Antonia stopped by her chamber door. “Have a nice rest, Lord Chedworth.”
“You as well,” he said and continued to this own set of rooms and with each step, the bucket once again began to tip.
Once he closed the chamber door, Philip leaned back against it. This was madness.
No, it was magic. He was just as certain that once he was cured, or whatever needed to be done, he’d no longer have this connection, and might not even notice she was missing once they did part.
If they ever parted.
He crossed to his bed, not bothering to ring for his valet. He was too tired to ask for assistance. In fact, he was too tired to do anything more than remove his boots, cravat, suitcoat, and waistcoat, and then crawled onto his bed wearing only his trousers and shirt.
The drapes had been drawn against the light of the day, or perhaps they’d never been opened. Not that it mattered because he was grateful for the darkness.
He rolled to his side, bunched the pillow, and closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
It did not come.
He then rolled to his back and once again tried to find slumber, but his mind was on Antonia and what needed to be accomplished.
No, that wasn’t it. Neither his body, nor his mind would rest because he missed her.
Ached for her, but not with desire, though there was that too. What he was experiencing was a loss and he needed to be by her side. Where he was empty, he ached, and that needed to be filled.
There was no explanation and something that he must fight because he certainly could not sleep with Antonia, or she’d be ruined beyond repair.
Though, if he did, they’d need to marry, and then his emptiness inside would no longer exist.
Except, no woman wanted to be married to a wolf and he could not even contemplate a future until he knew what his was going to be.
Philip rolled to his other side, bunched the pillow again and tried to clear his mind of Antonia. He should be bloody exhausted and be falling into a dreamless sleep. He’d been awake for over twenty-four hours, and nothing should be occupying his mind at this time. He should be beyond thought, but he ached.
He was lonely.
After nearly an hour, Philip finally gave up.
As impossible as it was to believe, he would get no sleep when he desperately needed it.
Maybe brandy.
With those thoughts, he rose from his bed and then stepped out into the corridor without bothering to repair his appearance or put on his boots. It was a home belonging to his cousins, but he had spent enough days here that it could be his as well. If he encountered anyone in the library, they would be family, so it didn’t matter. He’d drink his brandy, numb his soul and return to bed.
Except, it wasn’t a family member that he encountered before reaching the stairs, but Antonia.
“What is wrong?” he asked.
“I cannot sleep.”
Was it possible…he didn’t want to complete the thought because it would make him hopeful that she was experiencing what he was.
“Do you know why?” It was better that he asked her than if she asked him.
“It’s nothing that I can explain.”
Maybe she was afraid to tell him, or confess, as he was. “Give me your hand,” Philip said as he held out his.
Antonia frowned then placed her small, delicate hand in his. The moment they touched, his entire being relaxed, and she sighed, her shoulders dropping.
“What is this?” he asked.
