Read Desire (#2) for Free Online

wondered if Colin was warning me off. Was this his subtle way of telling me life with Benjamin wasn’t going to be all hearts and roses?
    When Benjamin finished the call, he walked back over to us, his smile twisted a little. “I’m sorry, but I have to go and see to this.”
    I shrugged. “Sure, I understand.”
    He stared down at me, his dark brown eyes reading my face. “Enjoy the exhibition. And if there is anything else you want to do or see, then ask Colin. I’ll pay for it. Whatever you want.”
    I slanted a glance at Colin and caught him rolling his eyes.
    “You don’t have to pay for anything, and Colin doesn’t have to keep me amused, honestly, I’m perfectly fine.”
    He leaned forward to kiss me, his lips brushing my cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again.
    Colin made a flapping motion with his hands. “Go on. We’ll be fine.”
    I watched Benjamin as he walked away and noticed he caught the eye of two young women standing beside a bronze sculpture.
    I turned and faced Colin. “I mean it. I don’t want you to feel you’re stuck with me.”
    “Kate, believe me. A day sightseeing with you is a treat.” He smiled, dimples lighting up his face.
    We continued our way around the room, stopping at every painting.
    When we stopped by ‘The Lady of Shalott’ by John William Waterhouse, my breath caught in my throat. It had always been one of my favourite paintings, but seeing a reproduction or a printed image on a book or postcard was nothing like standing in front of the real thing.
    The two-metre-wide painting drew me in. It was an oil on canvas, painted in 1888, but none of those details seemed important. Usually when I looked at art work, I focused on the details, the artistry and skill in the brush-strokes. I tried to study the techniques the artist used, but with this painting I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the woman’s face. It was so incredibly sad and melancholy.
    Tragedy shone in her eyes, and her anguish seemed to echo the pain of unrequited love in my chest. I knew how that felt.
    Waterhouse had painted the scene from Tennyson’s famous poem, which describes the unrequited love this woman had for the English knight, Sir Lancelot. The woman sat in a small wooden boat, preparing to sail away and meet her certain death. In front of her were three candles. I looked down at the caption beside the paining and read that the extinguished candles were a symbol that time was running out for her.
    I looked back at the woman’s hopeless face and felt my lower lip tremble. I tried desperately to blink back tears, as beside me, Colin quoted,
    “And at the closing of the day
    She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
    The broad stream bore her far away,
    The Lady of Shalott.”
    His voice was smooth and melodious, but a shiver ran down my spine.
    “Are you all right, Kate?” he asked as I wiped away a tear that stole its way down my cheek.
    I nodded, and tried to smile, not trusting my voice.
    He looped his arm through mine. “Let’s go and get a cup of coffee and maybe even a slice of cake. That always helps.”
    Colin left me at a table by the window in the little museum cafe. I took a paper napkin and wiped under my eyes, glad to see that my waterproof mascara had coped with the challenge.
    I watched Colin stare at the coffee machine for a moment or two, looking completely baffled. I smiled. I guessed Colin Easton didn’t frequent self-service cafes very often. I was just about to go over and help him when one of the staff behind the counter offered her assistance.
    He walked back over to our table beaming, carrying a tray.
    “This is a Bakewell tart,” he said, lifting a plate with what looked like a pie base filled with icing. “And this is a Victoria sponge, named after Queen Victoria, who was partial to a slice with her afternoon tea,” he said, looking pleased with himself.
    After he returned the tray, he sat beside me and placed a hand over mine. “I hope you don’t think