Page 13 of If You Were the Only Girl in the World
She took Nate’s hand to aid her out of the taxi that he and Dylan had engaged at the train station. She stared at the small hotel. It was quaint with its ivy covered stone and young white rosebuds climbing the walls. But the building was sad as the weather. Tilting to one side, the three-story structure seemed to have held itself up along the old and winding street for a century or more. Its sign swinging from an iron hook banged against the stones in a mournful cry.
She refused to glance at the port once more. The first sight of armored ships, their guns pointed toward the water and the French coast, the grey drizzle, the bone-deep chill combined to make her teeth ache.
Nate and Dylan hailed the porter, an elderly fellow who should not be doing such heavy lifting. But young men were a rarity. Even Dylan in civilian dress as he was, was scrutinized by those in the train station. Men in uniform had a special disdain for him. The fact that he was in the company of a British Colonel assuaged their irritation as well as inspired their curiosity. They found it even more strange that a young woman was accompanied by two men and gave Katrina a once-over that was less than kind.
The three hurried inside where a fire burned in warm and crackling welcome.
Dylan signed in at the desk with the proprietress. A lady of rectitude as rigid as her posture, she was curious about the woman who was next.
“I have a reservation. My name is Dr. Katrina Schubert.” The woman softened at the sound of ‘doctor’ but resumed her stiff demeanor at the sound of Katrina’s last name. As she handed the lady her passport, she went on, “I go on to Paris to work there.”
Nate stood to one side of her. Dylan the other. Both of them gave the lady twinkly little smiles as she checked her ledger and sought the keys from her pegboard behind her.
“Room twenty-two, Madam Schubert.”
“Doctor.”
“Of course.” The lady glared at her, then gave Dylan his key.
Angry at the slight, Katrina grasped the large iron key and debated if she should reprimand the woman. She was so very tired of others who judged her for her profession. Or her male company. Or her lack of female company.
Nate’s fingers squeezed her waist.
Dylan gave her a knowing lift of his brows and in within hearing distance of the proprietress said, “I’ll see you down here for dinner, Katrina. Seven o’clock, sound fine?”
“Absolutely.” She toyed with the key. Here, ready to leave England, she felt her blood pressure kick up. She spun toward Nate as he picked up her two suitcases. “I’ll take those.”
“I’ll carry them up for you.”
She shook her head and widened her eyes in warning. “You’ve done so much for me.”
He tipped his head. “And you for me.”
She gave a laugh. “How can that be?”
“I need to talk to you. Alone. Let me take these up. Give me your key, eh? Stay here. She will think what she will. Then we’ll get Dylan and we three will go find a tea room or a pub. Some place to have a decent meal.”
“No.” Tears threatened and she hated that she’d dissolve in front of him. “Please don’t argue. I need to be alone.”
“Do you?” he asked, regret alive in his tone. “I don’t understand—”
“I need to summon my inner warrior, Colonel. You have coddled me these past few days and I must put on my armor, sir, for the crossing.” Embarrassed, she shook her head, pushing aside her loss of him. “Sorry. I’m being a ninny.”
“I’d say you’re been damn brave.”
She bucked up at that and admired his handsome face for one of the last times. “Oh, Nate. I’m realizing what a wild decision I made to come here. That’s not brave. That’s pitiful.”
He pulled her to the side of the room and into an alcove secluded from the lobby. She had presence of mind to note two chairs and a settee and rejoiced at the privacy and this last vital moment with him. He put her suitcases to the floor and reached for her. Once more, as the night he had saved her from those thugs, he was her comfort as he drew her gently into his arms.
She went, falling against his shoulder like a rag doll, her arms clutching him around his waist, the smooth wool of his uniform on her cheek, a comfort to her tattered mind.
He ran his hands down her spine and she sighed into him.
“I’ve wanted to hold you for days,” he said on a little laugh.
“I wanted to be held,” she admitted to his shoulder and hugged him like she’d never let him go. “I cannot tell you what a help you’ve been to me.”
He pulled away, and smiled wickedly as he lifted her chin. He had tears in his eyes and he was not hiding them. “I remember the first night we met. You were brave then.”
