Chapter 22
Into the Light

Matthias’s change of direction was an impulse.

Until a moment ago, he had planned to spend the evening in the annex, catching up on unfinished work. At least, that was his intent when he left the mansion. But before he realized it, he was standing on the path that led to the gardener’s cottage.

He paused briefly, yet did not turn back.

Everything in his world had been running smoothly, in perfect order. Such were his days. They had to be that way. This discord inside him—surely a few tears from that woman would be enough to erase it.

Matthias lengthened his stride as he entered the shadowed forest path. He tugged loose his tie, unbuttoned the top of his shirt. His movements were rougher, sharper than usual.

He despised emotions that strayed from his control.

Everything under his authority had to remain in place. That included his own feelings. He avoided attachments to women for this very reason.

Desire was nothing but a crude instinct. Matthias had never been ruled by it, never clung to it. At most, it was a nuisance, something to satisfy and discard. He rarely felt it strongly in the first place.

So the way his body reacted to Layla was infuriating. Only she existed in his vision. Every sense sharpened toward her. Heat surged from the depths of his body, and sometimes, despite his will, base thoughts crept in.

He hated realizing he was caught in such a thing. That was not a priority in his life. Layla Llewellyn was no exception. Or so he told himself. He wanted to prove it.

As the cottage neared, the shadows thinned, and sunlight broke through the leaves.

Matthias stared into the blinding summer light—then, without hesitation, stepped into it.

Layla had just seen Kyle off when she stumbled across a baby bird.

Following the pitiful chirping to the backyard, she found a fledgling beneath a tree. Its feathers were only just beginning to sprout.

“You fell, didn’t you?”

She gently cupped it in her hands and glanced up. Sure enough, there was a nest high in the branches. Thankfully, the chick seemed unhurt.

“It’s alright. I’ll take you home.”

She slipped the bird carefully into her apron pocket, then fetched a ladder from the shed.

Balancing it against the trunk, she climbed swiftly. The nest was still higher, nestled between branches. She would have to climb. Normally she could have managed it, but with the tiny bird in her pocket, her movements were more cautious.

At last, she reached the nest. Bracing one arm around a branch, she reached into her pocket and stretched as far as she could, managing to return the chick to its siblings. Relief swept through her—until her grip slipped.

The world spun.

She managed to cling to the edge of a branch, but the ladder crashed to the ground below. Worse, the thin branch began to crack under her weight.

“Uncle! Uncle Bill!”

She cried out instinctively. Only after calling him several times did she remember—Bill wasn’t home.

“Kyle!”

Her voice broke as she screamed his name. She knew he was far away by now, but if not Uncle Bill, then Kyle—it was only natural for her.

And then, unexpectedly, a voice.

“Layla.”

Soft, almost lyrical. Even in her panic, she recognized it instantly.

She lowered her gaze—and there he was. The Duke of Herhardt. Watching her calmly, almost leisurely, as if her peril were a spectacle.

He looked at the fallen ladder, the cracking branch, then up at her dangling form.

“Shall I save you?”

He was smiling. Smiling, while she hung above the ground in terror.

“No!”

Even as her arms trembled, even as her grip weakened, she refused him. She flailed desperately to reach the trunk, but the branch buckled more violently.

“Kyle! Kyle!”

She screamed his name again, voice raw.

“He won’t come.”

Matthias chuckled, folding his arms.

Even now? Even now he could look so unconcerned?

But Layla realized—of course. Expecting humanity from this madman was foolish.

“Go away!” she shouted, anger breaking through her fear.

“If you won’t help me, then leave! Why just stand there?”

“You’ll fall any moment. I should at least call someone, shouldn’t I?”

“What?”

“I’m not so heartless, you see. I’ll fetch the Etman you’re so desperate for.”

Her breath hitched.

“But then… perhaps it should be his father, not him. Look at the height, after all.”

God.

She wanted to scream every curse she knew, but she had no strength left.

“Please… save me!”

The words tore out despite everything.

“Is that so?”

Matthias finally moved, shrugging off his jacket.

“Then call me.”

“What?”

“Call my name.”

He stepped forward, then stopped, watching her again. As if he would let her fall unless she obeyed. And Layla knew—he absolutely would.

“My lord, please!”

Her voice shook, thick with tears.

“My lord!”

She cried his title over and over as the branch splintered.

And then, at last, he moved.

With a sudden sprint, Matthias caught her as she fell, pulling her into his chest. They hit the ground together, rolling through dust and grass. But even then, his arms never loosened.

When the dust settled, Layla blinked rapidly, trying to grasp reality. She had fallen from such a height—yet she was unharmed. Because she was in his arms.

She lay against him, heart pounding, feeling his warmth, his strength. The steady thud of his heartbeat, the firm grip at her waist and nape. She raised her head slightly, brushing against his skin—warm, smooth, faintly scented like mint. Heat flared through her body.

Startled, she struggled to escape. But the harder she fought, the tighter he held her. His body was too large, too strong, too overwhelming. She writhed, panic clawing through her.

“Stay still.”

He murmured it like a sigh. She didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

No. No.

The word screamed inside her, but her voice failed her.

The heat of him pressed in, suffocating. His grip grew firmer. She twisted, desperate to break free—and in her terror, she bit his ear.

“Agh!”

He grunted, shoving her back. For a moment, he almost laughed—astonished at her trembling, indignant glare.

“Learn to be a lady, Layla.”

He rubbed his ear, then seized her hair, forcing her down against the earth. His face loomed above her dazed eyes.

“And this is my reward for saving you? Hardly ladylike, don’t you think?”

“If you’re no gentleman, why should I be a lady?”

She turned her flushed face away, but he caught her chin and made her meet his gaze. His touch burned.

“Didn’t you once call me the perfect gentleman?”

“…No! I was wrong!”

“Was I? If I were a gentleman, would I be doing this…?”

Tears welled in her eyes as she stammered. She rubbed her lips furiously, as if to erase the contact. Matthias’s gaze darkened.

“Move aside.”

She glared at him through wet lashes.

“This… I won’t—ah!”

Her cry broke off as he lowered his head and bit her ear. She had no chance to resist.

He pinned her hands to the ground, teeth and tongue tormenting her delicate ear until her sobs turned ragged. He left bright red marks, claiming her trembling flesh.

When he finally raised his head, her face was wet with tears, lips parted, trembling.

He crushed her hands tighter, then pressed his mouth to hers.

Layla gasped, clenching her lips shut, but he forced them apart with merciless ease.

Summer would end soon. He knew it. But he did not stop.

His kiss consumed her—tongue invading, breath mingling, dragging her down into his heat. Their mouths locked, wet and desperate, until there was nothing left but the sound of her broken sobs and his hunger.