“Two weeks?” The words hurt even worse than Mouse telling me Dave had changed his mind about getting married. If he canceled the hotel two weeks ago, he’d known then he had no intention of going through with our wedding.
“You have no rooms available?” Saint asked.
“Completely booked, as are most of the hotels this week.”
“Understood.” Saint led me away from the desk and over to a seating area. “I’m afraid—”
I put my hand on his arm. “I’ve already decided what I’ll do.”
He raised a brow. “You have?”
“It’s easy. I’ll take a cab back to the airport and go home. I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”
“That seems a bit extreme. I’m sure we can find someplace for you to stay so you can at least see London.”
“I’d rather go home.”
He sighed. “Very well, but let’s make arrangements from here. You may not be able to catch a flight out until tomorrow.”
I didn’t know what I’d do if that was the case. However, trying to book a flight from here would be far easier than attempting to navigate an airport as big as Heathrow. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.
I pulled out my laptop, connected to the public Wi-Fi, opened my email, and searched for my flight information.
“I don’t understand,” I mumbled when I logged into the airline’s website and entered my confirmation number.
“What?”
“It says the reservation was for a one-way flight. It didn’t say this earlier. I swear it didn’t.”
“Let me see.” Saint took the laptop from my hands and tapped the keyboard. “It appears your return flight was canceled while you were en route.”
“I can’t believe this.” I pulled out my wallet, trying my hardest to get through this without falling apart. “I’ll just buy my own ticket home.”
“No doubt it will be quite pricey at the last minute.”
“No more expensive than staying on here a few more days.”
“True.”
He handed me back my computer, and I searched for the cheapest flight I could find. I hit the reserve button before I could talk myself out of it. I knew it would be a far cry from the first-class experience I’d just had, but I didn’t care. I’d been foolish to get on the plane in the first place. The sooner I was back home, the sooner I could get on with the rest of my life—without Dave in it. Mouse had certainly been right when she called him douchey. Although right now, the words I’d use to describe him were far worse.
With every number of my credit card I entered in, I hit the keys harder. He had to have known I got on the plane, what was now, yesterday. Had he so little regard for me that he couldn’t allow me a ticket home?
I entered my card’s expiration date and security number and waited while the payment was processing. I still had no idea what I’d do until flight time tomorrow, but I’d figure that out in a minute.
My laptop pinged, and a red message flashed on the screen. “Payment declined.” As hard as I’d been hitting the keyboard, I’d probably entered the number wrong. But after I reentered it, the same thing happened.
“This can’t be right.” I logged into my credit card company’s website to check my limit, which I knew was far more than the price of the ticket. “Available credit is zero?” I said, not intending to voice it out loud.
Saint took my laptop from my hands, closed the lid, and leaned it against the side of his chair.
“What are you doing?”
He took both my hands in his. “I fear you will find more that will be very upsetting. Rather than do this here, I’m taking you to my flat.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Let’s go, Harper.” He picked up my computer, stuck it in its case, and tucked it under his arm. With the other hand, he grabbed my suitcase and walked toward the door. Once outside, he motioned for his driver to open the back and shoved my belongings inside before ushering me into the car.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” I said a few minutes into our silent drive.
“We’ll be at the flat in a few minutes, and we’ll talk then.” He motioned to the man in the front seat, and I nodded.
“Where are we?” I asked when we pulled up in front of a crescent-shaped building that looked more like a hotel than a place where someone lived.
“My flat is on the top floor.”
Saint got my bags, and his, out of the car, refusing to let me help him. I followed him in through doors that led to a lobby not unlike the one we’d been in at the hotel—except there was no visible front desk—and over to a bank of elevators. He seemed preoccupied, which made me feel worse about dumping more of my burdens on his shoulders. I just got the feeling that saying so wouldn’t make it better.
Once in the elevator, he set the bag he’d been carrying in his right hand down and pressed his palm to a flat piece of glass. He left it there until we started to move.
The doors opened directly into a foyer where Saint dropped our bags.
“May I use the ladies’ room?”
“Of course. My apologies.” He showed me down a hallway. “First door on your right.”
When I came out, he had poured two drinks, handed one to me, and motioned for me to be seated.
“I’m going to ask you a question that may seem intrusive.”
“Go ahead.”
“Did you and Lipscomb share financial accounts?”
“Not until recently.”
“When specifically?”
What he was suggesting dawned on me, and my stomach sank. “A month ago.”
He nodded. “Were your assets significant?”
“Not really. I had some savings—a small inheritance from my grandmother.”
Saint leaned forward and placed his hand on top of mine, a look I couldn’t quite decipher on his face. “I suspect you may find your credit cards maxed out and your funds withdrawn from the accounts.”
The pit that had sunk my stomach was growing into a rock. As much as I didn’t want to look to confirm his suspicions, I knew I had to.
When I stood to get my laptop, Saint reached out and grabbed my wrist. “You don’t need to do this now.”
“I do.”
He nodded, stood, walked into another room, and returned seconds later. “Wi-Fi info,” he said, handing me a piece of paper.
I murmured my thanks, hoping what Saint had suggested about the state of my finances was wrong, even though in my gut, I somehow knew he was right.
Sure enough, Dave had withdrawn almost every penny sometime yesterday. What in God’s name would I do now?
My laptop slid to the floor with a thud. I put my head in my hands and cried.
6
Saint
I’d had no doubt I was right; however, it didn’t make watching Harper confirm it any easier, especially when she dissolved into tears.
She wouldn’t have much legal recourse, considering the accounts were likely in both her name and the bastard ex-fiancé’s. There were other avenues that could be explored, though. Not that I would bring that up just yet. First, I needed to comfort her. But how without it being terribly awkward?
I hadn’t known this woman more than twenty-four hours, and yet I wanted to wrap her in my arms and assure her that as bleak as things seemed, they would get better. I’d see to it they did.
The irony wasn’t lost on me that my own set of woes, or the latest set, was due to my doing far more than wrapping my arms around a woman I’d known less time than Miss Godfrey.
“Harper?”
She moved her hands from her face, took off her glasses, wiped her tears, and stood. “I should, um, be going. I’ve already put you out.”
I stood too and put my hands on her shoulders. “Is that what you’d accept if our situations were reversed?”
Her beautiful wide brown eyes looked into mine. “What do you mean?”
“If we’d met on a flight from London to the
US, and once I arrived, I found I had no reservations and seemingly no money, would you wish me well and leave me on my own?”
“Of course I wouldn’t!”
“Then, why would you assume that of me?”
She put her glasses back on and plopped down in her chair. “I’m sorry.”
I walked out to the foyer, picked up her bag, and took it down the hallway to the first guest room. My flat was quite large by London standards, particularly given its location. There were four additional bedrooms, besides my own, if she found my first choice lacking.
However, I sensed Harper wouldn’t utter a word regardless of her accommodations. I could put her up in the linen closet, and she’d not complain.
As it was getting close to noon, I wondered if she might be hungry. Not likely, given her news. I was famished, though, and went into the kitchen to see what Miss Bardwell may have left in the fridge. The woman had worked for my parents, and her mother had worked for my grandparents. I was here so seldom I didn’t really need, her but kept her employed full-time anyway.
I was delighted to see she’d left a plate of fruit along with some cheeses and savories, which I took back out to the living room. Harper was standing by the window.
“Don’t know about you, but I could use a bite to eat.”
“Thanks,” she murmured without looking over at me. “You have a beautiful view.”
I grabbed a handful of grapes and stood beside her. “I’m fortunate that this flat has been passed down through my family.”
She sighed. “You are fortunate.”
“You haven’t said much about your family.”
“My parents are divorced. Dad left Mom for a much younger woman. Mom’s bitter. Dad’s indifferent. The stepmom isn’t very nice.”
I sighed like she had. “I see. Hence not my best attempt at conversation.”
“You’re fine.”
“What would you fancy? Something to eat? A walk in the park? You can lie down, but I don’t recommend it for jet lag.”
“I honestly don’t know. I’ve never been so unsure of…everything, in my life.”
“A walk it is, then. The fresh air will no doubt do us both good after so long in the stuffy plane.”
“I know this is very forward of me, but would it be an inconvenience if I showered first?”
“Certainly not. Come with me, and I’ll show you to your quarters.” I led her down the corridor to the room I’d chosen. “If this doesn’t suit, there are others.”
She surveyed the room. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”
“The lavatory is right through here. Private, as you can see.” I motioned her to the en suite. “Closet is to the left.”
“Oh. I, um, probably won’t unpack.” She looked away, but I saw her eyes fill with tears like they had so often in the brief time I’d known her.
The urge to gather her in my arms and guarantee I would see to it the dickwad paid dearly for what he’d done to her—as well as promising I’d look out for her while she was in London—was almost too strong for me to resist. I didn’t act on it, though, knowing such declarations would make her more uncomfortable rather than less.
“Have your shower, and we’ll take our walk.”
I left her be and returned to the living room in time to hear my mobile ring. Rather than ignoring it, which would have been my druthers, I looked to see who was calling. My uncle. Bollocks.
“Nigel, what a pleasure to hear from you.”
“I’ve just been informed of your return to England.”
So much for niceties. “I arrived at the flat a short time ago.”
“According to my secretary, you received my message but have yet to reply.”
“I certainly intended to do so once I was settled.”
“Interesting word choice, Niven. It’s precisely the reason I rang.”
As I’d anticipated, I thought but did not say. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ve taken on the position of Foreign Secretary and, thus, oversee Her Majesty’s Secret Intelligence Service.”
As I was well aware by the countless times he’d mentioned it. I sighed, albeit inaudibly. The man, my mother’s brother, had always been somewhat of a blowhard. “Yes, sir,” I repeated.
“Bloody awful that you were sacked from your employ with MI6. That my own nephew is such an embarrassment does not sit well, given my new role.”
“My sincerest apologies, Uncle.” What would the wanker have me do that I wasn’t already attempting on my own?
“We must rectify the situation.”
Again, what would he have me do? While the next thing he said, answered my question, it almost made me laugh out loud. Maniacally.
“You need to settle down, Niven, and what I mean by that is, it’s time you married.”
“Married?” I all but shrieked. “Nigel, you can’t be serious.”
“I am. What better way to illustrate how you’ve changed your ways? And not to one of those trollops you so often parade about with. Find yourself a nice young lady, nephew.”
What was I to do? Pick one off the street? Someone dowdy perhaps? As much as I wanted my job back, I couldn’t abide this. I was about to tell him just that when Harper came out of the bedroom.
What had he just said? Find myself a nice young lady? Good God. No. I couldn’t dream of it. Could I?
“Nigel, I must ring you back later.”
“This conversation isn’t over, Niven.”
“Not at all, Uncle.” Not at all.
7
Harper
Saint looked downright pale. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Fine, fine. Ready for our walk?”
“Are you sure you still want to take one?”
“By all means.” His abrupt tone jarred me. Whatever conversation I’d just inadvertently interrupted must have been important.
“I can go on my own if you need to resume your call.”
“I’d like nothing less,” he muttered. He shook his head and motioned to the door. “Let’s get on with it.”
His brusque tone set me on edge, shaking my already raw nerves even more. I just wanted to be home, curled up on my sofa under my fuzzy throw.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’d rather lie down.” I didn’t wait for his response, nor did I intend to lie down. Instead, I’d pack the few things I’d taken out of my suitcase and use the small amount of cash I had on me to get myself to the airport. Once there, I’d call my mother first, even though I doubted she’d have enough money for a last-minute plane ticket to get me home. Worst-case scenario, I’d call my father. Given Dave had used up all my credit and taken all my money, surely my dad would help me return home.
“Harper?” My hand was on the bedroom doorknob, but the way Saint said my name, made me hesitate. I waited as he approached. “I’m sorry. As you may have gathered, my call was unpleasant. It’s nothing to do with you.”
Saint’s annoyance, even if it was directed at the person he’d been speaking to, made me anxious. “I’ve inconvenienced you too much already. As I said before, I need to go home. There’s no point staying on here any longer. I appreciate your hospitality so much, but I can’t continue to impose.”
“I wish you wouldn’t go.”
I studied him. “Why?”
He leaned against the wall and looked down at the floor. “I wish I could explain.”
“Why can’t you?”
His eyes met mine. “You’ll think I’ve gone mad.”
A pit formed in my stomach, a feeling I was getting far too accustomed to. Had I been wrong about him? Was I crazy for agreeing to come to his flat? He’d been nothing but a gentleman until now, but his demeanor since the phone call was so different.
“There’s something about you. I just… Gawd, I sound daft even to myself. I don’t know what to say other than I wish you wouldn’t leave yet.”
“Saint, I…” I stared into his sapphire-blue eyes. Was it my own pain I saw reflected in them, or was it his?
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “If that’s what you really want, I’ll make arrangements. However, I would really like the opportunity to show you around London. Prove to you that not all blokes are like the douchewaffle.” He mumbled the last part, but I heard him.
I bit my bottom lip. Who was I that I was actually considering staying? At the very least, I should call my parents, shouldn’t I? Or maybe just Mouse to let her know where I was, what had happened, and that I would be staying on here for another day or two until I could make arrangements to return to the States.
“I’ll take a walk with you.”
His smile was as unnerving as it was impossible not to mimic. He reached up and barely brushed my face with his finger. “I love seeing your dimples.”
I blushed, looked down at the floor, and back up at him. The heat I saw in his eyes was entirely different than what had been in them a second ago. “Saint?”
He took my hand and led me out of the hallway. “Let’s walk, then, shall we?”
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” I said when we got in the elevator and he pressed his palm to the flat glass panel like he had before.
“Security in the building is quite elaborate, given it houses an embassy.”
“Did you say an embassy?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Belgium. The US embassy was on the west side of the square, adjacent to this building, until a few years ago. Unsightly as it was.”
Like before, the elevator didn’t stop on any other floors before opening to the lobby.
“There’s a lovely park right across the way. The same one you were admiring earlier.”
When we walked across the street, Saint’s hand occasionally brushed my lower back. I loved the feeling of it. How many times had I wished Dave would do something like that? Or even hold my hand. When I’d asked him about it, he said he found public displays of affection inappropriate. Now I wondered if there was something more to it. Maybe it was just public displays of affection with me he didn’t care for.
We spent over an hour slowly making our way through the different parts of the garden. I found the memorial for those who lost their lives on September 11 particularly moving.
Sainted Page 3