Wilson was stirred to defend himself.
“I hardly think I qualify for inclusion with a poisonous old bat and her wretch of a son,” he said, the heat of anger joining cheeks already stirred into vivid colour by the reaction of his senses to being so close to this woman for whom he felt such… overpowering… feelings.
She shrugged her shoulders with a little laugh, as if to say:
“Whatever you wish.”
“To return to your original concerns,” she began finally. “We fell out, Aubrey and I, over my decision not to accompany him to America. Arnold was not happy with my decision either, but that was neither here nor there. It’s what I wanted. A trip into the desert. America is known to me, and what is known does not involve adventure. The desert, however, is something quite… different.”
Wilson conte
