The Stationmaster's Cottage
Page 27
"Slight exaggeration, but it was damaged. Like the seascape, somebody mistreated the canvas, and it was pure luck I found it in time."
Martin took a step or two around Christie to touch the frame and tilted his head at her. “Do you see the love in this painting? How could Martha have thought for one second Thomas was anything other than deeply, desperately in love with her?”
Why are you telling me this? Christie was too afraid to ask. “And I knew. From his letters.”
“Hm. You shouldn’t have read them.”
Christie lifted her chin. “I am sorry it upsets you.” she kept her eyes on his, refusing to back down. “I am not sorry I read them, given the result.”
Martin reached out and brushed a stray hair from Christie's eyes. "Good for you," he said. He dropped his hand again as the music changed to a faster beat. "Tonight belongs to Thomas and Martha. Let's celebrate with them."
“Of course.” Christie murmured. “I’ll be right there.”
She wanted another moment with the painting and when Martin left, took a deep breath to clear her head. If only he felt the way about her Thomas did about Martha. But true love just comes once in a lifetime, and this painting might represent the only time she would see it in hers.
MID-MORNING AND IT was already warm. Wearing a sarong and sandals, hair loose in soft waves, Christie carried the seascape across the meadow to Martin’s house.
Randall came hurtling around the corner, yipping in delight. His bow tie was gone, and he smelt doggie and wagged his tail like crazy.
Martin was not at the house. Randall by-passed it, running instead to the studio. Christie followed, curious about Martin’s creative space, but worried about intruding.
The studio door was wide open.
“Hello?” Christie called.
“Come in.”
Christie stopped inside the door, staring in wonder at the incredible artwork in the room. Stunning pieces radiated colour and magical concepts. In the centre of the room was a sheet-covered easel.
“Don’t tell me it needs repairing again.” Martin got up from the sofa near the window.
"Huh? Oh, this? No, of course not. It's for Thomas. Please make him keep it this time."
Martin laughed shortly as if to say good luck with that, but he wandered across to take the painting. Their fingers touched, and fire shot through Christie. Eyes on the seascape, she said the first thing that came into her mind. "I never understood why Thomas sent this painting to Martha. It was a reminder of how bad things were. Why not send her the portrait?"
“There was a reason behind it, but that’s one to discuss with him.”
Martin settled the painting on an empty easel and turned to gaze at Christie. She played with her hair, unsure of herself as she viewed one painting after another.
“Christie? Look at me.”
Christie feared this was the moment. He was about to break her heart, and she was too afraid to do as he asked.
“Will I need that handkerchief?” she said with a short laugh.
“Look at me, please.”
When she did, there was something unexpected in his eyes.
Uncertainty.
“I want to show you a painting I did.”
“A painting?”
“If it sends you away, I’ll live with that, but what I learned recently is there should be no secrets.”
“What do you mean?” Christie’s voice was almost inaudible.
Her hand in his, Martin led Christie to the covered easel in the centre of the studio. Positioning her in front of it, he slipped the cover off. Martin had taken his sketch of Christie on the stone steps and turned it into a stunning oil painting. Randall was at her feet; she gazed out over the ocean and wore Martin's T-shirt and the pendant from the jewellery store.
This was a work of love. Every stroke of the brush revealed a powerful emotion. Desire. Admiration. Respect. Trust. Love.
“This is me?”
Martin said nothing.
“You see me this way?”
"I was wrong about you, Christie. I made unfair judgements, and I'm sorry."
Christie thought she misheard him. “Did you just apologise?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“This painting... why?”
“Thomas shows love through his art and apparently, so do I.”
Still, she was too afraid to believe what she thought he meant.
“Christie, last night after you told me you weren’t sorry for reading those letters, I wanted to pull you into my arms and kiss you. Standing up for what you believe in yet still having the grace and empathy to acknowledge the effect it had on me.”
He took both of Christie’s hands in his. “You have courage.”
“I do?”
“And spirit, a warm heart and kindness. And a sense of right. Well, most of the time.” Martin chuckled. “Randall loves you. So, there is it.” He pulled Christie against himself, releasing her hands to slide his arms around her waist.
“I don’t know what to say.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
Martin responded by capturing her lips. With a tiny sigh, Christie surrendered, her arms winding around his neck, her hands through his hair. He kissed her until she was breathless and lightheaded, and powerless to resist. Then, he released her mouth, kissing the tip of her nose.
“Say you’ll lock doors when you’re told to.”
He kissed her forehead.
“And eat properly.”
He kissed her neck where it met her shoulder.
“And you love me too.” He threw that in casually, loosening his arms enough to gaze at her.
“Okay.” Her eyes sparkled with love.
“Okay?” Martin squeezed her in warning.
The heat and scent from his body radiated through her, overloading her senses until all she could do was whisper, “I love you too.”
Instead of kissing her again, Martin lifted her into his arms and carried her to the sofa. Sitting with her nestled in his arms, he brushed his lips against her forehead. “I love you, Christabel Ryan.”
Closing her eyes, she snuggled into his embrace, listening to his heartbeat. Randall padded over and climbed up beside them, dropping his head onto Christie’s lap.
“You asked me once why I was still in River’s End.”
“And?”
“I needed to find my home.”
“You found it.”
Yes. I did. Here, with this man and his dog, she was home.
About Phillipa Nefri Clark
PHILLIPA GREW UP ALONG lonely Australian beaches with wild seas and misty cliffs. From a young age she wrote stories and dreamed of becoming an author.
Now living in regional Victoria, Australia on a small acreage close to a mountain range, Phillipa's great loves - apart from writing - are her family of two young adult sons and her husband, their Labrador, music, fine wine, and friends.
Phillipa is a member of Romance Writers of Australia and Romance Readers Association Australia.
My love and thanks to Ian, Nick & Alex. Each of you helps, inspires, and supports me as a person and writer in many wonderful ways.
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I LOVE KNOWING MY READERS so please find me and say hello. You are most welcome to join my newsletter list to stay up to date with news and competitions. Subscribers have access to exclusive content, such as alternative chapters and bonus material.
Book two - Jasmine Sea - is available from the same retailer you found Cottage on, and the third in the series, The Secrets of Palmerston House, is due for release late in 2018.
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From my heart to yours,
Phillipa
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