‘It’s . . .’ She sought around for an adequate word to describe it. ‘Amazing,’ she plumped for, even though that sounded so lame. She turned to Marcus. ‘I can’t believe it’s me. It’s so . . . alive.’
‘Which is how I see you. Alive. Free.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘And incredibly sexy.’
She felt her cheeks flush again.
‘It’s an arresting portrait. The judges were apparently unanimous in their decision to award it first prize,’ Lady Thomwell said. ‘And it’s this portrait that made Estelle realise that she didn’t stand a chance with you.’ She was talking to Marcus now. ‘The love for the subject is so evident. It leaps out at you.’
So, she wasn’t the only one who had seen that. Marcus had painted her out of love. He had secretly loved her all those weeks. Just as she had secretly loved him.
‘Can we have a photo of the artist and the woman in the painting together?’ a photographer asked.
Hattie and Marcus obliged, standing hand in hand in front of the painting. Then they were both interviewed, the reporters wanting to know how Hattie had felt when she realised Marcus’s secret painting of her had won first prize. ‘Astonished, proud . . . honoured,’ she said, smiling at him.
Much later, when they got back to the hotel they were staying in for the night, Marcus wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. ‘Do you like the painting?’
‘I love it!’ she nestled into him.
‘I’m sorry I did it in secret, I should have told you, but that would have meant . . .’
‘Telling me how you feel?’ she asked gently.
He nodded. ‘And I wasn’t ready to confess that yet, not even to myself.’
‘Neither was I,’ she admitted. ‘I needed time to get used to Port Medden, to fall in love with this place first, before I admitted I loved you. I had to make sure that I was staying here for me, not for you, that I would be happy to still live here if you didn’t love me.’
‘And would you?’ he asked softly.
She nodded. ‘Yes. I feel like it’s my home, I never want to move.’ She looked up at him, suddenly serious. ‘But I am glad that you love me. It would have been so hard to see you every day, otherwise, and to see you with someone else.’
‘That will never happen,’ he promised. And then they were kissing again. And then the kissing deepened and they were making love.
The next morning, they set off for the journey back to Cornwall in Lady Thomwell’s chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce. The two paintings were in the boot.
‘Let me know if you ever want to sell one of those paintings, Marcus,’ Lady Thomwell said when they had pulled up at the back of the cottages and Marcus and Hattie were taking the paintings out of the boot. She smiled as her eyes rested on Hattie. ‘Although, I doubt if you ever will.’
‘I won’t,’ he told her. ‘They are absolutely not for sale.’
They waved as Lady Thomwell drove off, then looked at each other. ‘What are you going to do with the paintings?’ Hattie asked him.
‘Well, I was going to hang them up in my lounge to remind me of you and Buddy when you’d left,’ he said.
‘But now we’re not going . . .’
‘I’m going to put the one of you in my bedroom, so that you’re the first thing I see when I open my eyes every morning,’ he said, kissing her.
‘And the one of Buddy?’
‘I thought you might like that. You could do with a couple more paintings on your walls.’
She smiled. ‘I would love it. If you’re sure.’
‘Absolutely sure. Now, how about I take my painting in, then come and hang yours up for you?’
‘I’ll leave the catch on the door for you and put the kettle on,’ she told him.
Buddy was pleased to see her when she walked in, squawking, ‘Hello, Hattie!’ and dancing along his perch. Seeing how happy he was to have company again gave Hattie an idea. When Marcus arrived a few minutes later with the painting of Buddy, she asked him to put it up on the wall opposite the cage, so that Buddy could see it. As she had thought, the parrot was fascinated with the painting. He cocked his head on one side, whistled, then started talking to it.
Marcus grinned. ‘I think you’ve found the perfect solution to Buddy being lonely when you’re out.’
‘It’s so realistic, it’s incredible,’ she told him.
She looked around the cottage and breathed out a sigh of happiness. ‘I can’t believe this is my home. I’m so glad I don’t have to leave it.’
‘So am I.’ Marcus wound his arms around her and kissed her. ‘I can’t imagine my life without you.’
‘I don’t even want to think of mine without you,’ she replied. Then they were in each other’s arms again, their kisses deepening, their caresses getting more urgent, and the coffee went cold.
Much, much later, they made fresh coffee, and a sandwich, then went for a walk along the beach, hand in hand. As she gazed out across the shimmering ocean, Marcus’s arm around her shoulder, Hattie thought that this was exactly where she wanted to be, by Marcus’s side. Forever.
Read more from Karen King . . .
Ellie Truman’s mum has been struggling to keep the family hotel in Cornwall afloat since Ellie’s dad passed away. Ellie is determined to help her mum, even if that means moving back to the sleepy Cornish village of Port Medden she fled from broken-hearted a few years ago.
Running the hotel isn’t easy and Ellie is grateful for the help from charming guest, Reece Mitchell. Ellie feels herself falling for Reece but should she trust him and risk getting her heart broken again? And will their hard work be
