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Without any hesitation, I jumped up and ran as fast as I could to the front gate, opened it and scurried as quickly as my feet would permit until I was charging down the corridor of hedges in the maze.

seventeen HARD LESSONS

. Because of my excitement and the dim light, I made a few wrong turns and found myself running in circles through the center of the maze. Frantic, wet with perspiration, I stopped to catch my breath. My heart was pounding so hard, I thought it would shatter from the effort and pressure. I took deep breaths and tried desperately to get a hold of myself so I could think calmly and restore my sense of direction. Leaning too far back, I got my hair caught in some branches and screamed because I didn't know what was happening. I thought someone had grabbed me. Once I understood, I pulled myself loose quickly and continued.

Carefully I chose one turn and then another, forcing myself to move slowly and accurately through the hedges until I saw the familiar entrance on the Farthy side and shot out. I stopped again to catch my breath and listen. Had Tony seen me? Was he in pursuit? I heard no footsteps, nothing.

Still, I hurriedly returned to the house and ran upstairs to my suite. As soon as I entered, I shut my door and leaned back against it. Behind my closed eyelids, I once again saw that new painting. Tony's left hand completely covered my right breast and he was smiling down at me, his cerulean blue eyes painted so brightly they looked absolutely luminous in the picture.

Then I again envisioned him emerging naked from the kitchen. I assumed he had taken off his clothing because he had been using himself as a model. There was probably a mirror set against a wall, I thought. What other reason would he have for undressing while he worked?

He hadn't shouted out or quickly dressed to pursue me. Perhaps he hadn't seen me peeping through the window after all. I decided not to say anything about it. When my mother returned, I would tell her. She should know about something like this. It was so bizarre.

I relaxed now that I was safe in my own room. My body was still sticky with sweat, my silk blouse clinging to my arms and chest as if it had been glued to me. I felt ratty, dirty, not only from the flight t

hrough the hedges, but from what I had seen. I shook my head and shuddered. Then I embraced myself like someone caught in a snowstorm and hurried across my suite to my bathroom to run a warm bath. I shook in some bubble bath powder and watched the water turn aqua, the sweet scent circling around me like smoke.

I went to my dresser and chose a nightgown. After I hung it up on the bathroom door, I sat down at the vanity table and brushed out my hair. Some tiny twigs and leaves fell on the table. Looking in the mirror, I saw my face was still quite flushed, my cheeks bright red as if they had been slapped. I sat back for a moment in a daze. Then I remembered my bath and got up quickly. I stripped off my clothing as fast as I could and lowered myself into the soothing, tepid, perfumed liquid. It embraced me and I closed my eyes and lay back, moaning with pleasure.

I might have fallen asleep in the water for a few minutes. I don't know; I lost track of time. Suddenly, I opened my eyes and realized the bath had cooled down considerably. I rose out of it immediately and dried myself. Then I put on my nightgown and slipped under my soft blanket, searching for the security and warmth of my own bed. I just wanted to go to sleep and forget the whole day.

When I gazed out the window to my left, I saw a slice of the silvery moon gleaming through some gauzelike clouds. Above it a single bright star blinked like the light of a ship anchored for the evening somewhere far out on the inky ocean. The moonlight flowed into my room, turning my furniture into ghostlike silhouettes, but Angel's eyes twinkled reassuringly. I reached out and took hold of the doll's little hand. Then I closed my eyes and let myself sink into sleep, anxious for the peace and the darkness.

Suddenly, my eyes snapped open. I sensed I was not alone. I didn't move; I listened keenly and waited. There was the distinct sound of someone else's heavy breathing. Gradually, in tiny increments of movement, I turned in my bed until I was completely on my back, looking up. In the same silvery moonlight that had soothed and sent me into sleep stood Tony Tatterton, his naked chest glistening. I was trembling so hard, I thought I would stutter when I spoke, but ray words came out straight and true.

"Tony, what do you want?" I demanded. "Oh Leigh, my Leigh," he whispered. "It's time to bring the painting to life. It's time for me to do what I promised: to show you, to-teach you . . ."

"What do you mean? What do you want? I'm sleeping now. Please, leave," I begged, but he didn't. He sat on the side of my bed. I was afraid to lower my eyes, to follow the lines of his body, for I could sense without looking that he was completely naked.

"You're as beautiful as your mother," he said reaching out to stroke my hair. "More beautiful. Men will seek you everywhere you go, but you are like a precious work of art. You shouldn't be touched and misused by anyone. You're too special; yet you have to know what it means and what can happen. You have to be prepared and be aware. I can do that for you. I'm the only one who should do that for you, for in a way, I have created you."

He brought his hand to my face. I tried to pull back, but I was already against the pillow.

"I have lifted you from the canvas and like Pygmalion, filled you with life and beauty. Everyone who feasts his eyes on the portrait doll feasts his eyes on your beauty, beauty I carved with these very fingers," he said running the tips of his fingers along my jawline and down to my neck.

"Tony, I want you to leave right now. Please, get out of here this moment," I demanded in a shaky voice. I couldn't help it. My heart was thumping and I was swallowing my own breath, gasping for enough air to form words and demands.

He acted as if he didn't hear me. Instead of leaving, he peeled away my blanket, folded it neatly down my body. I reached up to tug it back, but he caught my hand and brought it to his lips.

"Leigh," he moaned. "My portrait doll."

"Tony, get out. What are you doing?"

I raised my head and shoulders and saw that he was indeed completely naked. He slipped in beside me, his hands on my thighs, forcing my nightgown up my body. I wanted to speak and tell him I was almost his daughter, and he shouldn't be here doing these things, but I couldn't catch my breath. He had brought my nightgown over my waist.

I pushed out to keep him away, pressing on his forehead, but he was so strong and determined.

"Tony, what do you think you're doing? Get off me. Please, stop!"

He drove his head down until his lips touched my neck, making a trail all around my throat, savoring the taste and feel of my flesh. I shivered, wanting him to stop, but my small hands and weak arms had no effect on his broad shoulders and chest. He had brought my nightgown up so it was just under my arms. When he pressed his chest against my naked bosom, I could feel his steady heartbeats thumping, making it seem as if I were a part of him. He had his lips to my ear.

"You must experience, understand, be aware," he whispered. "You will know and be prepared. It's my duty, my responsibility, part of the artistic process involved in creating you," he said, convincing himself that what he was doing was right and necessary.

"NO, STOP!"

I tried beating him back by pounding his shoulders and neck with my tiny fists, but it was like flies on a horse's back--just a minor annoyance. I felt his legs slip in between mine. My panic rose. He had slid his hands down and embraced me, holding my arms firmly against my body. His lips moved along my collarbone and dropped between my breasts. I felt the wetness of the tip of his tongue.

"Show you . . . teach you ."