Chapter 345 - Three Hundred And Forty Four

Chapter 345: Chapter Three Hundred And Forty Four

Evening came so quickly that Camilla felt the entire day had rushed by in a blur. The bright golden sunlight that had filled the master bedroom slowly faded away, replaced by the dark gray shades of twilight. Outside the tall glass windows, the crickets began their soft evening songs in the garden below.

Inside the bedroom, a single oil lamp flickered on the bedside table, casting a warm, soft glow over the bed.

Camilla sat beside Damon’s mattress. Her posture was straight, but her body felt sore from the bruises covering her back and ribs. In her lap, she held a small bowl filled with warm water. A soft cotton towel was submerged in the water.

She reached into the bowl, taking the towel and wringing out the excess liquid until it was just damp. Her movements were extremely slow, gentle, and careful. She did not want to disturb Damon in any way.

Camilla took Damon’s right hand into her own.

She held his hand carefully, as if it were made of glass. With gentle, rhythmic strokes, Camilla wiped the damp cotton towel across the back of his hand. She cleaned between his knuckles, over his wrist, and along his fingers. She cleaned away every tiny trace of dust, dirt, and dried sweat that remained from the long day.

Her eyes stayed fixed on his face. Damon lay motionless against the pillows. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm under the wool blankets.

Camilla felt a tight, painful lump form in her throat as she stared at his sleeping face. She gripped his large fingers tightly within her own cold hands.

Please wake up soon, she thought to herself, her chest aching with emotion. I pulled the lead ball out. I cleaned the wound. I did everything I could. Damon... you cannot stay asleep forever. I need you here with me.

Just then, a soft, quiet knock sounded against the bedroom door.

Camilla did not stop wiping Damon’s wrist. She did not turn her head toward the door, nor did she say a single word. She simply dipped the cotton towel back into the bowl, squeezed out the warm water once more, and continued cleaning his left hand with smooth, calm motions.

Outside in the carpeted corridor, a young maid stood frozen near the threshold. She held her breath, her hands clutching her white apron tightly against her dress. She waited for a long moment, listening for any sound from inside the room. When no answer came, the maid swallowed hard, her heart pounding with nervous fear.

Every servant in the estate knew what Lady Camilla had gone through. Everyone also knew that Lady Camilla had not eaten much or taken a single drop of wine since returning home.

The young maid hesitated, terrified that speaking might anger her mistress. But her worry for Camilla’s failing strength gave her the courage to speak.

"My lady," the maid called out softly through the door. Her voice trembled slightly with nervous tension. "Dinner is ready down in the kitchen."

Silence hung in the air for a second. The maid took a tiny step closer to the wood and asked her main question, her voice dropping even lower.

"Do you want to eat downstairs in the main dining hall," the maid asked cautiously, "or should I bring a tray of warm dinner up to the room?"

The young maid held her breath again, terrified that Camilla would coldly order her to go away and refuse to eat anything at all.

Inside the room, Camilla continued to wipe the back of Damon’s left hand. She looked down at his peaceful features. When she finally opened her mouth, her voice was surprisingly soft, quiet, and gentle. There was no anger or sharpness in her tone.

"I will eat later," Camilla answered calmly toward the door. "Keep it warm for me."

Outside in the hallway, the young maid let out a long, silent breath of relief. Her shoulders dropped from her ears, and a small smile appeared on her face.

"Yes, my lady!" the maid replied quickly and respectfully. "I will tell the cook right away. I will make sure the kitchen keeps the fresh soup and roast meat warm over the fire for whenever you are ready."

Camilla listened quietly as the maid’s quick, light footsteps faded away down the long corridor, leaving the master suite in silence once more.

Camilla dipped the cloth back into the bowl one last time. She wrung it out thoroughly until no water dripped from the fabric. She dropped the bowl on the table, lifted her arm, leaned forward slightly over the bed, and began to clean Damon’s face.

She wiped his forehead, moving around the clean skin near his dark hair. She moved the damp cloth gently over his cheekbones, down his nose, and along his jawline. She was so careful that the fabric barely brushed against his skin.

As she worked, Camilla opened her mouth slightly and began to hum a very soft, sweet tune.

It was a simple, quiet melody from her old memories. She had always hummed this exact quiet song to Winston. Whenever thunder rolled across the dark sky and loud rainstorms rattled the windowpanes, Winston would hide under her bed, shivering in fear. Camilla would sit on the floor, pull the frightened cat into her lap, and hum this sweet tune over and over until his shaking stopped and he fell fast asleep.

The soft, rhythmic humming echoed gently off the walls of the large bedroom. It filled the empty air with a peaceful warmth, comforting Camilla’s own racing thoughts just as much as it comforted the unconscious man lying beside her.

Everything will be fine, she reassured herself in her mind, matching her humming to the rhythm of her wiping. I will protect you this time, Damon. No one else is going to hurt you.

Suddenly, a second knock sounded at the door.

This knock was not soft, hesitating, or nervous like the maid’s. It was firm, loud and quick—the distinct, disciplined knock of a trained military officer.

Kade’s deep voice immediately sounded from the hallway outside.

"My lady," Kade spoke clearly through the wood. "I have something to report."

Camilla stopped humming instantly. Her lips closed, and her eyes grew serious and sharp. She placed the damp cotton towel back into the bowl. She wiped her fingers dry against the fabric of her dress.

"Come in," Camilla commanded softly.

The door opened smoothly and quietly.

Kade stepped inside the master bedroom. He closed the door behind him without making a sound.

Kade walked briskly across the soft wool rug toward her chair. He stopped three paces away, dropped down onto one knee against the floorboards, and placed his right fist firmly over his left chest. He bowed his head low toward her in military respect.

"Greetings, my lady," Kade said.

Camilla folded her hands neatly over her lap. She sat up straight in her chair, her back stiffening. All the sweet, gentle softness in her expression vanished instantly, replaced by a cool, calculating authority.

"Speak," Camilla said flatly.