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     Don t! He caught her by the arm.
     Don t what? Confused by his urgency, she stayed her ground.
     We were almost having a conversation. Don t spoil it! Adam understood full well
    Serena s behaviour over the previous fortnight; he needed to get through to her.  At my
    mother s request, I went to my aunt s funeral. Up until the reading of her will, where you
    gave a convincing performance of being exactly as Andrea stated, I d never heard of you.
    I admit I considered following the course she suggested, and maybe that s why she chose
    me as your guardian because I was just hard enough to take the easy option and tidy
    you away in some institution without too many qualms. He still held her interest, but it
    was difficult to read more from her expression.  But from the first time you spoke to me,
    I have never viewed you as in any way mentally deficient quite the opposite, in fact.
    You were confused, yes, and maybe a little wild in your thinking, but I suspect your
    experience with Andrea gave you the right to be.
    Serena ignored the half-question in his last remark, but seemed to be reflecting on what
    he had been saying, her eyes staring into space. Or maybe she was playing dumb again?
    Adam exerted a slight pressure on her arm.
     You advised Nancy to consult a psychiatrist, didn t you?
    Was it an accusation? difficult to judge from the cool eyes trained on him once more.
     You needed help, Princess, he gave the truth gently, but she was an agonisingly long
    time in coming back with a barely audible Yes. It was a start.  Maybe Simon Clarke
    turned out to be a bad choice, mm?
     He helped a little, she conceded warily,  but he was a bit... disappointing.
    In what way disappointing? Adam speculated, but Serena moved away before he could
    press the point. Had she resented the personal interest his mother had hinted at in a letter?
    Or rejected Simon when he had failed to accept her revelations about the past at face
    value?
    Serena had wandered off towards a fallen tree. Adam followed and sat down beside her,
    taking a packet of cigarettes and lighter from his jacket. Lighting one, he inhaled deeply;
    he hadn t felt this nervous since his first date with a girl.
     It s beautiful. His hand swept the valley, rural England at its best, haphazard and rich
    with colour.
     Yes... yes, it is, she stammered.
    Serena was coping with her own tension as Adam failed to live up to the image she had
    given him.
     Have you painted it? he asked tentatively.
     My... my father did, she admitted falteringly, and on impulse added,  And he did it too
    well for any effort of mine to stand comparison... my own standards, I mean.
    Adam nodded his understanding, but he felt he had to give a little in order to receive any
    confidence. Not quite truthfully he confessed,  My own father was a financial genius. I
    admired and loved him a lot, but in the end I couldn t follow him. Much to my family s
    disgust I dropped out of my economics course at Cambridge and have held the dubious
    honour of black sheep ever since.
     That s not fair! Her vehemence startled both of them, and Serena stammered under his
    searching appraisal,  I mean what you do... your writing, it s more important than making
    money. Creating something for other people to enjoy.
    The defensive gleam lingered in her eyes and warmed him, even while he forced himself
    not to make anything out of it.
    He teased her seriousness with a wry,  Even if it s creating sensational garbage? She
    dropped her eyes away, and bending closer, Adam discerned colour flooding her high
    slanting cheekbones totally unexpected, utterly entrancing when he intuitively
    determined its origin. Fleetingly he touched her face with the back of his hand and she
    swayed rather than jerked back from him.
     Delightful though it is, your blush is unwarranted, Princess. Perhaps if you d been
    around with your refreshingly candid opinion, I wouldn t have sunk to such depths. But
    depths they were, and if anyone should be embarrassed by that film script, it s the writer.
    The frank admission brought Serena s head up to catch the self-derision curving his
    mouth. His books, clever and articulate, had more than suggested that the writer was not
    enamoured with the human race, but she had been wrong in assuming that Adam
    Carmichael held himself in any higher esteem.
     But if you knew, then why... she trailed off in her confusion.
     A joke on the black side that backfired, he murmured obscurely. But when she still
    waited, her small head upturned to his, he tried to enlighten her without broaching on
    self-pity.  Imagine you do a painting, a gallery dismissed it as non-commercial, and in a
    fit of artistic pique you alter it to the sort of bargain basement print that makes you
    cringe. And guess what happens?
     They love it. Serena s rueful smile held sympathy as she followed the analogy, but her,
     I would have destroyed it, was emphatic.
    Adam had no answer for the youthful certainty confronting him. He looked away from
    her, his eyes travelling the valley.
    And Serena, sensing his sudden remoteness, was more than a little baffled by her
    reaction to it. She felt shut out and strangely resentful.
     Why did you pretend in your letters that you liked Hollywood? she asked bluntly,
    almost demanding his attention.
    He did nothing about the hardness in his voice as he replied,  It s a habit that grows on [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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