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His gaze narrowed blankly on her averted face. She lifted her head, a frown pleating her pale brow. His voice broke the silence, low and slightly husky. Furiously angry, her eyes met his. He sounded polite now, urbane. She had to stop herself snapping, deliberately keeping to one word. He gave no emphasis to the words, no expression, yet his voice was loaded with meaning. She looked into the narrowed silvery grey depths and felt as though she was being sucked into a whirlpool. He laughed, a low grown of genuine amusement. She felt very close to tears again and she was desperate that he should not see her cry. He released her chin, allowing her the privacy of lowering her eyes again.
For further information or images please contact Martin Rasmussen: +44 (0)20 7729 9888 or: martin@vilmagold.com
Vilma Gold
Ben Judd
Parallel Universe
09 Mar – 08 Apr 2001