party a few months ago. The AGF was honoring his commitment to serving far-right-wing causes.”
She held Eric’s stare with as much calmness as she could muster. Four long years of training and studying with some of the world’s most astounding artists and historians weren’t getting squashed under his disdainful sneer.
Finally, he relented. “Your explanation is well thought out. I shall need time to consider it. But in the meantime, another of Aachen’s paintings will give you a different perspective.”
“Please not another one.” Sitting on a bench in the center of the space, Ellie dragged an emery board across her red nails. The scratching echoed in the otherwise empty area. “I’d like to see the sculptures out in the garden, and you’re boring Kat to tears. Look at her face. There’s probably not one word she hasn’t already heard from her professors during her university days.”
A muscle jerked in Eric’s neck. Kat hurried to smooth his temper before it erupted. “We studied very little mannerism, and it’s always interesting to hear what others think of a piece. Millions of opinions exist for each.”
Ellie’s board hit a jagged nail corner. “Well, my opinion is we move on. It’s too beautiful to stay cooped up in here all day.”
Outside, Eric took Ellie’s arm and pulled her to The Thinker. Kat veered right. Gravel crunched beneath her feet as she let them wander where they would. A warm breeze drifted through the immaculately cut topiaries and ruffled the bottom of her floral cotton dress. Hot grass and blooming roses mingled in a pleasant aroma of freshness as fat bees buzzed from flower to flower. The air teemed with crisp life compared to the stuffy stillness inside. Of course, Eric had a tendency to syphon the very life from everything he came in contact with. He and his fellow German officers who strolled with their French mistresses through these very gardens as if they owned them.
She veered right again to the eastern wall. The massive bronze doors of The Gates of Hell loomed before her. Figures poised with complete abandon to agony. Forbidden love, punishment, suffering, and even maternal love, all carved from every human emotion possible. The chaos of the scene leaped from the structure and pressed on her chest—the figures’ mouths twisted with cries of help, their faces searching for understanding—but still the gates remained closed in silence. Kat’s heart pounded against the weight. They stood alone in their misery.
“Impressive.”
Kat jumped to find Barrett behind her. She swallowed to force her heart out of her throat and back down where it belonged. “What are you doing here?”
“I enjoy artwork as much as the next man.”
“You have animal heads hanging in your pub.”
“One man’s eight-point buck is another man’s Renoir.”
“You have me there.” She looked more closely. His dark-gray trousers, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, blue waistcoat, and tan fedora tilted to the side indicated he’d dressed with purpose and not just for running out to get milk. “Ellie invited you, didn’t she?”
He grinned, crinkling the skin around his eyes. The day’s brightness did little to lighten their blue darkness. “She did indeed. Disappointed?”
“No.” Kat’s belly did a small flip as the confession slipped out before she could stop it. He’d come to invade her thoughts much too easily over the past few days. A quick glance over her shoulder ensured no one listened nearby. “Truth be told, I can use the backup.”
“Hard time remembering to smile?”
“And I insulted his great German artist.” His wince barbed her. Like everything else that day. “I know, I know. You don’t have to remind me how dangerous it is to start my own private war amidst the larger one at hand. It came out of my mouth before I could stop it. If he didn’t want my opinion, he shouldn’t have asked.”
“Probably wanted to hear his own opinion repeated back to him.”
Kat groaned. “That man makes my skin crawl.”
“Here I thought it was this grotesque thing you’re staring at.”
“It was inspired by Dante’s Inferno, but Rodin later changed it to express the universal emotions of humans in all their misery and desire.” Somewhere in the back of her mind, her art professors cheered as the commentary rolled out of her mouth on cue.
“Not something you want to sit in front of for comfort.” Taking her hand, he tucked it in the crook of his arm and turned them to the path leading around to the back of the museum. “Come on. I