Loving the Enemy

Chapter 8

12 August 1815

Day 3 of excruciating Torture...?

Caught in the throes of another nightmare, Philip woke to the sun barely streaming through the curtains. He scrubbed his hands over his face and fought to smoothen out his rapid breathing. He mustn't been exhausting his body enough if he were to have such frequent nightmares. He washed and dressed himself instead of disturbing Christopher's valet. And when he judged the time decent enough for him to go to the stables to request for a horse, even the winds carrying His Majesty's Ship wouldn't have moved faster than him.

He took Diamond out. She was a young, spirited mare and he was certain she would relish the challenge. Eschewing his favourite route, he decided upon a hillier one. As he pushed her to her limits, he never felt freer.

The fresh morning air, though chilly enough to cause vapours when he breathed out, was refreshing and swept away the last of the cobwebs of the nightmare.

Two figures cut through the mist, their cloaks billowing behind them in the wind. They grew bigger as he advanced. Even from the distance of what must be two hundred paces away, he could tell who the figure in front was. Miss Kendall.

They glanced at him as he neared, and he saw her eyes widen when she recognised him.

"Good morning, Miss Kendall." He hopped off and bowed.

She returned the greeting. "I did not expect to see you up and about so early in the morning."

"I might say the same of you." He nodded at the baskets covered with a cloth that she and one of the housemaids were carrying. "Are you off to deliver something?"

She nodded. "To my father's tenants. Some of the children have been feeling poorly. And I thought to bring some things to cheer them up."

"How far a walk is it?"

"Not far. Just beyond the rise."

"Miss Kendall, I beg you not to insult my intelligence. I know the lay of the land as well as you do, and beyond that rise, it is another good five miles before you reach any cottage."

He reached for her basket, but she moved back. "Thank you but I can manage, Mr Wyndham."

"Let us not be churlish, Miss Kendall." He tried again and this time she relented, allowing him to take basket from her. Not expecting the weight, he nearly dropped it. "What are you doing, carrying such a heavy basket, Miss Kendall?"

She eyed him disdainfully. "Are you insinuating that I lack the physical strength and hence must rely on a man to help?"

He shook his head. "You have grossly misunderstood my intentions, madam. I wish you'd stop judging my every sentence with so much hostility, Miss Kendall. I merely think you should have been wiser and have some cart send you."

"How noble of you to offer such a suggestion, sir." She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Why did I not think of such an ingenious idea?"

"She has, sir," the maid interjected, "but-" she stopped the moment she caught the icy glare of her mistress and hung her head as if she'd been rebuked.

"But?" He prompted, in hopes that Miss Kendall herself would supply the answer.

"But nothing." She held out her hand. "If you will not be accompanying us, Mr Wyndham, I suggest you return my basket and be on your merry way."

"Lead the way, Miss Kendall."

Adelaide glanced out of the corner of her eye at the man who was walking beside her rather stoically. Then she looked back at Diamond plodding along behind, rather sedately. Having ridden Diamond once, she was surprised to see the mare contented to go at such a slow pace. That one time, Diamond only seemed to know one speed, fast.