Chapter 7

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Chapter 7

                His heart beat double time. The sound pounding around his head as he took the rickety wooden stairs two at a time. Kendrick could go to hell, he did not care if he approved of this or not, he could not stay away any longer. He had followed ‘Alfred’, the English lackey had still not seen him, but he had heard everything Alfred had spoken of with Kendrick. He was a little confused over what the English male wanted. So was Kendrick in all honesty. But he could not stay away from Rohesia as they tried over the last few days to work out what it was Alfred was trying to negotiate between them.

                Having followed his back to a rundown tenement the first day he turned up at his door. At that moment he had not had the courage to go up and find her that day. And ‘Alfred’ was with her, and that did not go well the last time they met fully face to face. In fact his lips still tugged painfully from that last meeting he had had with them. But now, in the early morning light of a grey and overcast day, though thankfully the chill was dry and bone shockingly cold. Pulling his cloak further around him, he had waited for Alfred to leave and a few moments later he was on the move and up the stairs. He had managed to work out from the flow of people and the ability he had to put people at ease, which the ‘new, English’ residents were on the third floor, in two small rooms.

                It was worse than he had imagined inside, and he had believed that his own abode was a crumbling mess. This building felt as if it was about to fall down about his ears. He skidded to a halt as he reached the third floor, and the door was finally before him. Taking a deep breath and knew that he needed to calm a little or he would make a fool of himself all the more with her. And that was not allowable now or ever.

                She was not going to see him desperate, which he very much was, so he shoved his fingers through his hair, and combed it back away from his head. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and knocked…and waited…then knocked again. Still nothing. Cursing himself he realised the probably, she most probably had never had anyone knock upon her door, or at least while Alfred was out. He had no idea how to proceed, and on a whim reached out and rattled the door handle, finding that the door inched open as he did so. His breath caught in his throat, and before he knew what was happening, and with the part of him telling himself this was wrong firmly quieted in a corner. He pushed the door open a little further, wincing at the creak it made and stepped through.

                The small voice at the back of his head kept whispering how very wrong it was to be doing this. But that all left him at the sight that came up before him. Sitting in a rather spindly, rickety looking chair, leaning close to the hearth and her eyes were narrowed, as her tongue peaked out from between her teeth, as she concentrated wholeheartedly upon the embroidery in her hands. He paused at the sight she created, reminding him of a child concentrating on the perfect pranks placement. Or that was the last time he had seen such a look. She was innocence personified at that very moment.

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