Chapter 369 - Three Hundred And Sixty Eight

Chapter 369: Chapter Three Hundred And Sixty Eight

A cold, tense feeling settled in the air the very moment the name of Duke Collin was spoken.

Camilla slowly kept her right hand in Damon’s hair. Her fingers moved in soft, rhythmic circles against his scalp, trying to soothe the sudden rigidity she felt in his muscles. She watched his face closely. She noted the tight line of his jaw and the way his dark brown eyes hardened with deep, defensive caution. The relaxed, vulnerable husband from a few moments ago was replaced instantly by a wary military commander facing a new threat.

Camilla stroked his hair gently and asked, her voice soft and low, "Do you know why he’s back?"

Damon stayed still in her arms for a long moment. He enjoyed the soothing touch of her fingers, even as his mind worked quickly to understand the danger. He let out a slow breath through his mouth, his chest rising and falling against her nightgown.

Damon replied, his tone serious and thoughtful, "I’m not sure. He has been gone for two years, serving as an envoy for the kingdom. He travels far across the borders, handling treaties and foreign disputes for the crown."

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at the far wall. "But I’m sure his arrival is not a joyous one. My uncle does not do things without a reason."

His voice was steady, but there was a grave tone beneath his words. He knew his uncle well. Duke Collin was a man who only moved when there was something to gain, or when his power was directly threatened. He was a master of political games. He did not return home for simple family visits, and he certainly did not care for friendly reunions. If Duke Collin was returning to Daril, he was bringing a storm with him.

Camilla listened to his response. Her eyes narrowed slightly as her mind began to analyze the situation. She did not know Duke Collin personally, but she understood exactly how dangerous political players worked. She had dealt with men like him in her own world—men who hid their evil intentions behind polite smiles and formal titles.

Camilla thought to herself, "It’s too coincidental. He is arriving just days after General Howe’s arrest."

She reasoned through the facts quickly in her head. She laid the pieces of the puzzle out in her mind. General Howe had been captured. The royal guards had taken him into custody, and the royal court was preparing for a major trial. This trial would expose the dark schemes behind things that should be buried and potentially destroy those involved forever.

Now, right at this exact, critical moment, a high-ranking diplomat and senior duke of the Benson family was suddenly returning to the capital city after two long years away. It was not luck, and it was certainly not a simple accident.

"He is returning to clean up the mess and excuse himself," Camilla thought, her eyes turning cold and sharp. "He wants to protect his own interests and perhaps to also take total control of the family estate while Damon was supposed to be dying in bed. Uncle Murry said the old duke’s medicine was tampered with. Collin might be the one pulling the strings from the shadows."

She kept her thoughts to herself for now. She did not want to stress Damon’s recovering body with dark worries and conspiracy theories. He needed his strength to heal.

Suddenly, Damon shifted his weight against her. All the serious tension left his shoulders in an instant. He let his head drop heavily against her stomach, leaning his entire body weight on her like a tired, dramatic child.

Damon spoke, his voice sounding different. It was soft, drawn out, and sounded exactly like a whining child complaining to his mother. "Camilla, I’m hungry."

Camilla blinked, completely pulled out of her deep thoughts. She looked down at him.

He tilted his head back slightly and looked up at her face. His dark brown eyes were wide, round, and totally helpless. He blinked slowly, making himself look weak, needy, and starved.

Camilla was caught off guard by his sudden, drastic change in mood. One second he was a serious general discussing a political threat, and the next second he was pouting for food.

A soft, warm smile broke across her lips, her eyes sparkling with quiet amusement and affection.

Camilla smiled down at his face and said, "After your bath and your injuries are dressed properly, we will both go downstairs. I’m sure the kitchen has something delicious prepared for us."

Damon nodded his head slowly against her gown, pretending to be a good, obedient boy agreeing to her terms.

But as he nodded, his hands, which were wrapped loosely around her waist, began to move. His palms slid slowly down the soft silk fabric of her nightgown. He traced the curve of her hip smoothly, moving downward until they reached her butt.

Without any hesitation, he gently squeezed them, feeling how soft and smooth she was under the thin cloth.

Camilla’s eyes flew wide open in surprise. Her mouth parted in shock. A bright, hot blush rushed straight to her cheeks, burning all the way up to her ears. She felt the heat radiating from her face.

Camilla spoke loudly, her voice echoing in the quiet bedroom, "Damon!!!"

She tried her best to sound stern and strict, but her voice carried a clear note of breathless shock and flustered embarrassment. She placed her hands flat against his shoulders and tried to push his upper body back just an inch to put some space between them.

"Where did you learn that?" she asked, staring down at him with wide, incredulous eyes. This shameless man was making her heart race like a nervous maiden.

Damon did not look ashamed at all. He did not let go of her, nor did he pull his hands away. Instead, a lazy, mischievous smile spread slowly across his face. His eyes sparkled with playful heat and satisfaction as he looked up at her flustered, red expression.

Damon smiled lazily and said, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone, "You will be baffled by what the soldiers at camp have taught your husband."

Camilla let out a soft gasp. It was a mix of disbelief and helpless laughter bubbling up in her chest. She could not stay angry at him, no matter how hard she tried. She raised her hand, curled her fingers into a loose fist, and lightly flicked his forehead with her fingernail.

Damon closed his eyes and accepted the light punishment, his lazy smile never leaving his lips.

"What do I do with you?" Camilla asked, shaking her head affectionately. She reached down and began to playfully ruffle his messy dark hair, ruining whatever neatness was left in it.

Damon let out a short, quiet laugh. He held her waist securely, pressing his face back against her stomach, content and happy in her warm presence.