“Would you mind letting go of me?” Her voice was a few degrees cooler, in a way that suitors of old would have recognized. “I still have a few things to sort out before tomorrow, and I want to go to bed early if I’m to be up around four o’clock.”
“That sounds like a very good idea,” he whispered against her mouth, but when she braced herself for his kiss, it never came. Just a faint brushing of his lips on hers, and he let her go, leaving her unfulfilled and angry at herself because she no longer knew what she wanted anymore.
After she’d had a few hours’ sleep, the business and excitement of the day took over. She and Pieter drove into Amsterdam at first light, and it was an invigorating and oddly moving experience. To be out in the silent cobbled streets before anything else was moving, in the pale pinky-yellow light of day, with the lime trees and tall gabled houses mirrored in the canals so perfectly before the boating traffic disturbed their stillness was somehow magical, and Annette was warmed by the fact that she was sharing the magic with Pieter. Because this was his day, she wanted to make it perfect for him. The thought stung her throat as they turned into Gerrit’s yard, where the fishing boat waited to be transformed.
There was a lot to be done, and Annette and Pieter worked as part of a team with Gerrit and his assistants. The parade began at two o’clock, and they planned to be ready two hours before, to give them time for lunch and to relax after their efforts. The truck arrived with the masses of blooms from Aalsmeer soon after the boat was prepared, and from then on it was a concentrated effort to attach the tulips with precisionlike efficiency, taking care not to bruise them and to ensure that they wouldn’t fall out as they were towed through Amsterdam’s cobbled streets. For Annette it was a labor of love, and as always it gave her a special feeling of pleasure to see how a design once hastily sketched came to life so beautifully beneath her fingers.
It was undoubtedly a team effort, but the inspiration had come from Annette, and without her lead they all acknowledged that it was a task none of them would have undertaken. When it was finished, they stood back to admire their efforts. In front of them was a glowing, graceful shape, alive with flowers in the style of a skirt from Volendam, with the name of the village gleaming in scarlet blooms along its curving length. It was exactly as Annette had envisaged it. Gerda and Lise would add the prettiest human touch as they sat on the cushioned seats, and above their heads the “mast” and “sails” of the boat were latticed with snowy-white tulip blooms in the shape of the Dutch bonnets the girls would wear on their heads.
Gerrit brought out a bottle of wine when they’d relaxed their efforts, and handed a glass to each of them. “To all of us, I think.” He smiled expansively. “But especially to the lovely English lady who inspired us. To Annette!”
Her face flamed as they all raised their glasses to her, and then Pieter kissed her in front of all of them. It wasn’t a lingering kiss, but it still moved her deeply. Each time he embraced her unexpectedly, whether lightly or passionately, she never failed to be affected by his touch. And he knew it, of course. He held her close for an instant longer than necessary, and she knew he was aware of the pulse beating rapidly at her throat that hadn’t been so obvious a moment before.
“To our lovely Annette,” he said softly, “who could inspire men to move mountains, let alone move a fishing boat from Volendam to Amsterdam!”
“I wish you’d stop it.” She began to laugh awkwardly. “You’re making me feel embarrassed!”
“Then we’d better go and have lunch,” Pieter said at once.
Campen’s florist shop was closed for festival day, and Pieter had arranged to give them all lunch at his hotel. Again Annette saw that nothing was too much for him, to achieve what he wanted. She could almost imagine that the float had been decided on in order to lure her to Amsterdam earlier than Elena’s wedding – but that was a ridiculous notion, of course.
She forgot such speculation as the day went on. Once lunch was over, she and Pieter collected the girls from the house, ready in their outfits and looking pretty and colorful and complementary to the flowered fishing boat in which they would travel. They were almost wild with excitement, and had to be calmed down as Pieter drove them to the florist’s yard to see their special coach for the day. It was nearly time for them to leave.
“You’ll sit beside me in the car, won’t you, Annette?” Pieter said. It was an open-top model, powerfully engined to pull the weighty fishing boat.
Annette’s eyes were suddenly bright, her smile one of pure pleasure. “But I thought you’d want Elena to go with you, since it’s the Van Ness float,” she said breathlessly. “Or Helga –”
“I want you,” he stated. “This is our day, darling. No one can take it away from us.”
She didn’t argue, nor wonder whether his words held a double meaning. Though she knew he wanted her already...and she wanted him. She let the words run freely through her senses, knowing it was true. Knowing that night in his hotel suite had unleashed all the pent-up longings and needs, and all the love of which she was capable. For the first time she pressed her soft lips to his mouth voluntarily, and heard his tiny indrawn breath as she did so.
But all thought of their growing closeness was pushed aside as the time of the parade drew near. They were cheered through the gate of Campen’s yard as they drove through to assemble with the rest of the floats at the starting point, and Gerrit assured them that he and his girls would be at the vantage point where the awards were to be made later, keeping their fingers crossed that the Van Ness float would be the winner.
Annette had never seen a flower festival before, though she knew that Holland was famous for them.
She was filled with admiration for the creative efforts of other entrants, some of which were quite spectacular, whether on a specific theme like their Volendam boat or created purely for color impact, like the “Welcome to Spring” float, which was a mass of yellow daffodils and white and yellow irises. Privately she guessed that would be their chief rival if they were to stand a chance of winning.
But coupled with the novelty of their entry and the charm of the two little girls in their costumes, it was the Van Ness float that took first prize, after the parade had taken nearly two hours to rumble through the narrow streets lined with spectators. As the results were called through loudspeakers, Annette heard Gerda and Lise squeal with delight, and then Pieter was holding her in his arms. This was the culmination of all their efforts, and this was the one way she wanted to celebrate, with his lips finding hers.
“Will Mr. Van Ness please come to the rostrum to collect his prize?” The voice boomed over the speakers, and reluctantly Annette let him go. She felt alive and tingling, and for that moment at least, no one else in the world had existed for either of them.
Too soon they were surrounded by well-wishers and family, and the brief thrill of being in his arms was gone. But the glow was still there, and as Elena and Nels came up to join in the congratulations, Annette felt as if she were really part of it all. Especially when the two little girls jumped down from the float and came to hug their “Auntie Annette.”
“Pieter has a surprise for tonight.” Elena managed to get a word in above their excited chatter. “A celebratory party at the hotel. In case we didn’t win, it was to have been a consolation party, which is typical of Pieter,” she said with a laugh. “We’re all invited, as well as Gerrit and your band of helpers, and these two charmers will be allowed to stay up late for once and come with us.”
She couldn’t say any more, for she was nearly deafened by the excited screaming from Gerda and Lise. Annette wondered if they’d last out the evening at this rate, but she was touched by Pieter’s thoughtfulness. It didn’t matter that the expense meant little to him. It was the thought that mattered, and to include the children and their parents, and Gerrit’s girls too, said a lot for the man. He could so easily have suggested he take Annette out alone, and in her elated frame of mind, who knew what might have happened? As i
t was, she loved him all the more for his caring generosity, for not leaving anybody out.
She ran a hand that wasn’t quite steady across her forehead as the April breeze ruffled her long hair. The old cautiousness that had made her hold back from falling in love again appeared to have deserted her. She knew it and didn’t care. She watched Pieter climb the steps of the rostrum with his easy, elegant grace, and as he turned to hold the small silver cup high and to smile at the cheering crowd, Annette felt an overwhelming surge of emotion inside her. If she were blindfolded in a crowd of thousands, she felt suddenly that she would know every laughter line in Pieter’s face, the texture of his skin, and the shape of his mouth that had kissed hers so passionately or so tenderly, but always with the assured, sensual arousal that awoke her senses. His gray eyes sought hers across the milling crowd and it was as if none of them existed again. It was a moment out of time that belonged only to them, a magical moment that could never come again.
But that evening the euphoric feeling remained with Annette. The party at the Van Ness Hotel was warm and effusive, with the little girls still in their costumes, but everyone else in more formal clothes. The width of the table separated Annette and Pieter, but it didn’t matter. Everything about him told her he loved her, and her unspoken response reached out to him. Even when the floorshow began and the lights were softened, and Helga held everyone’s attention with her intimate, throaty songs, Annette still felt that the words of the love songs spoke a message between herself and Pieter. It no longer mattered that Helga lingered at Pieter’s side more than at anyone else’s. Annette was cocooned in a sudden lovely secure feeling that came from loving and being loved.
Pieter had asked Helga to join them in between her performances, though Annette would have preferred it if the singer had been somewhere else. Still, she smiled her thanks as Helga congratulated her on the festival float and her expertise.
“You have a great gift with flowers.” Helga was ultragracious now. She turned to look at Annette, as if slightly amazed. Annette found the little act too amusing to feel insulted. And she was still too elated with the day that Pieter had called “their day.”
“Perhaps when Pieter and I get married, you’ll come back to do my flowers too, since Elena thinks so highly of you,” Helga went on smoothly, her eyes firmly fixed on Annette’s face.
Annette gazed down into her champagne, seeing a small explosion of bubbles and feeling as if she were experiencing the same fate.
“I wasn’t aware it was in the offing,” she said as evenly as possible, considering her heart was suddenly racing.
Helga gave a low, throaty laugh and leaned forward confidentially. “It’s all very unofficial as yet, but once Elena has moved to The Hague, Pieter and I will probably make the announcement. It would be a shame to see that lovely house of theirs go to waste, don’t you think?”
No one can take this day away from us, Pieter had said, but he was wrong. Someone had, effectively and totally.
Chapter Ten
Helga’s dark eyes dared Annette to doubt what she was saying. Nels had gallantly pulled up an extra chair when the singer had approached their table, and Annette wondered suspiciously now if Helga had hovered near her so that she could neatly pass on her little piece of information without the others overhearing. If she’d wanted to stun Annette with her well-chosen words, she’d certainly made a good job of it, patronizing her as well with the suggestion that Annette should fashion Helga’s wedding bouquet.
Annette felt a tightening in her chest. No way! she vowed. Not if the wedding referred to was between Helga and Pieter. With a shock Annette realized how much she cared for Pieter. Helga was the type to drip poison when it suited her, and perhaps she thought the English girl was a threat to her plans. But it didn’t cheer Annette to know Helga considered her a rival. If anything, it angered her, because surely Pieter must have given Helga some indication that he was romantically interested in her, too.
If he had, then she could hardly blame Helga for feeling put out, because Pieter had been neglecting her recently. Ever since Annette Granger appeared on the scene, in fact. She bit her lip, knowing it was Pieter who didn’t come out of this too well. What would Helga think, she wondered suddenly, if she knew about that night in Pieter’s suite? The heady memory of it was suddenly tawdry in her mind.
“I’ll be going back to England as soon as Elena’s wedding is over,” she told Helga steadily. “As it is, I’m staying here far longer than I intended at first, but I do have a business to run. I can’t leave it in my assistant’s hands forever.”
“Of course not.” Helga didn’t bother to hide the satisfaction in her voice. “Anyway, it was only a thought. I daresay one of Gerrit Campen’s girls can do as good a job as anyone.”
It was a direct insult, and Annette knew it. She kept her temper under control with an effort, refusing to rise to the bait. Helga knew Annette’s status in the floristry world as well as anyone here, but let her have her fun for the moment. The day was already spoiled.
As Helga left her side to return to the microphone for her next song, to the applause of the elite clients at the Van Ness, Annette watched the way Pieter’s eyes followed her undulating movements in the red glittery gown she wore. Her own silvery cocktail dress she’d thought so flattering earlier lost all its charm, making her feel colorless and suddenly lonely for the first time since coming to Amsterdam. She was surrounded by people, yet she felt the same sense of abandonment she’d known after Tony’s death.
Annette shook herself. All this because of a nasty remark from Helga Jansen! But she couldn’t forget it, all the same. She seethed as Helga drifted toward Pieter, the spotlight enveloping them both for long moments. She was singing only for him at that time, and it was very clear that he was thoroughly enjoying it.
It was the last song of the evening, and when the applause had died down and the music for dancing began, Helga walked smoothly toward Pieter. Within seconds she was in his arms and they moved slowly together among the other couples on the dance floor.
“They look good, don’t they?” Nels’s voice was in her ear. “May I have the pleasure of dancing with you, Annette?”
She smiled at his old-fashioned courtesy and walked ahead of him to join the dancers. He held her close, but not too close – not as close as Pieter was holding Helga. Annette didn’t want to watch them, but it seemed that each time Nels turned her on the dance floor she met Pieter’s gray eyes above Helga’s dark head that rested close to his cheek.
She didn’t want to see the way his hand caressed Helga’s curving shape, nor how Helga’s lips occasionally brushed Pieter’s cheek, nor to remember so vividly the way it felt to be in the circle of his arms...and to want to be there again so desperately. She missed a step, and Nels held her more firmly. She murmured an apology and he told her gallantly that it didn’t matter and that it gave him the opportunity to give her a squeeze.
It didn’t mean a thing; Nels was merely teasing, and as usual, he wanted to talk about Elena anyway.
“It’s so good that you will be here right up until the wedding, Annette. For all my lovely Elena’s seeming confidence, I think she will be a little nervous when the day arrives, and your serenity will help her overcome her nerves.”
Is that how Nels saw her? As the calming influence? When every bit of her was jangling and jumping because Pieter and Helga were closer than she had believed them to be? Any idea that she might go home after all, and return a few days before the wedding, went out of her head at Nels’s words. If he thought Elena really needed her here, then of course she would stay.
She’d proved one thing anyway, she thought bleakly. She’d wanted to be sure that the attraction she felt for Pieter Van Ness was love. She’d discovered that it was love, with all its attendant elation and excitement, its jealousies and pain... She should have left Amsterdam earlier, before she got so involved with the flower festival and worked so closely with Pieter. Before she fell in love with him so hop
elessly.
The music ended, but as it began again she saw Pieter threading his way toward her. She never saw where Helga went. For a second the only thing she was conscious of was the sensation of melting into Pieter’s arms, as she wondered dizzily how two men’s arms could feel so different. With Nels, she had felt cozy and no more than friendly. In Pieter’s arms, all the tingling sensations began again, all the desire and passion.
His lips were on her cheek, and suddenly she was remembering Helga, and a wave of bitter hurt swept through her. Maybe if Pieter hadn’t pursued her so determinedly, her feelings would never have gone this far, and she could have returned home with her heart still intact. How could he make such a pretense of loving her, if he fully intended to marry Helga?
With Pieter’s lips against her skin, it was easy to pretend Helga had invented the story. But in the back of Annette’s mind was the nagging memory of Elena’s words. If his own sister had feared that Pieter and Helga might marry, then surely there must be some substance to the idea.
She could feel every sinew of his body as they moved slowly and sensuously to the music, pressed closer by the other couples on the floor, as if they were in a private world of their own. It wasn’t fair, she thought weakly. He shouldn’t have reawakened all the desire in her that had lain dormant for so long, not if he was merely playing with her emotions. She hadn’t believed it of him, until now.
“We should celebrate our victory properly, darling,” she heard him murmur against her cheek. “Do you think we dare disappear from the party for an hour or so, or would it look too obvious?”
He was teasing in his suggestion, and she knew very well he’d never do anything so blatant. But the very mention of their celebrating in his hotel suite was suddenly humiliating to her. Coming so soon after Helga’s taunts, it made all the hurt Annette was feeling very raw. She jerked her face away from his caressing cheek.
The Language of Love Page 12