Then her knees wobbled and she had to grab Sam's arm for support. Maybe a little too giddy.
"Are you all right?" He pulled her over to a bench at the next bus stop and searched her face. "You look awfully pale."
"I—just must be a little hungry. Sometimes I have a teensy bit of trouble with low blood sugar."
"It isn't 'teensy' if you fall flat on your face. When did you have supper?"
She blinked, trying to remember when she'd last eaten anything. "I guess I didn't."
He made a growly noise of frustration in his throat. "And lunch?"
"I did have that—a scone and coffee. I just didn't want to spend more money."
"So you felt you could traipse all over town like that?" He glanced around. "The only place I see open is a McDonalds across the street. Let's go."
He curved a protective arm around her and hobbled over to the McDonalds "With all of these shopping bags we should have bought a packhorse," he muttered as he awkwardly opened the door for her.
The place was empty, except for someone sweeping the floor and several employees behind the counter. Cait glanced up at the menu signs and giggled. "The menu is the same as home, but it sure is funny to see all the prices in pounds."
"One would expect that." He rolled his eyes and hiked a thumb in her direction. "She's a little loopy—she needs something to eat."
She studied the menu, hoping to find something uniquely British, then sighed. "A quarter pounder with cheese and a chocolate shake, please."
Sam ordered the same for himself. They settled into a booth along the glass wall facing the street.
By the time she'd finished her sandwich and half of the shake, she felt a lot better. "I'm not sure if I said thanks to you back at that charity shop, but I hardly know what to say."
"Maybe...say you're going to donate all of your boring clothes as soon as you get home?" He reached across the table to gently brush a lock of hair away from her face. "Maybe...I'm not going to hide all this beautiful hair in one of those silly knots, ever again?"
She laughed. "I may not go that far, but you did push me to try something different and I actually like it. A lot."
"Good. Tomorrow evening I need to get to work. So wear those tall leather boots, and something warm."
"Where are you going?"
"Tomorrow night is Trafalgar Square for the lights and the carolers. With my cast, it'll be a good twenty-five minute walk. It's lovely, though. We'll start at Buckingham Palace and walk along The Mall beside St. James Park, then it's just a few blocks more. Under a mile total."
She frowned at him. "That can't be easy with a crutch. Especially if there's snow."
"Depending on how things work out, I may also want to go on up to Seven Dials in Covent Garden."
"And what do you want me to do, exactly?"
"I won't want to set anything down in those crowds, so it doesn't walk away. Just holding my extra camera equipment, possibly helping hold light reflectors if the lighting is difficult. I might even use you in some of the shots, for human interest." He cocked an eyebrow. "If you don't mind."
She laughed at that. "I can't imagine why you'd want to use me."
"Really?" He looked at her in disbelief, as if wondering whether or not she was fishing for a compliment. "You could be the woman in Edmund Blair Leighton's painting Accolade. Look it up with Google and tell me I'm wrong."
She snorted. "I don't think I want to know. But thanks anyway."
They walked slowly back to the pub, Sam leveraging himself with the crutch, Cait walking along beside him, her arm looped through his in case either of them slipped.
This wasn't what she'd planned on while madly packing for this trip. She'd imagined staying at a sprawling estate and visiting with Derek's very regal parents presiding over proper English tea. Riding horses with him over the endless meadows and forests that were a part of his family's home.
Staying in an attic above a 1700's pub hadn't been part of her most wild, improbable dreams.
But walking beside Sam through the snow, with twinkling Christmas displays in every store window they passed, now filled her with a feeling of completion, as if she were finally in the place she'd always been meant to be.
CHAPTER SIX
Cait had never realized how luxurious a simple flannel nightgown could feel.
She'd expected to be in her street clothes during the red-eye flight from Minneapolis but not during a first night in her garret over the pub. She'd tossed and turned, longing for her own pillow, soft flannel sheets, and her well-worn nightie.
But last night—after that amazing shopping spree with Sam—she'd had a brand-new flannel nightgown to put on after her hot shower, and she’d wondered how anything could feel better.
Today, Sam had a doctor's appointment to check his fractured leg and other errands to run, so she'd wandered over to Buckingham Palace to peer through the tall iron fence at the changing of the guard, then she'd asked around about free things to do. After spending hours at the Natural History Museum and the British Museum, she'd wandered slowly back to the pub and took another hot, hot shower, then dressed for an evening at Trafalgar Square.
When she met Sam downstairs in the pub, she blinked. Refocused. Then stared at him, not quite believing her eyes.
Somewhere along the line today, he'd gotten his shaggy hair expertly cut, and the five o'clock stubble was gone as well.
Instead of looking like a vagrant, he could now easily step into any wealthy executive office and blend right in. The strong line of his jaw and expressive eyes made her think of Ryan Reynolds, but that sexy smile and those deep dimples were all his own.
If anything, he looked even more astonished at her arrival.
"So, what do you think?" she asked, feeling a little embarrassed. Leaving her hair down in loose waves and wearing the soft yellow cashmere sweater and black fitted slacks he'd chosen for her made her feel more than conspicuous—she felt as if every eye in the bar was on her. She slid into a seat at a nearby table. "This is one of the outfits that you had me buy. Is it okay?"
"You look incredible. If I walked out of here right now, I can see at least four guys who would be over here in a flash."
"Right," she drawled. "Hey—you have a cane now. You graduated?"
He nodded as he shouldered into his black pea coat, then picked up his bulky backpack and put it on. "Thank goodness. I despised that crutch. It's so much easier to navigate now. Are you ready to go? Maybe we'll find a good place to eat supper while we're walking."
She studied the backpack as she put on her coat and pulled mittens from the pockets. "Do you want me to carry that? It looks heavy."
"I've got it." He opened the door of the pub and ushered her out into the chilly evening.
"What in the world do you have in there?"
"A Canon 5D Mark III, my old 7D camera body, three L-series lenses, a flash...and a lot of other gear."
"Remind me not to get seriously into photography. I'll just stick to using my phone."
He shrugged. "I've never regretted bringing gear along, but I've regretted leaving it at home."
Tonight the sky was clear and bright, though the bright lights of London masked the stars and just a sliver of moon hung in the sky. They walked to Buckingham Palace and then turned up The Mall along St. James Park. After a while, he reached over and caught her hand.
"Have you heard about the Christmas traditions in Trafalgar Square?" She shook her head.
"The Square has been busy most any time of the year that I've been there, but at Christmas, the crowds really pour in. Norway has been donating a huge Norwegian Christmas tree every year since 1947, as thanks for Britain's support during WWII. It's strung with lights, and there are carolers every evening until Christmas. Even the fountains are lit, so it's really beautiful."
By the time they arrived, a large crowd had already gathered in the square.
In perfect harmony, carolers sang in their pure, sweet voices, then many in the cr
owd joined in. Smiling to herself, Cait sat on the edge of the fountain with the backpack on her lap and her eyes closed, savoring the beautiful evening while Sam was circulating through the square taking photographs.
"Cait? Catriona Walker?"
At the clipped, upper class British accent and deep, familiar voice, Cait's eyes flew open with utter shock.
"Is it you?" he asked.
The surprise and anger in that masculine voice sent a shiver of dread down her spine. Taking a steadying breath, she turned slowly.
And found herself staring into the face of the real Derek Worthington III.
He was as tall and broad-shouldered as she'd imagined from his dating site photographs, with the lean, sharply cut features and thick blond hair she'd come to adore.
But this was also the face she'd seen in those classy advertisements. Her confusion grew. What cancer researcher would have a high-profile career as a model? None of this made sense.
And now those piercing blue eyes were riveted on hers. He was clearly seething with anger.
"I see you are doing perfectly fine, so I'll leave you in peace," he bit out in a low, level voice. "But I do want to know one thing—why did you come all the way to London, then go off with someone else without even bothering to say hello?"
CHAPTER SEVEN
Unable to speak, Cait stared at Derek, her mouth open.
"Well?" he repeated, the glint in his eyes suggesting that there was no answer that would be good enough. "We were to meet at Kona, a restaurant near Buckingham Palace at eight o'clock. Remember? I emailed you about the last-minute change. But I was running a half hour late, so I texted you."
But by then, the fake Derek had already stolen her phone and everything else. "I didn't get your text or email, Derek. Something hap—"
"I certainly got one back from you," he snapped. "Saying you'd found someone else and to please leave you alone."
She closed her eyes briefly, as her first evening in London flashed through her thoughts. So the thief had even had the audacity to read and respond to the text that must have chimed from her phone within his pocket.
"I was at the pub, just as we planned. But when you walked in, I was horrified. Confused. The guy didn't look like you at all. He said he was Derek and he knew a lot of the right details—but then I started to question him. Suddenly there was a scuffle and he disappeared with my luggage and purse. Everything I had—including my phone—was gone. So if someone responded to your text, it wasn't me."
He gave her a narrowed look, disbelief written on his elegant, patrician features. She could tell that he thought she was lying.
"No one could have known our meeting plans," he bit out. "I can't think of anyone I might have told. So who was this other 'Derek' you apparently met?"
"Believe me, I have no idea. But it happened. You can go to that pub and ask Bob the bartender, or Tilly, who was the waitress that night. I can show you the police report and a copy of my application for a new passport, because that was stolen, too."
He drew in a long breath through his nostrils. "My parents expected us two nights ago. They hosted a dinner party to introduce you to some family and friends. I can't tell you how awkward it was to say that you simply weren't going to show up."
Awkward? He wasn't even listening to her.
He'd been everything she'd dreamed of since meeting him through the dating site—tall, handsome, with an elegant, cultured voice that reminded her of royalty. But he was also too self-centered to even consider that she'd been through a difficult situation, too.
"Maybe we could meet again tomorrow, someplace else, and talk things over. Could we do that—when everything has calmed down a bit? I feel badly about all of this."
"Is everything all right?" Sam appeared at her shoulder. He looked back and forth between Derek and Cait, as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "Ah, I see that you two have connected after all."
"It's been a bit of a surprise," she murmured. "But I'm glad we ran into each other. There's been such a misunderstanding."
Sam lifted his camera and tipped his head toward the fountain, then disappeared into the crowd.
A few passers-by drifted closer, their attention riveted on Derek. Who was, after all, probably a familiar face to anyone who ever skimmed a magazine or newspaper ad.
Derek took another good look at her, his head tilted slightly. "You look different from your photos. Very much so."
The accusing edge to his voice suggested that he didn't like the changes he saw. "And how is that, exactly?"
"You're...flashier. Less polished. I suppose that's what people do on those websites, though—present a side that will be more appealing." He jingled the keys in his pocket and seemed to be edging away. "I never mentioned to my parents that we met on a dating site as I was sure they wouldn't approve. I can see their point."
She debated about correcting his misconceptions.
She could tell him that she'd still been that more subdued, classic person he'd expected, with her long skirts and muted colors, until Sam widened her horizons at the charity shop yesterday. But she doubted Derek wanted to hear it.
"If that's all..." She let the question dangle, giving him the option to end this once and for all.
He pursed his lips, thinking. " Perhaps you're right. We could meet tomorrow and at least talk." He named a café on Bond Street. "Tomorrow, eleven-thirty?"
She nodded. "I'll be there."
He nodded once, his posture stiff and regal as he disappeared into the crowd.
This chance encounter had resolved nothing, and in fact, it had raised more questions than it answered. Derek had claimed that no one could have known of his plans to meet her...so where in the world had Fake Derek come from?
THE CAROLERS HAD FINISHED singing and the crowd had started to thin out when Sam returned to Cait's side. He took back his backpack, and began carefully stowing away his camera gear.
He glanced around the area, then cocked his head. "I thought your friend would still be here. Where did he go?"
"Home, I assume."
"Trouble in paradise?"
She laughed aloud. "You could say that. I don't think he believes anything I said about what happened when I arrived on Wednesday. He's sure I must've strung him long until I found someone better."
"So...are you devastated or relieved?"
"A little sad, mainly. From all of the emails we shared, I thought I knew him pretty well. I knew he didn't really have a sense of humor, but he seemed like a decent, upstanding guy. Now it seems as if this situation pricked his vanity—like, he can't believe anyone would ever stand him up."
"I wish that waitress at the pub had been here to help explain. From the start, we all figured you'd been duped by a conniver using someone else's pretty face.”
She felt a wave of sadness wash through her. "His photos never mattered to me, really. In fact, they were more of a negative than anything else about him. I kept wondering if a person who looked like that would ever truly commit to an ordinary girl like me."
"You sell yourself short."
"Not really. I'm single, thirty-four, and I live with my cat." She shrugged. "I'm content with my life, but I have realistic expectations."
He zipped the backpack, then sat next to her. "I guess I'm not even sure what you do for a living."
"I work in a cancer research lab...or I did. I'll be starting a new job at the university when I get home. I'm also—don't yawn—working on my PhD in biochemistry."
"I'm impressed. Your buddy probably didn't get past high school—or whatever they call it over here."
She leaned over to give him a teasing nudge with her shoulder. "I know you'll be disappointed to hear this, but for all his snooty attitude, he really does work in cancer research—probably one reason the dating website matched us up. I found his emails fascinating because we seemed to be on the same wavelength."
"Which is light years ahead of the rest of us, I'm sure. I wish you both well." Grabbing his c
ane, he stood and shouldered into his backpack.
She felt a frisson of alarm rush through her as he started to leave. "Wait—where are you going?"
"Covent Gardens—beautiful Christmas lights there. Seven Dials is lovely, too. Since this is such a beautiful night, I should take advantage of that area while I can."
She stood. "I can't wait to see it."
"I thought you might want to follow your friend and try to work things out. Go ahead if you want to."
"I've got a job, remember?" Once again, she moved to the opposite side of his cane and looped her arm through his. "So I think I'd better stick with you."
WALKING ALONG THE QUAINT, beautiful street in Seven Dials, Cait felt a sense of awe at the trees wrapped in Christmas lights from trunk to the tips of their branches. The bright, colorful stars and sheet of lights suspended across the street above her head. "This is like a fairyland. It's so beautiful."
Sam pulled a camera from his backpack, zipped it up and handed the backpack to her. She followed as he worked through the area, taking photos from all angles. Now and then he looked at the screen on the back of his camera to check for exposure and composition, then went back to clicking off a dozen more.
"Sit right there, would you? Just put the backpack on the ground behind you." Behind her were thousands of twinkling lights and the bare branches of a tree. "Okay—fluff your hair a little..."
He moved in to adjust the collar of her navy coat and fan her hair over her shoulders, then he gently canted her face. "Perfect. Now hold it..."
After a dozen photos or more, he tried different angles before nodding to her and moving on down the street. "Great job. The lighting was just beautiful there—like the glow of a hundred candles."
They walked on to the Covent Garden Piazza, where he photographed her at the sixty-foot Christmas tree, then he worked through the Apple Market, where a glittering disco ball sent diamonds of light spinning over the crowd and ornaments hung from the ceiling like constellations. They walked through the area for another hour, before Sam finally put away his camera.
A London Christmas Page 3