Belonging

by Maria Bernard

  “Shh... I’ve got you,” he whispered as both their hearts thumped wildly in their chests. “And our cases,” he added when her eyes darted around them. “God, I nearly lost you.” His words hit her like a ton of bricks and at the weight of them, her knees threatened to give out. If it were not for his steady grip around her shoulders, she would have dropped to the ground. Of that, Gwen had no doubt.

  How absolutely exhilarating, thought Crispin. As tired, fed up, and ready to get to the inn as he was, he felt awesome. This travelling thing sure had a way of keeping his thoughts in the present. In fact, he hadn’t felt this alive in months.

  For a second, he rested his head on hers and gave himself a moment. What had happened back there? Why had she frozen? She was no longer on the plane. She couldn’t blame it on her fear of flying. All he knew was she was presently clinging to him like her life depended on it and for that reason alone, he allowed it. Soon enough, he snapped out of his thoughts as the train slowed down and prepared to stop.

  “Finally,” Crispin muttered, relieved when they arrived at Victoria Station. “Come on, we’re here.”

  Chapter 10

  Having had a moment to collect her thoughts, Gwen took a deep breath and quickly followed Crispin’s lead off the train. She sighed with relief at having arrived at their final stop. But seconds later, her relief was overshadowed by the very real prospect of what lay ahead of her next. For starters, Victoria Station was huge! Along with the crowds of people, the place was bustling with sounds and activity of the likes she had never known. She wasn’t quite sure what she had been expecting but this was not it. The closest comparison she had ever known to a place like this was Toronto’s Union Station and that was no way near as overwhelming as London’s Victoria Station.

  “Okay, young miss, where do we go from here?” Crispin asked when they arrived at street level. “Which exit?” He looked around at all the people, the shops, the signs before looking at Gwen. When she only stared blankly at him, he frowned and called her name a few times until she snapped out of her trance.

  “Yes, of course, sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize, just tell me where to go next.”

  Once again, she reined in her building anxiety and focused on the task at hand. “Umm... my itinerary.” She searched her pocket for her scribbled note. She was trying very hard to hide her confusion from Crispin. She felt awful already for messing up the start of their journey. He was waiting for her instruction as was part of their deal and all she could do was stare at the little piece of paper.

  “Well?”

  Gwen robotically read out her writing. “We... um... we have to exit onto Buckingham Palace Road and cross at the pedestrian crossing, turn to the left and then take a right onto Lower Belgrave Street. Turn left at the traffic lights onto Ebury Street and follow the road for approximately 200 metres until you reach the Lemon Tree Inn on your left.”

  Again, Crispin frowned. He hadn’t heard a word she’d said, her voice was so low. Plus the noise all around them was not helping. Frustrated, he gestured for her to follow him as he strode toward a quieter area. When he turned his attention back to Gwen, he could tell by the look on her face that she was seconds away from falling apart. She must be exhausted, he surmised. One cross word from him at that moment and she would be in tears. Of this, he was sure, and once again, he reined in his temper. Resting the suitcases to the side, he placed his hands on her shoulders, leaned in and waited while she recited the instructions in the shakiest of voices. This was not getting them anywhere.

  He then very gently took the little note from her hands and read it himself. He glanced around the station and checked for signs. Tucking it into his pocket, he looked back at Gwen. At the sight of her uncertainty, he couldn’t resist the urge to slide his hand onto her shoulder, near to her neck, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. At her deep intake of breath, Crispin quirked an eyebrow and asked, “What can I do for you?”

  At his unexpected kind words, Gwen bit her bottom lip and leaned her face into his hand. How had he known to say that? More beautiful words, he couldn’t have spoken at that moment in time. When she couldn’t find a way to respond without giving into tears, he gave her cheek the slightest tweak and took charge of the situation.

  At the stab of unexpected emotion in his chest, Crispin gave his head a quick shake. Rather than admit he was falling for her helpless little act, he blamed it on exhaustion.

  “Right then, let’s do this.” He grabbed up their suitcases and started off in any old direction looking for a sign pointing them toward Buckingham Palace Road. After a few steps, he paused, looking over his shoulder, concern all over his face. The girl was whiter than a sheet. Clearly, she would not last much longer.

  “Come, I believe a drink is in order.” This arrangement, whatever it was, was not working out. He had now lost all his patience with the entire situation and she was not helping her cause one bit. Luckily, there was a bar in the station where Crispin ordered himself a beer and her a bottle of sparkling water.

  He next approached a stand-up table and placed their suitcases underneath it. Leaning against the wall, he watched her twist off the bottle cap and take a soothing sip of water.

  “So, tell me,” he said when she’d safely swallowed. “What happened back there?”

  “Where? What do you mean?” Caught off guard, she stalled to answer.

  “You know exactly what I mean. I nearly lost you. You were right behind me and you just froze. Then what? What if you had gotten left behind? How would I ever find you?” He chuckled as he spoke, purposely ignoring the stab of guilt at such a thing. For some reason, her quirky vulnerability had him by the balls and the realization of it irked him to no end. It would have been so easy to simply leave her there and be done with her, yet at the time, it was the last thing he had wanted to do. Seconds before the train doors could shut in her face, he hadn’t even thought twice about it. He had simply reacted and dragged her in with him at the last second.

  Gwen averted her eyes in shame. She had messed up. She had looked the fool in front of him. As grateful as she was that he hadn’t gotten angry, she still felt like she had failed her part of the deal. Some tour guide she was turning out to be. “I um... I don’t know. I was overwhelmed. I wasn’t expecting all the people, so many people, and trains. It should have been a simple connection. Suddenly, it turned into a nightmare.”

  “A nightmare?” Crispin’s voice rose an octave. “Come on, Gwen, shit happens. Train schedules get thrown off all the time. I wouldn’t exactly call it a nightmare, merely an unfortunate occurrence.”

  “I’m sorry but stuff like that scares me,” she whispered more to herself but loud enough for him to hear. “Doesn’t it bother you, when things don’t go as planned?”

  At her question, he all but laughed. Hadn’t she just hijacked his trip? Yet at the sincerity of her question, once again, he reined in the spiteful comment that was on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he said, “Not at all.” He took another swig of his beer. “Situations, locations, I can handle. If I were to be suddenly whisked away to land in another place, I know I’d figure it out, I always have.” He paused for another drink then added, “People, on the other hand, are fickle and unpredictable, and that, I can’t handle.”

  Gwen stayed quiet and reflected on his words. If by people, he meant her, she couldn’t quite blame him for feeling that way. Unable to address it just yet she turned her attention to his curious drink.

  “What is that?” Gwen asked, watching him take a gulp of the dark liquid into his mouth.

  “Guinness,” he explained, holding it out for her to try. “I was in the mood for something dark.”

  Gwen hesitated. “I… I don’t know.” She wasn’t quite sure she should have any alcohol at that point. She wasn’t much of a drinker and beer wasn’t her beverage of choice but the frothy bit at the top of his drink had her more than intrigued.

  “Well, it definitely can’t hurt. You’ll need it. It’l
l give you strength for the next part of our journey.” He flashed her a devilish smile. When she only stared at the glass, he took charge and made the decision for her. “Just drink it. It’ll make you feel better.” He couldn’t say exactly what compelled him to do it but something about this little lady called to him. When she didn’t say yes or no, he snaked his arm around her waist, drew her into him and held the cup to her lips. When she automatically opened her mouth, he tipped the drink into her parted pink lips and watched her. Without resistance, she met his gaze with trusting eyes and drank, swallowing a mouthful before he rested the cup back on the table. Expecting her to be a little upset at his use of force, she surprised him instead, by relaxing into him. She sighed as if the weight of the world were lifted from her shoulders.

  “More?” he asked, his body reacting quite readily to her compliance.

  “Yes, please,” she whispered, looking from him to the glass already poised in his hand.

  “Well, isn’t this a pleasant turn of events,” Crispin purred low in his chest, watching as she easily complied with his ministrations.

  “It’s nice. Bitter but nice,” Gwen said it about the beer, but she meant it for him as well. Whether he understood, didn’t matter so much. All she knew was after the turmoil she’d just experienced, his steely warmth pressed against her was like a salve to her weary mind. Let him be bitter as long as he holds me this way at the end of the day.

  Very intently, Crispin watched her as he methodically fed her mouthfuls of his drink, taking one for himself in between, until the glass was empty. He couldn’t say what had him more excited, the sight of her swallowing, or her eyes on him as she did so. Her pink tongue now tracing her glistening lips was the last straw, though. Unable to resist, he traced his thumb over her upper lip, wiping away the remnants of the froth. Before he could stop himself, he dipped its tip into her warm wet mouth. He sucked in a breath when she closed her eyes and gave it a tentative lick.

  “Watch yourself, young miss.” He grabbed her by the back of the head, tangling his fingers in her hair. He drew her ear to his mouth and growled. “You don’t know who you are dealing with.”

  Chapter 11

  Having shaken himself off of his lusty thoughts, Crispin grabbed for the suitcases and started off in search of the Buckingham Palace Road exit. He didn’t stop to look over his shoulder for Gwen since he could hear her shuffling up close behind him. At this point, all he wanted was to get to the inn. He was tired from the flight and looked forward to getting a good night’s rest to clear his head. Mostly, he wanted to put some physical space between himself and Gwen. As it was, he was having trouble keeping visions of her screaming his name as he took her good and hard out of his brain.

  What was it about her that had him so tightly wound? Could it be because he was simply frustrated? Was he wanting her to pay for imposing herself on him? Was it because he hadn’t gotten laid since before Christmas? Was it because of the way she looked at him with those eyes of blue-grey, so open and trusting? Whatever it was, he needed to figure it out. Before he unleashed his lust on her, he needed to confirm something else, too. He needed to know if his suspicions were correct. At that thought, he smiled wickedly to himself. If his instincts were on the mark, this so-called vacation might just be exactly what he needed. If only he’d known, he would have come more prepared. Regardless, if anything, he was resourceful. If indeed she was up for it, he was sure he could find what he needed right here in London.

  Gwen did her best to keep up with his long strides, but it was crowded and the moment they stepped out of Victoria Station, they were bombarded with the sights, sounds and smells of London at night. It was rather cool and the air was damp with a few spots of rain falling from the sky. It wasn’t a heavy rain but enough to make her want to get to the inn sooner rather than later.

  It took a couple of minutes to take in their surroundings and then to focus on the street signs. With the slightest of nods in her direction, Crispin turned to the left and started walking along the busy sidewalk. Wanting to be of use, Gwen stepped up close to him and offered to take her suitcase. At first, he was reluctant but at her insistence, he agreed since there should be no more stairs to contend with.

  As they walked, Gwen couldn’t quite convey the gratitude she felt towards her handsome travel companion. As reluctant as he was at her hijacking of his trip, he’d been so good to her. Even now, every now and then, he would subtly slow his steps to allow her to close the distance between them. That was very considerate of him, especially since Buckingham Palace Road was teeming with people, and quite a few were obviously drunk. It was Saturday night, almost midnight and club goers were out and about in droves.

  Focused on the task at hand, Gwen kept her eyes peeled for street signs. Crispin had her instructions in his coat pocket so she would have to go on memory. At one point, without realizing, she had walked ahead of him. Overwhelmed, she started to doubt her instructions and began to worry they might be going the wrong way. She took a few steps more when a force from behind her yanked her backwards, seconds before a car drove past, honking wildly. Shocked, she stood paralyzed, staring wide-eyed up into Crispin’s angry glare. It took her a few seconds before she could even hear what he was saying.

  “Gwen? What the fuck? You nearly got yourself killed!” Grasping her 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, she would have been run over. When she didn’t respond, he gave her shoulders a squeeze and searched her eyes for a clue. For a moment it was like she wasn’t even there.

  “Crispin… sorry,” she eventually sputtered, blinking wildly as if awakened from a dream. Her heart was racing, beating erratically and she couldn’t catch her breath. She had been so focused on searching 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 at his own tone. He felt awful for yelling at her. Yet the more he glared at her, the tighter he gripped her, the more she seemed to relax into his hold on her. He was almost sure if he let go, she would crumple to the ground.

  “I was trying to get us there faster.”

  “Really? Well, if by getting us there faster, you mean to an early grave, you almost succeeded!” Getting a hold of himself, he placed his hands on either side of her face, took a calming breath and studied her, his insides reeling at the sight of her uncertainty. “Now, let me lead the way. Stay behind me and watch where you’re going. Understand?”

  Gwen nodded and averted her eyes. Before he could fall prey to his baser instincts, Crispin turned away and started walking. It had taken all his willpower not to toss her over his shoulder and carry her the rest of the way. She obviously wasn’t quite with it. Perhaps he shouldn’t have insisted she share his beer. Miraculously, not long after and without further incident, they found the Lemon Tree Inn.

  Approaching the door, Crispin pulled on the antique knocker. Behind him, Gwen waited and took in their surroundings. The Lemon Tree Inn was made up of two adjoining Georgian townhouses that lined Ebury Street. She had chosen an inn instead of a hotel because hotels in London were expensive and the idea of a hotel felt cold and impersonal. Inns were smaller, often family-run establishments, and usually came with breakfast included. It had seemed the best choice in her opinion and Stacy had helped her find inns and B&Bs to suit her needs.

  After another rather impatient knock, a tired looking dark haired young man opened the door for them. “Ahh… our late night check-ins. We were expecting you a little earlier,” he spoke with an Eastern European accent.

  Crispin motioned for her to step in ahead of him and then took her suitcase in with his. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Gwen said with an apologetic smile. When the man didn’t return her smile and simply led them to the front desk, she shrugged it off assuming he was grumpy from having to work the night
shift. “We had trouble with the trains.”

  “To say the least,” Crispin grumbled behind her.

  “Names?” said the man, flipping the bookings folder open.

  “We have reservations under Gwen Mathewson and Crispin Clover. Two rooms, please,” she volunteered, hoping to get to her room to freshen up. When the man repeated her name with a frown, slowly shaking his head, Crispin sighed heavily and stepped up to the desk.

  After a tense moment, the man smiled and said, “Ah, yes, I have one room for Crispin Clover.” He flipped the book around for them to look. “But no Gwen. See?” Sure enough, there was Crispin’s name but no sign of hers.

  “There must be some kind of mistake.” Gwen frowned, feeling her heart start to race. This couldn’t be happening. Had Stacy forgotten to get them two rooms? Gwen quickly dug around her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She found no messages from Stacy. She sent her a quick text, but then remembered she was on vacation in Cuba. Probably drinking with her friends by the pool. Now what? How many unforeseen hitches could she handle in one day?

  “No mistake, but is no problem. See, double room, yes? Big enough bed for two,” said the man with an oddly suggestive wink, looking back and forth between Crispin and Gwen in such a way that made her feel dirty.

  “Well, isn’t this just perfect!” Crispin barked a sarcastic laugh at the indignation on her face. Look at her, little miss innocent. “Nice play, Gwen, I’ll be sure to give Stacy a rave review for this latest trick.”

  Chapter 12

  At Crispin’s presumption, Gwen reddened. He was obviously under the impression that she and Stacy had set this up on purpose. She was mortified at the idea of him thinking it but she couldn’t really blame him.