Chapter 5

Phileas Fogg slept deeply and dreamed. Bits and pieces of memory tried to sort themselves. The strongest images were of a pretty rosy peach face with chestnut brown, silky hair.

Phileas saw the sweet, lovely face smiling happily up at him, full of affection. The heights of passion boiled through him.

A teary, apprehensive face looked at him for comfort.

A fight. Someone in danger, several attackers fought off.

Odd undercurrents, something akin to panic, washed over him–and fear.

Inner turmoil, determination, and pain–always there.

Something menacing broke through to the surface of his dream. Another… a presence in the dark. A large man walking from one shadow to another on a rolling crowded deck… Danger! Must stop him! Stop!

Grappling, they fought, crashing into crates and tripping on bails and boxes. His enemy pounded his head into every surface available in the struggle. They tumbled to the deck together. Phileas, battered and dizzy, fought on in a frenzy, rolling with his enemy over and over. They rolled against a railing at the edge of the deck. With a crazed burst of strength, Phileas overcame his enemy, pushing him overboard. The man dropped into the night-blackened sea, disappearing in the darkness.

An apparition, pale and undefined. Back inside! Don't expose yourself!

Phileas game bolt upright in utter darkness. Beads of sweat ran down his face as he lurched up, fighting to get loose from the downward pull of the black emptiness of a nightmare. He panted, gulping for breath as the darkness receded, revealing familiar territory.

Relief filled him. He caught hold of himself, forcing his body to relax, bringing his heart rate and breathing back to normal. The images in the dream didn't retreat out of reach for him this time.

Despite the raging pain, Phileas remembered.

He remembered waking up like this before. Frustration filling him as images had scattered like ghosts before dawn.

That memory brought a sharp realization. I'm alone. Melody has always been with me when I wake to calm and care for me.

Phileas looked around, anxious, panicked. Melody, where is she?

Confusion returned, fear along with a dull pounding in his head. Some consuming emotion attacked him. Pain, like a thick fog, settled over him. Images of her concerned face and her soft small hands smoothing his brow came into focus for a moment and then faded away. He fought to hold them, hold her near.

That confused him more. He opened his eyes, looked for water. He saw the cup of cold willow bark tea Melody had left for him before going to bed. He gratefully gave it a stir and drained it down in one swig. Waiting for the medicine to take effect, he collected his newfound memories and the more recent events of his return home to analyze and compare.

We returned to London from the ship yesterday. Melody's nurse's demeanor rose in full force when she realized I had tired myself out. She came to my room with Doctor Hastings sometime later, answering questions when I couldn't, relaying what the doctors before had said of his injuries and accepted instructions on how I should be cared for.

While Melody was out of the room, I asked Hastings, a friend of the family for years, not to say anything about my sudden marriage about town. "I will make formal announcements later when I am well enough again to receive guests. I don't want her to have to receive my friends alone. Actually, our marriage hasn't been announced within my family yet."

"Of course," the older man allowed. "I will keep it to myself until you give me leave otherwise. My congratulations again," he said. "She is a fine-looking young lady and will be good for you from the look of things."

I made a noncommittal reply before the doctor left, hoping the man kept his word.

My victory in Tripoli, the image of the fight from my dream. Stiles and I got both ladies back to the ship. That had not been a random attempted robbery. It had been deliberate, personal. Pain dragged at me as we returned to the ship, but as soon as my feet crossed the Quest's deck boards, the world turned several times without me. Everything clouded up and the pain sent me into oblivion. I would have fallen to the deck had Melody not been there.

Lord, I hate the way she blustered at me for getting into that fight. My fault, I suppose. She didn't know my background. Have I told her anything since?

The second fight, I saw a smaller vessel come beside ours and saw someone climb aboard. After throwing him overboard, Melody came out of her cabin in that bright white gown and robe blowing in the wind. I didn't know if there were others on deck. I rushed to her, pushed her back in her cabin, and sprawled on top of her when the world lurched. Her crying out underneath me, getting beaten insensible for that compromising situation.

The other got away without notice. He and the ship disappeared into the dark sea. I had nothing to prove my story and no way to distinguish the injuries I received in that fight from the beating Melody's outraged rescuers gave me.

I was barely on my feet through the interview with Captain Georges. Despite Melody's explanations, the man was outraged, prepared to throw me off his ship into the nearest prison.

I didn't waste time trying to talk to the captain about the small boat and the kidnappers, or his ship's lax security. It had been much too lax, in my opinion; too lax even for a ship, not expecting trouble.

Where were the watches? I know he had night watches. We were sailing along the coast of Algiers, for pity's sake. Why was the watch there on the spot when Miss Anderson cried out in our fall, but not when I was getting banged about the deck so noisily?

Damn, what a mess.

Denying what everyone is determined to believe would get us nowhere, so I used what everyone believed to my advantage. All knew I was spending time with her and the Stiles. I convinced her to say I injured myself on all the cargo on deck while coming to propose to her. "When I finally reached your cabin, those injuries caused me to lose consciousness and fall."

Plausible. Took time to convince her to go with it. It would allow me to keep close to protect her from further attacks. We had another week before getting to England. Anything could happen at sea with such a relentless attacker.

The rest of his time at sea was a blank. Did I run out of ways to keep her secluded? Did I make her think I had fallen in love with her? Did I fall in love with her?

I don't remember. The only thing I vividly remember is waking up with Melody in my bed and spending the rest of the early morning making love to her. And she had been completely willing. Somehow, my sham took another turn, and I am tied to a woman I don't know.

Pretty as she was, I can't imagine being tied to the girl for the rest of my life. Attracted, yes, but for how long? What is there in an unsophisticated and unworldly girl that will sustain my interest when the novelty of her beauty is gone?

He grabbed his aching head and leaned forward. "Lord! Fogg, you have really outdone yourself this time."

Light penetrated the bottom of his bedroom door. The door opened and Melody's head peeped in. "Phileas, are you well? I heard a noise. I thought you might need me."

Despite his frustrations, the lyrical sound of Melody's voice did something to him. His mind calmed and, for a moment, an extraordinarily strong inclination to surrender to her settled on him. He forced that down. Giving in to physical attraction has caused enough trouble.

"No, I'm all right. I took the medicine you left me. Please, go back to bed."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite."

"Good night then." The door then closed.

Phileas laid back down. "What a ridiculous coil."