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passion, need for need. Discovering this new facet of herself was
perhaps the most disturbing knowledge of all.
I won't give up. Gwen lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. I
won't let him intimidate me or dominate my thoughts any longer. Her
eyes glittered with challenge. Luke Powers won't control me. He'll find
out that Gwen Lacrosse is perfectly capable of taking care of herself and
her mother.
"Just a minute longer." Bradley Stapleton held up a pencil briefly, then
continued to scrawl with it on an artist's pad. He sat cross-legged in the
middle of the walkway, his feet sandaled, wearing paint-spattered
carpenter's pants, a checked sport shirt unbuttoned over his thin chest
and a beige fisherman's cap on his head. Surprised and intrigued, Gwen
stopped in her tracks.
"Wonderful!" With surprising agility, Bradley unfolded himself and
rose. His eyes smiled with genuine pleasure as he strolled over to Gwen.
"I knew you'd be a good subject, but I didn't dare hope you'd be
spectacular. Just look at this range of emotions!" he commanded as he
flipped back several pages in his pad.
Gwen's initial amusement altered to astonishment. That the pencil
sketches were exceptionally good was obvious, but it was not his talent
as much as the content of the sketches that surprised her. She saw a
woman with loose, curling hair and a coltish slenderness. There was a
vulnerability she had never perceived in herself. As Gwen turned the
pages, she saw herself dreaming, pouting, thinking and glaring. There
was something disturbing about seeing her feelings of the past half hour
so clearly denned. She lifted her eyes to the artist.
"They're fabulous," she told him. Bradley's face crinkled into a grin.
"Bradley," she searched for the right words. "Am I really...so,
well...artless as it seems here?" She looked back down at the sketches
with a mixture of conflicting emotions. "What I mean is, are my
thoughts, my feelings, so blatantly obvious? Am I so transparent?"
"That's precisely what makes you such a good model," Bradley said.
"Your face is so expressive."
"But-" With a gesture of frustration, Gwen ran a hand through her hair.
"Do they always show? Are they always there for people to examine? I
feel defenseless and, well, naked somehow."
Bradley gave her a sympathetic smile and patted her cheek with his long,
bony fingers. "You have an honest face, Gwen, but if it worries you,
remember that most people don't see past the shape of a nose or the color
of eyes. People are usually too busy with their own thoughts to notice
someone else's."
"Yet you certainly did," Gwen replied, but she felt more comfortable.
"It's my business."
"Yes." With a smile, Gwen began flipping through the pages again.
"You're very good..." She stopped, speechless as the pad fell open to a
sketch of Luke.
It was a simple sketch of him sitting on the rail of the veranda. He was
dressed casually, and his hair was tousled, as though he had been
working. Bradley had captured the strength and intelligence in his face,
as well as the sensual quality she had not expected another man to
notice. But it was Luke's eyes, which seemed to lock on to hers, that
impressed her. The artist had caught the strange melding of serenity and
power that she had felt in them. Gwen was conscious of an odd
quickening of her breath. Irresistibly, she was drawn to the picture just
as she was drawn to the man.
"I'm rather pleased with it." Gwen heard Bradley's voice and realized
with a jolt that he had been speaking for several seconds.
"It's very good," she murmured. "You understand him." She was
unaware of the wistfulness and touch of envy in her voice.
After a brief, speculative glance at her lowered head, Bradley nodded.
"To an extent, I suppose. I understand he's a complicated man. In some
ways, he's much like you."
"Me?" Genuinely shocked, Gwen lifted her eyes.
"You're both capable of a wide range of emotions. Not everyone is, you
know. The main difference is, he channels his, while yours are fully ex-
pressed. Will you sit for me?"
"What?" Gwen tried to focus on him again. The question was out of
context with the rest of his statement. She shook her head to clear it of
the disturbing thoughts his words had aroused in her.
"Will you sit for me?" Bradley repeated patiently. "I very much want to
do you in oils."
"Yes, of course." She shrugged and conjured up a smile to dispel her
own mood. "It sounds like fun."
"You won't think so after a couple of hours of holding a pose," Bradley
promised good-naturedly. "Come on, we'll get started now, before you
change your mind." Taking her hand, he pulled her up the walkway.
Several hours later, Gwen clearly understood the truth of Bradley's
statement. Posing for a temperamental artist, she discovered, was both
exhausting and demanding. Her face had been sketched from a dozen
angles while she stood or sat or twisted in accordance with his
commands. She began to feel more sympathy for the models at Style.
She had been amused at first when Bradley rooted through her wardrobe
in search of attire suitable to sitting for the portrait. When he selected a
thin white silk robe, she had taken what she considered a firm stand
against his choice. He ignored her objections and, to her amazement,
Gwen found herself doing exactly as he instructed.
Now, tired and alone, Gwen stretched out on her bed and relaxed her
muscles. A smile lurked at the corners of her mouth as she recalled how
Bradley had gently steamrolled her. Any embarrassment she had felt
about wearing only the robe while he studied her or moved her this way
and that had been swiftly eradicated. She might as easily have been an
interesting tree or a fruit bowl. He had not been interested in the body
beneath the robe but in the way the material draped.
I don't have to worry about fending off a passionate attack, Gwen
reflected as she shut her eyes, only about stiffening joints. With a deep
sigh, she snuggled into the pillow.
Her dreams were confused. She dreamed she was roaming through the
bayou picking roses and blueberries. As she passed through a clearing,
she saw Luke chopping down a thick, heavy tree. The sound of the ax
was like thunder. The tree fell soundlessly at her feet. As Luke watched,
she walked to him and melted into his arms. For an instant she felt
violent joy, then, just as suddenly, she found herself hurled into the cool
stream.
From behind a curtain of water, Gwen saw Anabelle, a gentle smile on
her lips as she offered her hand to Luke. Gwen struggled for the surface
but found it just beyond her reach. Abruptly she was standing on the
bank with Bradley sitting at her feet sketching. Ax in hand, Luke
approached her, but Gwen found her arms and legs had turned to stone. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]