Loving the Enemy

Chapter 7

He was wandering around the darkened corridors, the many doors that lined the walls closed to him. He knew, for he'd tried earlier to open them. No amount of kicking, punching, and hammering on the doors had worked.

Cold suffused him, chilling him to his bones. He could feel...things...calling him, beckoning him to stay but he knew he shouldn't listen to those voices, if one could call them that.

He clawed at his cravat, the cloth seemingly suffocating him and he stumbled, slamming into the walls and doors. He fell to his knees, his shoulders and arms throbbed from the impact, but he ignored the pain, pulling and yanking at the cloth until it finally came undone.

Discarding it, he pulled himself to his feet and moved forward. Or at least in what he thought was forward. He'd lost all sense of direction and knew not if he was walking away from where he'd came from or towards it.

Suddenly, a bright light appeared in front of him, piercing the darkness. He squinted against it, using his hands to shield his eyes. Where was the light coming from? Then he saw that a door had opened right at the end of the corridor and the light was pouring through the open door.

He started running towards it. But no matter how fast he ran, the door remained elusive and out of his reach.

He tried to increase his speed but his legs seemed to weigh him down until it seemed he could no longer lift them.

Wyndham! Wyndham! That sweet, angelic voice lifted his spirits and his feet, and he found himself hurtling towards the open door.

Towards the light.

Towards the person calling his name.

Philip blinked and he squinted against the bright sunlight streaming into the room. Over him hovered the owner of the voice. His vision was blurry but he could see brown hair and blue eyes in front of him.

The woman! She'd come to see him again.

How he missed her!

He lifted a hand to cup her face. "My love, you have come." However, instead of her leaning in with a welcoming smile, she drew back, her brows drawn together.

He blinked again and everything became clear at once. Miss Kendall was standing in front of him, her lips pursed and her expression disapproving.

Scrambling to his feet, he executed a hasty bow. "My apologies, Miss Kendall. For taking liberties. I meant no offence. I'd been caught in a dream and-"

"Yes, I'm well aware that you were dreaming." She looked down at her clasped hands in front of her. "You were mumbling incoherently and perspiration had formed on your forehead. I wondered if you were unwell and tried to wake you."

"No...I..." he cleared his throat. "I am well. Thank you."

The silence between them grew.

"I-"

"You-"

He gestured for her to speak first. After a few false starts — during which he found her nervousness rather endearing — she finally said, "Is your brother engaged to be married?"

The non-sequitur caught him unawares and he blinked in surprise. "Not that I'm aware of. Has he...expressed his wish to marry...to you?"

She shook her head. "He implied that his affections laid elsewhere and so I wondered who should be the lady so lucky as to be the next Lady Dover."