Camilla quickly removed her hand from his throat as if the skin had burned her. She needed to fix this immediately. She needed to distract him from her fighting skills.

She stepped closer to him. She raised her right hand and gently caressed his cheek, letting her soft fingers trail down his strong jawline. She took her left hand and placed it flat against the stone wall right next to his head. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

She was essentially trapping him in the alcove, but she was trying to make it look like a romantic, intimate gesture.

"My Lord, it’s you," Camilla said out loud. She forced her voice to sound breathless, innocent, and slightly frightened. "You startled me. I was just acting on a sudden fright."

She kept her hand on the wall, leaning her body slightly closer to his. She looked up into his eyes.

"Why are you here?" Camilla asked smoothly, changing the subject completely. "Aren’t you supposed to be in the barracks? You just left this morning."

Damon looked down at her. He could feel her soft hand caressing his face. He could see her arm trapping him against the wall. He found the entire situation incredibly strange and slightly amusing. First she tries to kill him, now she is trying to seduce him to cover it up.

Damon cleared his throat gently, rubbing his neck where her fingers had pressed.

"I came home because of my grandfather," Damon replied. His voice returned to its normal, deep tone, but it carried a heavy hint of deep annoyance.

He did not step away from her. He stayed pinned against the wall. He lowered his eyes and looked closely at her face.

The candlelight hit her cheek perfectly. He saw the thin, fresh line of blood. The scratch she had received from the gang leader in the tavern. He also noticed that she was breathing slightly faster than normal, and her dark green dress looked a bit wrinkled.

"Where were you?" Damon asked. His voice was low, sharp, and very suspicious.

Camilla did not break eye contact. She kept her sweet, fake smile perfectly in place.

"I was in the garden," Camilla replied easily.

Damon raised one dark eyebrow. "All day?" he asked.

Camilla nodded her head softly. "All day," she confirmed. "I was just taking a very long walk to enjoy the fresh air. It was very peaceful."

But inside her head, a massive storm of panic was raging.

"God please let him believe this stupid excuse," Camilla prayed frantically in her mind. Her internal voice was screaming.

Damon stood perfectly still. He listened to her loud, panicked prayer echo clearly inside his own head.

"I didn’t know he would come back today!" her thoughts continued to race wildly. "How do I tell him I went out? How do I tell him I dressed as a dirty boy to save my brother from a gang of murderers? He would lock me up! Please, just accept the garden excuse!"

Damon stared at her. He knew with absolute certainty that she was lying straight to his face. She had not been in the garden. She had been out doing something highly dangerous.

He decided not to expose her lie just yet. He wanted to see how far she would push the story.

Damon slowly reached up his large hand. He gently touched the skin right next to the red scratch on her cheek.

"How did you get injured?" Damon asked softly.

Camilla removed her left hand from the stone wall. She reached up and touched her own face, covering the scratch with her fingers. She looked down at the floor, acting shy and embarrassed.

"I fell," Camilla lied smoothly. "I tripped over a large tree root near the rose bushes and a thorn scratched my cheek. It was very clumsy of me."

Damon looked at her. He heard her lie, and he heard the total lack of guilt in her mind. She was a master liar.

Damon nodded his head slowly. He dropped his hand from her face. His expression turned completely cold again.

"Get it treated so it doesn’t get infected," Damon ordered flatly. He did not sound caring. He sounded like a commander giving an order to a soldier.

He moved his broad shoulders, gently pushing her arm aside, and stepped away from her. He stepped out of the dark alcove and back into the center of the lit hallway.

Just then, the sound of slow, formal footsteps echoed down the hall.

An older man walked towards them. This man was dressed in an incredibly fine, perfectly tailored uniform. He stood very straight, and his face was very serious and proud.

The older man stopped a respectful distance away and bowed slightly to Damon.

"Dinner is ready, my lord," the older man announced formally.

Damon looked at the older man. The deep annoyance returned to the General’s face. His jaw muscles tightened visibly. He did not look like a man who wanted to eat dinner.

"I am going straight to my room," Damon replied sharply. He did not even look back at Camilla. He turned his attention entirely to the older man. "Mr. Murry, next time, once it is dinner time, close the main gates. Make sure the estate is completely secured for the night."

"Yes, General," Mr. Murry replied with a nod.

Without another word to his wife, Damon turned around. He walked away, heading toward the grand staircase to his room.

Camilla watched his broad back disappear up the stairs.

She dropped her fake, sweet smile instantly. She crossed her arms over her chest and scoffed loudly.

"Such a grumpy rock," Camilla thought to herself, rolling her dark eyes. "I practically threw myself at him against a wall, and he just tells me to wash my face and walks away. What a boring man. I wonder what Camilla sees in him."

Mr. Murry turned slowly to face Camilla. He placed his hands neatly behind his back. He offered her a very small, very polite bow.

"My Lady," Mr. Murry spoke. His voice was deep, cultured, and very smooth. "I am the new housekeeper sent by the General’s grandfather from the main estate. You can call me Uncle Murry."

Camilla uncrossed her arms. She looked at the older man in complete surprise. She remembered Damon’s announcement from that morning in the foyer.

"Uncle Murry?" Camilla asked, her delicate eyebrows pulling together in confusion. "I thought he hired a woman? Damon said a strict woman was coming from the capital city to manage the maids."

Mr. Murry gave a very small, knowing smile. The smile did not reach his serious eyes.

"That is exactly why the General is in such a bad mood today, My Lady," Murry replied smoothly.

He stepped slightly closer to her, lowering his voice as if sharing a family secret.

"His grandfather, the old Duke, heard about the terrible incident with Mrs. Ida," Murry explained. "The old Duke completely disagreed with the General’s choice of a replacement. His grandfather intercepted the carriage, fired the woman he hired, and sent me instead."

Murry paused for a second. He looked Camilla up and down, taking in her messy hair and the scratch on her face.

"And," Murry added softly, "the old Duke sent a messenger to the military camp. He ordered the General to come back home immediately."

Camilla frowned. "Why?" she asked.

Murry’s small smile widened.

"He told the General to come back home for you, My Lady," Murry stated clearly. "The old Duke believes a husband should not leave his young, injured wife alone in a mansion right after a dangerous snake attack. He forced the General to return to his duties as a husband."

Camilla stared at the new housekeeper. Her mind went completely blank for a second.

"For me?" She thought, feeling a sudden wave of dread wash over her.

She looked up toward the top of the dark staircase where Damon had disappeared.

She had wanted Damon out of the house so she could act freely. She had wanted to plan her escape in peace. But now, because of some meddling old grandfather she had never even met, the Tyrant General was forced back into the house, completely annoyed, and trapped here with her.

"This is going to be a complete disaster," Camilla thought to herself. She let out a long, heavy sigh.