The sun sunk below the high stone walls of the capital city, painting the sky in deep shades of twilight. The evening air was cool and crisp, carrying the soft scent of dry pine trees.
Damon rode his black horse through the large iron gates of the Benson estate. The horse’s iron shoes crunched loudly against the clean, white stone pavent of the courtyard. The animal was tired from the long journey from the military camp, and its dark skin was covered in a thin layer of grey road dust.
Damon pulled gently on the leather reins, bringing the strong beast to a complete stop near the center of the courtyard.
A young stable boy, wearing a simple brown tunic and dark trousers, ca running quickly from the stables. The boy stopped a few feet away and bowed very deeply from his waist, keeping his eyes on the ground.
"Welco ho, My Lord," the stable boy said respectfully.
Damon nodded his head slowly. He slid his leg over the saddle and jumped down to the stone ground. His leather boots hit the pavent with a loud, solid thud. He adjusted his military coat and handed the horse’s leather reins directly to the boy.
"Peter," Damon spoke. His deep voice was calm but carried a natural command. "The horse ran hard today. Make sure you brush his coat properly to get all the dust off. Do not let him drink cold water until he has cooled down completely. Feed him so fresh hay and clean oats."
"Yes, My Lord," Peter replied quickly, bowing his head again. "I will take great care of him imdiately. He will be fully rested for tomorrow."
Peter took the reins and slowly led the massive black horse toward the warm stables. Damon watched them leave for a brief second before turning his body toward the mansion.
He walked up the wide stone stairs leading to the grand front doors. He pushed the doors open and stepped into the warm, bright foyer. The light from the massive crystal chandeliers washed over him, making his eyes squint slightly after the dark ride.
Mr. Murry was standing near the grand staircase. He had just finished talking to a maid, watching her leave to do as she was told. As soon as he saw the General, Murry walked forward with soft, quiet steps and bowed deeply.
"Welco ho, My Lord," Murry said smoothly. "You are ho quite early today."
Damon stopped walking. He rested his large, black-gloved hands on his hips. He tried to make his face look perfectly hard, cold, and unreadable, as if he did not care about anything happening in the house. He tried to sound completely nonchalant.
"We finished our work early at the camp today," Damon replied. His voice was flat. "I did not want to stay in the camp tonight. There was no need. Besides... I am quite hungry."
Damon spoke those words, but he was not thinking about the military reports or his hunger at all.
As he spoke, Damon’s dark brown eyes were secretly wandering around the grand foyer. He looked toward the dining room. He looked up the curving stairs. He looked down the long, quiet hallways. He was looking for any sign of her. He wanted to know if she was ho. His heart was beating a little bit faster, but he forced his body to remain perfectly still so Murry would not notice his excitent.
Mr. Murry was a very observant man, and he knew the General’s habits perfectly. He saw the way Damon’s eyes were darting toward the stairs. He knew exactly who Damon was looking for, even if the General was too proud to admit it.
A very soft, secret smile touched the corners of Murry’s old lips. He decided to help the General.
"Lady Camilla just ca in a few minutes ago, My Lord," Murry spoke politely, his voice full of gentle warmth. "She bought a lot of things in the capital city today. There were many boxes of shoes, beautiful fabrics, and sweet perfus. She was very happy when she returned. She is currently upstairs in the room."
Damon’s ears turned a very light shade of pink, but he kept his expression cold.
"Is that so?" Damon asked, pretending to be completely indifferent. He shrugged his broad shoulders slightly. "Well... I need to freshen up and prepare for dinner."
"Of course, My Lord," Murry replied, bowing his head respectfully. "I will let you know as soon as the kitchen staff has finished preparing the food. Enjoy your rest."
Damon turned away from the housekeeper. He walked toward the grand staircase. He climbed the stairs slowly, his leather boots making quiet thudding sounds against the soft red carpet.
With every step he took toward the second floor, his mind was filled with thoughts of his wife.
He reached the door of the master bedroom. He placed his large hand on the brass handle. He turned it slowly and pushed the door open, stepping quietly inside.
The master bedroom was warm and lit by the soft, yellow glow of the oil lamps.
But as Damon looked around the room, he stopped walking. His eyes went wide with surprise.
The usually neat organized bedroom was in a state of complete, chaotic ss.
There were dozens of large, square shopping boxes scattered across the wooden floor. So of the boxes were open, showing shiny new leather shoes and colorful silk ribbons. Beautiful fabrics of green, blue, and yellow silk were draped carelessly over the wooden chairs.
Damon took a slow step forward, navigating through the clutter.
He lowered his eyes.
Right there, lying in the middle of the floorboards, was the beautiful yellow silk dress she had worn today. It was piled in a ssy, wrinkled heap.
And right next to the yellow dress, lying open on the floor, were her delicate white silk undergarnts.
Damon’s entire face instantly turned a very bright, hot shade of red. He felt a sudden wave of intense heat rush straight up his neck to his cheeks. His breath caught in his throat. He looked away quickly, staring at the blank stone wall of the room, his heart hamring wildly against his ribs.
He was a married man, but he had never seen her private garnts lying around so carelessly before. He felt embarrassed and highly flustered.
He took a deep, shaky breath to calm his racing heart. He realized he could not leave her expensive clothes lying on the floor.
Damon slowly bent his knees. He reached down with his large, shaking hands. Moving with extre care, as if he were touching hot iron, he picked up the yellow silk dress. Then, he picked up the small, delicate white undergarnts. His rough, calloused fingers felt incredibly large and clumsy against the soft, smooth fabric.
He walked over to the chair near the wardrobe. He placed her clothes down very neatly on the soft cushion, arranging them carefully.
Suddenly, a soft, clear sound broke the quiet tension of the bedroom.
It was a very soft, happy humming sound. It was coming from behind the closed door of the attached bathing room. Camilla was humming a cheerful, sweet lody as she washed herself.
Damon stood near the chair, listening to the sweet sound of her voice.
Damon thought to himself, his internal voice soft and quiet.
"She is taking her bath," Damon realized.
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