Be Careful

Hot tears streamed down Camilla’s face, burning her cheeks. The stinging slap from her mother still radiated across her jaw. She shoved the heavy oak doors open and bolted out of the room, desperate to escape Beatrix’s shrill, unending scolding. Her vision blurred with unchecked crying. At the grand doorway, she nearly collided head-on with Silas, who was just stepping inside. She did not stop to apologize. She did not utter a single word. She just kept her head down, clutching her wounded finger to her chest, and hurried blindly past him down the opulent corridor.

Silas watched her retreating back for a second, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face, before he stepped into the lavish parlor.

Beatrix paced the polished mahogany floorboards like a caged animal. The heavy silk skirts of her gown rustled loudly with every sharp turn. Her chest heaved. She was fuming with red-hot anger, enraged that Camilla was already acting subservient to the newly arrived Duchess.

"She turns her back on us," Beatrix spat, her voice echoing off the high, painted ceilings. "She throws herself into another family's arms! She is calling that woman cousin-in-law! At this rate, she will be begging to wash their feet."

At the mere mention of Oriana’s name, Silas paused. His dark, lustful thoughts drifted back to the girl. He pictured her fair skin, flawless and untouched. He imagined the elegant curve of her slim waist. The thought ignited a sudden, heavy heat in his groin. The desire gnawed at him, itching in a way he refused to ignore.

He walked over and sat beside his mother on the velvet sofa. He reached out and took her hand, feigning deep familial duty and concern for her authority.

"Mother, she does not understand how things work," Silas said, his voice smooth and manipulative. "Do not let it upset you. You run this household. You cannot be expected to chase after her. Let me handle our new Duchess. Give me the manor access token."

The guards watching Oriana's wing were strict. They were Gideon's loyal men. Without that guarded token, Silas could not get in. If he tried to force his way, those men would draw their blades.

Beatrix frowned, narrowing her eyes. "What are you going there for?"

Silas smiled, a sinister smirk touching his lips. "She clearly does not care for the servants. I will speak with her. I will personally ensure the arrogant new Duchess is forced to show proper courtesy by tomorrow morning."

Beatrix hesitated, but her anger won out. She handed it over.

Late that same night, the manor settled into an uneasy silence. The wind howled faintly against the stone walls. Oriana wearily prepared for bed in her quiet chamber. She sat before the vanity mirror, brushing out her long dark hair, feeling the heavy exhaustion of the day settling into her bones. Her maid, Talia, finished arranging the thick blankets over the massive bed. Talia blew out the extra candles, leaving only one flickering by the bedside, and stepped out into the dark hall. She pulled the heavy wooden door shut behind her.

Oriana stood up and moved toward the mattress.

Suddenly, Silas’s loud, obnoxious voice rang out just outside the door.

"No need to be alarmed," Silas announced boldly, his tone dripping with false amusement. "I am Silas Alden. I mean no harm. Here is my access token. I have an urgent matter to discuss with the Duchess."

Oriana frowned. She stopped in the center of the room, staring at the closed door.

Outside, Talia stood her ground. "It is the middle of the night, Lord Silas. Her Grace is already asleep."

"It is truly urgent," Silas insisted. "Please inform her."

Talia firmly and coldly refused him entry. "I have served Her Grace since childhood. Once she is asleep, she does not wake easily. If the matter is urgent, come back tomorrow morning."

Silas was quiet for a long moment. Then, he chuckled softly. It was a deeply unsettling sound in the dark, scraping against the silence of the corridor.

"Very well. I will return in the morning," he said.

His heavy footsteps faded away down the stone floor.

Hearing this through the thick wood of the door, Oriana finally relaxed her tense shoulders. She let out a long breath, dismissing the strange encounter, and turned back toward the bed where her crippled husband lay motionless.

Then, a sudden, sharp rustle shattered the quiet. The latch on the west window clicked. The heavy glass pane slid open.

Oriana froze. A large, imposing shadow slipped smoothly inside the room. The night breeze caught the curtains, sending them billowing into the air.

She turned her head. In the dim flicker of the single bedside candle, she saw his face. Silas.

Before Oriana could open her mouth to scream for the guards, Silas crossed the room in two quick, terrifying strides. He lunged. He clamped a large, practiced hand over her mouth, muffling her cry against his rough palm. His other arm wrapped like an unyielding iron band around her slim waist, yanking her hard against his broad chest. The sheer force knocked the breath from her lungs. She could feel the rigid, thick heat of his penis pressing deliberately against her lower spine, a blunt and unmistakable threat driving into her flesh.

"Shhh," he hissed, his breath hot against her ear.

He had done this before. Every movement was practiced and precise. He warned her not to scream. His face twisted into a cocky, predatory sneer, illuminated by the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across his features.

"If the guards rush in and see you alone in the dark with me, your reputation will be destroyed," he menacingly whispered. "What will they say? Do you truly want to live the rest of your long life as a lonely, untouched widow? You have never tasted pleasure."

Oriana thrashed in his tight grip. She dug her nails into his thick forearm and twisted her body, trying desperately to break his hold. She had trained briefly with her father, but her slight frame was no match for his sheer brute strength. The more she fought, the tighter he held her, trapping her arms against her sides.

Following her terrified gaze, Silas looked past her shoulder toward the massive bed. He laughed, a low and disgusting sound vibrating deep in his throat.

"There is no need to worry about the man lying there," Silas gloated, his sticky gaze roaming over her neck. "My famous cousin will never know. Every royal physician examined him. They all said he will never wake again. He is completely useless."

His attention drifted to the bed for just a fraction of a second.

Oriana seized her only chance. She lifted her right foot and stomped her hard leather heel down with all her might onto his instep.

Silas yelped in sudden pain. His iron grip faltered just enough to let air into her lungs.

Oriana tore herself free. She scrambled away from him, her chest heaving, and immediately shouted at the top of her lungs.

"Talia! Guards! Gareth!"

The door was too far. The guards were stationed outside the wing, down the long, winding corridor. She knew she could not possibly outrun a grown man to the door before he caught her again.

She sprinted frantically toward the heavy weapon display shelf mounted on the far stone wall. She reached up and grabbed the thick, leather-wrapped hilt of Gideon’s massive, lethal broadsword. She hoisted it with both trembling hands, dragging the dark steel free from its wooden mount. The crushing weight of the iron blade immediately dragged her arms down toward the floor, but she locked her elbows, gritted her teeth, and lifted the lethal tip toward his chest.

As a proud daughter of a legendary soldier’s house, she refused to be violated without drawing blood.

Silas recovered from the sharp strike to his foot. He looked up and saw the shaking girl holding a blade far too heavy for her. He merely smirked.

He took a confident, predatory step forward. His eyes tracked the trembling point of the heavy sword.

"Are you sure you want them in here?" Silas boasted darkly. "Once the guards run off, we can do it right here. Right in front of my crippled cousin. I can fuck you while he lies there useless. You and I can enjoy every second."

"Shut up," Oriana snapped.

She tightened her grip on the hilt. Her knuckles turned stark white. She was fully prepared to kill him the instant he took another step. If he lunged, she would drive the steel straight into his heart.

Silas did not look concerned at all. He smirked and took another step forward, ready to bat the heavy blade aside.

But suddenly, the arrogant smirk vanished from his lips.

Silas’s confident face froze. His expression twisted into a mask of absolute shock. His eyes widened with pure, unadulterated horror, fixated on the dark space behind Oriana.

He stopped walking. He began to stumble wildly backward, his hands shaking as he held them up defensively in front of his chest. He retreated step by step, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly, unable to form words.

Confused by his sudden terror, Oriana kept the sword raised, her arms aching from the massive weight. Then, she caught a very faint, bitter scent wafting from behind her. It was the distinct, sharp scent of medicinal herbs.

She slowly turned her head.

She instantly met a pair of sharp, commanding eyes.

The man sitting up on the bed possessed a gaze of chilling, lethal steel. It carried the terrifying weight of a commander who dealt death on the battlefield. But miraculously, the very moment that harsh stare landed fully on her face, the coldness faded. The look softened.

Oriana’s heart fiercely skipped a beat. Her breath hitched in her dry throat. Her tight grip on the heavy sword faltered instantly, her exhausted muscles giving out as the massive blade began to dip toward the wooden floorboards.

Gideon slowly raised a large, pale hand. He reached out and gently caught her trembling wrist. His long fingers wrapped around her skin, steadying the crushing weight of the massive blade with effortless, terrifying strength.

His dry, hoarse voice broke the silence of the dark room, rough from long disuse.

"Careful."

It was a single word, spoken quiet and low, yet it offered a sudden, overwhelming sense of total safety in the cold room.

Across the room, Silas let out a pathetic, strangled sound and collapsed to the floor in a trembling heap.

"Gi... Gi... Gideon!"