Chapter 60
Chapter 60
Translation: godsn
Only when her back touched the plush bed did Leila realize where she was and what was about to happen.
"N-no! Let go! I don't want this!"
Leila thrashed wildly, forgetting even the pain of her injured body. The pristine white sheets of the annex bedroom—usually so crisp from disuse—were crumpled beyond recognition in an instant.
"Stay still."
Matthias's hand gripped Leila's arm.
"Ah!"
Whether it was because the arm was injured, Leila let out a sharp scream. Matthias reflexively furrowed his brows.
When he released the arm he'd been holding, Leila twisted her body away with startling speed. As she nearly tumbled off the bed from the motion, Matthias swiftly pulled her back into his embrace. Realizing this, Leila began struggling violently again.
"Let me go! Let go of this!"
"If you move recklessly, the pain will worsen."
"No! No! I don't want to!"
Leila screamed as she pushed against him. That stubborn rejection and her shrieking grated deeply on Matthias's nerves. Perhaps that was why—the anger that should have been directed at Liet von Lindman, his damned cousin—erupted toward the woman in his arms instead.
While Matthias took a moment to steady his breathing, Leila finally wriggled free from his embrace. Watching her crawl desperately across the disheveled bedsheets to escape, Matthias exhaled a sigh that bordered on a scoff.
He'd only been concerned about her injured body.
In some ways pathologically stubborn and fastidious, this woman would never mention the accident or her injuries to Bill Remmer. That worry had nagged at him—the image of himself gathering medicine and coming to the annex floated above Leila's fleeing back. The pathetic letter he'd written to lure her out, tied to a pigeon he'd sent flying, surfaced in his mind too.
As Matthias chuckled darkly to himself again, Leila had crawled all the way to the edge of the bed. But in that instant, her body floated weightlessly into the air. It happened before she could even scream.
"Please, don't do this."
She flailed her limbs in a futile attempt to break free. Matthias straddled Leila's waist and pinned her arms forcefully against the bed. Fluttering weakly like a butterfly impaled alive, Leila soon succumbed to terrible helplessness and began sobbing.
"It h-hurts... Sniff... It hurts so much..."
It wasn't a lie. Even in her terror, which left her whole body numb, the pain in her back and shoulders only grew more vivid.
"Your Grace, I'm in so much pain."
Gazing up at the Duke's face through her tear-blurred vision, Leila cried even more pitifully. As if savoring the sight, the Duke stared down at her without moving a muscle.
"Did Liet touch you?"
Matthias tilted his head slightly and asked in a low voice. His bangs swayed, revealing his piercing eyes clearly.
Even in her disoriented sobbing, Leila instinctively shook her head. She disliked the Marquess of Lindman for what he'd done, but she couldn't let this man find out about it.
That's not it. He suddenly approached me to talk, and I got scared and ran away. That's all.
Matthias listened quietly to Leila's fragmented words between her sobs. Just when she seemed to be calming down, she'd burst into heartbroken weeping again, then sniffle repeatedly—until suddenly, she fell silent. Exhausted, her dazed face glistened with tears.
Matthias's hand, which had been gripping and pressing down on Leila's arm, now rested gently over her small hand. The grasp that enveloped hers was no longer fierce.
"Stay still, Leila."
As Matthias's fingers slowly interlaced with hers, Leila's limp body jerked and stiffened.
"I won't hurt you."
He whispered, bowing his head a little deeper.
Leila thought of the man still straddling her, of herself firmly restrained beneath him, and of this secluded riverside annex deep in the woods where only the two of them existed. If she pushed the Duke away and dashed for the door—but that futile fantasy only brought greater despair.
"...Really?"
Even knowing how foolish it was, Leila asked desperately.
The only hope Leila could grasp right now was, absurdly, the Duke. To be precise, it was the bare minimum of goodwill from this man who had her completely in his grasp yet chose only to watch.
Leila gazed at Matthias's face—hesitant to answer—with desperate eyes. Though her tears had stopped, her thoroughly drenched eyelashes still trembled faintly.
Matthias, who had been studying her face as if admiring it, finally nodded after a long pause. Leila exhaled a thin sigh of relief.
With the hand that had just released her, Matthias pulled out a handkerchief haphazardly stuffed into his jacket pocket. Though both her arms were now free, Leila didn't move an inch. She simply stared at him desperately, as if struggling to remind him of his promise—that was all.
Matthias slowly wiped the tear-streaked mess of Leila's face with the handkerchief. When she flinched and tried to turn her head away, he caught her chin with one hand, forcing her to look at him. Her emerald eyes, damp with tears, were even more beautiful now.
Only after wiping the cold sweat from Leila's forehead and brushing away stray strands of hair did Matthias finally rise. Leila, who had been lying still as death enduring his touch, cautiously followed his movements with her eyes. Stepping off the bed, Matthias picked up a box resting on the nightstand and turned back. It was a medical kit.
"Show me your injuries."
He spoke as he perched on the edge of the bed. Leila, still lying motionless in the same position, only shook her head.
"I'm fine. I wasn't hurt."
"You're in pain."
"That's..."
Trailing off, Leila averted her eyes. Instead of trying to recapture her gaze, Matthias undid the buttons of her blouse sleeve. The fabric was pushed up past her elbow in one swift motion, making Leila jolt in panic.
"Not my arm."
In a dry tone, he grabbed the hem of her skirt, poised to yank it up past her knees at any moment.
"M-my back! It's my back!"
Frightened by the Duke's determination to strip her bare if necessary to find her injuries, Leila cried out urgently.
"My shoulders and back... they're a little hurt. But treatment isn't—"
"Take it off."
At his command—dropping the skirt—Leila shot upright as if electrified. She shook her head in denial, unwilling to comprehend his words, but Matthias showed no sign of relenting.
"If you don't want me looking, I'll call the doctor."
Narrowing his eyes slightly, Matthias tapped the edge of the box with his fingertips.
"Dr. Etman."
At the name he spat out, Leila thrashed violently as if seized by a fit. She would rather throw herself into the Schulter River than let Kyle's father see her like this—thrown onto the Duke's bed in the middle of the night.
"Choose, Leila."
Matthias's voice had softened now, as if offering kindness.
"Undress, or meet Dr. Etman. It's your choice."
In the end, faced with only one real option, Leila sank into a long silence.
Though it was a somewhat tedious wait, Matthias was more than willing to indulge her. He liked the look in Leila's eyes as she watched him. Already brimming with unshed tears, yet stubbornly refusing to cry—eyes filled with defiance. Eyes that doubted and feared him even as they pleaded and trusted. Those beautiful eyes.
"Your promise..."
Finally, Leila—who had squeezed her eyes shut—parted her lips. But the only word she could force out was that one.
The Duke always got what he wanted, no matter what it took. Leila knew that all too well. Just as he always had, he would now, too. Prolonging her resistance and refusal would only drag out the time she had to endure him. It might even push things toward the worst possible outcome.
The sheer helplessness of her situation was so infuriating that Leila finally burst into tears again. Silent tears soaked the front of her blouse. Matthias remained seated exactly as he was, watching her.
You must be enjoying this. Because I'm crying.
Biting her lip to stifle her sobs, Leila turned her back to him. With each button she undid, her tears grew hotter and heavier. As if hiding them from him was her last shred of pride, she stubbornly kept her head bowed while removing her blouse.
The smooth fabric slid down over skin even smoother, a fleeting moment. But in Matthias's consciousness, that scene seemed to drift slowly, detached from the normal flow of time. Perhaps that was why every detail etched itself into his mind with excessive clarity. The slender neck and shoulders that looked like they might snap if gripped too hard, the back with its gentle curves. And the livid bruises marring that pale, fragile body.
For a while, Matthias simply stared at that bruised and swollen back. It was no wonder she had cried like a child, saying it hurt. The bruise-like stains defiling her snow-white skin stretched from her shoulder blades down to her waist.
Matthias's Adam's apple bobbed slowly as he swallowed dryly. It was astonishing—no, downright pitiful—that Leila had managed to spring up and flee on her bicycle in this state.
Had he left her alone, she would have hidden it all away and suffered in silence.
When that thought struck him, something akin to anger surged up briefly. As if to erase that emotion, Matthias reached out toward the bruise-covered back.
"Ah—!"
At the mere touch, Leila let out a scream and hunched over.
"Tell me if the pain worsens."
Matthias methodically traced her bones and muscles as if assessing the extent of her injuries, pausing occasionally when Leila whimpered, giving her time to recover. Fortunately, there seemed to be no issue moving her shoulders and arms. Her ribs and spine also appeared undamaged. Only after confirming this did the furrow between Matthias's brows finally disappear.
He almost called her name but stopped himself, instead gripping her bruised shoulder. Leila remained trembling, her head still bowed deeply.
As if soothing a frightened young animal, Matthias gently stroked the wounded woman's body. Her frame was worryingly thin—had she even been eating properly?—yet the skin under his fingers was incredibly soft and supple. The realization of how small she truly was drew a low sigh from him.
"Leila."
At the sound of her name slipping through, Leila startled and lifted her head. A large gilded mirror hung above the fireplace mantel. Only when she helplessly faced her own reflection did she realize the truth.
Before the shame and self-loathing from her wretched appearance could fade, her eyes met the Duke's in the mirror. Those blue eyes she had seen countless times suddenly felt unfamiliar. That was why. Even as she trembled in fear, she couldn't look away.
Why...?
As if voicing that question, Leila stared at Matthias's reflection in the mirror. His gaze was unclouded and clear.
Ha.
With a self-deprecating sigh, Matthias shifted his gaze to her bruised shoulder. His lips were dry from his heated breath. Only when he lifted his eyes again to meet Leila's reflection did he realize he had been the first to look away. In all the long years he had known Leila Lewellin, that had never happened before.
Damn it.
A curse threatened to spill out, yet his breath remained scorching.
Matthias pressed his lips—which seemed about to release another sigh—to Leila's shoulder in a kiss. As if to ignore this strange feeling. Or perhaps to comfort her wounds. Either way, it was unlike him, but it didn't matter.
"It's alright."
Matthias whispered softly into Leila's ear as she squirmed, trying to pull away. Even his voice, lower than usual and tinged with faint heat, felt utterly unfamiliar.
Leila could no longer bear to look at the mirror and hurriedly lowered her eyes. Then she saw the large hands encircling her bare waist. She struggled futilely to pry them away, but it was no use. Matthias firmly grasped her hands and continued his careful kisses.
Leila tightly shut her eyes instead.
The Duke's lips and breath brushing over her throbbing wounds felt as soft as feathers.