Internment

Chapter 18

"Anything," He replied, his eyes staying locked on her.

"Is there ... somewhere else we can go? To meet each night?" The question tumbled out awkwardly. "I know you have work to get done, and this is where you do that but-" She cut herself off before she could ramble on further.

Swallowing, she stole a glance at him. Understanding had dawned in his eyes at what she was truly asking - truly saying. And he looked ... embarrassed. No - utterly mortified that the thought hadn't crossed his mind sooner. It was only for a second, but she was sure that's what she'd seen on his face. In the blink of an eye though, he'd rearranged his features into their usual calm, cool expression.

"Well," He said, nearly without missing a beat. "Lucky for you the work I have to do is quite easily transported." With a smile, he grabbed the files from his desk and stood to his feet. "Come on," He stretched out a hand to help her up. "I have a place in mind."

Taking his hand in her's, she stood up, releasing it only after the door to the study had closed behind them. She followed close behind him as he led her down the hall, in the opposite direction of her room. They reached the room at the farthest end of the hall, and he turned the nob, holding the door open for her to enter.

Stepping inside, she looked around. The warm glow of lamp light illuminated forest green walls. Furniture was scattered about the room, all a shade of black walnut that matched the hardwood of the floor. A fire crackled in the hearth to her right, two velvet armchairs, a deep maroon in color, stationed around it.

Side stepping her, Phillip entered, making his way to an open door left of the fireplace. A door to what, she assumed, was his room. Closing it, he turned to face her. "This is my private study," He smiled softly. "A bit less formal than my official one."

"You have two studies?" She raised a brow, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

He snorted. "Well it is quite a big house ... I had to find some way to fill all the empty space."

"That's fair, I suppose," She replied, the smile that had tugged at her lips on full display. She'd turned around now, taking in the rest of the room. A floor to ceiling bookshelf, not unlike the one in Phillip's official study, took up most of the back wall. Her eyes danced over the shelves, scanning the different covers.

"You can sit there, by the fire, if you'd like," He gestured to the velvet armchairs. "I'll admit the book selection here is a bit lacking compared to my library down the hall," He added once he'd followed her gaze to what held her attention.

"I'm sure I'll manage," She said, stepping towards the shelves to more closely examine the books they held.

"Oh, I don't doubt that," He chuckled.

She ran her finger down the spines of a shelf that was at eye level. Some of the titles she recognized, while others she didn't. She smiled quietly to herself, the weight that had been in her chest for weeks, slowly lifting.

She turned around as a soft pop sounded behind her. Phillip stood at the walnut desk at the opposite side of the room, a bottle of dark red liquid in his hand.

"What's that?" She asked, as he poured himself a glass of the mystery substance.

"Port," He replied, recorcking the bottle before placing it back on the bar cart where he'd found it.

"Is that like red wine?" She cocked her head to the side inquisitively.

"Similar," He nodded. "Not as dry though." She watched him take a sip as she approached him. "Would you like a glass?" He asked.