Page 10 of If You Were the Only Girl in the World
Long ago she’d given up taking any stock in those who told her ‘no’. Particularly men who said so. Tonight even from this chivalrous one. She smoothed the fabric of her skirt. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“Dear god. Where do you go?”
“Paris. A privately funded American hospital in Paris.”
“In Neuilly?”
“The same.” She could see he knew of it, its fame and work for Americans who lived in Paris.
He paused, debating what to say. “A good one. Fine facility. But Miss Schubert—”
“Katrina.”
He chastised her with a shake of his head. “Katrina, what possesses you to go work in Paris?”
“I am a physician, Nate. I am to heal the sick, the wounded. My country is not at war but I wish to help. The way I can is by providing a service that is badly needed. No female doctors are allowed in the United States Army during peace time. Even if we were to go to war, I would not be allowed to join the fight. I want to. This is my contribution.”
He stared off into space, then came back to regard her with a kindlier disposition. “You’re very brave to go.”
She sighed. “I wish that were so. On the contrary, I spent four weeks shaking in my fine leather boots aboard a ship that played cat and mouse with German guns. We were fired on once. It was enough to turn my hair gray.”
One side of his mouth cocked up. “I see only a glorious shade of gold.”
He was so debonair, but she had to distance herself, didn’t she? “What if I told you it was dye?”
“I wouldn’t believe you. No dye turns a girl’s hair to sunshine.”
“Are you Irish?”
He hooted. “No. What gives you that idea?”
“You’re full of blarney.”
“That’s saying something for a nice German girl from Chicago,” he replied.
“We nice German girls are full of strudel and schnapps. And among those who don’t like the Kaiser in Chicago, we are ridiculed. The assumption is that we’re collaborators.”
His brows drew together in a painful expression. “I’m sorry to tell you that your fine German name may bring you even more problems in Paris.”
She bit her bottom lip. “I’m aware.”
“Why go, Katrina?” It was a quiet plea.
She let her gaze sweep over his broad shoulders in the dashing brown uniform with the bandelero and the holster and the pistol that he’d drawn. His insignia on his shirt front and on his arm patch told her of his own service and devotion. “Why do you?”
He sat back, his regard for her reverent and growing. “I won’t argue with you any more.”
“Good.” She was happy to put any conflict behind her. Especially with him.
“But I want no more arguments from you about staying here or letting us help you recover. If you are to save Americans in Paris from their maladies, the least you can do is allow us to save you from boredom.” He gestured to her ankle. “And disability.”
CHAPTER4
The next morning at eight, Nate rapped on the door to her suite. Fitz had told him she was up, had bathed and dressed, and was now at the tea table in her sitting room with her breakfast.
At her summons, Nate entered. “Good morning. Sleep well?”
She had. From the looks of her, she was refreshed, her golden hair streaked with platinum strands framing her face and flowing down around her shoulders, her face scrubbed clean, shiny and pink.
