I would like
to share a snippet of A Hotel in Bath
with you. A journey that began in Paris, continues in Bath.
“Welcome to
London, Miss Grey,” he whispered.
“Thank you,
Captain.” She leaned toward him and with her fingertips caressed his cheek.
The plane
roared to a stop amidst layers of dense fog, the silvery hue obscuring the
landing strip. Inside the plane, the woman sitting next to Peter Riley shivered,
he gently stroked her hand, his gaze on her face as soft as the caress. He was
so completely aware of her that he could taste her increasing panic. Their
relationship was new, and Minola Grey was skittish about commitment. He knew
the relationship terrified her, a fear of betrayal never far from the surface.
Minola looked
up at him and their eyes locked. “A hotel in London, Captain?”
“Yes, Miss
Grey. We were going to go to my apartment, but I received a message that the
painters were delayed, and the apartment is not ready. A hotel in Bath. That concept should
be familiar to you, except this time, I’m staying with you from the very
beginning,” he replied smiling. His grip on her fingers tightened. She took his
breath away. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “Nervous?”
“No…yes…”
“No. Yes.
Hmmm. Now, that is an interesting response. Any regrets?”
“About what?”
“Me.”
“No. Never
about you. Meeting your parents, well, let's just say that is an entirely
different matter,” Minola replied.
He remembered
the first time he met Minola Grey. Paris. And murder. As an Interpol agent, Peter
Riley was part of an investigative team in Paris; somehow, she wound up becoming
an indispensable part of his life. Because of him, she had matured as a woman
and as an artist—she’d become a success in Paris, and now had a major show
planned in London—but
she still had doubts and insecurities about their association. Minola continued, “Peter, what are your parents going to think? I’m a stranger you
are imposing on them during their vacation. Maybe I should stay in London. We
can all meet later in Bath.”
His grip on
her fingers did not relent, he understood her and her fears. She was a
remarkable artist whose talent he’d seen grow darker and grittier with her
exposure to his profession. He’d been terrified for her safety. It happened
right in front of his eyes, she’d seen death and her life had been threatened,
horrifying him in the process. She learned about greed, hate, how easy it is
for someone to take a life. Peter would do anything to keep her safe and
wrapped in a cocoon of his own choosing. Yet throughout their time together,
she remained stoic, timid, and more importantly, mistrustful of their relationship.
“First and
foremost, you are not a stranger. You are the one and only woman in my life.
Have been since the day we met. We are going to Bath together. My parents are
looking forward to meeting you. And I want to be with you, but if I’m not
enough of a lure, there is an added incentive; a gallery in Bath you will enjoy
visiting. I know the owner.”
“A gallery?
Ah, you twist my arm, Captain. By the way, you are enough. You will always be
enough.” She leaned over and once again touched his cheek. “Peter, how long are
we going to stay in Bath? Maybe we should get two—”
“We are
staying in one room. Together.” He brought her hand to his lips, before she had
a chance to withdraw. “We can leave tomorrow morning. It’s not a long drive,
and we can relax tonight. Well, maybe not relax, entirely. I have missed loving
you,” he said with emphasis.
“Peter, I'm
afraid; I feel as if you didn't get a chance to…”
“I have
everything I want. You. I’m thinking of leaving Interpol. I’ve found I cannot
risk your life again; your safety has become an obsession.”
“What?” She
shook her head. “No, you can't. You told me a while back that you make a
difference with your work. I know you make a difference—I've seen it. It’s what you want. I can’t
let you alter your life so dramatically. Besides, how can I possibly be in
danger just by being with you?”
“This is not
like being a policeman. Some of the people I deal with reach a long way and
retaliate. Violently. My family is further detached from me by living in a
small village where everyone knows each other. You, my love, will be living
with me and have a high profile. You can become a perfect target.”
“You would be
giving up your career because of me, and it would be my fault. I can’t live with that...Peter, I can’t.”
“I will not
be giving anything up. It’s time I assumed responsibilities at home.”
“What do you
mean? Responsibilities at home? You would throw away your career and resent me
later. You didn’t even discuss it with me. We have to talk. Are we together or
not?”
“We are.
Absolutely. I’m not letting you go. Ever. And you are correct, we do have to
talk. Once we get to Bath. Tonight, I want to make love with you.”
Leaving the
plane, his grip firm on her waist, he ushered her to the baggage area. He
wasn’t going to let her go. His need for her increased with every breath he
took. How on earth is that possible? He recognized that she still felt
tentative and apprehensive. The betrayal in Chicago had left her vulnerable,
and he had his work cut out for him to allow her to grow in their relationship,
allow her to trust him and believe in him. Believe he would never betray her.
Peter’s cell
phone went off, and he answered instinctively. “Mother, how are you?” His arm
around Minola’s waist tightened perceptibly. “Yes, we are on our way to
the…yes, no, not my apartment…we should be in Bath tomorrow.” Peter listened to
the voice at the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, son,” he heard his mother
say, “Madeleine was killed sometime yesterday. Ashby is asking for you and
Fitzhugh has been trying to get in touch.”
Cheers,
Margot Justes
A
Hotel in Paris
A
Hotel in Bath
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Art
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www.mjustes.com
