'I thought it might be easier if you took care of the list,' said Harve.  'I
could arrange for one of the girls at the office to handle it if you're too
busy.'

'I'll take care of it when I do my own shopping,' she stated.

'That's what I thought, too,' he smiled.  'Another thing, I've made arrangements
for him to come here to the house to pick up the key to the cottage.  In his
letter, he doesn't mention when he'll be arriving.  Our office closes at five
o'clock, so it seemed the most sensible thing to have him pick it up here.'

'That's fine,' Mara agreed, and folded the papers to return them to their
envelope.  'Mr Buchanan and I will have to meet some time.  It might as well
be when he moves in.'

There was a nervous trembling in the region of her stomach.  She blamed it
on the fact that she had never been a landlady before.  It was a new
experience for her.

'I almost wish I'd rented the cottage so I could have you for a landlady.  The
problem is I couldn't afford the price,' Harve grinned lazily.

'I doubt very seriously that you're poorly paid,'  Mara retorted.

His grin widened with boyish charm.  'As a matter of fact, I didn't do too
badly this month.  With that cheque, neither have you.'  He pointed to the
papers she held in her hand.  "Why don't we celebrate?  Have dinner with me
Saturday night?'

Mara shook her head.  I'm afraid I can't, Harve.  M____'

'If you say "maybe another time", so help me, I'll strangle you Mara,' Harve
threatened insincerely.  'This time I'm not going to let you turn me down
without offering a legitimate reason.'

'Harve____' she took a deep breath, determined to keep her patience.

'No, I mean it, Mara.  Why can't you go out with me on Saturday night?' he
demanded, the amusement leaving his expression.

'I can't leave Adam alone for that length of time,' she stated.

'Your father is perfectly capable of looking after himself for one evening.
I asked you to have dinner with me, not spend to entire night,' Harve pointed
out.

'I don't agree with you.  Adam shouldn't be left alone,' Mara maintained
stubbornly.

'I won't accept that.'  He caught her by the shoulders and kept her facing
him when she would have turned away.  'I can't make it much more obvious how
I feel about you.  I've been asking you out for months.  I can't get you out
of my head.'

'Oh, please, Harve,' her look was cool in its amusement, 'spare me those 
awful lines!  You can't really expect me to believe them.'

'It's the truth,' he declared, anger surfacing that she should doubt him.

'And I suppose you were thinking of me while you've been dating all those
other girls I've heard about.  Let's see---there's that nurse at the hospital,
the schoolteacher, a legal secretary.'  She began taunting him with the list
of his most recent conquests.

'For God's sake, Mara what do you expect from me?'  He let her go and turned
away, running a manicuredhand through his carefully groomed dark brown hair.

'I don't expect anything from you.'  Which was the truth in many ways.

'I've been seeing other women,' Harve admitted in an unconscious air of
defensiveness.  'Why shouldn't I?  Whenever I'm around you, all I get is the
cold shoulder.  I happen to be human even if you're not.'

'If you have that opinion of me, then I don't understand why you keep hanging
around,' Mara challenged.

'Do you know something?'  Harve glared at her, his usually smiling mouth
thinned into a grim line.  'I don't know why I'm hanging around here either.
It's been a waste of time and effort for probably whay would have turned out
to be sour grapes anyway.'

Mara felt no emotion as he stalked away.  The slamming door seemed such a
childish gesture that it srew a faintly contemptuous smile on her mouth.
The whir of the wheelchair wiped it from her face.  She turned to meet the 
approach of her father.

'Harve left in something of a rush, didn't he?' he commented.

'He suddenly remembered an important appointment somewhere else,' she returned.

'A sudden appointment?'  His expression was sceptically mocking.  'I thought
it was probably a severe case of frostbite.'

'Do you think it's cold in here?'  Mara deliberately misunderstood his 
reference to her.  'I'm quite comfortable myself.  Maybe you should put on
a sweater.'

'I don't need one,' Adam retorted wryly.  'I've become acclimatised to the
chill.'  His gaze noted the papers she held.  'I suppose that's the cottage
lease.'

'Yes, Mr Buchanan will be arriving Friday.  Perhaps you'd like to look over
the documents to make sure no one has taken advantage of me.'  She walked
to his wheelchair and dropped the envelope in his lap.

Her attitude puzzled him until he looked at the lease and saw the monthly
rental fee.  Triumph glittered in her eyes when Adam looked up.

'What do you think?'  Mara challenged.

'It's excellent.'  He handed the papers back to her.  'I'm just wondering 
how you did it.'

'Maybe it's one of the financial rewards of good, clean living,' she suggested
with a trace of sarcasm for the way he was always mocking her for being too
righteous.

His dark head moved as he exhauled a wryly amused breath.  'Were you properly
grateful to Harve for signing this deal?  Or did you show him the door 
because he'd served his purpose and you no longer had any use for him?'

Mara stiffened.  'Harve is aware that I gave him full credit for arranging
the terms of the lease.  Our relationship has always been purely a business
one.  It doesn't oblige me to have dinner with him just because it was
concluded satisfactorily.'

'Poor Harve,' Adam mused.  'I should have warned him that gods don't mingle
socially with us mortals.'

Mara almost overwhelmed by an impulse to scream at her father to stop
ridiculing her, but she fought it down to reply coldly, 'I wouldn't worry
about Harve.  He already shares your opinion that I'm not human.'

He held her gaze for a long moment.  Some kind of silent appeal gleamed from
the depths of his brown eyes, butMara couldn't fathom it and didn't try.

Sighing, he turned his chair and changed the subject.  'So on Friday you
officiall assume the role of landlady.'

'Yes.'  Mara automatically stepped forward to push the chair towards the study.
'I'll be going into town Friday afternoon to pick the items Mr Buchanan 
requested.  If there's anything you need while I'm there, let me know.'

'How abuta loving daughter?' he rspne in a lo weary voice.

'You had one once.'  She didn't elaborate further.  He knew the rest.

Friday afternoon Mara separated the grocery sacks, leaving the ones destined
for the cottage in the rear of the station wagon, and carried the rest into
the house.  The grandfather clock in the entry hall chimed the half hour.
It was after three, later than she had realised.  Hurriedly she began removing
the perishable items from the grocery sacks and storing them in the refrigerator

The door o he kitchen swung open to admit her father's wheelchair.  'You're 
running late, aren't you?' he observed.

'Yes.'  Mara didn't pause in her task.  'Did Mr Buchanan arrive while I was
gone?'

'No.'

'Do you have the key to the cottage?'  She had left it with him before she'd
gone to town.

'Right here.'  He produced it from the pocket of his cranberry sweater, a
colour that intensified his dark good looks.

Mara put the lettuce in the crisper and the cheese on the refrigerator shelf,
the last of the items.  Taking the key from her father, she walked to the
back door.

'I'm going to the cottage.  If Mr Buchanan arrivesbefore I come back, send 
him down by the back trail,' she instructed.

'Will do,' he agreed as Mara went out of the door.

The red brick farmhouse sat on one hundred acres of wooded Pennsylvania land.
The previous owner had cleared and farmed two hundred acres adjoining his
property, intending some day to clear the rest of the woods.  When Mara's
father had bought the place some twenty years ago, he had sold off the 
farmland but kept the wooded land that surrounded the house.  A neighbour
farmer now leased the bulk of it to graze his cattle.

The cottage was located in the far corner of the property.  There were two
ways of reaching it.  One was a gravelled lane that led to the country road.
The second was a dirt track that wound through the trees to the farmhouse.
In bad weather, the latter was sometimes impassable, but that wasn't the
case today.

The station wagon thumped across the cattle guard.  It and a fence kept the
neighbour's cattle from straying up to the house yard.  The autumn scarlet of
the sumac lined the way.  A thin carpet of gold and brown fallen leaves 
covered the trail, rustling and whirling as Mara drove slowly along.  Overhead
the trees had exploded with colour, most of the leaves still clinging
tenaciously to the branches.

It was a gorgeous Indion afternoon with cloudless blue sky and briskly 
invigorating air.  The heavily ribbed turtleneck sweater of ivory wool was
all Mara needed in the mild temperature of this September day.  The pale
colour drew attention to the silky black of her hair and complemented the
forest green plaid of her slacks.

Rounding a curve, she glimpsed the cottage through the trees.  Where a second
fence line intersected the trail was another cattle guard.  Mara slowed the
car as she crossed the iron grate and parked in front of the cottage.

The slanted roof of the low building was covered with shake shingles.  The
exterior siding was stained cedar, the windows and doors trimmed with a
burnt shade of rust.  It all blended with its woodsy setting.

Balancing a sack of groceries on her hip, Mara unlocked the front door and
walked in.  It opened into the living room, dominated by a large, native stone
fireplace.  The sparse furnishings didn't do justice to the potential of the
room.

To the left was the kitchen and Mara's destination.  All the birch cabinets 
had been stripped and restained, and the counter tips resurfaced.  A small
table and chairs occupied the breakfast nook and shiny copper pots hung above 
the stove.  The atmosphere was distinctly warm and homey.  Mara set the one
sack down and went back to the car for the others.

The third and last room of the cottage was the bedroom with a full bath off it.
Mara didn't classify the small utility room as a room since it was little 
more than a large closet.

Despite possessing only three rooms, the cottage gave the impression of 
spaciousness.  But Mara didn't have to admire its efficient design.  All
the supplies and foodstuffs had to be put away.

The last sack was half emptied when Mara thought she heard the sound of a
car out front.  She paused to listen and hear the slam of a car door.  Leaving
the can of coffee sitting on the counter, she made a detour on the way to the
front door, stopping to glance out the kitchen window for an advance look at
the cottage's new occupant.  She had a brief glimpse of a tall, grey-haired
gentleman approaching the front door before he disappeared out of her angle
if sight.

Reassured somehow by the sight of that grey hair, Mara had barely straightened
from the window when there came a loud knock at the door.  Unconsciously she
squared her shoulders and lifted her chin to a lofty angle.  Aloofness settled
over her like a familiar lover as she went to answer the knock.

When she was opening the door, her mouth automatically curved into a detached
smile of greeting.  Her gaze first encountered the towering bulk of the man
outside, then met a pair of smoky eyes.  Her expression froze in place.  Tiny
shock waves disassembled her previous image of the man and threw it away.

This was not some old, distinguished gentleman facing her.  This was a rawly
virtile man, suntanned and vigorous.  The civilised impression given by the
tweed jacket and dark trousers was banished by the unbuttoned shirt and the
hard, browned flesh it revealed.  The fact that his thick mane of hair 
happened to be iron grey was purely incidental.

All the while she was staring at him, he was studying her in an odd way, as
if she wasn't what he had expected to see either.  Maybe there was some kind
of mistake.  Mara clutched at the straw.

'Mr Buchanan?' she questioned.

'Yes.'  There was the faintest inclination of his head to affirm his identity.
'I stopped at the farmhouse and Mr Prentiss sent me down here.  Are you his
daughter?'

The soothing pitch of his low voice was strangely unsettling, but Mara didn't
betray it.  Instead she drew her invisible cloak of aloofness more tightly
around her.

'Yes, I am.  Mara Prentiss.'  The introduction seemed to demand a perfunctory
handshake.

She offered him hers and found her slim fingers swallowed up in the grip of
his.  She didn't like the sensation of being engulfed by his sheer physical 
presence.  It was somehow diminishing.  Her temperature dropped by several
degrees as she withdrew her hand from his grasp.

There was a lift of detached amusement to his mouth.  'For some reason, I
expected to meet your father's wife or sister.'

'My mother is dead.'  Mara didn't know why she offered the information.

'Mara Prentiss.  M. Prentiss?'  He referred to the signature on the lease.

'TThe same,' she admitted, stiffly holding herself erect as if she needed 
every centimetre of stature.

Behind the cloud-blue of his eyes, there seemed to be a wicked light dancing.
Mara thought she had glimpsed it a couple of times previously.  It gave her
the impression of danger rather than mischief.  It was like that opaque gleam
on a cat's eyes when it's playing with its prey.

'I presume averything is in order for my arrival,' he prompted.

And Mara realised she was still barring his entrance into the cottage.  'Yes,
it is.'  She stepped back to admit.  'I was just putting away the supplies 
you ordered.'

One gleaming shoe had just crossed the threshold when a female voice halted
him.  'Sin darling, shall I bring any of the luggage when I come?'

Mara's gaze jerked beyond him to the sleek grey car parked next to her station
wagon.  A stunning redhead was just stepping out of the passenger side.  Her
white silk blouse was unbottoned to show off her cleavage while a pair of 
midnight blue slacks tightly hugged her hips.  Despite the suggestiveness 
latent in her attire, the overall impression was one of chic sophistication.

'Leave it,' was his answer.  'I'll carry it in later.'

Tearing her gaze away from the scarlet-haired beauty, Mara let it touch
briefly on the man entering the cottage.  Sinclair Buchanan, aptly shortened
to Sin, she concluded without being sure why.

Mara blamed her brief start of surprise at the presence of the woman on two
things.  All her attention had been focused on Sinclair Buchanan, so any
distraction would have caught her off guard.  The second was the length of
time the woman had waited before making her presence known.  Mara would have
thought that she would have accompanied him to the door.  Most wives would
have exhibited more curiosity or been more eager to see their newly leased 
cottage.

Sinclair Buchanan was inside now and Mara redirected her attention to him.
Aware that this was the first time he'd seen it other than in photographs,
she felt she should make some attempt to familiarise him with the place.

'This is, of course, the living room,' she stated the obvious.  He was
already making a slow, sweeping survey of the interior.  Mara couldn't tell
by his expression whether he was disappointed by what he saw or not, but
she felt she should offer some defence for the starkness of the room.  'As
Mr Bennett told you, the cottage isn't completely furnished.  If you wish,
I____'

'N, I'll see to the rest of it myself.'  He refused her offer to finish 
decorating it before she had had a chance to finish it.  'Is the fireplace
usable?'
,br
'Yes.  The chiminey has been swept and the flues checked,' she assured him.
'As a matter of fact, Mr Bennett and I had a fire going in it just a few
weeks ago to be certain there was no problem.'

The touch of his gaze gave her the impression that he had put a romantic
connotation on her elaboration.  In fact, there had been workers around 
finishing up the repairs, but she felt no compulsion to explain that.

'What about firewood?' he questioned.

'There's some wood stacked behind the cottage.  You're welcome to gather the
deadfall in the woods, but not to cut down any trees,' she told him.

Instantly she visualised him stripped to the waist against a backdrop of 
woods, splitting logs for the fireplace.  She could even picture the sheen
of perspiration glistening over the powerful muscles of his arms and chest.
The image prompted a sudden surge of life to throb through her veins.  It
unnerved her because she couldn't control it.

In unconscious self-defence, she turned away from him to break the crazy
spell.  As she did, the redhead walked through the open door.  Mara smiled
as if it had been her intention all along to greet the woman just entering
the cottage, but the woman didn't even glance at her.

The redhead's brown eyes were alight with excitement as she made an inspecting
circle of the living room.  When she came to a stop beside Sinclair Buchanan,
her expression was alive with delight and anticipation.  She circled one of
his armswith both of hers and hugged up to him.

'It's charming, Sin,' she declared.  'So rustic and quaint!  Can't you picture
an old chesterfield in front of the fireplace?  We'll have such fun decorating
this place.'

His look was indulgent, if faintly amused, as he gazed at the upturned face 
of the woman.  Fiery clouds of scarlet hair fell loosely about her shoulders.
Mara was beginning to feel superfluous.

'Be honest, Celene.  You're just looking forward to spending my money.'  His
tone fell halfway betweenteasing and taunting, as large a difference as
between love and cruelty.  His true attitude was a matter of interpretation.

With a mock pout, the woman named Celene chose the first.  Mara wasn't in a
position to argue with the decision.  Celene was obviously better acquainted
with his moods and meaning than she was.

'You know that isn't true, Sin,' the redhead denied.  'I enjoy spending
anybody's money.'  She laughed.  'I pride myself on being totally impartial.
Come on, lets see the rest of the cottage.'

Before replying, his gaze swung to Mara.  There was something prompting in
his look.  Mara didn't know what it was that he wanted, so she left it up to
him to explain.

'Shall I show you through the cottage or would you prefer to explore on your
own?' she enquired.

'We'll find our way about.  I don't think we'll get lost,' he assured her in 
a dry voice.

'I should hope not,' Celene laughed at the comment that Mara had found more
cutting than amusing.

'If you'll excuse me,' she murmured coolly, 'I'll finish putting the groceries
away.'  She paused to glance at the redhead.  'Unless you would prefer to
do___'

'Please go ahead, Miss Prentiss.'  It was Sinclair Buchanan who answered.
Mara couldn't help wondering if he made a habit of interrupting.  His gaze 
lid down to the woman on his arm.  'Celene is helpless__or should I say
hopeless__in the kitchen.'

The woman smiled at the taunting observation.  'Sin knows me,' she sighed,
and turned her soft brown eyes on Mara.  'But then I've never claimed that
mytalents were in that area.'

'I'm sure you're very good at whatever you do,'  Mara's response was merely
polite words, a murmured reply to be taken at face value.

It drew a low chuckle from Sinclair Buchanan which earned him a playful slap
of reprimand from the redhead.  It was obviously a private and intimate joke
between them and Mara wanted no further part in it.  Turning quietly, she
walked into the kitchen.

The cottage was too small for her not to hear the murmuring of their voices
as the couple wandered from the living room to the bedroom.  She tried to
drown out the sound with the whir of the electric can opener on the can of
coffee.

Pouring a portion of the grounds into the coffee canister, she set the rest
inside the cupboard.  She had just lifted the sack of flour out of her bag
when the two entered the kitchen.

'This is your province, Sin.  I'll leave you to inspect it,' the redhaired
Celene declared.  'There's something I want to get from the car.  I'll only
be a moment.'

As the woman departed, Mara was conscious of Sin Buchanan remaining in the
kitchen.  She opened the flap of the flour sack and reached for its canister.
As she emptied the sack into it, she was aware of his movements, checking
the appliances and the cupboards.  His silvered grey hair acted like a
beacon.

'I bought everything you had on the list,' Mara informed him as she pushed
the canister into its position with the rest of the set.  'I hope you don't 
have difficulty finding anything.'

'I doubt it,' he replied.  'It al appears well organised.'  It was an
observation rather than a compliment.

The dumping of the sack had left a fine film of flour dust on the counter. 
Mara dampened a dishcloth to wipe it away.  When she had finished, he had 
wandered back into the living room.  His return coincided with the entrance
of Celene.  There was nothing the keep their voices from carrying into the
kitchen.

'I found the wine glassesm so I brought in the champagne to toast the new
cottage,' Celene's voice announced in husky invitation.  'The ice cooler 
chilled it to perfection.  Here, open it, Sin.'

An assortment of spices and herbs was at the bottom of the grocery sack.
Mara tried to remain deaf to the conversation in the adjoining room as she
began arranging the bottles on the spice rack.

'Don't you won't to leave the celebrating until later?'  The pop of the 
champagne cork made his question insignificant.

But Celene answered it anyway.  'No, I want to start now.'  Her voice was a
throaty purr.  'This is the first weekend I've ever had you all to myself.
No phone calls, no business, no interruptions.'  The last negative was 
emphatically stressed.  Celene proposed the toast, 'To our first weekend
alone.'

It was followed by the clinking of crystal and silence.  An inner voice 
seemed to order Mara to keep quiet and not betray her presence in the
cottage, but she refused to obey it.  The bottles thudded on to the spice
shelf with the same regularity.

'Mmmm, you know what let's do tonight, darling,'  Celene answered her own 
question without giving Sin a chance to respond.  'Build a roaring fire in
the fireplace.  Then we'll lie down in front of it and___'  The rest of the
suggestion was made in a whisper.

Mara's stomach knotted into a tight ball of nerves.  The entire situation
was making her irritated and on edge.  A can of dried parsley flakes was 
the last item in the grocery sack.  She shoved it quickly into place and
folded up the paper sack, stowing it beneath the sink.

In the opening to the living room, Mara hesitated.  Thecouple were in front
of the fireplace, locked in a kiss.  Celene's arms were wound around his
neck, while still managing to hold the champagne glass.  One of his hands
was on her ribcage, almost cupping her breast.  His other arm was pressed
against the small of her back, arching the redhead to his muscled body.
That hand held his glass.  Neither had apparently spilled any champagne in
the process since there was liquid in each of the glasses.

Mara started to retreat into the kitchen until this passionateembrace was
over, but she stopped herself.  Why should she scurry off as if their kissing
made her uncomfortable?  If anyone was going to feel awkward from her
intrusion, let it be them, she decided.  She took another step into the
living room.

'Excuse me,  I'm leaving now,' she aammounced.  Her voice and composure
were both cool.

With remarkalbe aplomb and absence of haste, they untangled themselves from
each other without tipping their champagne glasses.  Celene smoothed the
fiery strands of hair from her cheek in a self-conscious gesture, but there
was a pleasantly satisfied gleam in her eyes, especially when they darted
to Sin.

'I'm sorry, Miss Prentiss,' she apologised while he sipped at his champagne.
'I'm afraid we got a bit carried away.

Secretly Mara thought that reason might be true for Celene, but a glance at
her partner made her doubt that it had been equally true of him.  He looked 
fully in control of himself and his passions.

'There's no need to apologise.'  Her mouth curved, but it wasn't much of a
smile.

Sinclair Buchanan moved, drawing Mara's gaze.  His sports jacket was 
unbuttoned, the front held open by the hand thrust in the pocket of his
slacks.  That casual air was a pose.  Mara realised that he was every bit as
alert as she was.

'I haven't thanked you for ensuring that we have something to eat this
weekend,' he said.

'It isn't necessary, Mr Buchanan,' Mara countered.  'You've already amply
conpensated me.'  Before she made her departure, courtesy demanded that she
add, 'I hope you find the cottage to your satisfaction.  If you or your wife
have any questions, please contact me.'

Celene broke into a laugh and immediately covered her mouth, her brown gaze
dancing to Sin.  'Darling, she thinks we're married!'

'Yes.'  His amusement was more distant as he turned an enquiring eyebrow at
the redhead.  'I wonder where she got that idea.'

Mara's chin tipped to an angle a scant degree higher than before, the only
outward sign of her recoiling shock.  She had wrongly presumed the couple
were married.  She was reluctant to make another assumption in case it should
be wrong, too.

'It's my fault, Miss Prentiss,' Sin took the blame without exhibiting any
remorse for his action.  I failed to introduce Celene when we arrived.  Miss
Prentiss, this is Celene Taylor, a friend of mine.  Celene, Mara Prentiss,'
he corrected the oversight.

'How do you do, Miss Taylor.'  Mara acknowledged the introduction stiffly
and recieved a smiling nod in return.

'Celene is spending the weekend with me,' he stated.  'I don't recall seeing
any restriction in the lease against having friends visit.'

'Of course, there was none.'  Mara admitted, disliking his baiting tone.  'But
you do realise there's only one bedroom,' she reminded him coldly, and 
immediately wished she hadn't said it.

That devilish glint was back in his eyes.  'Yes, I do know, Miss Prentiss.
It is Miss, isn't it?'  Again he jibed at her naivete.

'Yes, it is.'  Mara tried desperately not to snap out the answer.  The only
way out of this mess seemed to be a dignified retreat.  'I know you'll want
to bring your luggage in and get unpacked, so I won't keep you any longer.
Good day, Mr Buchanan.  Miss Taylor.'

Mara turned towards the door only to be halted by a low male voice.  'Miss
Prentiss, aren't you forgetting something?'

She glanced over her shoulder, her look totally blank.  'I beg your pardon?
Forgotten what?

'The key to the cottage,' Sin replied.  'I believe I need one.'

Silently calling herself fifty kinds of a fool, Mara reached into thepocket
of her slacks and took out the key.  Sin Buchanan walked over to take it from
her.  She practically dropped it in her haste to give it to him.

Her syes blazed at the amused curl of his mouth.  That opaque gleam was in his
smoke blue eyes playing over her face.  Mara had never felt so impotent in
her life.  There was nothing she could do to change it.

'Thank you.'  His strong fingers closed around the key.

Mara nodded dumbly and pivoted towards the door.  Rigidly she kept her steps
unhurried as she exited from the cottage.  She was trembling by the time she
reached the station wagon.
<C 3>
By the time Mara reached the house, her seething resentment had been controlled
to a low simmer.  Sinclair Buchanan had made her look a fool.  She didn't
like that__nor him.  She should have known her new tenant sounded too good
to be true.  Why had she listened to Harve and rented the cottage without 
first meeting the man?

Not that it would have made any difference, Mara concluded as she walked to
the back doorof the red brick house.  'Sin darling' probably wouldn't have
brought his mistress to that meeting.  Not that she cared whether he had a
mistress, she reminded herself.  But the pair of them, mostly Sin, had made
her look so damn prudish.  And she wasn't.  She didn't care how other people
behaved.

Slamming the back door, she tossed the car keys on the kitchen counter.  They
slid against a grocery sack.  Mara was reminded that none of this would have
happened if she hadn't taken so long in town getting thesupplies.  His 
groceries would have been put away and she would have been here to give him 
the key when he stopped for it, then she wouldn't have been subjected to the
embarrassing incident.

'Mara?'  Her father entered the kitchen.  Immediately she began unpacking the
rest of their groceries.  'That Buchanan fellow stopped here.  I sent him
down to the cottage.  Did you see him?'

'Yes,' she answered without elaboration.

'How did they like the cottage?' he enquired.  'I caught a glimpse of his
wife in the car.  From what I could tell, she looked to be a strikingly
beautiful woman, but not exactly the type for a cottage in the Pennyslvania
woods.'

'She loved it.'  Mara sarcastically stressed the verb, the woman's gushy
'Sin darling' echoing in her mind.  'But she isn't his wife.'

Her voice was hard and flat as she made the announcement.  She continued to
stack the canned goods in the cupboard without a break in her rhythm, but
there was a hint of angry agitation in her movements.

'Not his wife?'  Adam Prentiss echoed in an initially blank voice.  'You 
mean____'  He began chuckling to himself as her realised what she meant.  'I
suppose it was a natural mistake.'  Mara siad nothing, not admitting it was
a mistake she had made, too.  'There's nothing like bringing your own 
entertainment along with you to while away the hours.'

'Must you be so disgustingly crude!' Mara slammed the cupboard door shut.  An
image of her new tenant and his mistress cuddling in front of the fireplace
leaped into her mind.  It grated at the raw edge of her nerves, inflaming
them agian.

Her outburst was greeted by a moment of silence.  When her father spoke, all
trace of amusement was gone from his voice.  His tone was serious and gently
repremandng.

'Sex isn't crude, Mara.  It's a very beautiful thing.'

'I don't care to hear any lecture from you on the subject!' she snapped.

A long sigh came from behind her, followed by the turning of the wheelchair.
When the swinging door had slowly ended its pendulum movement.  Mara was 
alone in the kitchen.  Her hands were gripping the edges of the counter, her
knuckles white.

For the rest of that day and all of Saturday, she blocked the cottage and its
ingabitants from her mind.  On Sunday morning she rose early as was her 
custom.  While the coffee perked, she walked out to the mailbox for the 
Sunday newspaper.  Her father was awake when she returned.  After helping 
him into his robe, she held the wheelchair steady as he levered himself out
of the bed into his chair.

The whole routineseemed timed to coincide with the moment the coffee had 
finished perking.  It emitted its last popping sound as Mara wheeled her
father into the kitchen.  In silence, they shared a glass of orange juice
and a cup of fresh coffee before Mara fixed their breakfast of ham and eggs
and hot rolls.

With the morning meal over, she stacked the dishes in the sink and filled it
with hot, sudsy water.  Her father's wheelchair remained positioned at the
table while he read the newspaper and sipped a cup of coffee.

Mechanically Mara began washing the dishes.  One by one, she washed them, rinsee
them, and stacked them on the draining-board to dry.  Her mind seemed blank
as she performed the task, her gaze straying out the window above the sink
to the woods beyond.

A large patch of blue caught her eye, and focusing on it, she saw a figure
coming up the rutted trail from the cottage.  It was Sin Buchanan, dressed
in a sky-blue jogging suit.  A black stripe ran down the long length of the
legs.  His muscled frame moved in effortless, athletic strides.  The premature
grey of his hair was at odds with the rest of him, a perfect male specimen in
the prime of his manhood.

Mara watched him cross the cattle guard and approach the house at an easy, 
jogging pace.  She expected him to turn up the driveway towards the gravelled
country road, and an alarm jangled through her nerves as she realised his
destination was the vicintyo the back door.

In a sudden spurt of activity she began washing the dishes at a faster rate.
Then a knock at the back door brought a stiffening of her spine, and the 
newspaper rustled as her father set it aside.

'I wonder who that could be,' he murmured.

'I'll see.'  Mara avoided his questioning gaze as she dried her sudsy hands
with a terry towel.

She walked to the door, steeling her features to be expressionless.  When 
she opened it, Sin Buchanan stood outside, as she had known he would.  His
relaxed stance indicated that he felt totally at ease.  Mara felt a fluttering
tension in her stomach.

The even rise and fall of his broad chest revealed that the long jog from
the cottage to the house had not left him winded.  Her gaze lifted to his 
face and met the smoky blue of his eyes.  They seemed somehow shuttered, his
eyes only reflected the coolness of her attitude.  Her gaze flicked to his
steel-grey hair that was so strangely in keeping with the dynamic trust of
his vitality.

'Good morning, Miss Prentiss.'  There was a sardonic lilt to his low-pitched
voice.

'Was there something you needed, Mr Buchanan?'  Mara skipped the greeting to
demand a reason for his appearance.

'Yes, there is.'  A faint light gleamed in his eyes, deriding her for asking
a perfectly obvious question.

From behind her came Adam's voice.  'Don't stand there with the door open, Mara
it's creating a draught.  Invite him in.'

The sheer practicality of the suggestion couldn't be ignored, as much as Mara
wished that it could be.  Her fingers tightened around the doorknob.  Her 
impulse was to step outside to speak to him privately, without her father
listening in, rather than to invite Sin Buchanan inside the house.

But there was a nip in the autumn morning.  The warmth of Sin's breath was
making a vaporous cloud in the outside air.  Mara raalised that if she
attempted to conduct this convertion out of doors she would soon be shivering.
The last thing she wanted to do was attempt to discuss business with her teeth
chattering.

Reluctantly Mara swung the door wide to admit him.  'Please come in, 
Mr Buchanan.'  There was little welcomein her voice.  Mostly it held a
grudging tolerance for his presence.

'Thank you.'  His response, too, was merely a polite expression without a
foundation in sincerity.  'I hope I'm not intruding.'

As far as Mara was concerned, he was a definate intrusion and she had no
intention of denying it.  Unfortunately her father was inclined otherwise.

'Of course you're not, Mr Buchanan,' Adam insisted.  'We've already had
breakfast.  Mara was just washing the dishes while I finished reading the 
paper.  There issome coffee left, isn't there, 
Mara?  Why don't you offer Mr Buchanan a cup?'

She sent her father a silencing look.  'I'm sure Mr Buchanan has already had
his morning coffee.'  Her glance challanged Sin to dispute her calm.

The mused slant of his mouth lacked humour.  'As a matter of fact, I didn't
take time for coffee before I left the cottage.'

'Pour the gentleman a cup, Mara,' her father instructed.

'All that's left is the bottom of the pot,' she added a last warning, irritated
that Sin Buchanan was taking advantage of the hospitality he must guess she
didn't wish to extend.

'I like my coffee strong and black,' he informed her, and glanced at her
father.  'Thank you for offering, Mr Prentiss,' expressing his gratitude to
whom it was due.

'Sit down.'  Her father waved a hand to indicate a chair at the table.  'And
please call me Adam.  With you staying at the cottage, you're virtually our
closest neighbour, and I've never liked formality between neighbours.'

Neither have I,' was the agreement.  'I didn't introduce myself on Friday.
Sinclair Buchanan,' he identified himself, and shook hands with Adam before
sitting on one of the chairs.

Having emptied the coffee pot into a mug, Mara carried it to the table and
set it in front of him.  'I believe your friends call you Sin, don't they?'
Her subtle jibe was followed by the thought, Sin by name and sin by nature.

His blue eyes galnced up at her, challenge lurking in their steely depths.
'That's correct,' he admitted.

Immediately her remark seemed churlish.  'You said you liked your coffee
black?'  She sought his affirmation to cover her previous words.

'Yes, thank you.'  The frosted grey hair inclined briefly inaffiration,
something vaguely condescending in the action.  As Sin lifted the mug to sip
the scalding hot coffee, his gaze was directed at her father.  'Adam Prentiss__
I have the feeling I should know that name.'

Adam had been studing his daughter.  At the questioning remark addressed to
him, he brought his attention back to the man at the table.

'I'm something of a local historian,' he offered in explanation.

'Adam is being falsely modest,' Mara ineted.  'He's a very well known Civil
War historian.'

'That's where I've heard your name, then,' Sin absorbed the information Mara
supplied but ignored the acid sting in her voice.  'A close friend of mine
is an avid Civil War buff, and your name probably came up in our conversation.'

Mara flet a curiosity for the identity of his friend and heard herself enquire
sceptically, 'Miss Taylor?'  His redhaired mistress didn't seem the type to
her.

'No.'  Sardonic amusement danced in his eyes while the rest of Sin's strong 
features remained smoothly expressionless.  'A close male friend of mine.'

Mara had the distinct impression that she had walked into a trap he had 
neatly set for her, and she didn't like the feeling.  Sin Buchanan was an
irritating and offensive man.  She wished she could stop rising to his bait
and learn to ignore it.

He was speaking again, this time to Adam.  'I believe John mentioned your
name as the author of a book he'd recently read about the Battle of Gettysburg.'

'That's possible,' her father conceded with a faint smile.  'I have written
one on the subject.  It's a comfort to know someone has read it and it isn't
gathering dust on the library shelves.'

'I confess that I know very little about the battle or the Civil War.'  But
Sin Buchanan wasn't apologising for his ignorance or previous lack of interest.

'When the South lost the Battle of Gettysburg, they virtually lost the war even
though it dragged on for another two years,' Adam explained the significance of
the battle in history.

'I don't think Mr Buchanan is interested in hearinga lecture on it,' Mara
stated before her father could warm to his favourite subject.  She turned
a challenging look toward the blandly guarded expression of her tenent.   'You
said there was something you wanted to speak to me about, Mr Buchanan.'  She
pointedly reminded him of the reason for his visit.

The slashing lines that ran from nose to mouth became more pronounced.  Behind
his lazy regard, Mara sensed he was laughing at her, silently, cynically.  It
heightened her feeling of antagonism towards him.

'Yes, there is,' Sin admitted.  'I want to make arrangements to have someone
to clean the cottage on a weekly basis and hav it in readiness for my weekend
visits.'

'I see,' she murmured, and waited for him to continue.

'Since I'm new to the area, I thought you might recommend a responsible person
for the job,' he explained.

She couldn't argue with his logical request, but neither could she fulfil it.
'Offhand, I can't think of anyone,' she shrugged.

'Perhaps I can impose on you to find someone,' he suggested.  'It's difficult
to conduct interviews long distance as well as time-consuming.'

Silently Mara wished that he wasn't so damned logical.  She wanted the disagree
with him, but his proposal made too much sense.

'I'm flattered that you should trust my judgment.'  The ring of sarcasm in her
voice eliminated the pleasure implied by her words.

'We both have a vested interest in ensuring that the cottage is well kept.
Since you own it, you wouldn't want to see the property neglected while I
want to enjoy it in comfort,' Sin reasoned with equitable calm.

'I quite agree.'  Mara paused to control the sharpness of her tongue.  'But
you must understand the difficulty in finding a reliable person who'll be
willing to come so far out of her way.  We're located off the beaten track.'

Her comment didn't elicit an immediate response.  Mara watched as Sin lifted
the coffee mug to his firmly defined mouth.  His large hand encircled the mug,
a healthy tan colouring his skin.  She felt her tension building from the
volatile undercurrents rippling through the air.  Her gaze strayed past Sin
to her father who was observing the subtly charged byplay between then with
growing interest.  Adams presence aggravated the situation.

'I am aware it may not be easy, Miss Prentiss.'  Sin replaced the mug on the
table, the fingers of both hands encircled it.  He studiedthe mug for a 
moment before sliding his veiled gaze to her.  'Naturally I'm more than 
willing to compensate you for your services.'

'Naturally,' she countered dryly.  It seemed money was never an object where
he was concerned.

'In the meantime, I'll need someone to look after the place while I'm gone
during the week.  I don't know whether it's proper to ask my landlady to do
it or not, but you're converniently close to the cottage.'  His mouth quirked
in a half-smile.  'If you could spare the time to clean it after I leave and
make sure it's aired and relatively well stocked with supplies before I arrive,
I would greatly appreciate it.'

Mara hesitated as she considered the alternatives.  If she refused, there was
the risk of dirt and dust collecting to the point where the cottage would
need a major cleaning.  Considering the time, money and effort she had put into
it to this point, it would be foolish to let it get into a state of neglect.

'I can temporarily look after the cottage while I look for a reliable person
to take over the duty,' she agreed without realising that her tone of voice
made it sound as if she was doing him an enormous favour.

'Thank you, Miss Prentiss.'  Sin expressed his gratutude in a decidedly mocking
way.

A surge of irritation was stifled with an effort.  'I'll need to know what
qualifications you're seeking in a housekeeper.'

'You would know more about that than I do,' he shrugged.

'What are you willing to pay, then?'  Mara questioned.

'Whatever is fair.  Perhaps you could make a suggestion on that.'  He put the
question back to her.

'As long as the cottage isn't left in too much of a mess, it shouldn't require
more than a couple of hours to clean and dust the rooms on a Monday.  About 
the same amount of time would be needed on Friday to air it and be certain
whatever supplies you requested would be on hand.'  Mara voiced her thoughts 
aloud, sliding in a coolly subtle reprimand that he shouldn't leave the cottage
too cluttered and dirtied.  'With travelling expenses back and forth from town.
I should think fifty dollars a week would be a fair salary.  Would you be
willing to pay that, Mr Buchanan?'

'I don't quibble over prices,' he informed her with a distantly amused light
in his eyes.  'As long as I get what I want, I'm not concerned about the
cost.'

His supreme confidence grated at Mara.  The carriage of her head became more
stiffly erect and her attitude more withdrawn.  'Very well, that's the salary
I will quote.  Was there anything else?'  Rising from her chair, she indicated
by her action that if there was nothing, he should leave.

'No, that was all. Thanks for the coffee.'  Releasing the mug from the 
encirclement of his hands, Sin indolently uncoiled his length to dominate her
with hi height.

'There's no need to rush off,' her father protested amiably.

The dark fires in her eyes smouldered in her father's direction as Mara curved
her mouth into a false smile.  'I'm sure Mr Buchanan is aware that by now
Miss Taylor is probably wondering where he disappeared to.'

'Celene was sleeping when I left,' Sin offered the information unmasked.  'She
isn't an early riser.  She'll probably still be in bed when I get back and
I'll have to wake her.'

Mara had an immediate mental picture of just how Sin would go about it.  An
unreasoning anger stabbed through her and she felt herself bristling because
of it.

'No doubt she'll he pleased,' she drawled sarcastically, and moved towards
the door to escort Sin out.

But Sin didn't immediately follow her as he paused to say goodbye toher father.
'I enjoyed meeting you, Adam.'

'The pleasure was mine.  As you can see, I don't get out much.'  Her father
patted the armrest of his wheelchair, indicating his condition without asking
for pity.  'But I hope you find time to stop by for a visit again.'

'Thank you.  I'll try.'  His glance at Mara said that he was aware she didn't
echo the invitation.  'Good day, Miss Prentiss.'

There was controlled amusement in the warmth of his resonant voice.  It taunted
her into offering a stilted, 'Good day, Mr Buchanan,' as she opened the door
for him.

His wide-shouldered bulk moved past her, his laconic strength evident in the
ease of his long strides.  Mara caught a whiff of some exptic male fragrance
mixed with tobacco smoke.  Then he was out of the door.

She closed the door, but it wasn't so easy to shut out of existance from her
mind.  Turning, she walked back to the sink and the now lukewarm dishwater.
Through the window she could see Sin effortlessly jogging back the way he
had come.

'I don't want you to encourage him to make social calls here, Adam,' she
stated, recalling her father's parting invitation.  'I want the relationship
to remain strictly landlord and tenent minus needless personal complications.'

'I'm sure Sin is aware of your views,' he replied in a dryly exasperated tone.

'I don't want you making friends with him, Adam,' Mara restated her demand.

'You've never been concerned about who my friends are before.  Why this sudden
insistence that Sin Buchanan should not be among them?'  Adam was both puzzled
and intensely curious.

'I told you.'  She didn't look up from the skillet she was cleaning.  'He's a
tenent.  Business and friend-ship don't mix.'

'There's no business involved___at least, not between Sin and myself.  He leases
the cottage from you, not me,' he reminded her.  'So that argument doesn't
stand up.'

'Yes, I leased him the cottage,' Mara snapped, 'but I don't want him in this
house!'

A slow half-smile spread across her father's mouth.  'He bothers you, doesn't
he?'  He tipped his head to one side, studying her in a considering manner.

'I don't know what you mean.'  She turned the tap on full force to rinse the
soapsuds from the skillet.

'No,' he paused, 'probably you don't.'

Mara didn't want to explore the reasons behind that remark.  'What are you
going to do if Sinclair Buchanan comes here again?' she demanded.

'He's my neighbour.  If he comes, I'll invite him in,' Adam stated.

'You'd do that after what I've just asked you?' she turned on him roundly.

'I not only would, but given the chance, I will,' he declared in open challenge.

'This happens to be my house,' Mara reminded him in a cold voice.

'Sin Buchanan would be my guest.  I've always invited whatever friends I
pleased into this house in the past.  You've never objected to who came to
see me before___why are you making an exception with Sin?'  There was a certain
shrewd gleam in his dark eyes that Mara didn't like.

'The circumstances are differnet,' she said in rigid defence of her reasons.

'No, they aren't,' Adam denied that.  'Besides, half the time when someone
comes over to see me, you're off in some other room.  If and when Sin 
ever comes here, you can go and hide in another part of the house until he
leaves.'

'Hide?'  Her anger nearly boiled over, but she checked in time to insist
acidly, I'm not afraid of him.'

'No?'  A dark eyebrow lifted in her direction and shortly levelled out to its
former line.  'Well, he certainly does have the ability to upset you, doesn't
he?'  Reversing his wheelchair fromthe table, he swung it towards the hall
door.  'I'm going to finish reading the newspaper in the other room.'

Mara stared after him.  She had not lost an argument with her father since
he had come back after the accident.  He had always given in to her.  But on
this issue of Sin Buchanan, he had stood his ground and gone against her wishes.
Mara was fully aware that he could be as stubborn as she was.
<C 4>
On Monday morning, Mara arrived at the cottage to find all three rooms neat
and orderly.  There were no dirty dishes in the sink or an unmade bed.  No
magazines or papers were scattered around the living room.  A list of grocery
items was taped to the refrigerator door for Mara to obtain for the following
weekend.  It took less than an hour for her to dust and sweep the cottage.

During the week, she interviewed three woman who responded to the advertisement
she had placed in the paper.  Two of them did not have transport and the third
had simply not impressed her.  So, on Friday, she was the one who bought the
groceries and aired the cottage in preparation for Sin's arrival, finishing 
well before non o avoid accidentally meeting him.

On Saturday and Sunday mornings, Mara saw him out jogging.  Both times she was
washing the breakfast dishes.  Each time he lifted a hand in a casual wave
in the direction of the window above the sink, but neither time did he approach
the house.  Mara didn't wave back, and she didn't care if the omission was
rude.  She didn't mention to her father that she had seen him nor that Sin had
waved to her.

When she went to the cottage on Monday morning to clean, she discovered some
changes had been made over the weekend.  An old-fashioned davenport with
upright armrests was positioned in front of the fireplace.  It was upholstered
in a plush fabric pattern with varying shades of green.  An alpaca area rug
in its natural cream colour covered the square of floor between the davenport
and fireplace.

An old easy-chair in a deep shade of gold sat to one side.  A tall floor lamp
with a frest green shade stood beside it along with a combination table and 
magazine rack of carved oak.  A roll-top desk was against one wall with its
matching straight-backed chair.  The emptiness of the walls alleviated by
framed prints of countryside scenes done by local artists.

There were a few touches that still were needed but this beginning was pleasing.
Yet Mara found herself wondering somewhat critically how much of the decor was
dur to the redhead's influence rather than Sin Buchanan's taste.

The cleaning that need to be done was less than before.  There was a basket of
dirty sheets and towels in the utility room.  Mara washed and dried them.  As
she started to put them away, she checked first to be certain clean sheets had
been put on the bed and that it hadn't been made up without them.  It hadn't.
A pair of chocolate satin sheets were on the bed.  They felt smooth and very
sexy to the touch.  A fitting choice for a bachelor's bed, Mara thought, a
curious rage building within her.

Quickly she finished putting the clean laundry away and returned to her own
home.  She didn't mention to her father the changes that had been made at the
cottage.  They had both avoided any topic connected with Sin Buchanan since
their discussion more than a week ago.

As she started to get lunch ready, the telephone rang.  Mara didn't pay any
attention to its demanding ring, knowing her father would answer it in the 
other room.

'It's for you, Mara,' he called to her.

'I'm in the middle of getting lunch.  Tell whoever it is that I'll call back
later.'  She continued peeling the shells off the hard-boiled eggs.

'It's long-distance,' said Adam.

'Long-distance?' she echoed, and rinsed her hands under the running tap.  'I'll
be right there!'

She hurried towards the study while drying her hands on a towel.  A frown 
creased her forehead as she mentally ran through the possible indentity of her
long-distance caller.  Adam was behind the large desk when she entered and
handed her the telephone receiver.  She missed the bright light gleaming in
his eyes.

'This is Mara Prentiss.'

'Thank you, Miss Prentiss.  One moment, please,'  the impersonal voice of the
operator responded, and she directed her next words to the person on the other
end of the line.  'I have your party for you now, sir.'

'Thank you, operator.  Miss Prentiss?  This is Sin Buchanan.'  His familiar
voice sounded so close that Mara wouldn't have been serprised to discover he
was in the next room.  Every inch of her seemed to become suddenly very alert.
'How are you?'

The polite phrase prompted a polite response.  'Fine, thank you.'  Mara had
taken it as an impersonal automatic enquiry.  She glanced at her father and
realised he had known all along who was calling.  She turned her back to him.

'Then your arm is all right?'  It was a questioning statement.

'My arm?'  Mara frowned at the telephone.

'Yes, I thought it might be brocken.  Usually when you wave at a person, they
wave back unless there's something wrong.'  The comment was offered in a 
disinterested fashion as if Sin didn't really care to hear any explanation why
she hadn't had the courtesy to return his greeting.

'Oh.'  Mara didn't attempt an explanation.  'Was that why you called?'

'Yes, as well as to learn how you're progressing with my housekeeper, he told
her.

That was the primary reason for the phone call, Mara knew.  The previous remark
had just been made to needle her.  I've interviewed three women so far.  Would
you like me to send you their applications and references?'

'Did you consider any of the three suitable for the position?'  Sin countered.

'No.'  She kept her voice coolly restrained and forced her fingers to relax the
strangling grip they had on the receiver.

'Then there isn't any reason for me to look at the applications, is there, Miss
Prentiss?'  There was an indulging ring to his voice as if he was reasoning
with a child.

Mara gritted her teeth and tried no to snap, 'No, I suppose not.'

'Please keep me informed.'  It was closer to an order than a request.

'I will,' she promisedwith cool dignity.

'Goodbye, Miss Prentiss.'

'Goodbye,' Mara responded, and replaced the receiver on its cradle without 
waiting to hear if he had anything furhter to add.

'That was Sin Buchanan, wasn't it?  her father asked.

'Yes,' she admitted.  'He just called to see if I'd found someone to clean the
cottage for him.'

'What was that about your arm?'  He eyed the taut line of her mouth
thoughtfully.

'Somewhere he got the mistaken impression that I'd injured it.'  Mara shrugged
with feigned ignorance of the cause.

'Where did he get that idea?'  Adam questioned.

'I really don't know,' she lied.  'You'll have to excuse me, I have some soup
warming on the stove.'

That week Mara interviewed two more applicants for the position.  Neither of
them did she hire in Sin's behalf.  When the second had left following the
interview Adam rolled hos wheelchair out of the study.

'That woman sounded capable.  Why didn't you hire her?' he asked.

'She sounded capable,' Mara agreed, stressing the verb as qualification.  'But
her hair wasn't combed, her blouse needed ironing, and she had dirt under her
fingernails.'

'So?'

'If she's that careless with her appearance, what makes you think she'd take any
more pains to keep the cottage neat and tidy?'  she retorted.

'You could be right,' Adam conceded.  'But keep in mind, Mara that no one is
going to be as perfect as you are.'

Ther was a painful throbbing in her temples.  Mara rubbbed a forefinger against
it and sighed, 'Why don't you just be quiet, Adam?'  It carried the faintest
sound of a defeated plea for peace.  She let her hand fall to her side and
lifted her head, giving her mind a mental shape.  'Did you have those notes 
ready for me to type?'

'Yes, they're on the desk,' he replied, and watched her closely as she walked
from the living room.

Another weekend came and went.  The only glimpse Mara had of her tenent was
when he went for his morning jog.  He always looked in the direction of the
kitchen window, but he no longer waved.

On Monday morning Mara found a few more additions to the cottage.  A wooden
bookshelf was against one wall of the living room, complete with a varied
selection of books.  An antique mantelclock was above the fireplace, flanked
by a pair of hurricane lamps.  Some clothes were left in the bedroom closet and
chest of drawers.  All were masculine, a fact Mara couldn't help noticing.  The
expected list of supplies was taped to the refrigerator.  The careless scrawl
of Sins handwriting was becoming very familiar.

It rained most of the week. The weather remained damp and cold.  The trees 
lost their autumn lustre, their leaves turning brown and carpeting the 
ground.  So few leaves remained on the branches that the trees looked moth-eaten
and tattered.

When the sun burst through on Saturday morning, Mara took advantage of the
break in the weather to rake the ankle-deep leaves from the yard.  Since they
were so sodden with moisture, it was hard, physical work, but it felt good to
be outside after so many days of being shut in by the rain.

Itwas a sentiment shared by her father.  His wheelchair was positioned on the
patio where a stream of sunlight laid a golden square on the bricks.  Despite 
the sunshine, ther was the chill of coming winter in the air.  A red plaid
blanket was draped across Adam's paralysed legs to provide the warmth his 
fleece-lined jacket couldn't.

Mara paused to catch her breath and glanced at him.  All the raking had kept her
warm, but after being outside for more than an hour, she guessed he was feeling
the cold.

'Don't you think it's time you went inside, Adam?'  Ahe leaned the rake against
the trunk of a tree.

'Not yet,' Adam refused.  'This may be the last day of good weather before 
winter sets in.  I want to enjoy every minute of it.'

'Don't blame me if you freeze and catch pneumonia,' Mara warned.

'I wouldn't dream of it.'  He smiled lazily, his handsome dark features lookingg
years younger.

Mara shook out a large plastic garbage sack and began scooping up the leaves
from the pile to stuff them inside it.  The red knit of her cap made a vibrant
contrast to the sable black of her hair.  It provided the one spot of colour
to the drabness of her work clothes, the dark blue of her denims and khaki
brown of her old jacket.

As she picked up the last armful of leaves, she heard her father say, 'Hello,
Sin.  Beautiful day, isn't it?'

'It certainly is.  How are you, Adam?'  was his response.

A swift glance over her shoulder saw the tall, well-muscled man strolling 
towards her father.  Instead of the jogging suit, hewas dressed in dark blue
corduroys and a fleece-lined jacket which was unbuttoned to reveal the heavy
ribbing of a pale blue turtleneck sweater.

He seemed impervious to the chill in the air as he combed his fingers through
the rumpled thickness of his iron-grey hair.  As if feeling the quiet inspection
of her gaze, Sin glanced at her.

'You're working hard, I see,' he commented.

'Yes, I am.'  Immediately she set to work jamming the leaves into the sack
already more than half full.

'Have you had any luckfinding a housekeeper?'  Sin enquired.

'Not yet.'  Her answer was needlessly clipped and abrupt.  She tried to cover
it by picking up the leaves that had scattered over the edge of the bag.

'Mara is something of a perfectionist,' Adam explained in an uncomplimentary
tone.  'She keeps looking for the same quality in others and refuses to 
compromise.'

Tight-lipped, Mara offered no defence since she felt she needed none.  Gathering
up the open end of the leaf bag, she attempted to carry it to the driveway,
but the moisture of the wet leaves made it too heavy for her to lift.

'Let me carry that for you,' Sin offered, and took a step towards her.

'I can handle it,' she insisted with a stubborn flash of independence.

Sin hesitated, then lifted a shoulder in silent concession.  Straining, Mara
dragged the plastic bag across the ground.  The muscles in her arms were 
trembling from the effort by the time she reached the driveway.  Determined
not to show the effect, she walked back to pick up the rake again and set to
work on the leaves in the other quarter of the yard.

All the while, Sin stood near her father, talking to him and watching her.  It
was a distinctly unsettling experience.  The last pile of leaves didn't have
to be bagged since she used them to cover the flowerbed in front of the house.

'Why don't you rest for a while, Mara?' her father suggested when she had
finished that.  'You're making me tired just watching you woek.  You can rake
the rest of the yard tomorrow.'

'I think I'll wait until tomorrow,' she agreed, taking off her work gloves
and unconsciously flexing her fingers.  'The forecast was for more sunshine.'
In truth, she was exhausted and needed a rest, if only until the afternoon.
'It's time you went inside, too, Adam.  It's getting too cold out here for you.'

'You're probably right,' he agreed, which told her he was getting chilled.  She
walked to the back of his wheelchair and turned it towards the house.  So far,
she had pointedly ignored the man with her father, but Adam wasn't going to
follow suit.  'If you aren't doing anything special, Sin, why don't you come
into the house?'

Mara froze in cold anger.  'I doubt that Mr Buchanan would want to neglect...
Miss Taylor for long, Adam.  You overlooked the fact that she's probably
waiting for him at the cottage.'

'No, she isn't,' Sin offered quietly.  Unwillingly her dark gaze was drawn to
him.  'Celene didn't accompany me this weekend.'

The information caught her by surprise.  It unnerved her and she sought to
cover it by responding sharply, 'What do you do?  Devote one weekend a month
totally to rest?'

'Something like that,' he agreed lazily.

'If no one is waiting for you, is there any reason you can't come in for a 
while?'  Adam questioned.

'None that I know of,' Sin answered, his gaze flickering to Mara in silent
challenge, but she refused to rise to the bait.  It was onw thing to argue
with her father and another to argue with him.

Without waiting for any more to be said, Mara began pushing her father's 
wheelchair towards theramp leading to the front door of the house.  The
uneven walk of brick made the going difficult.  Her arms were already tired
from all the raking.  When she reached the ramp, a hand came around her to grip
the chair handles.

'I'll take it from here,' Sin told her.

'I can manage,' Mara returned stiffly.

'Your father isn't a bag of leaves, and you had enough trouble with that.'  He
firmly pushed her out of the way and guided the wheelchair up the ramp with an
ease that Mara knew she wouldn't have been able to fake.

At his backward glance to see if she was coming, Mara offered a grudging, 'Thank
you,' and walked up the ramp to open the door.  Once inside, she immediately 
excused herself.  'I have to clean up.'

Her bedroom and bath was on the second floor.  As she climbed the front stairs,
Sin and her father went into the study.  After bathing, Mara put on a pair of
camel tan slacks and a matching sweater with black and tan horizontal stripes.
She used the rear staircase that opened into the kitchen.  Fromthe front of
the house, she could hear the muffled sound of male voices in conversation.

The coffee pot was empty, so she made a fresh pot.  While the coffee perked,
she put away the breakfast dishes she had left to dry on the draining-board.
When the coffee was finished, she poured herself a cup and sat down at the
table.  After the bath and change of clothes, a cup of coffee was all she
needed to relax.

The door to the kitchen swung open before she had taken her first sip.  The
tension that she had fought so hard to remove threaded back through her nerves
as Sin Buchanan walked through the opening.

Minus the bulky jacket, his physique was still formidable.  Even the rough
weave of his sweater seemed in keeping with the raw vigour of his manliness.
He paused inside the doorway, his gaze sweeping slowly over her.  Mara felt
his inspection as surely as if he had touched her.

'Was there something you wnated?'  She was sitting rigidly in her chair, a
charged alertness to her senses.

'Your father sent me into ask if there was any coffee,' Sin explained his
presence in the kitchen, moving forward with a quietness that was surprising
in a man his size.

The steaming cup of coffee on the table couldn't be overlooked any more than 
the aroma of fresh-perked coffee in the air.  Mara found his level gaze
difficult to meet.  To avid it, she rose from the table.

'Yes, there's ofe.  I'll fix a tray and bring it in to you,' she offered in
a coolly unresponsive voice.

'There's no need for you to bring it in.  I'll wait and carry it in myself.'
He came to the counter where Mara had placed a serving tray.

'It isn't necessary.'  She didn't want him waiting.  She wanted him gone.

'Why should I walk back empty-handed?'  Sin countered with infuriating logic.

Mara didn't pursue the argument as she began arranging the mugs on the tray.
'I hope Adam hasn't bored you with a lot of talk about the Civil War.'

She made the barbed comment for want of something to fill the silence.  Her
father rarely bored anyone; he had been born with the gift of charm.  Even
her mother had gone on loving him after he had deserted her for another woman.
Mara suspected the only reason she was immune to him was because she was his
daughter.

'I don't remember him mentioning anything about the Civil War,' Sin remarked.
When she set the sugar bowl and spoon on the tray, he reminded her, 'I don't
need any cream or sugar for my coffee, thank you.'

'What have you found to talk about?'  Mara reached into the cupboard for the
insulated coffee server.

'Many things,' was his ambiguous answer.

'Including me, I suppose.'  There was a bitter taste in her mouth as she said
that.

Sin watched silently for a moment as she poured the hot coffee from the pot 
into the server.  'What makes you think we would have discussed you?'

'Nothing.  Forget I said it,' Mara shrugged, angry with herself.  She set the
server on the tray.  When Sin would have picked it up, she stopped him.  'Just
a minute.  I'll put some cookies on a plate.'  Her father knew she had baked
oatmeal raisin cookies yesterday and she suspected he would send Sin back to
the kitchen if she didn't include some on the tray.  But in defence of her
action, she explained, 'Adam has a sweet tooth.'

'Why do you refer to your father by his given name?'  The grey head was tipped
at an enquiring angle, smoke-blue eyes studying her with disconcerting 
directness.  'In almost every other respect, you seem typically old-fashioned.'

'It's what I prefer to call him,' was as much as Mara would say.

'And your reasons are private,' he concluded.

'My reasons are between Adam and myself.  That doesn't include outsiders.'  Her
cool glance let him know exactly to which category he belonged.

'But it has something to do with the estrangement between the two of you.'  He
watched her arrange the cookies on a plate.  'Adam mentioned he was crippled
in a car accident.'

'Yes, that's right.'  Mara replaced the lid on the cookie jar.

'It's a pity that it had to happen to such a vital man,' Sin commented.

'It's possible that he got what he deserved,' she suggested, knowing how
callous that sounded and not caring.  And she didn't particularly care what he
thought of her for saying it.

His gaze narrowed slightly.  'Do you recent so much having to take care of him?'

'I don't have to take care of him, Mr Buchanan.  I chose to take care of him
because he's the man who fathered me.'  There was a haughty air to the tilt
of her chin.

'It would be perfectly natural for a young single woman to resent the demands 
on her free time to care for her crippled father, especially a young woman
as beautiful as you,' he commented.

'Compliments don't mean anything to me, Mr Buchanan.'  She added the plate of
cookies to the tray.  'I've been around Adam too long not to have learned that
they have little value beyond the moment thay are spoken.'

'You don't care much for your father, do you, Miss Prentiss?'  It was a quiet 
accusation.

'Do you?' she returned.

'I haven't known him very long, but he strikes me as a likeable, intelligent
man,' he stated.

'But you don't know him as well as I do,' Mara replied, indicating that that
was the only explanation she needed to give.

'Mara the bitter.  You were appropriately named, weren't you?' he commented.

'Weren't you?' Mara suggested smoothly.

Laughter rolled from his throat in a low chuckle.  'And I thought you were the
type that turned the other cheek.'

'We all make mistakes, Mr Buchanan,' she murmured.

The sounds of laughter faded, but it still glinted in his eyes.  'Except you,
MissPrentiss?'  An eyebrow lifted in mockng question.

Determined not to let the discussion continue any further, Mara picked up the
coffee tray and turned to him.  'I believe you said you would carry it into
the study.'

The full force of his gaze was directed at her.  'Is the conversation becoming
too much for you?'  Sin guessed accurately.

I'm tired of being a source of amusement for you.'  She didn't mince words in
her answer, letting them be as cold and harsh as her anger.

'You take yourself and life too seriously,' he chided.  'You have to learn to
laugh at it.'

'There are too many things that I don't find very funny, Mr Buchanan.'  Again,

she offered him the tray.  'If you aren't going to carry this in, I will.'

Sin held her challenging look an instant longer before reaching for the tray.
His tanned fingers naturally encountered hers as they took the tray handles
from her grip.  Their contact was hard and warm and brief.  It seemed to leave
an invisible imprint on her skin, because the sensation remained long after the
contact was broken.

Alone again in the kitchen, Mara discovered her cup of coffee had become cold.
She emptied it in the sink and refilled it from the pot.  But she couldn't 
find the same contentment that had preceded Sin's entrance to the kitchen.

The house became too confining, made smaller by the voices of the two men in
the study.  The bright sunlight shining outside became more inviting.  Mara
would have preferred slipping out the back door, but her strong sense of duty
wouldn't permit her to go for a walk without informing her father of her 
ontention.

Taking her heavy plaid parka from its hook, she put it on and walked through the
house to the parlour-turned-study.  Sin was the first to see her when she 
appeared in the double-wide doorway, but she avoided looking at him to direct 
her attention to Adam.

'I wanted you to know I'm going for a walk.  I'll be back in an hour,' she told
him.  'Would you like anything before I leave?  More coffee?'

'Maybe some more cookies?'  Adam suggested with a bright gleam in his eye. 
'Sin sampled them.  They were very good, as usual.'

'The cookies were good,' Sin reaffirmed her fater's statement.

'If you'd like more, I'll get them, but I wouldn't want you to spoil your lunch,
Adam,' said Mara.

'No, you're right.  If I eat any more, I won't want lunch,' he agreed, and 
glanced at Sin.  'Mara's speciality is really lemon pie.  It's always as cool
and tart as its maker.'

Mara turned away.  'I'll be back in an hour.'  She walked to the front door,
never hearing Sin's responseto her father's jibe.
<C 5>
THE middle of November arrived with blustering winds and cold temperatures.
The ground was hard beneath Mara's feet as she trudged along the rutted track
to the cottage, a small sack of groceries under her arm.  It would have been
faster and easier to take the car to deliver the supplies, but they were so
few to carry that she had chosen to walk.

The air was sharp and clear, an invigorating morning punctuated by the puffy
clouds of her breath.  A swirling wind rustled the thick carpet of leaves in
the woods, the dark, skeletal outlines of the tree limbs etched against the
blue of the sky.

This last week Mara had rarely ventured out of the house.  Adam had caught a
cold and she had spent most of her time looking after him.  Her life had been
very sedentary and the exercise of this brisk walk felt good.

Adam's fever had broken in the night.  His temperature had droped to near
normal this morning.  When she had left the house, he had been resting 
comfortably, assuring her that he would probably sleep for an four or so.

Glancing ahead of her, Mara saw the cedar shakes of the cottage roof through 
the dark columns of tree trunks.  She wondered which day Sin would be coming
to the house to visit her father.  Since that first social visit, Sin had
regularly called at the house once a weekend to see Adam.  Mara had no idea
what the two men talked about and never asked.

Nor did she revoice her objections to having Sin Buchanan as a visitor in the
house.  It would have given him too much importance to make an issue of his
visits with her father.  So Mara had spent most of her time ignoring his
presence in the house during his visits.

As she approached the front door of the cottage, she reached into her jacket
pocket for the key.  Although she had continued to run the advertisement for
a housekeeper in the paper, she hadn't had any more replies.  Spending a couple
of hours here Monday and Friday mornings had become part of her routine, another
one of the chores she did on a regular basis.

It required both hands to unlock and open the door.  Setting the grocery sack
on the stoop, she inserted the key in the lock and turned the doorknob at the
same time as the key.  She pushed the door open, slipped the key back in her
pocket and picked up the groceries.

Entering the cottage, she walked across the living room to turn up the 
thermostat only to discover it hadn't been turned down.  She stared at it
for a puzzled instant, then shrugged.  Monday morning was when Adam had woken
up with a chill and a fever.  In her haste to get back to him, she had probably
forgotten to turn the heat down in the cottage after she had cleaned.

She carried the grocery sack into the small kitchen and set it on the counter.
Unbuttoning the cumbersome parka, she slipped it off and draped it on the back
of a kitchen chair.  The nippy walk to the cottage had numbed her senses.  She
had taken the first item out of the sack before she noticed a familiar aroma
in the air.

In disbelief, she glanced at the coffee pot plugged into the wall, the gragrant
smell of fresh coffee coming from its spout.  At almost the same instant she
heard a footstep from the vicinity of the bedroom, and pivoted towards the
sound.

Sin's frame filled the archway to the bedroom.  Clad only in a pair of rough
brown denims, he walked into the kitchen.  The hard, muscled chest looked 
deceptively trim.  His naked skin was the colour and smooth texture of leather
stretched across his build, broken only by the vee-shaped pattern of golden
dark chest hairs.

The frosted steel hair was uncombed, its thickness in attractive disarray.
Lines of sleep had softened the harsh carving of his features, but his eyes
were alert and taking in the look of shock of Mara's face.

'Good morning.'  His greeting sounded so natural that it made her wonder if she
had got her days mixed up.  Was it Friday or Saturday?  No, it definitely was
Friday.

'What are you doing here?'  She recovered enough to demand, then remembered,
'I didn't see your car outside.'

'You didn't look.  My car is there, parked alongside of the cottage,' Sin 
informed her, his steel-blue eyes regarding her with lazy interest.

Alongside the cottage___that explained it, Mara realised.  Since she had walked
instead of driving, her angle of approach to the cottage hadn't given her a
glimpse of the far side where his car was.

'Then you're the one who turned the thermostat up and made coffee,' she 
concluded, relieved that it hadn't been an oversight on her part.

'I must be,' he agreed, 'unless there's a ghost haunting the cottage that you
didn't tell me about.'  His mouth curved into a half-grin.  'Did you think you
were going mad?'

'I...I had a lot of things on my mind,' Mara faltered in her own defence.  'Adam
has been sick with a cold all week.  He's better now.  But it was possible I
might have overlooked a few things on Monday.'

'Not you,' he taunted.  'You're Miss Perfect.'

'Why are you here?'  His biting comment brought a chill to her voice.  'It isn't
Saturday.'

'I decided at the last minute to come up a day early.  Is that all right?'  Sin asked, knowing that he didn't require her permission.  'I don't recall reading
any restriction in the lease that said I didn't have the use of the cottage
seven days a week.'

'Of course there wasn't,' Mara retorted impatiently.  'But you could have let
me know you were changing your routine.'

'I told you it was a last-minute decision.  I didn't think you would appreciate
a telephone call in the middle of the night.'  His explanation held a hint of
challenge.

'The middle of the night,' she unconsciously repeated his phrase.

'Yes, it was after midnight before I decided to drive up here a day early,'
Sin elaborated on his previous explanation.

At that hour of the night, Mara doubted that he was alone.  That thought
prompted another that maybe he hadn't made the journey alone.  She glanced 
beyond Sin to the bedroom where a corner of the sleep-rumpled brown sheets
could be seen.

Sin followed the direction of her look and her thoughts.  'There's no one with
me, if that's what you're wondering.'  Amusement edged the hard corners of his
mouth when her dark gaze flew back to him.

'You've been spending more and more of your weekends alone lately,' Mara
observed.  'Aren't you worried that you might get bored without anyone to
entertain you?'

'It's possible,' he conceded dryly.  'But if it gets too dull around here, I
have the consolation of being able to sharpen my wits with you.'

Why had she ever got involved in a conversation with him in the first place?
Mara wondered angrily.  He took malicious delight in laughing at her, finding
something to pole cynical fun at no matter what she said or did.  She turned
away and began taking out her displeasure of the situation on the items in the
grocery sack.

'I've had a long week, Mr Buchanan. I'm too tired from taking care of Adam to
engage in a battle of words with you,' she issued tightly.

His astute gaze investigated her profile, noticing the strain etched in her
features but unable to guess that he was the cause for most of it.  Her eyes
were large black smudges against the ivory cream of her complexion.  The line
of her finely drawn mouth was tense, her expression rigidly contained to be
without emotion.

Sin walked to where the coffee pot was plugged in only a few feet from her.  
Opening the cupboard door above it, he took out two cups and set them on the
counter.

'Why don't you take a break for a few minutes, Mara, and have a cup of coffee
with me?' he suggested.  'It's fresh and hot.  The groceries can waituntil
later.'

Resentment smouldered that he should suddenly begin using her given name and
pretend a solicitous concern for her wellbeing.  She flashed him an icy look
as he filled the first cup with hot coffee.

'I have no desire to have coffee with you!'  The sharpness of her retort flung
his invitation back in his face.

The pot was set back on the counter as a heavy silence filled the air, charging
the atmosphere.  His steady blue gaze was on her, piercing the cool.

'Is it that you have no desire to have coffee with me...of simply that you have
no desire?'  His question was a low, accusing challenge.

Mara hesitated only an instatn before answering coldly,  'Both.'  She continued
unpacking the sack her movements as brisk and rapid as she could make them
without throwing things around.

'You shouldn't say things like that.'  Sin's voice changed subtly, an 
underfinable quality entering its low pitch.  'It challenges a man to prove 
you're a liar.'

'Which says something about the arrogance of men, doesn't it?'  Mara countered
with contempt.

'Or the trait of a woman to be provocative,' he suggested smoothly.

'I wasn't lying when I said that.'  A loaf of bread was in her hand, and paused
beofre putting it away to turn and confront him.  'And I wasn't trying to be
provocative.'

'Weren't you?'  Sin was closer to her than she had realised.  She started to
take a breath to make a scathing reply to his taunt when his hand touched her
neck.

His fingers began tracing the base of her throat, exploring its hollow, and
all her muscles constricted.  Mara could neither breathe in nor out.  Her 
heartbeat was erratic, speeding up, then slowing down as his fingertips
lingered or moved over her sensitive skin.  Her gaze was locked with his and
she had the sensation of being drawn into the murky blue depths of his eyes.

'I'll bet ice cream doesn't melt in your mouth,' Sin declared in a soft,
taunting voice that somehow managed to caress.

The straight line of his mouth never varied.  There wasn't a hint of a curve
nor asmile.  He seemed oddly detached, as if conducting some simple exercise
that didn't require his concentration.  His fingers began outlining the veed
neckline of her madras blouse.  At the point, they partially entered the 
shadowed valley of her breasts before encountering a button.  Then they started
their upward slant to the base of her throat.

'It doesn't melt.'  Her voice was choked to a husky level by the confusion of
her senses.  'I have to chew it up like food.'

A crazy wild shaking started in herknees.  No matter how she tried, she
couldn't make it stop.  Not as long as he was touching her, she realised.
Initially she had submitted to the caress of his fingers to prove it didn't
affect her.  Now that she knew better, she had to bring it to a close.

Fighting the threatening sensation of weakness, Mara reached up and pushed
his hand from her neck.  Immediately she took a step away and turned her back
to him.  The grip of her fingers had made indentations in the fresh loaf of
bread she held.

'What's the matter?'  Sin asked in a voice that said he knew.

'Nothing's the matter.'  Mara opened a cupboard door to put the bread away.  
She seemed to lack oordination.  Her movements were jerky and out of time.
'I'm simply not interested in sex for the sake of sex.'

'Oh?'  There was a curious, lazy lilt to the sound, a laid-back sort of quality.
'When are you interested in sex?'

Instead of attacking him, her remark had tripped herself.  It was a question
she couldn't answer and she knew she didn't dare try.

'You've had too many celibate weekends recently,' she told him.  'Call Celene
and have her visit you, then your ego can get fed on all her "Sin darlings".'

He tipped back his head, amused laughter rolling from his throat at her sniping
words.  'That becomes old quickly, but I never find it growing dull with you.
Each time I think I have you trapped in a corner, you come charging at me from
another direction.'

'I don't happen to be doing it for your amusement,' she snapped.

'I'm aware of that.'  A trace of a smile lingered, but his look was totally
serious.  'It's a case of self-preservation.  You don't want anybody getting
too close.'

'If you've got the message, why don't you leave me alone?'  Mara challenged
coldly.

But Sin completely ignored that.  'You don't want anyone to be even physically
close to you.  You're a young beautiful woman, a human being.  That's a 
statement, not a compliment,' he added.  'Your body was designed with
procreation as the plan.  Having sex doesn't necessarily go hand inhand with
love.  So how do you suppress your biological urges?'

'I don't see that it's any of your business.'  With curtness, Mara tried to
elude the topic that made her feel so uncomfortable.

Pushing the cupboard door shut on the bread, she reached into the sack for the
new can of coffee.  But when she lifted it out, Sin took it from her hand and
set it on the counter, shoving it out of her reach.

'But I want to know,' he persisted.

An arm braced against the counter prevented her from reaching the coffee can.
When she attempted to ignore him and turn back to the rest of the grocery
items in the sack, his other arm blocked her way.

'How do you ignore the restless yearnings for an unknown something?' he
questioned.

To brace his hands against the counter, Sin was forced to bend slightly.  The
result was to bring his gaze eye level with hers.  It seemed to probe and
bore deep within her to seek out the answer she couldn't voice.  There was
almost more than a foot of space between them, but the width seemed much
smaller.  Mara pressed herself more against the counter until its edge was
digging into the small of her back.

'What do you do about the aching hollow feeling that can gnaw at your insides?'
There was less demand in his question.  'Or the way your body throbs to hold
someone close?  Don't you ever long to be caressed?'

His low, murmured questions were seducing her, awakening all needs and longings
that she usually kept smothered.  They were all surfacing with a new intensity.
She hoped desperately that her mask of poise was in place and this wonderful
bewilderment was well hidden from him.

'And your lips,' his gaze sought their curve and a fluttering weakness started
in her stomach and began to spread, 'haven't they ever inagined the pressure
of another mouth on them?'

Mara shook her head, not in denial of his question but of the wants it was 
causing.  Her sleek, short hair gleamed blue-black in the artificial light
of the kitchen, its waving style sophisticated and becoming.

'Only a saint wouldn't be expected to know the craving to have someone run
their fingers through your hair,' Sin murmured as he too became entrapped in
the sensuous spell of his questions.  His eyes were half-closed, a glow 
burning its way out of their depths.

'I am a saint,' Mara whispered out of desperation.  'Adam will tell you that.'

'No,' Sin didn't believe her.  'You're flesh and blood...the same way I am,
but with a delightful difference.'

He leaned closer, his head tipping naturally to one side as his mouth sought 
the curve of her lips.  Her lashes swept closed, but they didn't shut out the
image of him from her mind or lesson the potent virility that was his trademark.

The kiss began as a slow yet bold exploration of new territory.  Gradually it
began to demand more than passivity from Mara.  She was to be a participant,
not merely a recipient.  After a tentative beginning, she began to warm to
the role.  No longer was she pressing herself against the counter.  All that
space between them seemed unnecessary.

Her fingers trembled uncertainly against his bare chest until they began to
enjoy the feel of his smooth, muscled flesh.  The pressure of his mouth
increased.  The exploration was over and Sin was claiming the territory.

His ahnd curved itself across her back to draw her inside the circle of his 
arms.  Mara flet the hard outline of his bidy pressed against hers, the heat
from it burning through her clothes to her skin.  Sin was no longer leaning
forward, but standing at his full height.  Her head was forced to tilt 
backwards to receive his kiss.

She had the dizzying sensation that she was teetering on the brink of a 
discovery.  She only had to let go to find out what it was.  But she couldn't.
With a moaning cry of regret and relief, she broke off the kiss and strained 
to be free of his embrace.  Sin resisted her attempts for a fleeting second, 
then let her go.

Stepping away from him, she covered her mouth with her hand as if hiding the
very nearly devastating effect of his kiss.  Her breathing was rapid and 
shallow.  She struggled to make it normal and quiet her pounding heart.
Partially succeeding, she took her hand away from her face and lifted her chin
in a defensive denial that anything had changed.  To reaffirm it, she began
unpakcing the groceries again and putting them away.  Sin watched her, but she
pretended she wasn't aware of it.

'What happened, Mara?'  Sin asked quietly.

She presumed he was referring to the kiss and the suddenness with which she
ended it.  'Nothing happened,' she denied withfiegned allofness.

'I don't buy that,' he replied in a hard, decisive voice.  'It had to take
years to get all your feelings and emotions frozen that solidly.  So what 
happened?  Were you jilted?  Did some guy leave you standing on the church
steps?'

'No, to both questions.'  The coffee was put away and Mara began emptying the
carton of eggs into the egg rack in the refrigerator.

'Did you take a lover, the discover he was married?' he persisted.

'No.'  Her control was fraying.  'And if any of the answers were "yes", I still
would have told you "no", because it's none of your business!'

A muscle worked along his jaw as they confronted each other.  'Is your father 
well enough to have visitors?'

The unexpected change of subject caught Mara by surprise.  It took her a moment
to make the adjustment before she could answer.

'Yes, I think so.'

'Good,' he nodded, and raked his fingers through his grey hair as if realising
for the first time that it wasn't combed.  'I'll finish getting dressed and
walk backwith you.'

'What about your coffee?'  It was the first protest that came to mind.  'There's
a full pot here.'

'Unplug it.  I've had all the stimulation I want for one morning without
adding caffine.'  His mouth quirked at the deliberately suggestive reminder of
the kiss.

'It's cold outside.  You'd be better off driving,' Mara tried another tactic.

'I'm getting used to the chill in the air up here.'

'Really?  So had Adam,' she informed him with a cool look.  'He says it's a
case of becoming acclimatised to the perpetual draught of cold air whenever
I'm around.'

'Your father and I share something in common, then, don't we?'  Sin gave her
a sardonic glance and turned away.

As he disappeared into the bedroom, Mara called after him, 'If you aren't ready
by the time I'm finished here, I'm leaving without you.'

There was no response to her warning and she hurried to make it come true.  She
had her coat on and was half way to the front door when Sin joined her.

'I told you I wouldn't wiat for you,' she reminded him.  Before he could accuse
her of fleeing, she added in defence, 'I left Adam alone in the house.  I
don't want to be away any longer than necessary.'

'That's understandable.'  His hooded look seemed willing to give her the 
benefit of the doubt.

When Sin opened the front door, Mara was careful no to brush against him as 
she went by.  The slight flare of his nostrils indicated that he had noticed
her caution.  He stopped to lock the door behind them and Mara started towards
the back trail.

'Not so fast!'  Sin called, a thread of impatience in his voice.

'I told you I wasn't going to wait.'  She didn't check her stride.

After she had taken two more steps, a hand clamped down on her elbow, the
thick padding of her parka sleeve lessening its tight grip, and she was hauled
around to face him.  Her appempt to twist away was thwarted by the hand that
seized her other arm.  Mara wasn't going to stoop to the indignity of struggling
against his superior strength.  She stood silently in his hold, glaring up at
him.

His features had become hardened with anger, his eyes metallic chips of cold
steel.  Her heavy parka didn't lessen the impression the unyielding muscles
of his thighs were making against hers, nor insulate her from the warmth of
his body heat.

'What's the matter with you, Mara?'  Sin demanded, his tone harsh and impatient.
'I assure you I have no intention of dragging you off in the woods somewhere
and raping you, if that's what's frightening you.'

'Truthfully it never ocurred to me that you might be that desperate!' she spat.

He seemed to release much of his anger in an impatiently sighed breath.  'Then
why do I get the feeling you're running from me?'  He released her elbow and
started to slide his fingers through her sleek black hair.

Mara had not recovered sufficiently from his previous caresses to withstand 
another.  She twisted her head away from his hand in rejection of his touch.

'Let me go and leave me alone!'  The instant the demand was out, she was
angry.  'Damn,' she swore softly. 'Why do you always make me sound like some
Victorian virgin?'  Resentment flashed in the look she sent him.

Sin did as he was asked and took a step away from her, a certain grimness to
his mouth.  'I wouldn't worry.  You're neither meek nor mild, two essential
ingredients to be classified in the Victorian era.'

Hiding her clenched fists in the pocket of her jacket, Mara started again
towards the trail.  'I don't know where my place is, but it isn't under any
man,' she declared fighting the shaky feelinginside of her.

'Literally or figuratively, is that it?' Sin taunted.

That's it.'  The flat statement seemed to echo laughingly in her ears.

Mara set a brisk pace, as if trying to escape whatever was pursuing her.
Sin easily kept stride with her, his long legs capable of outdistancing her
if he chose.  But they walked without talking.

Entering the brick house through the rear door, Mara paused to hang up her
coat on the empty hook by the door.  She flicked a glance in Sin's direction
that didn't quite reach his face.  It stopped somewhere between the second
and third button of hos jacket.

'Why don't you take off your coat and hang it on the rack while I see if Adam
is awake?'  Her voice was stilted and brittle after the long, silent walk.

'Thank you, I will.'

Her peripheral vision caught his movement as he started to unbutton his coat,
but she was already walking towards to swinging door that led to the rest
of the house.  Her father's bedroom was on the ground floor.  When she entered
his room, his eyes were closed.  She was half afraid he was asleep.  Uncertain
whether to wake him or let him rest, she walked to his bed.

He opened his eyes and smiled wanly, 'You're back.'

'Yes, how are you feeling?'  Her gaze inspected his face.  She thought his
colour had improved considerably.

'Hungry,' Adam said to confirm her silent assessment.

'I'll fix you some broth.  By the way, you have a visitor,' she added, her
lips curving into a stiff smile.

'A visitor?' he frowned.  'Who---Hello, Sin.'  He was lookingbeyond her to
the door.  'What are you doing here?  Or have I lost a day?'

'You didn't lose a day.  I decided at the last minute to come up a day early,'
Sin explained.

'I'm glad you did.  Come in and sit down---not too close, though.  I don't
want you catching this cold,'  Adam laughed in warning.  He glanced at his
daughter as Sin sat in a straight-backed chair near the foot of the bed.
'Mara was just going to bring me a cup of broth.  Would you like something?
Coffee?  Tea?'

'No, thank you,' Sin refused, and didn't even glance towards Mara as she left
the room.

It was a relief to have her hands and mind occupied with fixing the broth, even
if it was a simple task.  Unfortunately it was too quickly accomplished.
She turned off the heat under the pan and poured the broth into a mug.

Her reappearance in the bedroom brought a momentary lull in their conversation.
She cranked Adam's bed up so he was seated more upright and positioned the
lap table in front of him.

As she walked over to het the cup of broth from where she had left it on a
side table, Sin began speaking to her father.  'I'd thought I would enlist
your expert services this weekend to take me on a tour of the battlefield.'

'Now, I would enjoy that,' Adam replied.

'You probably would.'  Mara set his broth on the table in front of him.  'But
you can't do it this weekend.'

'I feel fine.'  He dismissed her assertion with a positive nod.

'Mara's right.'  The agreement came unexpectedly from Sin.  'It wouldn't be
wise for you to be out as cold as it is.  There's no need to risk a relapse.'

'You're outnumbered two to one, Adam.'  Mara adjusted the pillow behind his 
head to give him more support.

'I may be,' Adam conceded, but I hate to think that Sin is going to miss out on
the tour.
He's in the mood now.  Who knows when he will be again?'  he jested.  I've
got the solution!' he declared, glancing
from Sin to Mara with a bright gleam in his eyes.  'Mara knows almost as 
much as I do about the Gettysburg battle.  She can take you this weekend.'
Holding her breath, Mara shot a quick look at Sin.  Cynicism glittered in
his eyes.  He had known it was the last thing in the world she would want
to do.

'It's thoughtful of you to volunteer your daughter,' Sin replied.  'I'm sure
she probably knows a lot about the battlefield since she's assisted you in
your research.  But I suspect she'll be reluctant to guide me through it.'

'Why?'  There was too much innocence in her father's dark eyes when he looked
at her.  "You showed our cousin from California around the park, and a 
friend of mine from Atlanta.'

Mara wasn't going to explain to Adam that the circumstances were different.
Those other people were virtually strangers to her, whereas Sin-----No, she
wasn't about to explain to her father.

'I wouldn't have any objections to acting as a guide for Mr Buchanan,' she
lied bravely.  'But I have too many things to do this weekend that I wasn't
able to get done during the week.  Also I want to do some baking to get
ready for Thanksgiving.  I wouldn't have enough free time to do justice to
the area until Monday.  I'd want to wait until then anyway to be certain
you've fully recovered.'

'Couldn't you postpone a few of those things?'  Adam argued.

'I postponed too many things while you were sick.'  Mara stood firm.

'That's all right,' Sin offered.  A light was dancing in his eyes.  'Monday
is fine with me.  What time?'

'What time?' Mara repeated, feeling that she had just been swallowed in a
trap.  She glanced at her father, certain he had been part of the conspiracy,
but he looked just as surprised as she was.

'Will you be here on Monday?' he asked with astonishment.

'Yes.  As a matter of fact, I won't be driving back to Baltimore 
until the weekend after Thanksgiving,' Sin told them.

'You didn't tell me anything about that at the cottage,' Mara accused.

'You didn't ask me,' he countered, a dark brow quirking briefly to mock her.
'I intended to mention to you over coffee that you wouldn't need to come
Monday to clean, but we got sidetracked with other issues.  I would have 
remembered to tell you sooner or later,' he shrugged and Mara couldn't help
wishing it had been sooner.  'What time on Monday?' he repeated his earlier
question.

'I don't know.'  Agitated, Mara couldn't find any way out of the mess.
'After lunch, I suppose.  That's when Adam usually rests.'

'After lunch on Monday.  I'll look forward to the tour.'  His smile held a
wealth of complacency.
<C 6>

A FEW minutes after one o'clock on Monday, Sin's silver-grey car turned into
the driveway.  Marahad just finished drying the last of the lunch dishes.
She folded the damp towel neatly and hung it on the rack to dry.  At the
knock on the door, she ran a smoothing hand over her black hair and went
to answer it.

When she opened to door, Sin didn't immediately enter.  His gaze raked her,
lingering briefly on the slimness of her bare legs beneath her dirndl skirt.

'Aren't you going to back out?' he challenged.

'No.'  Mostly because she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.  'Excuse me,
she turned away from the open door, not caring if he came in or stayed outside
in the cold.  'I'll tell Adam I'm leaving.'

As she left the kitchen, Mara heard the door close and guessed that Sin was
waiting inside.  At her father's door, she knocked once and went in.

'I heard the car drive in,' Adam spoke before she did.  'Was it Sin?'

'Yes.  I wanted to let you know I was leaving and double-check to see if
there was anything you needed,' Mara told him.

'Not a thing,' he assured her.  'The telephone is here by the bed.  So are
my notes and books, and a pitcher of water.'

'Are you positive you're feeling all right?'  But he looked so disgustingly
healthy that Mara knew there wasn't much hope.

'I'm fine.'  A knowing smile curved his mouth.  'Sin is waiting for you.
Don't you think you should be going?'

'Yes.'  Her hands felt moist, the nervousness she was trying so hard to
conceal was surfacing.  'If you need anything------'

'I have half a dozen telephone numbers to cover every kind of an emergency,'
he interrupted.  'Have a good time, Mara.'

Sheer perversity made her say, 'I sincerely doubt it.'  She left the bedroom
and retraced her steps to the kitchen.  Sin was waiting near the back door.
His gaze swung lazily to her when she entered.  'I'm ready to leave it you
are,' she said briskly.

'You mean your father hasn't suffered an unexpected relapse?'  He reached 
forward to open the door for her.

'Adam is feeling very fit.'  Taking her full-length winter coat, Mara draped
it over her shoulders and swept past him.  Angry, she was determined to remain
cool in the face of his taunts.

'We'll take my car.'  Sin followed her outdoors.

'Since I'll be doing the driving, I would prefer mine,' Mara insisted.

'Mine is already warm.  I've left the motor running to keep it that way,'
he said.  Besides, it's more comfortable than yours to ride in.  And I'm
sure you're a perfect driver, no matter what car you're in.'

Mara didn't want to waste her energy arguing over which car they were going
to take; she would rather conserve it in case it was needed later.  And she
didn't want to admit she was nervous at the prospect of driving Sin's luxury
model.

The car's heater had kept the interior comfortably warm.  Not needing the
coat, Mara stowed it in the back seat before sliding on to the plushly
upholstered seat behind the wheel.  She quickly studied the dashboard 
while Sin walked around the car to sit in the passenger side.  When he was
safely in and the door was shut, she reversed out of the driveway on to the
road.  The car seemed to practically drive itself, so smoothly did it handle.

'I owe you an apology,' he said after they had gone almost a mile.

'An apology?' she repeated coolly.  'What for?'

'I honestly expected you to come up with some feeble excuse not to take me
on this tour,' he admitted, sliding her a curious glance.

'Were you hoping I'd back out because you were already growing bored with
the idea of touring the battlefield?'  Mara questioned, sparing a glance 
from the road.  'Because if you've changed your mind-----'

"I haven't changed my mind.'  Sin killed that hope.

'It was possible that you only mentioned you wanted to go out of deference
to Adam,' Mara defended her previous suggestion.

'It was partly out of deference to him, and partly out of my own curiosity
to see it with a knowledgeable person to explain to me.  Of course, at the
time I expected that person to be Adam.  It never occurred to me that you
would be the one who would act as my guide,' he told her.

Mara flexed her grip of the steering wheel, feeling a surge of anger rush
through her.  'You tricked me into this!' she accused.

'You volunteered,' Sin reminded her.

'And you know precisely why I volunteered,' she snapped.  'Because I thought
you wouldn't be here today - a vital piece of knowledge that you didn't see
fit to give me.'

'How was I to know it would matter?'  His voice was smooth.  'You sounded
so sincere when you said you would be willing to show me around today.'  Sin
paused to glance at her, but Mara continued to watch the road.  'Do you want
to call off the tour and go back?'

'Oh, no,' she refused in a chilling tone.  'You're going to have a full and
complete tour of the battlefield.'  She was going to see that was all the
satisfaction he got out of this untenable situation.  'How much do you know
about the events leading up to the Battle of Gettysburg?'

'Some, but why don't you refresh my memory?'  he suggested dryly.

'The War between the States was in its third year.  The North had not won a
major victory although General Grant had Vicksburg surrounded and under
siege,' Mara began.  'The morale in the North was very low.  The people
were getting weary of war.  A consensus was growing among the citizenry
of the North that the South should be allowed to secede from the Union -
they wanted to end the war and all the bloody fighting and killing.  Aware
that the North had lost heart, General Robert E Lee turned his warhardened
veteran army north.  He felt a victory on northern soil would win the
Confederacy the needed support of the Europeancountries, and perhaps even
force a peace with the North, so he directed his army of seventy-five
thousand here to southern Pennsylvania.'

'And no one opposed him along the way?'  Sin questioned.

Mara slowed the car as they entered the town of Gettysburg.  'No one.  The
Union knew Lee was moving, but their patrols couldn't locate his army, which
sounds unbelievable when you realise his supply train of wagons was
forty-two miles long.  Both armies knew they would have to meet, but they
didn't know where.They first encountered each other west of Gettysburg,
so that's where we'll start our tour.'

Turning west on Chambersburg Pike, Mara stole a glance at Sin's jutting
profile.  It seemed sculpted in bronze, the strong, male lines emphasised.
The skies outside were overcast, a grey background for the burned silver of
his hair.  He seemed distant, his thoughts elsewhere.  Yet his vitality
was a forceful thing.  Even now it permeated the air surrounding her to
the point where she felt it entering her with eachbreath she took.

At Stone Avenue, she turned and slowed the car to a crawl.  'Here on
McPherson's Ridge is where it all started.  There's a short story that a
group of rebel soldiers intended to make a foray into gettysburg because
they'd heard there was a shoe factory here, and after three years of war,
many of the Confederate soldiers were without shoes or decent clothes.  They
encountered a Union patrol before they entered town and the alarm was
sounded.  The location of Lee's army was discovered and the battle began.'

'For the want of a shoe,' Sin absently quoted the first line of an old
verse, 'a horse was lost.'

As he gazed at the monuments and statues within the fenced enclosure, Mara
moistened her dry lips and struggled to keep her nervousness under control.

'There are hundreds of plaques and monuments scattered over the park,' she
said.  'Whenever you see a statue of a general mounted on a horse, take note
of the position of the horse's feet.  If all four are on the ground, the
general survived the battle unharmed.  If one foot is raised, that general
was wounded.  He was killed in battle if two feet are raised.  It's purely
by coincidence since the statues were done by various sculptors at various
times.  None of them consulted each other - it merely happened.  It's a little
piece of trivia that I thought might interest you,' she concluded.

'Curious,' was his murmured comment.

With a turn of his head, Sin was looking directly at her.  His gaze seemed
to lock on to hers.  Despite the spaciousness of the luxury car, Mara was
vibrantly aware of his close proximity.  His arm was stretched along the
seat-back, his fingers inches from her shoulder.  The broad expanse of his
chest seemed to offer its use as a hard pillow for her head.  A feeling of
intimacy threatened to swamp her.

She wrenched her gaze from his to stare at the road, her lips tightening in
anger.  'Stop looking at me that way,' she demanded.

'What way?'  Sin questioned blandly.

She couldn't answer that, so she changed the subject.  'In the afternoon, the
rebels attacked the right flank of the Union Army north of Gettysburg.  They succeeded in routing
the North and driving them through the streets of Gettysburg.  But instead
of keeping the Union soldiers on the run or taking the high ground of
Cemetery Ridge, the Confederates withdrew and regrouped to wait for Lee,
who was several miles away when the battle started.'

Following the route of the Union's retreat, Mara drove back through town,
pointing out the buildings that still showed the battle scars from that time.
She told Sin how General Hancock had rallied the Northern troops and the
arrival of General Meade and his army after a record-breaking force march.

From Culp's Hill to Little Round Top, she explained the unco-ordinated
attacks by the South the following day on the firmly entrenched Union forces
on the high ground.  Possession of strategic locations seesawed, changing
hands several times.  The failure of the Confederate battle plan to encircle
the Union Army ended the day in stalemate.

As she drove slowly along Confederate Avenue, it seemed fitting that the trees
were stark and bare of leaves and the grasses brown and yellowed with autumn.
A wide, open field stretched before them to Seminary Ridge.

'Since Lee's plan to outflank the Union Army failed the day before, he decided
to send his army straight up the middle of their defences, split them in
half,' Mara recounted.  'This is the field Pickett's men had to cross - no
trees, no cover.  The rebel soldiers were lined up in rows, shoulder to
shoulder, for a mile and a half, facing Seminary Ridge.  You've heard the
story of the Charge of the Light Brigade?  It couldn't match Pickett's Charge.
They marched across this field with Northern soldiers blowing holes in them,
but they didn't stop.  The creeks around Gettysburg ran red with blood.  Less
than an hour later, ten thousand of Pickett's fifteen thousand men were
casualties and they'd failed to take the ridge.'

'Stop here,' Sin ordered, and Mara turned off the highway to parkalongside
of the road.  'Let's get out and walk.'

A cold wind whipped at her as she stepped from the car.  She reached into the
back for her coat and slipped it on.  She didn't bother to button it, holding
the front clased with her hands that were thrust in the pockets.  Sin was
standing a short distance from the car, overlooking the field Pickett's men
crossed.  Mara walked forward to join him.

'Lee was here waiting when the survivors came back,' Mara continued her
narrative in a low voice.  'Some said there were tears in his eyes when he
met them.  He didn't blame them for failing.  He told them it was his fault
because he had believed they were "invincible".  The next day, Lee led the
remnants of his Confederate Army and retreated south.  It was July 4, 1863.'

A brief shiver quaked her shoulders, but it wasn't caused by the cold wind
blowing about her ears.  It was a sober understanding why the Union soldiers
felt no glory in their victory that long-ago day.  It had cost too many lives
on both sides.

Her sideways glance encountered Sin's gaze.  The look in his eyes seemed to
hold a half-formed question, and she was curious to find out what it was.

'Was there something you wanted to ask?' she enquired, keeping her tone
distantly impersonal.

Sin flanced towards the battlefield as if he wasn't going to answer.  He
stood quietly, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind.

'I was just wondering,' he spoke at last, 'whether you were beginning to
believe you were invincible because you've repulsed so many assaults in the
past.'

The surroundings and all the talk about the battle had lulled Mara's senses,
but now they came to full alertness.  Annoyed with herself for permitting
Sin to make a personal comment, she turned towards the car.

'From here we'll drive to the National Cemetery where Lincoln made his
Address,' she tole him.

The restraining touch of his hand on her arm halted Mara and her gaze lifted 
from his hand on her arm to his face in cold challenge.  One side of his
mouth curved upwards in amusement.  She silently cursed him for being so
damned inpregnable.

'You remind me of a turtle.'  Sin eyed her steadily.  'The minute anyone
approaches, you withdraw inside your armoured shell.'  Something flickered
in his look that tripped up the even rhythm of her heartbeat.  'But despite
its hard exterior, a turtle's underside is very vulnerable.'

Entrapped by the light in his eye, she wasn't aware of his hand moving to
slide inside her coat and across her stomach.  She drew a sharp breath of
unwilling enjoyment as his other hand pushed its way inside her coat to
spread his fingers over her skin.

Before the cold air could penetrate the opened front of her coat she was
drawn against the warmth of his solid frame.  Her hands came out of her
pockets to grip the bulging muscles of his arms in a half-hearted attempt
at resistance.  His mouth covered hers with sensual perfection.

The subtle pressure of his kiss sent all repressions fleeing.  At his
invitation, Mara responded freely, her lips parting underthe provocative
insistence of his.  His experience was devastating to her previously 
unbreached defences.

An exploding desire flamed through her nerves, her body quivered in the 
pleasurable aftershock.  The intimate caress of his hands over her soft
flesh was igniting new sensations that fevered her racing pulse.  Under his
touch, her breasts seemed to swell to fit the cup of his hand.

When his breath fanned her already hot skin.  Sin paused near her ear to nip
sensually at the lobe, then explored the pulsing vein in her neck all the
way to the sensitive hollow of her throat.  The quivering weakness he evoked
was delightful.

A car went by.  Had there been more?  In her shattered condition, Mara wasn't
sure.  It gradually penetrated her dazzled mind that they were standing out
in the open, in plain view of anyone who drove past.

Her sense of propriety struggled with her new wildly sweet emotions and won.
Twisting her head towards her shoulder, she blocked his stirring exploration
of her neck and throat. She didn't have the strength nor the will to slip
out of his arms, but she was able to elude the attempt of his compelling
mouth to retake possession of her lips.

'Stop!'  Her husky voice betrayed the disturbed state of her senses, a
condition that didn't improve as she felt his lips moving against her silky
hair.  'Sin, people can see us!'

After an instant's hesitation he slowly lifted his head, his hands sliding
to her waist.  Mara felt the tenseness of his muscles, his reluctance
communicated to her along with the sheer power of his control.  She kept
her face averted from his much too observant slate-blue eyes, not wanting
him to see how thoroughly he had conquered her.

The feel of his gaze and the touch of his hands were too unnerving.  She
pushed at his arms, wanting to be released, but lacking the will to achieve
freedom on her own.  As his hold loosened, she turned away and put distance
between them with a hurried step.  She pulled the front of her coat together
as if by doing so she could erase the invasion of his hands.

But nothing could erase the way her had aroused emotions she had intended
to remain forever dormant.  A spurious glance in h is direction caught his
calculating look.  Sin was aware of it: she could read the knowledge in the
repvocative depths of his eyes.  Never had she felt so transparent and never
had she loathed the sensation more.

As she walked swiftly to the car, she stared blindly in front of her and
refused to ler her gaze wander to Sin.  She was inside the car before she
realised she had climbed in on the passenger side.  Rather than admit she
had been too shaken by his embrace and its aftermath to know what she was
doing, she stayed where she was.

When she reached out to pull the passenger door shut, Sin's hand was there
to temporarily halt it.  'Aren't you driving?'  His voice was too bland for
it to be an enquiry.  It was much too knowing.

Mara wouldn't look at him.  'You drive.'  A tug of the door pulled it out of
his yielding grasp.

Her hands were clenched tightlyin her lap, betraying the strain she was
under, as Sin walked around the car to the driver's side.  After starting
the motor, he paused to look at her.

'You'll have to give me directions to the cemetery.  I don't know how to
get there from here,' he said.

Mara still wouldn't meet his gaze as she stiffly faced the front of the car,
'We aren't going to the cemetery.  The tour is over, so you can drive me
home.'

She half expected an argument or, at the very least, some taunting comment,
but there was none forthcoming.  Sin shifted the car out of parking gear
and turned it on to the road.  As they drove away, Mara turned her head
to look out the side window at the field of Pickett's Charge parallelling
their route.  She knew what it was like to believe yourself invincible,
only to be defeated by a superior force.

The drive back seemed extraordinarily long.  With each passing mile, the
silence grew more oppressive and the atmosphere more charged.  The air
seemed to crackle with the volatile undercurrents.  Sin Buchanan was the
epitome of everything Mara detested in the male gender, and the intensity
of her dislike increased with each minute she was forced to endure his
presence.

The wooded landscape became more familiar as they approached the red brick 
farmhouse.  When it came into sight, Mara's nerves seemed to scream with
relief.  But Sin didn't slow the car at the driveway.  Instead he continued
along the gravelled road.

'You've missed the driveway.'  Mara turned in her seat to look back at it.
'Where areyou going?'  Her tone hovered between an accusation and a demand,
desperation gnawing at her stomach.

His gaze left the road long enough to slide over her face in quick
assessment.  'You seem shaken by our ...tour.'  Deliberately he hesitated
over the cause and chose the wrong reason to prove he knew the true one.
'I thought we'd have some coffee at the cottage so you could have time to
recover.'

Mara was fully aware of what would happen at the cottage.  His seduction of
her would continue, this time in total privacy and before she had a chance
to recover her equilibrium.  Conscious as she was of the crazy upheaval the
prospect was igniting within her, there was no way she was going to
accompany him to the cottage.

'I thought I'd made it clear before, Mr Buchanan, that I don't want ...
coffee with you.  Turn the car around and take me home,' she ordered in a
frigid voice, iced by an admitted fear of what might happen.

'Mr Buchanan?'  He arched an amused eyebrow in her direction.  'I much
prefer it when you call me Sin.  You had no difficulty with the name earlier.'

Had she called him Sin?  With hot awareness, Mara realised she had, and
his arrogant reminder of the fact increased her anger.

'Turn the car around, Mr Buchanan.'  She stiffly reminded him that he
hadn't compiled with her order and addressed him formally to affirm her
previous usage.

With an expressive shrug of his shoulder, Sin used the lane to the cottage
to turn into and reverse the car.  His manner suggested he felt there
would be future opportunities to pursue his objective, namely her.

'If you want to have coffee at the house, that's all right with me,' he
said, slowing the car down this time to turn into the driveway.  'I only
thought you wouldn't want Adam to see you in your present state.'

'Adam has nothing to do with this.  And I'm not inviting you in for coffee.
Why should I?' she challenged.  'I don't even like you!'

The car had stopped beside the house.  As Mara turned to open her door,
Sin's hand captured her chin and twisted it around so that she faced him.

'At the moment, it's yourself that you're not liking very much, not me,'
Sin informed her with an indolent tilt of his mouth.

Before she could jerk away, he was planting a hard, punishing kiss on her
lips for lying to herself.  The searing fire of his mouth was removed
without her having an opportunity to resist it.  That knowing light was
in his eyes as he surveyed her widened look.

It goaded her into responding, 'Don't ever come to the house again unless
you're invited ... or it's in connection with some business about the
cottage.'

With the cold order issued, Mara climbed out of the car and slammed the
door.  Her shoulders were rigidly squared and her spine ramrod straight as
she wlaked to the house.  She didn't look back when she heard Sin reversing
out of the driveway.  She knew his expression would be one of amusement.

Inside the house, she had barely had time to take off her coat before her
father was calling, 'Mara, is that you?'

Irritation rippled through her.  She was not being allowed even a moment to
marshall her composure.  Smothering a sigh, she draped her coat over a
hanger and hung it up.  Adam was bound to ask about the tour and Sin, and
attempting to postpone his questions would only heighten his curiosity.

'Yes, it's me, Adam,' she answered, her voice raising to make itself heard.

Knowing he expected her to come to his room, she started in its direction.
In front of a mirror, she paused to glance at her reflection.  The slight
flush to her complexion could be blamed on the cool temperature outside,
but she could think of no defence for the troubled darkness of her brown
eyes or her still unsteady pulse.  She hoped they were two things Adam
wouldn't notice.

'You're back early, aren't you?' he frowned curiously when she appeared in
the doorway to his bedroom.

'As chilly as it was outdoors, we didn't spend much time walking around.  A
driving tour of the battlefield doesn't take very long,' she offered an
explanation.

'Even driving, you made record time,'Adam went on.  'You couldn't have
taken Sin on a very conprehensive tour.'

'I skipped a few places,' admitted Mara, trying not to be too defensive.
'He wasn't all that interested in the tour to degin with.'

'Where is Sin?' Adam glanced behind her as if expecting to see him.  'Didn't
you invite him in for coffee?'

'Certainly not!' She snapped out the answer, her memory too fresh with Sin's
invitation, supposedly for coffee.

'That wasn't very considerate.'  The sharpness of reprimand was in his voice.

'Why?  He had his tour.'  And more, she could have added, because he'd had
more than she had intended for him to receive.

'I would have thought you'd feel a certain sense of obligation----' Adam
began.

Provided with the opening, Mara attacked in order to divert the conversation.
'You know nothing about obligation, Adam.  That and duty and loyalty are
three words that aren't in your vocabulary.'

His handsome features hardened in anger.  'No? I think I have a better
understanding of their meaning than you do.'

'Ha!'  It was a contemptuous sound.  'I suppose the way you were able to
twist their meaning is what enabled you to desert Mother and me.'

'I never deserted either of you,' he retorted harshly.  'My sense of duty
and obligation is what prompted me to make your future and your mother's
secure from financial worries.  Rosemary always came first in my loyalty
and devotion because she was the mother of my child--you.'

'You can't expect me to believe that,' Mara hurled.  'Your attempts to
justify the way you behaved are sickening!'

'If you're sickened by anything, it should be what you've become,' accused
Adam.

'What I've become?'  Mara repeated with haughty disdain.

'Yes, you with your high and mighty airs.  You've put yourslef up on some 
pedestal and encased yourself in marble.'  His brown eyes regarded her
with disgust.  'You have no feelings, no emotions, no heart.  If you weren't
my daughter, I would dispise you.  As it is, I can't make up my mind whether
I pity you or myself.'

Mara whitened underhis stinging attack.  'I don't need your pity,' she
rejected.

'No, you don't need anything,' Adam agreed in a colder tone than she had
ever used.  'And I thank God I'm not you.  Because I need, and I feel, and
I'm alive.  But you're a bitter shadow of a woman, with no substance and
no value.'

'How can you say such things to me?'  Tears burned the back of her eyes,
but she refused to let them escape.

'It hurts, Mara.  Believe me, it hurts to say it.'  There was pain in his
face.  'I'd give anything if I had a daughter who would run to this bed
and fling herself in my arms, a daughter who would cry and ask, "Daddy,
why did you leave me when I loved you so?"'

A tightness gripped her throat.  'How would you answer that?'

'I don't know.'  Adam gave her a level look.  'I've never had a daughter
who came to me and asked that question.  Only a daughter who's capable of
love and emotion could ask it.  If she was capable of feeling, she would
probably understand my answer.'

'What you mean is she'd be gullible enough to be taken in by your lies.'
Despite the bitterness of her answer, Mara was being torn in two.  His words
were appealing to the emotions Sin had aroused.  She felt herself weakening.
The instant the words were our, she heard herself retracting them.  'I
didn't mean that, Adam.'  Turning away from him, she managed a confused,
'I don't know what I mean any more.'

As she blindly fled his bedroom, she heard his murmured, 'That's a beginning.'
<C 7>
The confrontation had left an unexpected state of neutrality in its wake.
Mara couldn't explain it.  She only knew she couldn't summon her previous
aloofness when she was around her father.  One of the barriers she had
erected had fallen down, but she hadn't discovered which one it was.

Opening the oven door, she pulled out the shelf holding the roaster pan on
it and basted the turkey it contained.  Its succulent flesh was a rich
golden brown.  An aromatic blend of sage and giblet stuffing filled the
kitchen, emanating from the cavity of the bird.

Beside the roaster was a pan of candied sweet potatoes.  Cooling on the
kitchen counter was a pumpkin pie.  On top of a burner on the stove, peas
were simmering in a pan.  The refrigerator contained a relish tray and
cranberry salad.  The menu for the nontime meal was that of a traditional
Thanksgiving dinner.

'Mmm, something smells good,' her father declared as he rolled his
wheelchair into the kitchen.  'How long before dinner is ready?'

I'm just waiting on the turkey and the sweet potatoes.'  Mara slid the
shelf into the oven and closed the door.  'Another half hour or so, and
they'll be done.'

'When are you going to set the table?' Adam questioned.

'I have.'  She absently motioned to the one in the kitchen while she
searched for the right size lid to fit the pan holding the peas.

'Since it's Thanksgiving, don't you think we should eat in the dining
room?' he suggested.  'It's a special day and a special dinner, turkey
and all the trimmings.'

'I suppose we could.'  Finding the lid, she covered the pan and turnedoff
the heat to let the peas steam cook.  'I want to put the dinner rolls in
the oven first, then I'll set the table in the other room.'

'You don't need to.  I'll do it,' Adam volunteered, and wheeled his chair
to the kitchen table.  'We'll need another place setting, though.'

'What?'  Mara frowned in confusion.  Her first thought was that she had
inadvertently put a dirtied plate on the table believing it to be clean.

'There are only two settings here.'  Adam stacked the two plates on his
lap and laid the silverware on top of them.  'We need another.'

'For who?'  She stiffened, already guessing the answer.

'For whom?' he corrected her grammar.

'You didn't invite Sin Buchanan for dinner?' she accused.  She hadn't seen
Sin since Monday and she wanted to keep it that way.

'Yes, I did,' said Adam as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world
to do.

'Well, you can just uninvite him!'  She slammed the cupboard door after
taking out the sheet pan for the dinner rolls.

'Mara!'  He clicked his tongue at her in teasing remonstration.  'Where
is my charitable daughter with the halo circling her head?  It's a holiday,
a time to sit down with your fellow man and give thanks for the bountiful
goodness we've been granted.'

'I am not sitting at any table with him.'  Her angry denial lacked its
usual conviction.  She frowned and wondered where her vehemence had gone.

'It's Thanksgiving.  Here Sin is in Pennsylvania, without any family or
close friends.  Would you really make him eat his holiday dinner alone?'
It wasn't really a question.  'There's so much turkey and food, the two
of us couldn't possibly eat it all.  We'll be having leftovers for a week.
It isn't as if we can't spare th food.'

'I never said it was,' she protested.

'The Pilgrims sat down to dinner with the Indians.  Surely you can sit at
a table with Sin?'  His whole manner was one of teasing as opposed to
deriding.

Mara found it difficult to take offence at his attitude.  'And if I can't?'
She tried to challenge him with her usual coldness, but her tone fell short
of its mark.

'It seems to me you have two choices,' her father answered.  'Either you
can eat in the kitchen while Sin and I have dinner in the dining room.  Or
else you can tell him he isn't welcome here for dinner.  You'd better make
up your mind, because here he is now.'

His last statement was followed immediately by a knock on the door.  Adam
had seen Sin's approach through the door's window.  Mara pivoted sharply
towards the sound.

'Why did you wait until the last minute to tell me you'd invited him?' she
hissed at her father, irritated because he had done it deliberately so she
wouldn't have time to think of an adequate ascape.  'You knew I wouldn't
like it.'

He merely smiled.  'You'd better answer the door.'

Mara flashed him an angry look as she walked to answer the second knock.
In a fleeting moment of vanity, she was glad she had changed into the
cranberry wool dress she was wearing.  It was a fitting choice for the
holiday dinner, plus it was highly complimentary to her dark colouring.
The minute she realised what she was thinking, Mara pushed the thought
aside.  Why should she suddenly care that she looked particularly attractive?

Her heart was beating a crazy tattoo against her ribs when she opened the
back door.  This traitorous betrayal by her body upset her.  It was reflected
in the troubled darkness of her eyes.

The reaction was mild compared to the sudden acceleration of her pulse
when she faced Sin and met his steel-blue eyes.  He, too, had dressed
for the occasion in a corduroy suit of charcoal grey, a shade that enhanced
the burnished silver mane of his hair.

'I was invited to dinner today.'  Sin gave faint emphasis to the verb to
let her know he remembered her order not to come to the house unless he
had been invited.
'Yes, I know,' she admitted.  'Adam neglected to let me know until a few
minutes age that he'd asked you to join us for Thanksgiving dinner.'
Indecision warred within her as she continued to stand in the doorway,
the cold November air chilling her skin.

'I see.'  Sin took a step backwards as if in anticipation of his invitation
being cancelled.

His apparent willingness to accept her decision forced Mara to second her
father's invitation of feel excessively churlish.  'It doesn't matter.
There's more than enough food for three of us.  Please come in, Mr Buchanan.'
She used the formal terms of address to let him know the invitation did not
change their relationship.

His hooded gaze gave her a considering look as he inclined his head in polite
acceptance.  'Thank you.'  After Mara had stepped out of the way, he entered
the kitchen to greet her father.  'Hello, Adam.  How are you feeling?'

'I'm glad you couls come, Sin,' her father replied with a veiled twinkle in
his eyes.  'Im fully recovered from the cold.  My only problem now is hunger.'

'A problem not helped by the appetising aroma in the air,' Sin sympathised.

It was an indirect compliment to Mara's cooking, but she pretended not to
hear it.  She feigned a studied concentration in arranging thedinner rolls
on the sheet pan, her back turned to Sin.

'I'll need that third place setting for the table, Mara,' her father reminded
her.  'Would you hand it to me?'

Mara felt about as comfortable as a pincushion.  Wiping her hands on a
towel, her took a plate from the cupboard and silverware from the drawer
and handed them to her father.

'Never mind the glasses,' Adam instructed.  We'll use the crystal goblets
from the china closet in the dining room.'  Turning his chair, he was careful
not to let the plates slip from his lap.  'We have time for a glass of sherry
before dinner, Sin.  Or something stronger, if you like.'

'Sherry is fine,' Sin glanced enquiringly to Mara.  'Will you join us?'

'No.'  Her refusal was quick, self-consciously so.  'Thank you, but I'd
better stay here in the kitchen where I can watch the turkey.'

Neither man argued the necessity with her and Mara was left alone in the
kitchen.  Listening to their voices in the dining room, she put the dinner
rolls in the oven to brown and checked the turkeys oncemore.  She pottered
around, finding excuses not to join them in the other room until it was
time to start carrying the dishes of food in to set on the table.  Even
then Mara tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, not wanting to call Sin's
attention to her.  When she carried the turkey in on its platter, the
men were seated at the table.  She started to set the turkey in front of
her father to carve.

'Let Sin do it,' he told her.  'He's more mobile than I am.'

A protest hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she knew his suggestion
was practical.  Reluctantly she walked over to Sin's chair.  Her shoulder
brushed against his as she reached in front of him to set the platter
down.  The contact burned along her nerve ends, searing them raw.  But Sin
appeared impervious to it.

For Mara, it heightened an awareness that was already too high.  She found
herself unable to take part in the table conversation.  Any attempt by
either her father or Sin to  include her in it was usually met by a
stilted response.

The food, for all its appetising taste, invariably seemed to become lodged
in her throat, and she was glad she had kept her portions small.  Her
discomfort was increased by the way her gaze kept straying to Sin's
strong hands.  She kept remembering how they had caressed her flesh,
skillfully arousing her desire.  Just thinking about it sparked a similar
response.

It was a relief when her plate was sufficiently clean that she could claim
her hunger was satisfied.  In truth, it had ceased toexist when Sin had
entered the house.

'Excuse me.'  She rose from her chair.  'While you finish, I'll dish up the
dessert.'

'Pumpkin pie?'  Adam darted her a questioning look.

'Of course,' she nodded.

'With some whipped cream to go with it, I hope,' he tacked on.

'Yes.  I still have to whip it, but it won't take long,' Mara promised, and
retreated to the relative security of the kitchen.

With an electric mixer, she whipped the cream into stiff peaks.  She added
sugar and vanilla and whipped it again. The swinging of the kitchen door
drew her gaze.  Sin walked in, carrying the dinner plates.

'Clearing away some of the dishes seemed the least I could do to show my
appreciation for an excellent meal,' he said to explain his action.

His appearance reduced her composure to chaos.  She riveted her attention
on the bowl of whipping cream and beaters whirring in its foam.

'Thank you.'  Her response was brittlely unnatural.  'I'll bring the dessert
in shortly.'

'I'll help you carry it in,' Sin volunteered,walking to the counter where
she was working.

The pie was already sliced, individual pieces on the dessert plates.  All
that was left to de was add a generous spoonful of whipping cream to the
pie.  As Sin paused beside Mara to watch her finish beating it, her sensitive
radar sounded the alarm at his closeness.

'It really isn't necessary,' she tried to deny his assistance and continued
presence.

'I don't mind.'  He dismissed her protest as nothing more than a polite
gesture not to be taken seriously. 'Besides, I wanted to thank you privately
for asking me to have dinner with you in spite of Adam's oversight.'

'It wasn't my idea to invite you.'  She wanted that clear.  Normally she
would have whipped the cream another couple of minutes, but Sin's nearness
prompted her to turn off the mixer.  Under the circumstances, it was
sufficiently blended.

'I am aware who issued the invitation,' he replied dryly.  'At the time, I
wondered if you were.  But you could have vetoed it and you didn't.  So
thank you.'

'You're welcome.'  It was a polite phrase to end the discussion.

Trying desperately to ignore him, Mara removed the beaters from the mixer.
Foamy peaks of whipped cream clung to the mixer blades.  She wiped the
excess from them with her forefinger, the bulk of it dropped into the
bowl.  Some remained on her finger.

When she started to wipe it on a towel, a hand closed around her waist,
strong fingers overlaping her slender bones.  The fingertip with the
whipped cream was lifted to his mouth.  Her heart catapulted to beat
somewhere in the region of her throat as Sin slowly and erotically
licked the whipped cream from her finger.

All the while, his gaze held hers.  Mara felt herself drowning in the
unfathomable depths of his blue eyes.  She was being pulled down, down,
with no hope of being rescued and no will to care.

'Stop it, Sin,' she whispered the choked plea.

Satisfaction glinted briefly in his expression, but he didn't let go of her
wrist.  'Stop it, Win?' he demanded that she repeat his given name.

'Sin,' Mara breathed in surrender.

She was already swaying towards him when his mouth began its descent to her
lips.  An iron band encircled her waist to flatten her breasts against his
chest.  The hungry dominance of his kiss whetted her own appetite, and her
arms curved around his broad shoulders to the hard cuscles of his back.

Sin tasted the completeness of her response and demanded more, stimulating
her to a passion that left her weak at the knees.  When she was utterly
his to command, Sin untangled his mouth from her clinging eager lips.
Bewildered by his withdrawal, she looked up at him in confusion.  Her
silent appeal drew a light, totally unsatisfying kiss.

'Adam will be wondering what's happened to the dessert,' Sin offered in
explanation.  'We'd better take it in to him.'

Dessert?  Adam?  Could he possibly care about either of them?  They were
the farthest thing from her mind at the moment!  Only the realisation of
how openly she had revealed her emotions to him made her withdraw from
his arms.

Her hands trembled as she tried to spoon the whipped cream on to the
pumpkin pie.  She felt slightly intoxicated, a warm heady glow that
temporarily cushioned her against the repercussions of her response.

When all three slices of pie had their allotted dobs of whipped cream,
Sin picked up two of them leaving Mara to carry her own into the dining
room.  She accompanied him into the adjoining room trancelike, not caring
about the dessert in her hand nor wanting to eat it.  It was what he
expected her to do and she did it.

'I was beginning to wonder where you were,' Adam commented when they
appeared.  'What took so long?'

'It was my fault.'  It was Sin who answered, negating the need for Mara to
think of an answer.  He set one of the dessert plates in front of Adam,
then politely held out Mara's chair for her.  His gaze briefly met hers,
suggestively and intimately.  'I was sampling some of the cook's wares.' 
He glanced briefly at her mouth before he turned to smile smoothly at her
father.

Mara kept her eyes downcast to avoid the curiouslook Adam directed her way.
She knew what 'wares' Sin had sampled, and she hadn't yet recovered from
the 'sampling'.  It was a relief that the pie didn't require much effort
to eat, because she was capable of expending little.

With the dessert finished, her father leaned back in his wheelchair.  His
hand patted his stomach in appreciative fullness.

'Ah, that was a delicious meal, Mara,' he declared.

'There's more pie,' she offered.

'I can't eat another bite.  What aboutyou, Sin?'  Adam asked.

'I've had enough.  And it was very good, Mara, all of it.'  Sin too extended
his compliments, but in her sensitive state, Mara wondered if his remark
held a double meaning.  It was difficult to tell.  Trite phrasesescaped her,
so she simply nodded an acceptance.

'There is one thing I'd like,' her father stated.  'Coffee.'

'I've made a fresh pot.  Why don't the two of you have your coffee in the
living room?' Mara suggested, adding hurriedly, 'That way I can clear the
table without stumbling over you.'

'Have coffee with us first,' Sin invited.  'The dishes will wait.  I'll
help you with them later.'

'No.'  She refused his assistance in a rush, but her hasty rejection
bordered on rudeness and she stried to lessen her bluntness.  'Thank you,
but I don't care for any coffee right now.'  Rising from her chair to
eliminate any discussion of her decision, she began stacking the dessert
plates.  'Go ahead into the living room.  I'll bring your coffee directly.'

As Adam rolled his chair away from the table, Mara carried the dishes into
the kitchen.  The kitchen door was making its pendulum swing behind her
when it was pushed open.  Mara glanced over her shoulder to see Sin
following her with the glasses and silverware she hadn't been able to carry.

'Thanks for bringing that in.'  Her words were lies.  The last thing she
wanted was to be alone with him again.

'I told you I would help,' Sin reminded her.

Hurriedly Mara arranged china cups and saucers on a tray.  'Good.  You can
carry the coffee into the living room and save me a trip.'  She began filling
the coffee server with the freshly brewed liquid.

'You don't need the second cup on the tray.  I'm not having my coffee now,'
he said.  I'll have mine with you after we've cleaned everything up.
Would you like me to wash or dry the dishes?'

'Neither.'  Her reply was abrupt.  'I'd rather do it by myself.  I know
where everything is and where it belongs.'

'You cooked the meal.  It isn't fair that you have to clean up the mess
afterwards byyourself,' he argued smoothly.

'I'm used to it.  Believe me, it doesn't bother me.'  Not a tenth as much
as you do, Mara thought.

'It bothers me,' Sin reasoned.

'Adam would like you to have coffee with him.  You're his guest,' she
pointed out tightly.  'Please, join him in the living room.  He'll enjoy
your company.'

'Meaning you won't?' he questioned with faint challenge.

'No.'  Mara added the sugar bowl and a spoon to the tray.  Picking it up,
she turned to face him, her gaze faltering under his disbelieving look.
'Will you take this in or shall I?'

'I'll take it in.'  Before he did, Sin removed the second cup and set it
on the counter.  'But I'll be back to help.'

'No.'  But Sin had already disappeared through the swinging door.  Mara
turned towards the sink, her teeth clenched in exasperation and a feeling
of helplessness.

Where was her armour?  What had happened to the invisible walls that usually
protected her from outside forces?  They seemed to have crumbled under his
onslaught.  Her hands gripped the edge of the kitchen counter as she sought
wildly for something that would shield her from his powerful magnetism.

At the sound of footsteps approaching the door, Mara grabbed for the apron
on a rack and tied it around her waist.  She was at the sink filling it
with water when Sin walked in.

'If you're going to do the washing, that leaves me to dry,' he observed.
'Where are the dish towels?'

'It's thoughtful of you to help, but I can't let you.'  She spoke slowly
and concisely to keep her fragile control from snapping.  'You're liable
to get something on your suit and ruin it.'  She grasped at a straw of
an excuse.

'I'll wear an apron, like you're doing.'  His calm voice sounded determined
to counter her every argument.

'Don't be ridiculous!' she flashed.

'I'm not.  You are,' he stated.

'Why don't you get it through you head that I don't want you to help me?'
she demanded, feeling the frayed edges of her nerves give way.

'Why don't you stop being so damned obstinate?'  He crooked a finger under
her chin to turn her face to his.

The touch was her undoing.  She jerked free of it.  'Don't you understand
that I don't want to feel the way you're making me feel?' she stormed.

'Why?'  He studied the lights blazing in her eyes with an air of curiosity.
'Because you suddenly realised you're vulnerable?'

'I don't know.  And I don't care.'  Mara dismissed his suggestion as
unimportant.  'I just want you to leave me alone.'

He released a breath of amusement.  'But will you promise to leave me
alone?' he challenged.  'Sexual attraction is something of a common
denominator.  No one is completely immune to it'.

'Sex has nothing to do with it,' she lied.

'Not yet,' Sin agreed.

And Mara felt herself being drawn into the force field of a fowerful magnet.
'I'll buy back your lease on the cottage,' she rushed.  'Whatever amount
you say.  I don't care.  I want you out of it.  I want you out of my life!'

Her voice had been raising in volume, in direct proportion to the panic
racing through her veins.  She had been so intent on the dange before her
she didn't hear the whirring of the wheelchair.

Adam pushed the door to the kitchen open, frowning at the pair of them as
he entered.  'What's going on?  You sounded as if you were shouting in here?
What's the problem?'

Mara pivoted to her father, her body quaking withoutit usual cold control.
'Get him out of here!' she ordered, pointing at Sin.  'Get him out of this
kitchen!  Out of this house!'

Shooting a questioning look at Sin, Adam's expression was both puzzledand
concerned.  'Sin, I think you'd better-----'

'I think your daughter and I ought to thrash this out in private,' Sin 
interrupted.

'No!'  The denial exploded from Mara.  'We have mothing to discuss!  I don't
want you here!  I don't need you here!'

'That's where you're wrong.'  He was an immovable object as solid as
granite.

She glared at her father, daring him to take sides against her, to desert
her agaon as he had done in the past.  His measured look took in her
expression and the implacable features of Sin.  He seemed distantly
pleased by some secret thought.

'Sin, it would be best if you come with me.  From past experience, I can
tell you that Mara's not in a mood to listen to reason.'  Adam turned his
chair and pointed it at the door, confident that Sin would follow him.

Sin hesitated, his flinty gaze seeming to warn her that she hadn't seen
or heard the last of him.  Half turning, he picked up the cup and saucer
sitting on the counter, the one that had been on the coffee tray.

'Adam is right.'  His gaze levelled on her once more before he followed
her father.  'Sometimes it's wiser to lose one battle in order to win
the war.'

As he walked out of the room, victory tasted bitter in her mouth.  She
turned her back on the door and closed her eyes tightly to shut out the
tears.  Silent, heaving sobs rached her shoulders.  Her teeth bit into
her lower lip to hold back any sound.  Inside, everything was in a
turnoil of pain, anguish, and confusion.

All these turbulent emotions had become foreign to her.  She had never
indulged in such displays before, not even in the privacy of her room.
She had kept these locked away.  Somehow Sin had acquired the combination.
She felt as if he had just opened Pandora's box.  Now that everything was
being released, she wasn't sure she would be able to bring it under her
control again.

The feelings Sin aroused whenever he was near her or touched her were
new to her.  Sexual attraction, he had called it.  Mara wanted no part of
it under any label.  She couldn't handlethe havoc it created within.

When the tempest finally subsided, Mara was weak and shaky from the
storm.  It took longer than usual to wash the dishes and put the kitchen
back in order.  Once it was accomplished, a blessed numbness had
enveloped her.

With its questionable protection, she abandoned the sanctuary of the
kitchen to join her father in the living room.  She felt capable of
confronting Sin again, unaware of the unusual pallor of her complexion
or the vulnerable roundness of her brown eyes.

Their conversation ended the minute she entered the room, and Sin's
gaze swung leisurely to encompass her.  His whole bearing was one of
total relaxation, leaning back in his chair, his long legs crossed.
Behind his unreadable expression, Mara had the impression of alertness.

'Are you still here?'  The numbness kept her voice falt and indifferent
despite her challenging words.  'I would have thought you'd have left by
now.'

'If you want some coffee, Mara,' her father interceded, 'I'm afraid you'll
have to freshen the pot.  Sin and I have pretty well emptied it.'

'You should have said something about it.  I would have brought you some
more,' she returned smoothly.

'Adam and I became engrossed in our conversation.'  There was a suggestion
of a lazy frawl to Sin's voice as he watched her arrange their cups on the
coffee tray with an air of detachment.  'We were discussing a very
interesting topic.'

'Were you?'  Her reply carried no interest in their subject matter.

'Yes, Adam and I have been talking about youand your ... background.'

His statement seemed to hover in the air before its implication began
to sting.  'It's bad manners to talk about people when they aren't around
to defend themselves,' Mara reacted in bristling defence.

'My apologies.'  The indolent quirk of his mouth made a cockery of his
alleged sincerity.  'The next time we'll make it a group therapy discussion.'

'I'm not interested in your brand of therapy,' she retorted, all too
conscious of the forms it might take.

'Adam and I have come to the conclusion that you're something of a coward.'
Sin didn't even glance at her when he passed on the information.  His
attention was concentrated on the flame of his lighter licking the end
on the cigarette between his lips.

'What?'  Mara's astonishment was exceeded by her anger.  She stared at her
father in wordless accusation.

'It's presently only a theory,' Adam offered in consolation.

'Yes,' Sin agreed.  'It hasn't been put to a hard test yet.'

A crazy hurt was beginning to spread through her, though she tried to
deny that either of the two men in the room had anything to do with it.

'I'm not interested in your theories or tests,' she insisted.  'Would
you like some more coffee?'

'None for me, thank you,' her father refused.

'I don't care for any either.'  Sin exhaled a trail of smoke that drifted
upwards to obscure his features.  'I know I'm repeating what I've said
before, but the meal was delicious, Mara.'

'Thank you,' She tried to conceal her surprise that he had allowed her to
change the subject.

'You're most welcome.'  There was a hint of arrogant amusement in the
slight nod of his head.  As Mara picked up the coffee tray to carry it to
the kitchen, Sin continued, 'As a matter of fact, I'd like to return
your hospitality and invite you to have dinner with me on Saturday night.'

She darted him a wary liik, unconsciously stiffening.  'Thank you, but Adam
has difficulty negotiating some obstacles.  We won't be able to accept
your invitation.'

'I wasn't inviting your father, only you,' he corrected.  Before she would
voice the vigorous refusal forming on her tongue, Sin went on, 'Adam has
already given his permission for you to come.  I talked to him about it
first and convinced him that I could be trusted not to seduce his
daughter.'

A heat flamed through her that wasn't sparked by anger.  'I don't care
whether Adam has given his permission or not.  I am not having dinner
with you.  There would be absolutely no point to it.'

As Mara started towards the kitchen with the tray, Sin rolled to his feet
with a lithe swiftness and blocked her path.  He seemed to tower
impregnably before her, too broard to sdiestep.

'You're forgetting one point.  There was something you wanted to discuss
with me,' he reminded her.

'Oh?'  Her knees threatened to buckle.  'I don't recall wanting to talk
to you about anything.'  Her air of bravado was quickly deserting her.

'Don't you?'  His eyes were half closed against the smoke from his
cigarette, but it didn't lessen their sharpness.  'It was something to
do with the cottage and when I would be leaving it.'

Her gaze fell under the dominance of his.  'Yes, well, its a discussion
that doesn't have to take place over dinner.  In fact is should take
place here, not at the cottage.'

Sin appeared to loom closer.  'Saturday night at six o'clock, at the
cottage, is the only time I'll discuss my terms for leaving.'

'That's blackmail!'  Mara breathed out the accusal 

'I suppose you could call it that,' he agreed, and bent to stub out
his cigarette in an ashtray near Adam's wheelchair.  'Unless you're a
coward, you'll be there.'  He ignored her open-mouthed look of indignation
and addressed her father.  'It's time I was leaving Adam.  I enjoyed
talking to you.  Happy Thanksgiving.'  The last parting phrase was issued
to both of them.

Mara still hadn't found her voice when the front door closed behind Sin.
She turned to her father, who was looking at her with something akin to
sympathy.  It didn't endear him to her.

'I am not going to dinner with him, regardless of his appempt to blackmail
me into coming,' she said to Adam what she would have told Sin if he
hadn't left.

'That's your decision,' her father shrugged, indicating he wasn't going
to argue or try to persuade her into accepting.

'What was the idea of giving him permission to ask me to dinner?' Mara
demanded.  'I'm of legal age.  I don't require your permission.'

'I didn't exactly give my permission,' he corrected.  'Sin asked me if
I had any objections to being alone for a couple of hours on Saturday
night because he wanted to have dinner with you alone.  I merely told
him I didn't object and that you were free to go out with him if you
wished.'

'Well, I don't wish,' she snapped.  'And what's all this nonsense about
convincing you he wouldn't suduce me?'

'I think it was an attempt on his part to assure both of us that, despite
first impressions, he's an honourable man,' answered, referring to Sin's
female companionship the first couple of weekends in the cottage.  I'd
already guessed he was a man of his word.  He said he wouldn't seduce you
on Saturday night and I believe him.'

'He isn't going to get the chance,' she retorted, and immediately sought
to clarify a point.  'Not going doesn't mean I'm a coward either.'

'If you say so.'  Adam's sceptical tone didn't indicate that he agreed
with her.

'I'm not a coward,' Mara repeated angrily.

'There's an easy way to prove it.'  Using one wheel as a pivot point,
Adam turned his chair around.  'I think I'll watch the football game
in my room.'

After he had pushed himself out of the room, there was no one left for
Mara to argue with except herself.  But there was little desire left to
argue.
<C 8>
PULLING the collar of her parka tighter around her neck, Mara paused to
stare at the lighted windows of the cottage.  It was cold with the
threat of snow in the air.  She had never admitted to being nervous
about anything, but she was now.

Half a dozen times during her walk to the cottage she had been on the verge
of fleeing back to the house.  But Sin's taunt that she would be a coward
if she didn't come to dinner had kept driving her on.  Mara realised that
he had known it would.  She was playing into his hands, trapped by
circumstances that would permit her to do nothing else.

Shivering from the cold and nerves, she walked the last few feet to the
door and knocked twice.  A mass of butterflies fluttered in her stomach.
She took a deep, calming breath in the hope of quieting them.  The door
opened and immediately swung wide to admit her.  Shakily expelling the
breath she hadtaken, Mara walked in.

Sin's bulk intimidated her more than it ever had before.  Her gaze glanced
off him.  A white roll-neck sweater of heavy ribbed weave covered the
width and breadth of his torso.  Black slacks gave added length to his
legs.

A fire crackled in the fireplace.  Except for one dim lamp, it provided
the only light in the living room.  The mantelclock chimed the hour.

'Right on time,' Sin observed.  'You're punctual.'

'Yes, Mara couldn't shake off the feeling that she was a lamb being led
into the den of a silver-tipped wolf.

His hand reached towards her and she backed away from it instinctively,
her gaze flying to his face in alarm.  His mouth slanted in amusement.

'May I take your coat?' he offered.

And Mara realised he had only intended to help her out of it.  Fighting
the self-conscious waves of foolishness, she fumbled with the buttons.
Her chilled fingers weren't very co-operative.  When at last they had
completed the task, she started to shrug out of it.  His hands were there
to help her, brushing her shoulder and sending tingles of awareness down
her spine.

'Thank you,' she murmured so he wouldn't guess his assistance had caused
any disturbance.

A strong sense of self-preservation made her notice where Sin had put
her coat.  It was draped over a hook on the hall-tree near the door,
a new addition of furniture to the cottage.

'How do you like your steak cooked?' Sin enquired.

'Well done,' Mara responded automatically.

Again a smile teased the corners of his strong mouth.  'Somehow I guessed
that.'

He surveyed her coatless frame.  The frankly sensual look prompted Mara
to hug her arms across her stomach.  She wasn't dressed in any way
suggestively, but Sin made her feel she was.

Her slacks and loose top were peacock blue, tailored and not at all clinging.
Her fingers made an unconscious inspection of the buttons of her cream
silk blouse to be sure they were all fastened.  They were.  Ill at ease,
she lefted her chin and tried to shake away the uncomfortable sensation.

'May I fix you a drink?'  It was the polite enquiry of a host, but it didn't
mask the light dancing in hiseyes.

'Nothing, thank you,' Mara refused, steadfast in her determination to have
her wits about her this evening.

'Would you excuse me, then?'  Sin asked.  'I put the steaks in the broiler
a few minutes ago and I'd better check them.  You can have a seat in the
living room, if you like, or come along with me to the kitchen.'

One glance at the dimly lit living room and the intimate feeling it evoked
decided Mara's mind.  The kitchen was infinitely better lighted than the
living room.  She opted for it.

'I'll come with you if you don't mind,' she said.

'Sceptical that I can really cook a meal?' he jested, but didn't exact a
reply.

Sin entered the kitchen, aware that Mara followed, but he paid no attention
to her as he checked the steaks in the broiler.  The small table held two
place settings.  Wooden bowls of tossed salad sat in each place, along
with cut glass wine goblets.

'Unless you would prefer to wait, we can have our salad now.'  He
straightened from the broiler and noticed her preoccupation with the
wine glasses.  'I hope you like wine with your meal.'

'Champagne?' Mara heard herself question dryly, her thoughts turning to
the day he had first arrived when Celene had brought in a bottle of
champagne.

His gaze slid over her, remembering, too.  'No, you don't strike me as the
champagne type,' he answered in a voice dry with silent humour.  'Something
staid and prosaic like hearty Burgundy seemed more your line.'

He produced a decanter of wine and filled the two glasses with a deep red
liquid.  After setting it on the table, he held out the one chair for
her.

'About the cottage,' Mara began, wanting to get to the objective of her
visit.

'I never discuss business before or during a meal,' he stated.

Impatience surged through her, but she was determined not to give rise
to it.  She sat down in the chair Sin offered and tried to ignore the
brief contact with his hand as he pushed the chair to the table. While
he was sitting down at the opposite end of the narrow table, she shook
out her linen napkin and spread it across her lap.

'I hope you like the dressing on the salad.  It's a special concoction of
mine,' Sin informed her.  'Italian with variations.'

She sampled the lettuce salad.  'It's very good,' she admitted, trying to
be the courteous guest.

'The secret is the dill flakes,' he confided.  'It gives the dressing that
touch of piquancy.'

'Oh."  Mara was having difficulty adjusting to this kind of conversation.
She was accustomed to battling his taunting remarks or personal comments.
This was putting her off stride.  She sensed he knew it, too.

After a couple of minutes Sin rose from his chair to check the steak.  The
succulent aroma coming from the broiler was decidedly appetising.  Mara,
who had thought she wouldn't be able to eat a bit, felt the first pangs
of hunger.

'You're an excellent cook,' Sin observed when he was reseated at the table,
'Do you like to cook?'

'I've never thought of it in terms of liking it or disliking it.'  The prongs
of her fork rested in the salad bowl as she considered his question,
surprised to find she didn't really have a ready answer.  'It's always been
something that had to be done.  But yes, I think I enjoy it.  Do you?'

'I wouldn't it I had to do it every day, but it's a form of relaxation for
me.'

'What do you do when you're in Baltimore?  Do you mostly eat at restaurants
or ----'  She glanced at his left hand.  Just because he hadn't been married
to Celene as she had first supposed, it didn't mean he wasn't married, or
hadn't been married.  Mara realised there was a great deal she didn't
know about him, his background, his work, his interests, anything.

He saw the direction of her glance and guessed the reason her question
wasn't finished.  The grooves carved on either side of his mouth became
more engrained as he tried to conceal a knowing smile.

'I'm not married.  Did you think I had an understanding wife waiting
patiently in Baltimore for me to return from the Thanksgiving holidays?'
Sin arched her a taunting look.  'I can't imagine any woman being that
understanding.'

Mara admitted to herself that he was right.  'You could be divorced or
separated?'  She pointed out the possibilities.

'Neither.  I'm a widower.  My wife was a dystrophic.  She died seven years
ago.'  His voice remained completely conversational, registering no sorrow.

'I'm sorry.'  She felt obligated to voice some sympathy.  But she looked
at him anew, trying to visualise the circumstances of his marriage and his
attitude towards a wife with rapidly deteriorating health.  How had he
reacted?  she wondered.

'I was aware of Ann's condition when I married her,' Sin answered her
unspoken question.

Startled, Mara blurted, 'Then why did you marry her?'

'Because I cared for her,' he answered simply.  'I wanted to look after her
and see that she had the best help possible.'

His response was discomfiting.  She didn't want to believe his motives.
Her fork attacked the last bit of salad in the bowl.

'You could have done that without the noble gesture of marriage.'  Her
reply was stiff, tinged with sarcasm.

'It wouldn't have fulfilled my sense of obligation and duty.  Ann didn't
have anyone else.  You should know about that, Mara.  You could have paid
for Adam's care, rather than take him into your home.'  Deftly, Sin
deflected her comment, the calm pitch of his voice unchanging.

'The situations don't compare,' she retorted.

'Don't they?'  His gaze skimmed her hace as he murmured a thought aloud, 'I
seem to continually collect lost souls.'  Then his gaze flicked to her
empty salad bowl.  'Are you finished?'

'Yes, thank you.'  Mara sat rigidly in her chair as Sin rose to clear the
dishes.

The steaks were done.  He set a plate before Mara containing a generous cut
of browned beef and a baked potato, butter melting in its split jacket.  A
bright garnish of sliced apple rings rested in a corner.

'To answer your previous question, I eat out occasionally when I'm in
Baltimore.'  Sin resumed their conversation as he sat down.  'I have a
housekeeper and cook on staff, so I generally have my meals at home.
Part of the appeal of coming here to the cottage each weekend is the fact
that there's no one around to wait on me.  That and privacy as well as
the freedom to work without interruption.'

'What kind of work do you do?  I know you're the head of some company.'
Mara remembered that from Harve Bennett's investigations before she leased
Sin the cottage.

'It's a minor conglomerate with a variety of enterprises under its wing.
My work is mainly in administration and organisation, a desk job with
challenges.'

Mara sensed that his reply was an understatement.
There was no reference to the tremendous power he commanded or the pressure
of high finance.  She had no doubt that he handled both with ease.  His
selfassurance was too marked on his personality.

'My father started the company,' Sin continued, pausing to sip his wine.
'I inherited it from him when he passed away a few years ago.'

The information didn'tsurprise her.  Mara had suspected his wealth wasn't
newly acquired.  His indifference to the cost of things, this cottage for
instance, indicated that he was accustomed to having what he wanted,
regardless of the price.

She also guessed, "You took over the company and enlarged it?'  He had too
much drive to be content with the status quo of things.

Over the rim of his wine glass, his blue eyes briefly met hers.  'I have
expanded it, yes,' Sin admitted, but with the attitude that it was an
unimportant fact.

The information she was receiving about him was being filed in a haphazard
order and merely whetted her curiosity to know more.  The food on her
plate was being consumed without her being conscious of its delicious
taste or quantity.

'Why did you spend Thanksgiving here?  With your father gone, don't you
have any other family?'  Mara questioned.

'I have some cousins on the West Coast and an aunt and uncle, but no
brothers or sisters.  My mother died suddenly of a heart attack when I
was in college.'  He seemed not to mind her personal questions.  'If I'd
stayed in Baltimore, Ginger, my cook, would have insisted on fixing a big
dinner with all the trimmings.  It would have been a total waste for one
person.  So, instead, I gave my staff the week off to spend the holidays
with their own families and came here.'  He glanced at her across the table,
and attractive smile curving his well-defined mouth.  'As it turned out, I
had an excellently prepared Thanksgiving dinner anyway and the pleasure of
Adam's company and yours.'

Her pulse hammered slightly----whether from his smile or his reference to
the pleasure he found in her company, she wasn't sure.

'What do you find to do here, besides jogging, I mean?  Aren't you bored?'
Mara took a sip of her wine, surprised to find more than half of it was
gone.

'I do a lot of thinking and planning, dictate correspondence and memos,
and go over report and balance sheets.  
Mostly I relax.'  Sin refilled her glass and his own.  'Tonight, with you,
will probably turn outto be one of the livelier evenings I've spent here.'

The others must have been spent with Celene, Mara concluded.  'Why don't
you bring Miss Taylor here any more?' she wondered aloud.

'Taken in small doses, Celene's company can be stimulating,' he explained
dryly.  'But over a long period, her attractions begin to pall.'

Too many "Sin darlings"?'  Mara intended it as a taunt, but it sounded
more like a teasing exchange between friends.

'Something like that,' Sin agreed, his lazy glance not revealing that he
found anything unusual in her new tone.  'How was your steak?'

'It was very good.'  She had eaten it all, not toying with it once from
nervousness.  'Where did you learn to cook?'

'I picked it up here and there, mostly by trial and error during college.
It's a skill that comes in handy when a business meeting stretches until
midnight.  I don't have to wake anyone up to fix me a meal.'

'Does that happen often?' Mara asked.

'Often enough.'  Sin finished his dinner and straightened from his chair.
Hetook her plate, stacked it on top of his, and set it on the sink counter.
'Dessert is a plate of assorted fruits and cheeses.  I thought we'd have
it with the rest of our wine in the living room.  I'll clear the table
first.'

'I'll ehlp you,' she volunteered.

'No,' he refused her assistance flatly.  'You wouldn't let me help you
Thanksgiving, so you can't help me tonight.  I'll just put them in the
sink and wash them later.'

His reminder had the desired affect of keeping Mara in her seat while
he smoothly and efficiently cleared the table.  In the interim, her
self-consciousness returned and she felt stiff and ill at ease again.
There was a rigidity to her carriage when she rose and carried her wine
glass into the living room.  Sin followed with the dessert plate and
his own wine glass.

The dimness of the living room immediately enveloped Mara in a feeling of
intimacy.  The fire had died to red embers amidst a bed of charcoal grey
ashes, almost the same colour as Sin's hair.  He set the desert plate
on the wood-inlaid surface of a small serving table in front of the
davenport.  Mara stood nervously to one side, the cosy atmosphere too much
for her.

'Help yourself,' Sin gestured towards the fruit and cheese and walked over
to add wood to the fire.

Hesitantly, Mara took a cube of cheese and nibbled at it.  The empty cushions
of the davenport were too inviting and the chairs seemed too pointedly
isolated.  So she remained standing, her shoes sinking into the lush pile
of the alpaca rug, while Sin knelt in front of the hearth, poking the embers
into flaming around the new fuel.  Amidst all the questions she'd asked
him, one came back to her now---the one he hadn't answered.

'About the cottage,' she began the same as before, 'when will you be leaving?'

Sin didn't turn around.  'When my lease expires next fall.'

'But----'

'You signed the contract.'  He straightened as the fire flickered and blazed.
'I expect you to honour the conditions it contains.  You were the one who
insisted on a year's lease,' he reminded her.

But I thought I was here to discuss when you would vacate.'  Mara completed
the sentence she hadn't earlier.

We've discussed it and I've told you under what conditions I will be
bacating the cottage,' he replied calmly.

'You had no intention of terminating the leaseearly, ever, did you?' she
accused in a chilling voice.  'You only let me think you would.'

'No, there was nothing to dicuss as far as I was concerned, but you didn't
come about the cottage.  You came because you didn't want to be considered
a coward,' Sin concluded without a trace of doubt.

'I'm not a coward!'  Her fingers gripped the stem of her wine glass so
tightly that it was in danger of snapping.

He turned his back to the fireplace, the flames crackling and popping over
the bark of the new logs.  He nade no move towards her, although hes gaze
was on her.

'Adam abd I talked a lot about that while you were washing dishes the other
day.  We talked about many things,' he added.

'I can imagine the biased stories he told you,' Mara returned bitterly.

'He explained to me how much his divorce from you mother had hurt you.'
His features were shadowed by the back-light of the fire, but she felt
the intensity of his gaze.

'Hurt me?'  She was incredulous at the statement.  'It crippled my mother.
Did he neglect to mention that?'

Don't you believe he cared?' Sin questioned.

'I believe in the fickleness of men,' she retorted, and walked to the
fireplace to stare into the yellow flames licking hungrily over its wooden
food.

'I first thought you'd built those invisible walls around you so people
couldn't get close to you.  I was half right.' he observed.  'You want
to keep everybody away so they'll never be able to hurt you.  You're
determined not to care about anyone because they might leave you the way
your father did.'

'Don't you think that's wise?' Mara challenged, and took a sip of wine to
show her indifference to his remarks.

'It may be wise, but it's hopelessly impossible.'  After sending her a
sideways glance, Sin moved to stand behind her.  'You can't roll all your
emotions and feelings, passions and desires into a neat little bundle and
stuff them in your hind pocket.'

Mara hugged an arm across her stomach trying to ward off her awareness of
how close he was to her.  She was conscious of the height and breadth of
him and felt the warmth of his body, although no part of him was
touching her.

'Even if you could,' he continued, 'your body is designed to perform
certain biological functions that respond to outside stimulus.'  His
hands curved on to her slender waist.  When Mara tried to step away,
their hold tightened.  'It doesn't matter whether you want to feel the
way I make you.  It's a reaction of our two chemistries.'

'Sexual attraction.'  She referred to the term he had used before, a
breathlessness to her words.

'Yes.  It doesn't do any good to fight it.'  He reached around her to
take the wine glass from her unresisting fingers and set it on the
mantelpiece.

She was drawn backwards until her shoulders were against his chest and
her hips felt his solidly muscled thighs.  The outline of his hard male
frame seemed to burn its impression into her.  It started quicksilver
fires that flamed through her limbs.  His arms overlapped across the
front of her stomach, his fingers spreading across her rib-case below
her breasts.  An aching tension twisted her stomach in knots.

Her hands crossed each other to seek his wrists.  When they found them,
they could only hold them in the same position.  The thought to remove
them had fled the minute her fingers felt the wisps of masculine hair
growing on his arm.  Her sensitive nerve ends vibrated with the sensual
contact.

His head was bent towards her, his jaw and chin brushing near her ear,
his warm breath stirring the silkness of her dark hair.  The scent
of him was a mixture of wine and smoke and the heady fragrance of an
elusive cologne.  Her heart tripped wildly against her ribs.  She closed
her eyes against the quaking reaction of her senses to Sin, but it only
increased his potency.

'It's natural for my touch to excite you.'  His voice was pitched low,
soothing in its warmth and disturbing in its huskiness.  'It's a physical
response that has nothing to do with what your mind wants.  You have
to learn to separate to two.'

But the thought of him was dominating her mind, too.  There wasn't room
for anything else.  He crowded into every nook of her being, dominating
it until she could only shake her head in dazed prosest.

'When will it stop?' she wanted to know.

'The only cure I know forsexual attraction is prolonged exposure.'  His
mouth explored the side of her neck, sending delicious shivers over her
sensitive skin.  'Tonight can be the beginning of a series of experiments.'

'Yes,'  Mara agreed, her voice hardly above a whisper.

Sin nuzzled her ear, his strong teeth gently nipping at the lobe.  The
caress unleashed a torrent of reactions.  She melted against him, his
outline more sharply defined against her curves.  An arm was removed from
around her as his mouth lingered near her ear, then moved away.

'Here's your wine,' he said in a prompting voice.

In confusion, Mara blinked at the glass he held.  She had no desire for
wine, but he seemed to want her to take it.  She took it from his hand
to hold it unsteadily in her own.  A second leter Sin was bending and
lifting her off her feet.  Her arm automatically curved around his neck
as he carried her effortlessly to the couch.  There he sat down, cradling
her on his lap.

'Drink up.'  His hand closed around her fingers holding the glass and
moved it towards her lips.  At her apprehensive look, a faint smile
alleviated the firmness of his mouth.  'Don't worry, I'm not trying to
get you drunk.  But the wine will help you relax.'

His reasoning made sense.  Mara knew a fine-boned tension was making her
hold herself stiffly in his lap.  She kept wondering if she was too heavy
or if he was comfortable in this position.

The dark blue smoke of his eyes watched her sip the wine.  His fingers
slid partially down her hand, his thumb rubbing the inside of her wrist
and making exciting forays to her sensitive palm.  When she lowered
the glass from her mouth, his gaze studied her lips, faintly moist from
the wine.

'We need to get you used to being touched and held first before we can
graduate to other things,' Sin told her huskily.  The mantel clock chimed
the quarter hour and Mara started quiltily, only to be restrained by
his arm.  'Do you see what I mean?'  He gave her a lazy look filled with
knowledge.

Leaning, slightly forward, he reached for the desert plate on the serving
table and set it on the seat cushion beside them.  Mara watched him
separate a pale green grape from its cluster and offer it to her.

'Have a grape,' he suggested.  'It's the seedless variety, so you don't 
have to be concerned about how you're going to dispose of the seeds.'
He carried it to her lips and hesitantly she let him slide it into her
mouth.  The brush of his finger evoked provocative thoughts.  'Good?'

'Yes.'  But Mara was struggling with a whole new set of erotic sensations.

'Have another.'  This time Sin offered her the cluster so she could pluck
her own grape.

At his insistence, Mara ate two more.  When she took the fourth he set the
cluster on the plate and captured her hand before it placed the grape in
her mouth.  Instead, he carried it to his own.  Her fingers trembled as
they touched his mouth to slide the grape inside.  Her pulse raced madly
through her veins from the sensuous implication of her actions.

After that the grapes were divided between them and Sin took sips from her
wine.  Once he kissed her, the taste of grapes and wine mingling together
with their lips.  Her position on his lap became more natural.  In spite
of its intimacy, she became more relaxed.

When the wine was gone, Sin put the glass and the dessert plate on the
table.  The emptiness of her hands made them feel useless until Sin
found a purpose for them.  He cupped one to his face, kissing the palm,
then letting it slide along his jaw.

Her breath became choked off by the sudden tightening of her throat as
his head slowly bent to hers.  The kiss that followed was a leisurely
exercise.  Instead of Mara having to feel her way through her relative
lack of experience, Sin was showing her the way.

It was a long, slow process and Sin was teaching her to enjoy every
minute of it.  Meanwhile his hands were caressing her, wandering over
her hips and thighs and gliding over her spine.  Their touch aroused
at an unhurried tempo.

The intoxicating pleasure of his possessing kisses was a heady thing.
Gradually they sent raw desire spreading through her veins, heating her
flesh to a fever warmth that Sin moulded to his will.  Nothing registered
in her mind, but the aching needs and wants he was instilling in her
memory.

Unerring fingers found the buttons of her blouse, and she shifted on his
lap in faint protest.  Not forcing the issue, Sin bent his head to kiss
her throat.  His hand covered a breast, the rounded flesh swelling firm
under his touch.  The thin silk of her blouse was no barrier, she realised.

Sensing her acquiescence, Sin efficiently but unhurriedly, unfastened the
buttons.  Seconds later, the lacy engineering of bra was disposed of and
her soft flesh was spilling into his hand.  His lips made a
breathtaking investigation of the new territory.  Dizzying excitement
thundered through her veins as she shuddered from sheer rapture.

It was a new world for her, with fresh discoveries to be made at every turn.
His power over her grew stronger instead of weaker during the prolonged
exposure.When his mouth returned to take passionate command of her lips,
she submitted, surrendered and returned his fire.

The innocent lovemaking showed her the glorious promise of the real thing,
made her eager to know the wonder of it, but her teacher was repeating
the same lessons, wisely not rushing her.  And Mara didn't object.

The chimes from the clock sounded again.  She had grown used to their softly 
ringing tones, having mixed them up several times with her own sounds of
bells.  But they distracted Sin's attention.

His mouth lingered on her lips an instant longer.  Then his hand was
stroking her cheek as he drew away.  His eyes were darkly blue as they met
the passionately disturbed light in hers.  He took a deep breath, seemingly
in an attempt to control his own inclinations.

'I promised Adam I'd have you home by ten,' he told her, and glanced
briefly at his watch.  'That gives us only half an hour.'

Ten o'clock.  Adam.  Promise.  The words shirred through her mind, its
thought processes slowed.  While Mara tried to surface from the irresistible
tide of desire, Sin began fixing her clothes, fastening clasps and
buttons.  Irritation born of her unsatisfied condition made her move shakily
off his lap.

'Next I suppose that you'll tell me you aren't going to complete your
seduction of me because of the other promise you gave Adam.'  Her voice was
remarkably steady as she released her frustration in a taunting accusal.

Sin was on his feet, taking her by the shoulders and turning her to face
him.  He caught her downcast chin between his fingers and tilted it back
to examine her face.  Mutiny glimmered with regret in her eyes.

'I have no intention of ever seducing you, Mara,' he told her, and pain
stabbed through her with the sharp breath she took.  The firm line of his
sensual mouth softened.  'I will never persuade you to let me make love
to you against you will.'

Realising how much of her innermost feelings she had betrayed, Mara turned
away from him, mumbling, 'I'll get my coat.'  She walked swiftly to the
halltree where Sin had hung her coat.

He followed, but made no attempt to help her on with her coat as he took
his own from a hook.  'Instead of taking the car, I'll walk you home,' he
said.  'I think we can both benefit from the cold air,'

Mara did'nt argue.  She readily admitted to herself that see needed
something to cool her flesh and her senses.  She couldn't find any
consolation in the fact that Sin apparently felt the same way.

Once they were both outside the cottage, Sin produced a flashlightfrom
his pocket.  The brilliant beam picked out the track through the woods and
led the way.  They followed it in silence, the frosty air nipping at their
faces and turning their breath into vaporous clouds.

When the lights of the house came in sight, Sin spoke.  'I'll be leaving
for Baltimore tomorrow.  I won't be back until next weekend, probably
very late Friday night.'

Mara continued walking towards the back door, staring straight ahead.  'Don't
forget to leave a list of what you'll be needing.'

Theflashlight went off as his hand stopped her and turned her to face him.
'Don't you forget what you've learned.'

His cool mouth crushed down on hers, hard and punishing.  Its fierceness
stole her breath and inflamed her senses.  The walk had chilled none of
her desire.  Just as quickly as it had begun, the kiss was ended and Sin
was striding into the night.
<C 9>
The following Saturday, Mara had finished washing the breakfast dishes
and was pottering about the kitchen.  She didn't stray far from the window
above the sink.  Sin would have arrived at the cottage some time last
night, she knew.  Her anticipation at seeing him again was running high,
partly eager and partly apprehensive.

As she went past the window, her gaze was drawn beyond its panes.  A familiar
silver-grey car was stopping in the drive to park beside the house.  Her
heart gave a little leap and she turned guiltily away from the window.  She
didn't want to admit that she had been watching for him.

Quickly she sought an axcuse for being in the kitchen.  Taking a mug from
the cupboard, she walked to the coffee pot.  As a car door slammed, Mara
kept her back to the door so she could pretend she didn't know he was
coming.  The thick walls of the house prevented her from hearing his
footsteps.  She could only wait for the knock on the door.

Sin entered without knocking.  The only advance warning Mara had was the
sound of the doorknob turning and in the next second he was in the kitchen.
She turned with a start to be regarded lazily by the cloudy darkness of his
blue eyes.

'Hello, Mara.'  The warmth of his low greeting was disturbing.

Unable to respond naturally, she turned back to the coffee pot.  'I was
just going to pour a cup of coffee.  Would you like some?'  Her polite
enquiry was stilted, almost as betraying as the knocking of her knees.

'No, I don't want any coffee.'  The sound of his voice came closer and
Mara knew he was walking towards her.  Her silly heart skipped a beat, then
rocketed when his hands slid around her waist.  'And neither do you.'

The breath she took became more of a gasp as Sin nuzzled the side of her
neck.  'Where's Adam?'  He spoke against her skin.

'In the other room.'  Her voice wavered under the spell of his caress.

Sin turned her sideways in his arms, her shoulder against his chest and her
hip pressed against the strong column of his thighs.  Curving a hand
along the side of her neck, he tilted her chin with his thumb.  His
mouth closed over hers, parting her lips with sweet intensity.  When the
coolness of uncertainty ended and Mara responded, the kiss lingered for an
instant more before Sin raised his head.  His thumb made afeather tracing
of her warm, trembling lips.

'I told you not to forget,' he murmured.  He released her from the
intoxicating circle of his arms to take hold of her hand.  'Let's find Adam.'

'Why?'  Mara asked in confusion.

But Sin didn't bother to answer as he led her from the kitchen.  Adam was in
his study, taking notes from the diary of a rebel soldier.  He glanced up
when they entered, his gaze dancing to Mara's hand held firmly in Sin's.

'Hello, Sin.'  He seemed not at all surprised by the scene he was viewing.

'Have you made any plans for today, Adam?' Sin asked, ignoring Mara's attempts
to wiggle her hand free.

'No.  Should I?'  Her father was trying hard not to smile.

'I'm taking Mara away for the day,' Sin explained further.  'I've never been
to the Amish country around Lancaster, so I'm going to make use of her
services as a guide.  We'll be gone for the better part of the day and
I know she won't want to leave you alone that long.'

Mara stared, open-mouthed, at the announcement.  She couldn't think of even
a half-hearted protest.  She was being swept along in the tidal force of
Sin's presence and had no desire to save herself.

'No problem,' Adam shrugged.  'Sam Jenkins will come over.  Since he's retired,
he welcomes any excuse to get out of the house.

'Give him a call while Mara gets ready,' Sin suggested, and glanced at her.
'How long will it take you?  I'll give you ten minutes and no more.'  Before
Mara could take a breath, she was being turned and gently pushed towards
the staircase in the foyer.

Under the ten-minute time limit, she didn't have time to consider whether
going with Sin was something she wanted to do.  She changed out of her
slacks into a wool shirt of winter white and pulled a complementing 
sweater of French blue angora over her head.  Pausing only to fluff her
hair with her fingertips, she jurried back downstairs.

'Ready?' Sin had her coat and scarf in hand.

Mara glanced at her father, who answered the unspoken question in her
dark eyes.  'Sam in on his way over here.  Don't worry about me, I'll
be fone.'

'There's vegetable stewin the refrigerator.  Have Sam warm it for your
lunch,' she instructed as Sin helped her on with her coat.  'And there's
some cold cuts for sandwiches.'

'We'll find plenty to eat,' Adam replied.  'Sam is good at raiding a
refrigerator.'

The arm around Mara's shoulders firmly guided her to the front door,
eliminating any more timebeing wasted with last-minute instructions.
Outside, Sin walked her to the passenger door of his car.

'I'll drive,' he explained, helping her inside.  'That way I'll have
something to concentrate on besides you.'  His look was darkly blue and
meaningful, throwing her more off balance than she already was.

Trying to hide the exciting confusion she felt, Mara glanced back at the
house when Sin slid behind the wheel of the car.  'Do you think Adam will
be all right?' she asked.

'Instead of thinking about Adam, maybe you should be wondering if you'll
be all right ... with me.'  His glance was teasing.

'Will I?'  Mara was stunned by the provocative question that came from her
lips.

This time when his gaze met hers, it was quietly considering, a bit probing
in its attention.  'It depends on whether you're better at being a guide
than a disstraction.'  His gaze swung away from her as he turned the car
on to the gravelled road.  'We'll soon find out if you're as knowledgeable
about the Pennsylvania Dutch as youwere about Gettysburg.'

'I do know the term Pennsylvania Dutch has nothing to do with Holland.
They're descended from German immigrants.  The word Dutch is an American
corruption of "deutsch", and "Deutschland" is the German homeland,' Mara
responded with an almost euphoric feeling of self-confidence which was
strange under the circumstances.

'That's a good start.'  Sin flashed a brief smile in her direction.

Mara looked out the window at the crisp blue day.  It was too perfect to be
marred by anything. The feeling remained with her throughtout the day.

When they arrived at the Lancaster area, she guided him on to the side
roads, away from the commercialism of the main highway.  The information
she relayed about the area was never given as a means of defence; it flowed
naturally and freely from her.

They lunched at a local restaurant specialising in Pennsylvania Dutch dishes.
Even when Sin mildly flirted with her, she never felt threatened by his
advances.  On tours in the area, they walked hand in hand or he curved an
arm around her shoulders.  The action seemed part of the natural order of
things.

After mid-afternoon, Sin turned the car towards Gettysburg and home.  Mara
sat close to him, his arm around her shoulders, her head resting against
his shoulder.  Contentment warmed and relaxed her.

Sam Jenkins was just leaving when they arrived at the house.  Adam insisted
he hadn't been aware of Mara's absence; his day had been too full.  It
was Adam who invited Sin to stay for dinner, an invitation whichMara
seconded.  Sin didn't need any persuading to accept.

Afterwards, her father and Sin played chess in the living room while Mara
washed the dishes.  Adam had just scored a checkmate when she entered the
living room.  He was leaning back in his wheelchair, a knowing smile on
his face.

'I don't think your mind was on the game, Sin,' her father declared.  'That
win was almost too easy.'

'You could be right,' Sin acknowledged, his gaze sliding to Mara as if she
was somehow the cause for his loss.

She hadn't even been in the room, so it seems illogical that she was to
blame for his lack of attentiveness to the game.  Still, the implied
compliment made her feel all warm and shaky inside.

'How about some hot chocolate?' she suggested.

'Sounds good,' her father was the forst to agree.  'Only I'll have mine in
my room.  It's been a long day and I'm beginning to feel the effects.'

He didn't look tired.  In fact, Mara had the fleeting thought that she had
never seen him looking more alert.  But such impressions were often
misleading, or at least Mara was willing to pretend they were since it
meant being alone with Sin.

'I'll help you, Adam,' Sin offered before Mara had a chance to step forward,
'while Mara makes the cocoa.'

His logiv defied protest and Mara found herself returning to the kitchen 
she had vacated only moments ago.  It didn't take long to heat the milk,
mix in the cocoa and sugar, and pour it into mugs.  Marshmallows bobbed
and melted on top of the steaming liquid as she carried the tray of mugs
into the living room.  She left two mugs there and carried the third on
a tray to her father.

When she entered the bedroom, Sin retreated to let them say their goodnights
in private.  Her father was in bed.  Mara set the tray on the bedside
table within his reach.

Sin mentioned that you had a good time today,' Adam commented.

'Yes, it's been a while since I've been in Lancaster.  It was interesting.'
Her response was deliberately noncommittal.  Her emotional reation towards
Sin was too new to be discussed openly, and certainly not with her father.
'Goodnight, Adam.'

'Goodnight.'

Soft music was being played on the radio in the living room, Sin turned
as she entered and held out a hand to her in silent invitation.  Mara
hesitated, aware suddenly of the limitation of her experience.

'I don't dance very well,' she told him.

'It isn't necessary for you to know,' he returned.

With casual purpose, he crossed the distance necessary  to reach her hand
and draw her into his arms.  It seemed she had waited allday to be in his
embrace, so naturally did her body fit itself to his.

The hand at the back of her waist guided her to the slow tempo of the
music, swaying steps that required little concentration.  Mara was capable
of little.  An avalanche of sensations seemed to tumble on top of her.
The lower half of her body was welded to his hard, muscled thighs, his
heat burning her.  His gaze roamed possessively over her upturned face, its
look sent her senses spinning into orbit.

The smell of him was boldly male and rawly disturbing.  Sin carried her hand
to his mouth, his white teeth nibbling at sensitive fingertips.  She lost
all awareness of the music playing in the background.  When he opened her
hand to press a kiss inside its palm, her limbs quivered.  The sensual
probing of his tongue against its hollow released a shuddering sigh of
surrender from her throat.

All pretence of dancing ended as his mouth sought her ready lips, taking
them with languid passion.  A blind, unending yearning had her trembling
in his arms.  His caressing hands made a slow, intimate exploration of
her shape, their leisurely investigation kindling a hotter fire between
them.

At some point they must have gravitated towards the nearst chair, because
when Mara surfaced briefly, she was on his lap.  His deliberate and total
mastery of her senses has turned her into moulding clay, and she could think
of mothing more exquisite than to be shaped to his will.

Wher was a ragged edge to his breathing as Sin ended a lingering kiss.  Her
hand curved along his chiselled jaw to draw him back, but he resisted her
appeal, a bemused yet firm light in his charcoal blue eyes.

'The hot chocolate is getting cold,' he murmured.

'I don't care,' Mara admitted with a total lack of inhibition.

He removed his hand from beneath her sweater and turned her so that her
feet were on the floor.  'Neither do I, but I think you'd better reheat it
just the same.'  Ignoring her resistance, Sin stood her up and pushed her
towards the kitchen as he rose from the chair.

Reluctantly Mara took their hot chocolate into the kitchen and warmed it.
Sin joined her within a few minutes.  They talked of trivial things and
avoided any reference to the passionate embrace in the living room.  Before
he left, Sin kissed her goodnight and said he'd see her in the morning.

That weekend became the pattern for the weekends that folowed.  Almost
every waking moment was spent together.  Some part of the weekend included
a few hours away from the farmhouse, either touring a local point of
interest or having dinner.  For Mara, the weekdays were spent waiting for
the weekend and Sin's arrival.

The weekend before Christmas arrived on the heels of a snowstorm.  On
Saturday morning Mara waited anxiously for Sin to appear at the house,
wondering if he had even driven up the night before on the snowy roads.
She had made a dozen trips to the window above the sink for a glimpse of
him.

As she started towards it again, adam remarked, 'A watched pot never boils.'

Self-consciouslu Mara turned away before reaching her destination and
murmured a stilted, 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'You don't, huh?' he teased with a half-smile.  'My mistake.  I thought
you were looking for Sin.'

She glanced at the kitchen wall clock.  'That's right.  He usually is at the
house by this time, isn't he?' she replied as if it had been the first time
she had realised it, a ploy that didn't fool her father.

'Mara, I'm not blind.'  He shook his head and smiled.  'For three
consecutive weekends you two have been inseparable.  I'm getting used to
losing my daughter at the weekends.  If you're worried about Sin, why don't
you walk down to the cottage and see if he's there?'

She abandoned her pretence of mild interest to ask, 'Do you think I should?'

'Anything is better than having you pace the floor like an expectant
father,' Adam replied.

Mara hesitated, torn between the aggressiveness of such an action and her
anxiety.  Finally she started for the coat rack where her parka was hung.

'I think I will,' she decided.

'If he's there, don't hurry back on my account,' her father told her,
watching indulgently as she hurriedly put on her coat.

Half of the buttons were fastened when the back door opened and Sin walked
in.  Mara turned, her face lighting up at the sight of him.  At the
slightest invitation from him she would have run into his arms.

A shutter seemed to close over his gaze as he noted her expression.  Sin
swung his attention to her father, a smile of greeting touching his mouth.

'Hello, Adam.'  He spoke to her father first, then glanced at her.  'Were
you going somewhere?'

His aura of allofness kept Mara from admitting her destination.  'Just for
a walk.'  Hurt twinged through her as she began unbuttoning her coat.  'The
coffee is fresh.  Would you like a cup?'

'Please.'  Sin walked to the table and sat in a chair neat her father.

While she hung up her coat and poured him a cup of coffee, the two men
discussed the weather and the condition of the roads.  Mara took a chair
osite Sin at the table.  He smiled at her once, but continued conversing
with her father.

'One thing is for sure - we're going to have a white Christmas this year.
This snow isn't going to melt in five days,' Adam stated.  'Will you be
staying over until Christmas, Sin?'

'No, I have to drive back to Baltimore tomorrow afternoon, but I'll be back
on Christmas Eve.  I'll be staying until the following Monday,' Sin
explained, and joyful relief warmed Mara's blood.

Guessing her reaction to the news, her father sent her a smiling look.  'At
least Sin will be here long enough to help you hang the decorations and trim
the tree.'

'Yes,' she agreed, trying to contain some of her bubbling pleasure.

I'm an expert at putting stars on the top of Christmas trees,' Sin admitted,
half in jest.

'Good, because Mara can't reach it, and I certainly can't.'  Her father
patted the arm of his wheelchair to affirm his inability.

'Have you bought the tree?'  Sin asked the question of Mara.

'Not yet.'  There was a breathless ring to her voice.  'I was going into
town today and pick one out.'

'We can do it together,' Sin suggested, which was just what she had wanted
to do.

The day was spent purchasing the tree, carrying the boxes of decorations
from the attic, setting the tree in its stand, trimming it, and arranging
the Nativity scene on the mantel amidst boughs of evergreens and holly.
In the bottom of one of the boxes of Christmas decorations, Sin found a
sprig of mistletoe.  Tying it with a ribbon, he hung it in the living
room archway to the entry hall.

He stood beneath it, his gaze dancing in wicked invitation to Mara.  Too
self-conscious of her father's presence, Mara tried to ignore his message,
laughing it away as a joke.  Sin walked over, picked her up and ignored
her embarrassed protests to stand her beneath the mistletoe where he
soundly kissed her into silence.

But it was the only kiss she received that day, a fact that gnawed at the
back of her mind.  The previous weekend she had had the impression that Sin
was keeping her at arm's length even when he was kissing her.  She had tried
to ignore it my blaming it on her imagination, but it was becoming too
strong to ignore.

It returned on Sunday when she was lying beside him on the rug in front of
the fireplace at the cottage.  They had gone for a walk in the snow-covered
woods and had stopped at the cottage to get warm.  They had all the privacy
they could want, but Sin had done little more than kiss her.

The silence between them was broken only by the crackling of the flames.
Mara wasn't comfortable with the silence stretching into the room.  Her
head was resting on a pillow from the sofa.  She turned on to her side to
study his profile.  An arm was crooked beneath his head to serve as a
pillow.  His eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn't sleeping.

'Did you love your wife, Sin?' she asked, tracing the woven pattern of his
sweater with her fingertips.  She struggled to maintain an attitude of only
curious interest.

Thick male lashes lifted partially, laziness in his look.  'Yes, I loved
Ann.  There are varying degrees of love though, Mara.  Your father loved
your mother, but in a lesser degree than he loved the woman he left her
fer.'

It wasn't a satisfactory answer, but Mara wasn't entirely certain what she
had hoped to learn.  She let the subject drop and rolled on to her back
to stare once more at the ceiling.

'We should have brought some of your Christmas decorations from the house
down here to the cottage.'  Sin changed the subject.  'The place doesn't
look very festive with Christmas just around the corner.'

'We should have thought of that,' she agreed, and glanced idly around the
room.  'I like the improvements you've made.  Did you pick out the funiture
or did Celene?'

'I did.  Celene made a few suggestions, but the decisions and choices were
mine.'  There was hint of drawling amusement in his voice.

She felt slightly better about liking the place.  Turning her head on the
pillow, she looked at him.  'Did you get bored with Celene?'

'Yes, I guess you could say that,' he admitted with marked indifference for
the subject.

She looked away, a frightening tightness in her throat.  'Are you bored with
me yet?'

Uncurling the arm from under his head, Sin used it to lever himself on to
his side.  He removed the pillow from beneath her head, a dark light in his
grey-blue eyes.

'What do you think?' he countered, an instant before his mouth covered hers.

His response told her nothing.  His kiss lacked the persuasive mastery that
had once fired a response from Mara.  He was becoming bored with her: the
knowledge burned its pain into her heart.  Perhaps he wasn't already bored
with her, but it was starting.  Mara knew she didn't have the strength to
wait until he decided to cast her aside.  She wouldn't survive.

Turning away from his kiss, she twisted out of his arms and hurriedly
stood up.  She couldn't bear for him to go through the motions of making
love to her when he felt no desire.  She heard him rise and stiffened
when his hands touched her shoulders.

'What's wrong?'  His voice sounded puzzled.

She shrugged free of his touch.  'Please don't,' she asked stiffly.

'Why?'  The one word carried the hint of demand.

Mara couldn't tell him the truth.  There was too much chance he would argue
and she would allow herself to be mistaken about her conclusion.  Her
only chance to stay in control of the situation was to brazen it out.

'I think the truth is that I'm becoming bored with you,' she lied.

'What?'  Sin caught her by the shoulders and spun her around, holding
her in front of him while his gaze scanned her face.

'You said at the beginning it could possibly happen, that physical
attraction usually waned after prolonged exposure.'  Mara used his theory
to back up her story.  'I don't feel the same thing when you hold me now
as I did at first.'  Which was true, since her emotions had grown stronger
and ran deeprer.

His head was drawn back as if he didn't quite believe her.  There was almost
a wariness to his look.  Grimness was in the thin line of his mouth.

'I know I said that,' he admitted, but his tone discounting its worth in
the same breath.

'I wasn't going to tell you how I felt.  I know how fragile the male ego is,'
Mara went on, noting the way his jaw tightened at that statement.  'But I
decided it was better to be honest.'

'What is it you're trying to say?'  Sin demanded.

Staring at the front of his sweater, Mara tried not to betray how much pain
it was causing to tell these lies.  'I'm trying to say that there isn't
any need for you to drive all this was for Christmas.  There isn't anything
to be gained by seeing each other any more.  If you want to come to the
cottage for Christmas, that's your business.  And I'm sure Adam will
welcome you at the house, but----' She let the rest of the sentence trail
into silence, unable to tell the ultimate lie that she wouldn't be glad to
see him.

'But you wouldn't.'  Sin finished the sentence for her.  The air of finality
rang in his voice, slicing into her like a sword.

'I ... I don't have any reason to be,' she responded in a tightly quiet
voice.

'No. I don't suppose you do.'  His hands fell away from her shoulders as
he took a step away.  'I guess there isn't any point hanging around now
either.  All my things are packed.  If you don't mind waiting a couple of
minutes, I'll drop you off at the house on my way back to Baltimore.'

Now that the moment had come, Mara would have preferred walking back to the
house alone rather than riding with him.  But a little voice dictated that
she accept his offer to prove that his company meant nothing to her,that
she could get along without it or tolerate it.

'I don't mind waiting,' she said.  'It's cold outside.'

'I'll only be a few minutes,' he promised curtly, and walked towards the
bedroom.

While he was gone, Mara picked up the poker and scattered the burning logs
so the fire would die.  But she knew it would never be that easy to put out
the fire that burned for him in her heart.  The full enormity of her
decision was only just beginning to sink into her.

When Sin reappeared, she was able to turn and face him.  Her expression was
coolly composed, but she was the only one who knew how thin and brittle
the ice was.

'Shall we go?'  A small weekend suitcase was in his hand, and a hint of
steel was in his voice.  Mara walked to the door in answer.

Silence hung between them like a heavy curtain during the drive to the house.
Its weight pressed on Mara until she wanted to scream away its presence.

Sin pulled into the driveway and stopped in front of the red brick house.
As Mara quickly stepped out of the car, he said, 'Say goodbye to Adam for
me.'

'I will,' she agreed stiffly, and shut the door.
<C 10>

THERE was a lump as big as a Pennsylvania apple in Mara's throat as she
entered the house.  The sound of Sin's car pulling out of the drive echoed
painfully in her ears.  Her eyes smarted with large, unshed tears.

The multi-coloured lights blinking on the Christmas tree seemed garishly
bright.  The satin balls and silver tinsel looked ludicrously cheerful when
her heart felt as if it was splintering in a million pieces.

The draught from the closing door sent the clump of mistletoe swaying
above her head.  Mara glanced up and an excruciating pain stabbed her breast
as she remembered the way Sin had manoeuvred her under it only yesterday.

Shuddering away the memory, she grabbed the nearest chair and pulled it
under the mistletoe.  Her eyes were so blurred with tears that she could
hardly see as she stepped on to the chair seat and tugged the ribboned
mistletoe from its place.

'What are you doing, Mara?'  Her father wheeled his chair in from the
study.

'I'm taking the mistletoe down.  What does it look as if I'm doing?'  She
spoke harshly to keep her voice from trembling.  Carefully she avoided
looking at Adam as she pushed the chair to its former place.

'I can see you're taking down the mistletoe.  What I wondered was why,'     
he answered, patient yet curious.

'Because we don't need it hanging there.  We don't need it hanging anywhere.'
Mara flung the mistletoe in the living room's wicker wastebasket.

'I think Sin will have a different opinion.  He'll want to know what's
happened to it when he comes at Christmas,' Adam teased.

'He isn't coming at Christmas.'  A tear slipped out the corner of her eye
and Mara hurriedly wiped it away before it trailed too far down her
cheek.

But her furtive action was noticed by Adam.  He tilted his head to one side
to peer at her averted face and a frown creased his forehead.

'What happened?  Did you and Sin have an argument?' he questioned.

'Not exactly.'  Her voice wastight, choked by the pain clawing at her
chest.

'What exactly?'  He sat quietly in his wheelchair waiting for her explanation.

An inner war kept her silent for a moment.  'I told him it would be best
if he didn't come at Christmas,' She admitted finally.

'Best for whom?'  Adam lifted a dark brow in dry enquiry.

'Best for me---and for him, too, as far as that goes,' Mara rushed out the
answer in a burst of agitation.  'It was hopeless from the beginning, if
I'd known or guessed-----Oh, what does it matter?!'  She wiped angrily at
another tear.  'He never cared about me anyway.'

'Is that what Sin told you?' her father asked after listening attentively
to her declaration.

'Yes,' she breathed out, her lungs hurting from the constant constriction
of controlled emotion.  'All he felt for me was....a sexual attration.'
She chose his phrase.  'Sooner or later he would have become bored and
cast me aside, the same way he did Celene.'

'Celene?  Who's Celene?'  Adam frowned.

'That redhead!' she flashed.  'The one he brought along with him when he
first came, Celene Taylor, with all her "Sin darlings".'  The cattiness of
her tone didn't make her feel better.

'So you did the casting aside first?'  Adam guessed.

'Yes, I had to before----' Mara swallowed the rest of the sentence.  'I
told him I was beginning to become bored with him, that whatever I'd
felt, it was gone.'

'Is it?'  His gaze narrowed to pierce any shield she might try to use.
'Have you stopped caring for him, Mara?'

She lifted her gaze to him, her eyes suddenly brimming over with tears
she couldn't check.  The anguish was written in every line of her expression
for him to see.  She couldn't contain her feelings or her heartbreak any
more.  Gasping back a sob, she moved uncertainly towards his chair.  When
she reached his side, Adam took hold of one of her shaky hands, and the
comfort and understanding he offered turned loose a storm of tears.

'Daddy, I love him,' she sobbed, and collapsed to her knees, burying her
head on his lap and hugging his lifeless legs.

One hand gripped her quaking shoulder while the other stroked her hair.
'Go ahead, baby,' he crooned, his own voice slightly choked with deep
emotion.  'Cry it all out.  It's okay, honey.  Believe me, it's okay.'

Years of stored grief, pain, and bitterness were washed away by the violent
tears.  Mara sobbed herself into oblivion.  The soothing touch of her
father's hand and the sound of his voice were her only lifeline to
sanity.

Even after the mind had blanked out the pain with unconsciousness, her
breath came in hiccuping sobs.  Adam took off his sweater and drafted it
around her shoulders, letting her use his legs for a pillow.  A fierce
love glistened moistly in his eyes as he gazed down at her tear-streaked
face.

'It's a;; right, Daddy's here.'  He squeexed the words out through the
lump in his throat.

It was dark when Mara finally came around.  Her muscles were cramped from
the unnatural position of rest, but all the pain, physical and emotional,
seemed distant.  A numbed haze kept it at bay.

'How do you feel?'  Adam's quiet voice penetrated the protective mist.

'I...I don't know.'  As she rose awkwardly to her feet, the sweater slipped
from around her shoulders.  Mara looked at it blankly, half recognising
that it was his, but the gesture registered dimly.  She did the automatic
thing and gave it back to him.  'I feel...as if I've been drugged.'

'Lie down on the sofa for a while,' her father suggested.

Drained and without energy, Mara moved to the sofa.  She murmured a
half-hearted protest when Adam pulled a quilted comforter over her.  She
stared sightlessly at the ceiling, her mind seemingly blank.

'You lie there and rest.  I'll be back in a moment,' Adam promised.

Mara was barely aware of him leaving.  She had no conception of how long
he was gone; it could have been a minute or an hour.  When he returned,
he positioned his wheelchair parallel with the sofa.

'Here, take some of this.'  He held a spoon to her mouth.  'I warmed some
soup for you.'

Indifferent to the appetising aroma, her mouth remained closed until Adam
forced it apart with the spoon and let the warm liquid trickle inside. 
She stirred under its reviving taste and was less recalcitrant at the
second spoonful.  Her eyes sought his in silent gratitude.

'How did you manage?' she murmured, briefly curious.

'I'm not such an invalid that I can't manage a can opener and a burner
on the stove,' he teased gently.

Memory flashed in Mara's mind back to a time when she had cared for her
mother like this.  She realised that she had loved none too wisely either.
Pain twisted through her.

'It hurts,' she whispered.

'Yes.'  Adam didn't deny it.  He took the apron away.  'Sleep now.  Life
may not look so bleak in the morning.'

Mara doubted it, but she obediently closed her eyes.  When she awakened
the next morning, Adam was there.  She felt like one big throbbing ache.
But the realisation that her was ther, waiting on her, looking after her,
made her throw aside the comforter and sit up.

'I'll make some coffee,' she offered.

'Good idea.'  He followed her into the kitchen, not speaking again until
she had plugged the coffee pot in.  'Isn;t there a possibility that you're
mistaken about Sin?'

Hope sprang, but Mara quickly squashed it.  'I only wish I were.'  She paused
to glance at her father.  'I know you like Sin, you did from the beginning,
but you have to face the truth the same way I did,' she said, still
blessedly numbed.  'I was merely attractive to him and provided him with
some weekend entertainment.  He probably even considered me something of
a challenge.'  The first sting of tears since yesterday's torrent burned
her eyes, and she turned away, not wanting to start weeping again.
'Anyway, it's over.  And I don't want to discuss it any more.'

It was a refusal that Mara repeated twice more in the next two days
whenever Adam attempted to introduce the subject.  The tenuous bond
between father and daughter had strengthened in the intervening time.  Some
day she knew she would talk to him about Sin, but not while the hurt
was so fresh.

The holiday spirit was sadly lacking in their household.  Staying with
family tradition, they exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve.  There had been
two presents under the tree for Sin, one from Mara and the other from
her father.  Both had disappeared during the last couple of days----Adam's
doing, Mara guessed, so she wouldn't be reminded that he had been going to
celebrate Christmas with them.

Christmas morning seemed no different from recent mornings.  After
breakfast, Mara washed the dishes while her father retired to the living
room to watch the televised Christmas services.  Christmas hymns filtered
joyfuly into the kitchen.

An arching loneliness swept over her.  Tears welled in her eyes and she
began angrily slamming cupboard doors and clattering pots and pans as she
put the dishes away, anything to cover the music from the living room.
It didn't work very well.  She finally had to stop and wipe her eyes.
Sniffling a little, she put a ham roast in the oven and filled the
colander with some potatoes to peel and slice for scalloped potatoes.

The singing stopped and the muffled sound of a sermon began.  Mara sat in
a kitchen chair at the table and began peeling the potatoes.  Keeping
busy, she had discovered, was therapeutic.

'Mara?'  Adam called.  'Come in here, will you?  Santa Claus has finally
delivered your present .'

Glancing at the swinging door, Mara breathed out a sigh.  There was a
temptation to tell him she was busy, but she guessed he had manufactured
some kind of surprise to boosther spirits--as if anything could.

Santa Claus.  A smile tugged at her mouth.  Santa Claus hadn't visited
her since she was fifteen, the last Christmas she and her parents had
spent together as a family.  Santa had never forgotten to leave her a
present the, regardless of whether she believed in his existence or not.
Perhaps her father has remembered too.

Either way, his thoughtfulness couldn't be ignored or set aside until
she was in the mood to accept it.  Setting the partially peeled potato
down, Marawiped her hands on a dish towel.

'Coming,' she answered.

As she pushed the swinging door open, she heard the front door close.
'Delivered' has been the term Adam used.  A curious frown drew her brows
together as she wondered who would make deliveries on Christmas Day.

Her father was practically beaming when she entered the living room.  His
gaze swung towards the entryway and Mara's followed.  She stopped short
when she saw Sin framed in the opening.  Dressed in a suit and tie and 
navy blue topcoat, helooked stern and unyielding.  The hoary chill of
winter seemed to sweep around him.  Her heart somersaulted and leaped
in unbounded joy, but fear kept her from voicing it.

'Sin!' Mara breathed his name at last.  Confusion raced through her.
'What are you doing here?'

His jaw hardened in savage grimness.  'Adam told me you were lying.  That
you really want to see me.'

'How...When...'  She glanced at her father, her pained expression accusing
him of betraying her.  Was this his vengeance?  To see her brought tumbling
down from her pedestal?

'I telephoned him yesterday,' Adam volunteered the information.

'How could you?' she demanded tightly.

'What the hell difference does it make how I found out?'  Sin demanded. 
'All I want to know is whether he's telling me the truth.  Were you lying?'

Trapped as she was, Mara was forced to admit, 'Yes.'

Her answer didn't seem to please him.  Sin continued to glare at her across
the distance of the room, intimidating her with the anger barely held in
check.

'Why? Why, Mara, why?' he repeated the demand in a low growl.

'Because...I could tell you were getting tired of me,' she replied defensively.

'I---what?!'  It was an explosive reaction, disbelief adn anger ringing
together.

'Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about.'  Mara was stung into
retorting.  'You were beginning to keep a distance between us.  Even when
we were together, part of you seemed to remain aloof.'

'From that you concluded I was getting tired of you,' Sin ground out in a
voice that questioned her intelligence.  'It didn't ever occur to you that
I'm a man with a man's appetites and all that playing around was becoming
a strain?'

Warily, she drew her head back, recognising it was possible but afraid to
believe him.  'No, it didn't,' she admitted.

'What difference was it to you whether or not I was getting tired of you?'
He changed the direction of his questions, his eyes narrowing on her.
'We were just experimenting anyway, so why should you care?'

Her lips closed together mutinously, but her father supplied the answer.
'She's fallen in love with you.'

Sin's gaze never wavered from her face.  'Is that true?' he demanded without
an ounce of softness.

Angered by the attack from both sides, Mara shouted, 'Yes!'

Briefly he flicked a glance to her father.  'Adam, I want your permission
to marry your daughter.'

'Granted.'  Adam's dark eyes twinkled brightly to Mara's stunned expression.

Reaching into the pocket of his topcoat, Sin took out something and tossed
it across the room to Mara.Sheer reflex enabled her to catch the ring-box.
She was dazed by the unexpected chain of events.  She was dazed by the 
unexpected chain of events.  She wasn't even certain if she knew what was
happening.  With dhaking fingers, she opened the box.  A diamond solitaire
winked rainbow hues back at her.

'Will you marry me?'  Sin demanded.  The room still separated them.

Dragging her gaze from the ring, she looked at him.  'Yes,' she answered,
starry-eyed and breathless.

For the first time since he arrived,his hard features began to soften,
relief mixing with another stronger emotion.  The edges of his mouth
turned faintly upwards.

'If you take the first step, Mara. I'll meet you half way,' Sin promised.

Mara had the giddy feeling that she floated across her half of the room.
Her feet never seemed to touch the ground.  They certainly weren't when
he crushed her in his arms to bruise her mouth in a possessive kiss.  Her
father descreetly left the room.

'I don't believe it,' she gasped when he finally let her up for air.  'Am
I dreaming this?'

'It's no dream.'  His mouth moved roughly over her hair, unsatisfied not to
be touching her.

'And you really love me?'  She felt the shuddering force of his arms around
her, but still needed the reassurance of his words.

'Yes, you crazy little fool,' he muttered against her throat.  'Every time
I saw you I fell a little but more in love with you until I was hopelessly
lost.'

'It was the same for me.'  Her lips began brushing feather-kisses over his
male features.

'After that first time I met you at the cottage, I told myslef I was merely
fascinated by the dark-haired, dark-eyed icicle who greeted me.  It only took
one brief thaw for that fascination to become something deeper.'  Sin
stopped her teasing lips with a demanding kiss.  Mara gave it back with
vibrant intensity.  'I should have guessed you were playing the coward
again and running from me,' he accused.

'I thought I was losing you,' Mara tried to explain.  'I decided I'd rather
make the break swift and clean than let it drag on until you did it.  I
knew I'd be that much more in love with you and the hurt would be that
much greater.'

'And I was determined not to rush you into admitting an emotion when you
were just learning to feel.'  He took some of the blame for the
misunderstanding.

'What if Adam hadn't called you?'  She suddenly realised she wouldn't be in
Sin's arms or have his ring on her finger.

'I hadn't given up.  I was just trying to come up with a new battle plan,'
he assured her.  'Now I don't have a worry.  You're going to be my
wife...and soon.

'Yes,' Mara agreed readily.  'I would like a church wedding though so my...
father can give me away to you.'

Sin lifted his head long enough to smile at her.  'I'm glad to hear you say
that.'  Then he made sure she didn't say any more for quite a while.