The Antique Love (19 page)

When he put a steaming cup of black coffee in front of her, she took a large gulp, almost burning her mouth.

“Hey, careful.” He reached out a hand to take the mug from her and then checked himself. “I don’t want to do the big brother thing again but be careful. It’s hot.”

Penny recalled how she’d snapped at him in the hotel lobby the previous night, and a faint heat stole into her cheeks. He pulled out the chair next to hers and sat down away from the table, resting his elbows on his knees. Then he reached forward to take one of her hands in his.

“I think you must know by now I don’t think of you as a kid sister.” There was a warmth in his eyes and a soft lift to his mouth. “That’s definitely not how I think of you.”

Penny felt the warm pressure of his fingers. “I guessed not,” she said. Her cheeks dimpled. “That wasn’t a very brotherly kiss last night. And when I was lying awake last night I was thinking about kissing you again, too.”

He reached forward as though to take her in his arms, but she lifted a hand and held it up between them, the smile leaving her eyes. “But when I was awake last night I was also thinking of what you said earlier. What about your plans for the future?” She tilted her head to indicate the kitchen. “I mean, you bought this house because you were planning to get married and everything. And you’ve been dating other women. I know how important it is to you to get married and start a family. I just don’t see…” Her sentence trailed away, but her blue eyes were back on him, alive with question.

“Yes,” he said. “I know what you must be thinking. I’ve been dating, but nothing’s really come of it.” He leaned back, frowning down at their joined hands. “I don’t know what it is. I had a plan for the future all mapped out, right enough, but nothing’s turned out like I thought.” He raised his head as though his own words had surprised him. “I’ve had lots of dates these past few months. But you’re the only person I’ve really liked being with.”

Penny stilled, her eyes on his, waiting for him to continue. But Kurt, who was normally so direct, and spoke at all times with conviction, hesitated. The silence stretched a little too long. Penny drew her fingers slowly out of his and brought her hand to rest on the table top. She was still gazing at him intently, looking for any sign, any meaning she could recognise in his impassive features, but there was nothing.

“Do you mean you enjoy my company?” She couldn’t help the slight note of chill that crept into her voice. Kurt drew back.

“Yes…I mean, no. No, of course it’s not just that. It’s…” He broke off, and for the first time since Penny had met him, he appeared to be at a stand.

“What is it?” she asked quietly.

He raised his grey eyes to hers, and she looked straight into their depths but could guess at nothing. He leaned toward her, and his hands rested on her arms with extraordinary gentleness. Everything in the way he moved, the way he leaned toward her, the softness of his touch, spoke of the depth of his feelings. But his words—his words said nothing.

He carried on speaking, his gaze unwavering. “You’re not like anyone else I’ve ever dated. And the thought of spending more time with you…well, I can’t tell you how happy that would make me. When I kissed you last night, I knew for certain…” He took in a deep breath, his eyes steady on hers. “I knew for certain that I didn’t want anyone else but you. And I knew for certain I was going to ask you to marry me.”

Penny went totally still. Too amazed even to gasp out loud, she stared into his eyes, in the depths of which she now recognised uncertainty and hope. She drew her head back and felt his fingers tighten on her arms.

“It’s good that you like spending time with me,” she said. Her voice was hollow, and she measured each word as she continued. “But I’m not really sure enjoying each other’s company is enough. I’m not sure we’re the same people. You told me you were looking for someone who shared the same values. You told me passionate love was for idiots.”

The colour left Kurt’s face, leaving the shadows beneath his eyes etched in dark relief. “I still believe that,” he said fiercely. “I believe we could have something really good between us, without all the drama. Don’t force me down that path.” He gripped her arms unconsciously. “I would do everything in my power to make you happy. Are you honestly telling me you couldn’t be happy with me?”

His eyes bored into hers, willing her to answer as he wanted. She stood and pulled away from him, scraping her chair back. He stood with her, dropping his hands to his sides. She took a few steps backward toward the kitchen units and leaned back on them. She had never imagined this. He had asked her to marry him! And could she be happy? In her sleepless dreams of the previous evening, she would have said yes. A thousand—a million times yes. But now…now, why did he refuse to say the words she so desperately needed to hear? The thought leapt to her mind, no matter how she strove against it, that he was looking for someone to marry—that he had a plan for the future—and that Penny Rosas was simply the best he could find. That he didn’t really love her the way a man loved a woman but was content to marry her because they
enjoyed each other’s company
. That in the end, she was second-best like she normally was.

She refused to believe it. She lifted her head and fixed her eyes on him where he stood rigid, waiting for her answer.

“I know you don’t like drama,” she said quietly, trying desperately to keep her voice level—to keep the pleading out of her tone. “But answer me this just once, and I won’t ask you again. Do you actually love me?”

She saw a spark flash in his eyes, but he kept his voice under rigid control. “I won’t lie to you. I’m not going to say words I think are meaningless. If you’re asking for romantic love, you’re pinning your hopes on a dream. Why not take what we have and be happy?”

A jumble of words and feelings rushed through Penny’s exhausted brain in a whirling flood. She saw a future stretch before her as Kurt’s wife, living in his house, with their children even, and wondered would this be happiness? He would be good to her and would be a good father. Wouldn’t any woman call that happiness?

She gazed at him without speaking, trying to control the feelings rushing chaotically through her. She had no idea what was the right course of action. She had a dream—a dream where she could share her love equally with a man who loved her in return without reservation. A dream where marriage involved all the romance of falling in love—not a logical agreement between two people who got on well. If she married Kurt, would she be selling out on her dream?

Exasperated at her silence, Kurt uttered the words that were to cause him bitter regret. He stepped forward impatiently. “You’re being ridiculously romantic.”

Penny blanched. They were the same words David had flung at her. If she needed anything to help her make her mind up, that was it.

Instantly, Kurt leapt forward, his hand outstretched toward her, but it was too late. Penny turned to pick up her jacket which she’d left lying on the kitchen worktop.

“I’m sorry, Kurt,” she said. Her breath seemed to have deserted her, and her fingers were trembling, but she turned to face him squarely. “I think we’re two different people. We’ve had a great time together. It’s been fun.” She cringed inwardly at what she was saying but forced herself to carry on. “And it’s very tempting to think we could continue this way, but in the end I don’t think we’d be happy. Granddad told me not to accept second-best. If you’re not in love with me, then that’s what I’d be doing.”

She waited, giving him every opportunity, willing him to say the words, but he said nothing, his lips a thin, pale line. She reached into the pocket of her jacket, and an unbearable sadness swept over her.

“Here,” she said, holding out his house keys. He continued to gaze at her, ignoring the keys as though incapable of moving. She reached behind her and placed the keys on the worktop. “I’m sorry. I can’t change who I am.” Her voice trembled at her last words, and he took a few swift steps forward, reaching out a hand, but she turned away.

“Bye, Kurt.”

She took a few swift steps to the door and then almost ran down the echoing hallway, leaving him rooted to the spot. The front door swung to with sickening finality behind her.

* * * *

It was a long time before Kurt moved. The emptiness of the house without Penny’s presence came crashing down around his ears, and the blood pounded through his head. He had driven her away. He would give up all he had in the world for her, but terror had frozen the words on his lips. And now the very thing he had been so afraid of losing was lost to him. He had lost Penny.

He sank down in the chair she had so recently vacated and placed his head in his hands, unconsciously adopting the same position his father had taken all those years ago when his step-mother had left. For a long time, he sat like this, the thoughts whirling uselessly around in his head until the pounding in his temples subsided and the quiet of the house overwhelmed him. He leapt up, anxious to break the hideous silence. He needed to be doing something, anything to wipe away the last image of her, those blue eyes swimming with hurt.

He strode aimlessly through the house, seeing her hand in every tiny detail. The thought came to him that she’d appeared anxious to show him his finished bedroom. He stood uncertainly at the bottom of the staircase, his hand on the banister. Memories of their first day together in the house came flooding back: the way she’d stood on the landing, gazing out on the park, the way she’d darted through the house throwing open doors and windows, letting light and air chase out the drabness and dust. All of a sudden, he needed to know how she’d finished the house. Overwhelmed with curiosity, he took the stairs two at a time. The bedroom door was ajar. He pushed it wide and halted on the doorstep, blinking slowly.

The light from the window filtered through the room, illuminating the walls. The deep azure of the sky outside and the blue of the paintwork merged as one, spreading a soft, cerulean hue around him. It was the colour of Penny’s eyes, and in Kurt’s state of heightened sensibility, it was as though he had stepped physically inside her gentle body, and the glow of her touch was all around him. For a few minutes, he stood there, bathed in light, his heart slowing its race as the wondrous hue washed over him. He stepped carefully into the centre of the room, anxious not to break the astonishing spell the light cast over him.

A large wooden bedstead, painted white, framed the king-size mattress. On either side were white wooden tables, on one of which Penny had placed a simple vase of purple irises. Kurt stilled. So overwhelmed was he by the events of the morning and the gentle beauty of the room that for a long while he remained motionless. Gradually he raised his head to note with wonder a series of richly coloured paintings along one wall. He turned slowly.

In the first canvas, a man and a woman lay under an astonishing patchwork of flowers. The blossoms formed a sensuous quilt of blues, violets, and gold. The couple’s naked arms were entwined above the coverlet, their eyes closed as if in sleep. The woman’s head was tilted, the bow of her rosy mouth lifting at the corners, and her features bathed in bliss. Kurt stared at her for what seemed an age, his senses drugged with the dreamlike beauty of the reclining figures.

In the next painting, the same couple. This time, they embraced under the man’s golden cloak beneath the branches of a leafless tree. Only the woman’s face was visible, tilted back in the man’s arms, the same expression of bliss on her parted lips and in her eyes, visible beneath the barely open eyelids. The branches of the tree reached for the heavens in a passionate swirl of gold.

It was the painting over the bed that caused Kurt to linger longest. The couple were kneeling, so entirely swathed in their cloak of patterned gold that only their heads and the woman’s naked feet appeared out of the rich colour. The man had caught the woman’s face in his hands and was bending to kiss her, her arm flung around his neck to pull him close. The woman’s pale face was tilted to receive his kiss, and she was leaning into him with such an expression of passionate, exquisite abandon that for an instant, Kurt was overcome with an emotion so intense it robbed him of the power to breathe.

After several minutes, he laid himself down on the bed, arms spread wide on either side of him, allowing the intense passion of the room to wash over him. In all his life, he had never felt such an intensity of emotion. He thought of Penny and was filled with a mixture of joy—joy at what she had created for him—and crushing grief that she was lost to him.

He closed his eyes, and the blue light from the window streamed over his rigid figure, shining through his closed lids. The couple above the bed clung to their embrace.

* * * *

The first thing Penny saw when she returned from Kurt’s house was the wilting bouquet of white roses. The hallway was filled with the perfume of decay. She glared at the innocent blooms as she passed them on the way to her room.

“You’ll be dead soon anyway, stupid flowers,” she cried. “And what was the point of you, anyway?”

Immediately, she felt ashamed of herself and turned back foolishly. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.” The inanimate roses bent their heads. “It’s not even Kurt’s fault. It’s my fault for imagining someone like me could ever be loved the way I want. The way I love him.”

Her voice broke, and she knew she was dangerously close to tears. It was silly and useless, but she had the house to herself, and so she was able to sit down on the stairs, put her head in her hands, and indulge in a fit of crying. Which, although it did nothing to ease the pain, gave her some relief from the thoughts whirling uselessly round her head.

“I don’t even know why he gave me roses, anyway,” she confided in the flowers through her sobs. “What sort of flowers are they to bring? Doesn’t he know anything?”

She turned and took the stairs to her room, still sobbing. The sight of her evening dress and silk wrap hanging from the wardrobe door caused her misery to intensify, and she threw herself face down on the bed and cried as though her heart were literally breaking inside her chest.