‘I’m sorry about that,’ she grimaced, her movements awkward in her embarrassment.
‘I would say it was long overdue.’ Adam gently smoothed back the softness of her hair from her face. ‘Paul didn’t take the news well?’ he prompted softly.
She gave a harsh laugh at the understatement. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think he probably said a lot of things he now regrets,’ Adam said with a sigh.
Eve drew in a ragged breath. ‘I doubt that very much. All that he said was the truth.’
Adam looked as if he doubted that. ‘But for all the shouting, I take it he still wanted to marry you?’
‘And why would you “take” that?’ she shot back defensively, looking for criticism.
He shrugged. ‘Did he?’
‘I don’t think——’
‘Surely I have a right to know? After all, I am the other man.’
‘You aren’t the “other man”,’ she flared indignantly. ‘There isn’t another man, just me having pre-wedding nerves that I thought it best to resolve before we go through the big step of getting married.’
Adam looked at her chidingly. ‘That wasn’t the impression you gave a few minutes ago.’
Her cheeks were flushed. ‘I might have known you would throw that back at me.’
‘I have a feeling you’re spoiling for a fight,’ he drawled drily. ‘But I’m not going to oblige you.’ He shook his head.
‘You aren’t?’ she said with unconcealed sarcasm.
‘No. Not for the reasons you want, anyway,’ he added chidingly. ‘I still can’t get over the fact that I had The Unicorn in front of me all the time and just didn’t know it. And no, that has nothing to do with the way I feel about you,’ he derided as her mouth thinned. ‘I’m amazed you’re The Unicorn, overjoyed. But I’m also mad as hell at you.’ He sobered, frowning darkly.
‘At me?’ she gasped.
‘Of course at you,’ he confirmed impatiently.
‘But why?’ she frowned.
‘Because you’ve successfully hidden yourself away from the world all these years.’ He shook his head in puzzlement.
Her head went back. ‘I haven’t hidden away from anyone.’
‘Then what have you been doing?’
‘I’ve been busy working,’ she defended.
‘But no one knows your identity except a few close friends and family,’ he pointed out softly.
‘That doesn’t make any difference to my work,’ she instantly retorted.
He strolled across the room to stand in front of one of the finished but so far ‘unshown’ canvases, gazing at it with obvious enjoyment. ‘No, it doesn’t make any difference to the brilliance of your work,’ Adam acknowledged huskily.
The painting was of miles and miles of seemingly endless golden corn waving gently in the breeze, so lifelike that there was vibrancy in every brushstroke. And in the centre of that golden beauty was a little girl carrying a bunch of buttercups in her tiny hands.
Adam’s hand moved out to the canvas, almost touching it but not quite. ‘She looks very much like you must have done as a child.’ He smiled gently. ‘Like the little girl we might have one day.’
She stiffened. ‘We aren’t having a little girl.’
‘No, I suppose they could both be boys,’ he acknowledged with a nod. ‘That was why I said she looked like the little girl we might have.’