Gwen did herbest to keep up with his long strides, but it was crowded and themoment they stepped out of Victoria Station, they were bombardedwith the sights, sounds and smells of London at night. It wasrather cool and the air was damp with a few spots of rain fallingfrom the sky. It wasn’t a heavy rain but enough to make her want toget to the inn sooner rather than later.
It took acouple of minutes to take in their surroundings and then to focuson the street signs. With the slightest of nods in her direction,Crispin turned to the left and started walking along the busysidewalk. Wanting to be of use, Gwen stepped up close to him andoffered to take her suitcase. At first, he was reluctant but at herinsistence, he agreed since there should be no more stairs tocontend with.
As they walked,Gwen couldn’t quite convey the gratitude she felt towards herhandsome travel companion. As reluctant as he was at her hijackingof his trip, he’d been so good to her. Even now, every now andthen, he would subtly slow his steps to allow her to close thedistance between them. That was very considerate of him, especiallysince Buckingham Palace Road was teeming with people, and quite afew were obviously drunk. It was Saturday night, almost midnightand club goers were out and about in droves.
Focused on thetask at hand, Gwen kept her eyes peeled for street signs. Crispinhad her instructions in his coat pocket so she would have to go onmemory. At one point, without realizing, she had walked ahead ofhim. Overwhelmed, she started to doubt her instructions and beganto worry they might be going the wrong way. She took a few stepsmore when a force from behind her yanked her backwards, secondsbefore a car drove past, honking wildly. Shocked, she stoodparalyzed, staring wide-eyed up into Crispin’s angry glare. It tookher a few seconds before she could even hear what he wassaying.
“Gwen? What the fuck? You nearly got yourself killed!” Graspingher by the shoulders, he glared at her in bewilderment. Once again,he’d nearly lost her. She hadn’t even stopped to check for cars.She had simply stepped off the curb. If he hadn’t caught her, shewould have been run over. When she didn’t respond, he gave hershoulders a squeeze and searched her eyes for a clue. For a momentit was like she wasn’t even there.
“Crispin… sorry,” she eventually sputtered, blinking wildly asif awakened from a dream. Her heart was racing, beating erraticallyand she couldn’t catch her breath. She had been so focused onsearching for street signs, she hadn’t been aware of anything else.She hated this feeling, this helplessness.
“Dammit, Gwen, pay attention!” Crispin shouted. He winced athis own tone. He felt awful for yelling at her. Yet the more heglared at her, the tighter he gripped her, the more she seemed torelax into his hold on her. He was almost sure if he let go, shewould crumple to the ground.
“I was trying to get us there faster.”
“Really? Well, if by getting us there faster, you mean to anearly grave, you almost succeeded!” Getting a hold of himself, heplaced his hands on either side of her face, took a calming breathand studied her, his insides reeling at the sight of heruncertainty. “Now, let me lead the way. Stay behind me and watchwhere you’re going. Understand?”
Gwen nodded andaverted her eyes. Before he could fall prey to his baser instincts,Crispin turned away and started walking. It had taken all hiswillpower not to toss her over his shoulder and carry her the restof the way. She obviously wasn’t quite with it. Perhaps heshouldn’t have insisted she share his beer. Miraculously, not longafter and without further incident, they found the Lemon TreeInn.
Approaching thedoor, Crispin pulled on the antique knocker. Behind him, Gwenwaited and took in their surroundings. The Lemon Tree Inn was madeup of two adjoining Georgian townhouses that lined Ebury Street.She had chosen an inn instead of a hotel because hotels in Londonwere expensive and the idea of a hotel felt cold and impersonal.Inns were smaller, often family-run establishments, and usuallycame with breakfast included. It had seemed the best choice in heropinion and Stacy had helped her find inns and B&Bs to suit herneeds.
After anotherrather impatient knock, a tired looking dark haired young manopened the door for them. “Ahh… our late night check-ins. We wereexpecting you a little earlier,” he spoke with an Eastern Europeanaccent.
Crispinmotioned for her to step in ahead of him and then took her suitcasein with his. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Gwen said with anapologetic smile. When the man didn’t return her smile and simplyled them to the front desk, she shrugged it off assuming he wasgrumpy from having to work the night shift. “We had trouble withthe trains.”
“To say the least,” Crispin grumbled behind her.
“Names?” said the man, flipping the bookings folderopen.
“We have reservations under Gwen Mathewson and Crispin Clover.Two rooms, please,” she volunteered, hoping to get to her room tofreshen up. When the man repeated her name with a frown, slowlyshaking his head, Crispin sighed heavily and stepped up to thedesk.
After a tensemoment, the man smiled and said, “Ah, yes, I have one room forCrispin Clover.” He flipped the book around for them to look. “Butno Gwen. See?” Sure enough, there was
