‘You have thirty seconds to leave before I start screaming,’ she muttered tightly, getting to her feet.
Adam adopted an even more casual stance that implied he had no intention of quitting the room and made Serena clench her fingers.
‘Twenty seconds...’
‘As my mother appears to be out,’ Adam continued with light mockery, ‘I can only assume the outraged virgin act is to be performed for the benefit of the owner of the Range Rover parked outside.’
‘Ten seconds,’ she warned coldly, her glare showing she was just as angry as he was below the surface.
‘Are you sure you want to want to risk a fight between the young man and myself? The wrong person might get hurt,’ he suggested, an amused edge to his voice.
‘I doubt it,’ Serena retorted with heavy insult that didn’t seem to make any impression at all.
‘Will you bathe my wounds, Princess?’ Adam bantered back. ‘It might be worth getting a black eye.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
‘Your deadline is up,’ Adam smiled, uncrossing his arms to theatrically place a finger in each ear. ‘Scream away.’
‘Oh, stop being so silly!’ she shouted her exasperation, no defence ready against this playful side of Adam Carmichael. She gave way to impulse, and covering the space between them, ungraciously dragged his hands away from his head.
With a neat twist, Adam literally gained the upper hand and, lips twisting, asked, ‘Have you screamed?’
‘You damn well know I haven’t!’ Serena snapped, failing to free her hands from his.
She went very still and lowered her eyes, but Adam wasn’t fooled, for the pulse at her wrist was hammering furiously. He brought her back to him by remarking wryly, ‘I’m sincerely touched that you couldn’t bear to watch me being beaten to within an inch of my life, as the expression goes.’
‘If you continue making infuriating remarks,’ she shot back, ‘I might change my mind!’
‘I don’t think so, Serena,’ Adam murmured, no longer convinced it was all temper in her flashing eyes.
‘I wouldn’t bet on it!’
‘No, I don’t think I’d ever be so foolish as to lay money on how you would react to anything,’ he conceded, shedding his air of amusement. ‘Take that kiss we shared, for instance...’
‘Shut up!’ Tinges of red appeared on her cheeks.
‘There’s nothing to be ashamed of in enjoying a kiss, Princess,’ he warned quite seriously.
‘I didn’t!’ she denied hotly.
‘That’s not what that sensuous mouth of yours was telling me,’ he reminded her ruthlessly, his gaze moving to her lips now covered with a light gloss. ‘Perhaps we should put it to the test again.’
It had her backing away. ‘If you do, I’ll...’
‘Scream? We seem to be going round in circles, don’t you think?’ said Adam with heavy patience, dropping his hold on her. ‘Let’s take it as read that you won’t scream and I won’t kiss you unless either of us is provoked.’
‘What do you want from me?’ she demanded, the arrogant tilt of her golden head a provocation in itself.
‘I’m surprised you haven’t worked that out yet,’ he replied cryptically, and received a glare of contempt that told him Serena had put her own interpretation on his interest in her. He narrowed his eyes to it and forced himself to say, ‘But no matter, Princess, the light will dawn one day,’ in a lighter manner. ‘An apology will do for now.’
‘An apology?’ she cried disbelievingly. ‘For what?’
Adam wanted to say for causing him one of the worst half hours of his life when he had feared to find her unconscious body every step of the way back, but his pride wouldn’t let him. Instead he stated coldly, ‘For giving me two bruised ribs, should be sufficient reason.’
‘You’re... you’re mad,’ Serena gasped, ‘if you think I’m going to say I’m sorry for something I would do again without hesitation!’
‘A rather savage reaction to a kiss, wouldn’t you say?’ he muttered insinuatingly, for he had taken more than enough of her defiance.
But Serena was thinking along similar lines. Adam really was insufferable! One more sarcastic remark about that kiss, and she felt she would hit him. She knew she would. And catching the sardonic gleam in his eyes as they travelled over the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, she almost did.
Adam watched her retreat to the bed and snatch up the jacket of her stylish skirt suit—a picture of controlled fury. She was sending him a little crazy, he realised, for he had actually wanted her to hit him—a token of hate if she wouldn’t give him anything else?
And she had reverted to icy indifference when confronting him once more. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have a guest waiting downstairs.’
‘We’ll go down together, shall we?’ said Adam with mock pleasantness.
‘No!’ she snapped, the speed and harshness of her refusal supporting the idea that she was acutely anxious to keep the two men apart.
‘Oh, but I’ve been looking forward to meeting your fiance,’ he baited, leaning back on the door as she took a step towards it.
‘He’s not!’ she denied hotly—and then wondered why she had rejected the one relationship that even a cynic like Adam Carmichael might just respect.
‘That sounded like pure panic to me.’ Adam smiled, his satisfaction purring. ‘Why are you so bothered about my meeting the worthy John?’
‘I’m not,’ Serena returned quickly, but his knowing smile sparked off her temper again. ‘OK, Mr Carmichael, you’ve asked for it. John Saxon is an extremely amiable, kind and gentle person—’ She paused, faltering slightly, but gathered resolve from his lazy posture. She dragged out each word. ‘Whereas you are, without doubt, the most conceited, detestable, nasty...’
Adam cut her off mid-sentence. ‘Skip it, Princess, I can get the message.’
And he left Serena staring dumbfounded as the door closed behind him. She’d hurt him. She’d actually got through his tough male hide and inflicted the pain that had darkened and then shut his eyes in a moment’s anguish before he had slammed out of the room. It made no sense. Nothing did any more—not his erratic behaviour, nor her chaotic response to it. She had wanted to hurt him. She had been unbelievably successful. He deserved it. So why should she go running to him to seek forgiveness?
‘There you are,’ John Saxon called up with mild impatience, halting Serena midflight at the top of the stairs. ‘Have you forgotten me?’ he teased, with no suspicion that his laughing surmise was literally true. ‘Come on, darling, you’re always worth waiting for, but this time we’re very, very late.’
The light male laughter carried up to Adam’s room. Furiously he tore off his mud-splattered clothing, cursing and wanting her with each alternate breath. Images of strangling her with his bare hands were inextricably mixed with the vision of making love to her between cool white sheets that made him ache in the pit of his stomach. He heard the front door open and close—and lost the battle to keep away from the window.
Just before she climbed into her seat Serena leaned forward and startled John by kissing him with a force and urgency he could neither understand nor answer. She drew back, and smiled, shielding the disappointment that the earth was never going to move with nice kind John. When she turned from him her eyes, cool and passionless, lifted of their own accord and she stared without surprise at the man framed in one of the long windows. Her gaze was steady and betrayed none of the growing fear that no matter how much she disliked him, Adam Carmichael might spoil her for any other man.
And Adam looked on, seeing the kiss as brutal retaliation for his own and the mockery in her beautiful upturned face as the continued twisting of the knife with which she had already cut him. His fist slammed full force into the wall, blood trickling unheeded from his knuckles.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A glance at the catalogue told him that the item in which he was specifically interested was about to be sold. It was the third a
uction he had attended in Yorkshire, and he had been pleasantly surprised by the wealth of treasures to be found. Today he was determined to buy a painting.
He had seen it at the preview, and despite its uninspiring description—mother and child by unknown artist— he had at once recognised both its origin and subject.
Normally Adam set himself a limit above which he resisted the temptation to continue bidding; this time, however, he was prepared to bid until he got what he wanted, regardless of price.
The bidding started sluggishly, with the auctioneer chiding the crowd for their reluctance to make an offer for what he called a very nice little painting, a description which made Adam cringe. Initially the bidding was between a rather plump woman sitting just in front of Adam, and a voice coming from the back of the large manor hall where the sale was taking place.
Adam relaxed, waiting for the moment he thought fit to enter the auction. The price had settled round the five hundred mark when a man on the sidelines overstepped it by one hundred. Adam intuitively recognised him as a dealer. The plump woman who had wanted to take the cute little painting back to her home in Nebraska dropped out, her husband having announced in an over-loud whisper that ‘it wasn’t that cute’. The dealer and the voice from the back continued competing until the bidding rose to over two thousand pounds. The expression on the auctioneer’s face plainly revealed his dismay at having missed out on something by not bringing in a valuer—it had already gone too high for the work of an unknown. Again the bidding stabilised, this time at two and a half thousand pounds, with the dealer’s offer highest.
Adam fractionally lifted his hand at the words ‘going once’, indicating his bid of three and a half. His large jump was intended to discourage competition. It did not succeed, because the dealer came back with an offer improved by five hundred pounds, his thinking the same as Adam’s. For eight thousand pounds it eventually became Adam’s property, and he suffered with a smile of satisfaction the curious stares of the American couple before the auction recommenced.
The final lots disposed of, he presented his cheque at the auctioneer’s table and arranged for delivery of the painting. His good mood did not, however, last, for as he threaded his way through the crowd round the table, he caught sight of a familiar figure at the back of the hall.
Serena stood alone, hanging back from the man she was with as he became involved in a conversation with another couple. Something in her stance told Adam she was aware of his presence and avoiding his stare.
They had not exchanged a word for a fortnight, but this time of silence had not been initiated by Serena. The first few days after their last encounter had left Adam too bruised and battle-weary to do anything but keep well away from her. Since then he had discovered why anyone she associated with Andrea was treated to such passionate dislike, and because he felt she must want him gone—but was too proud to say so—he knew he should think of leaving Yorkshire—and sooner rather than later.
And he would have left the auction without going near her if she hadn’t looked round at him making his way to the exit and acknowledged him by quickly averting her head.
Starved for contact, Adam couldn’t help approaching her, and when he saw her back stiffen as she sensed his intention, he prepared to don the mask he had come to use to disguise his feelings.
‘What a coincidence,’ he said, striving for a friendliness that was immediately interpreted as sarcasm.
‘Isn’t it just?’ she replied icily, flicking him a sideways glance that was anything but welcoming.
‘It is actually.’ He hesitated and found himself lost for something neutral to say. With each of them tense and silent he had just determined to walk away...
‘Aren’t you going to introduce us, Serena?’ John Saxon had finished his conversation with the other couple whose drifting away had brought his attention back to her.
‘John,’ she stammered,’ this is Adam Carmichael... my step-cousin...’
Both men waited for her to complete the formality, and Adam, realising she didn’t intend to, quickly greeted the younger man, ‘How do you do? I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you.’
‘I’m afraid you have the advantage of me, Mr Carmichael. Serena hasn’t...’ John Saxon broke off uneasily.
‘I quite understand. Our little Serena has failed to mention my existence,’ Adam bantered lightly, driven on by the severe chill wafting in his direction. ‘Or perhaps you know me better as the wicked guardian.’
At this the young farmer looked even more uncomfortable. ‘I wasn’t aware that Serena had a guardian,’ he eventually managed, more mystified than annoyed at the knowledge he had gained as he gave Serena a puzzled frown. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, darling?’
‘Don’t look so hurt, John. He’s just teasing.’ Serena’s eyes shifted to Adam, daring him to contradict her, and on a note of accusation, she added, ‘My step-cousin loves to tease.’
‘Oh, I see. It was a joke.’ John did not understand the supposed humour, but he looked relieved by her assurance. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Carmichael.’
Adam was also perplexed, too puzzled to deny Serena’s assertion. Surely she had at least mentioned his existence—even if only as an obstruction to their plans?
‘We’d better go, John,’ she pressed, touching his arm.
‘Plenty of time, darling,’ said John, still curious and completely missing her anxiety.
Adam didn’t. ‘If you and Serena have to hurry off somewhere...’
‘Oh no, not in the least,’ John interrupted. ‘It’s sort of an afternoon off for me, coming to a sale.’
‘Did you get what you wanted?’ Adam was making conversation, sensing that Serena was on the verge of another request to depart.
‘Yes, some farm machinery—good condition too,’ John enthused, oblivious of the tension surrounding him, ‘but Serena wasn’t quite so lucky.’
‘Oh, and what were you after, Princess?’ Adam asked pleasantly, the nickname slipping out as he tried to improve the atmosphere between them.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ The set of her chin told him she was determined not to be drawn.
‘Serena’s a bit disappointed,’ John rushed to defend her show of moodiness. ‘I was bidding for a painting she liked but—well, it suddenly took off, and Serena agreed with me, it would have been sheer stupidity to carry on,’ the younger man explained, and becoming increasingly uncomfortable under Adam’s steady gaze, justified himself with, ‘Not that I couldn’t afford it or anything, but a painting is just a painting, after all, unless it’s by somebody famous. Then, of course, it’s an investment.’
Adam shuddered inwardly at such a Philistine notion and Serena’s eyes, threatening and narrowed, reflected her awareness of his thoughts. How could she contemplate marrying someone who did not share even a passing interest in her world?
‘Another coincidence,’ Adam murmured dryly. ‘I think we may have been after the same painting.’
‘Good lord!’ John exclaimed. ‘Were you the late bidder seated near the front?’
‘The same,’ Adam nodded.
‘Did you get it?’ John enquired curiously. ‘I missed the closing bid.’
‘He gets everything he sets his mind to, don’t you?’ It was Serena’s first voluntary contribution to the conversation and it was no compliment.
‘Almost everything, Princess,’ Adam calmly answered the bitter reproach, although it hurt as it was meant to. ‘In the case of the painting, my patience was rewarded. But some things don’t come quite so easily.’
‘But then anything that doesn’t,’ Serena declared stonily, ‘you don’t find much difficulty in shrugging off, do you?’
She was now positively glowering at him and for a second Adam just stared at her, scarcely believing the undercurrents he was picking up from the acid remark. The contrary creature was piqued that he had been ignoring her.
‘I believe you’ve just renewed my interest,’ Adam matched her cryptic note, feelin
g, rightly or wrongly, suddenly free of any obligation to stay away from her, and waited her reaction.
But John, who had been standing on the sidelines of the exchange, not surprisingly lost as to its subject and made to feel an unwanted third, put his arm round Serena’s shoulders and cut in with, ‘You must have wanted it awfully badly to pay that sort of money for an apparently worthless painting.’
‘Did you think it worthless, Mr Saxon?’ Adam switched his attention back to the other man, pinning him down with a cold, challenging stare.
‘John,’ he offered his more familiar name, although he seemed uncertain of his words before Serena’s more mature cousin, ‘I admit it was pretty, but as a business proposition...’
‘Your accountant wouldn’t approve,’ Adam finished it for him, neatly and damningly.
The sarcasm was totally missed as John gave a self-conscious laugh before conceding, ‘He’d have a fit.’
‘And what value would you put on it, Serena?’ Adam baited.
‘I think you know,’ she returned coolly, moving closer into the circle of John’s arm, to irritate, Adam was sure, for as a protector, John was proving himself severely inadequate.
He looked confused, late to catch up with their near-antagonist attitude towards each other. ‘I am a bit at sea. Was there something special about the painting, darling?’
Adam forestalled her automatic denial. ‘You could say that. It’s by Graham Templeton, Serena’s father, and I would say, judging by the age of the child model and her present age, it was painted about fourteen years ago. Am I right?’
‘I can’t remember,’ she snapped.
‘You haven’t changed much. Well, in the face anyway,’ Adam murmured, eyes moving over her feminine curves: the little girl playing beside her mother on a sandy beach had not worn any clothing.
John’s slight opening of his mouth registered belated understanding. ‘You should have told me, Serena. If I’d known...’ he stuttered helplessly.
How the young man had failed to recognise Serena in the beautiful golden child or her present likeness to the mother, lovingly painted by the artist, was a wonder to Adam, but he refrained from saying so. He could not, however, resist the temptation to add to his palpable discomfort.
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