Into That Light
Matthias’s decision to turn his steps had been an impulsive one.
Until dinner he had meant to remain at the boathouse and clear the work that had piled up. That had been his firm intention even as he left the mansion. Yet when he happened to glance around, he found himself standing on the path that led to the gardener’s cabin.
He paused for a moment, but Matthias did not turn back.
Everything had been flowing smoothly, in perfect order. Days like that were how things were supposed to be. This sense of something foreign would be wiped clean by a few of that woman’s tears.
Matthias lengthened his stride and began walking the deeply shaded forest path. He loosened his tie and undid one button of the shirt he had fastened so tightly. The motion was a little more impatient and rough than usual.
He detested emotions that slipped beyond his control.
Matthias wanted everything in the world under his jurisdiction to remain exactly where it belonged. His own feelings were no exception. That was precisely why he refused to become obsessed with any woman.
Lust was nothing more than a simple instinct. And Matthias had never clung to it or allowed himself to be swayed by it. It was merely something cumbersome that he satisfied in moderation and then discarded. From the beginning such desire had never been particularly strong in him.
That was why the discomfort of watching himself react so keenly to Leila cut all the deeper. Only that woman filled his sight. Every sense concentrated on her, and an ungovernable heat gathered from deep inside his body. There were moments when his will failed to sever those base impulses and thoughts.
Matthias did not welcome the instants when he realized he had been seized by such things. They were not matters that belonged among life’s priorities. Leila Lewellin was no different. Of course she was not. He wanted to confirm it.
As the cabin drew nearer, the forest’s shade gradually thinned.
Matthias, who had been quietly gazing at the summer light that stabbed at his eyes, stepped into that light without hesitation.
Leila had discovered the baby bird by chance.
It was on the path back after she had seen Kyle off. Following the pitiful peeping, she found a fledgling that had fallen beneath a tree in the backyard—a fragile chick whose feathers had only just begun to sprout.
“You fell, didn’t you?”
Leila carefully cupped the baby bird and looked up into the tree. Just as she had guessed, a nest sat there. It was rather high, yet fortunately the little bird did not seem badly hurt.
“It’s all right. I’ll take you home.”
She stroked it as if to reassure it, slipped it into the pocket of her apron, and hurried to the shed for a ladder.
Leila climbed nimbly up the ladder she had braced firmly against the trunk. The nest lay among branches a little higher still, so from there she had to climb the tree itself. Ordinarily it would have been easy, but the baby bird in her pocket made every movement far more careful.
Once she had drawn near the nest, Leila hooked one arm around a branch and reached into her apron pocket. Stretching as far as she could, she managed to return the fledgling to its nest. Relief lasted only a moment; she lost her grip on the branch she had been holding with one hand.
Her body tipped, balance gone, and the world spun. She managed to catch the tip of a branch and hang on, but the ladder had already toppled to the ground. To make matters worse, the branch—far too slender to bear her weight—began to crack with sharp little snaps.
“Uncle! Uncle Bill!”
Terrified, Leila cried out by reflex. Only after she had called for him desperately several more times did she realize Uncle Bill was not at home.
“Kyle!”
Even knowing he must already have gone some distance, Leila called his name, her voice thick with tears. If not Uncle Bill, then Kyle. To Leila that had always been the natural order. Then an unexpected voice reached her.
“Leila.”
A soft voice that shaped her name as if it were singing. Even in the instant her mind went blank, she recognized its owner. When she lowered her frightened eyes, the Duke of Herhardt stood below—looking almost leisurely, as though he had come to watch her in her crisis.
He studied the fallen ladder and the half-broken branch, then slowly lifted his gaze to Leila hanging so precariously.
“Shall I save you?”
Incredibly, he was smiling. Why did it have to be that madman of all people?
“No!”
Even in the terror of imminent falling, Leila refused stubbornly. Knowing it was useless, she flailed for the trunk; the half-snapped branch swayed still more dangerously.
“Kyle! Kyle!”
In her panic she poured the name out like a scream. Matthias glanced along the path Kyle had taken and gave a short laugh.
“He’s not coming, you know.”
He even crossed his arms now, perfectly at ease.
Even so—how could he feel not the slightest concern for someone in such danger?
Leila soon accepted the outrageous fact. One should never expect ordinary human compassion from that insane duke.
“Go away!”
She shouted, voice raw with indignation.
“If you’re not going to help, then go away! Why are you standing there!”
“It looks as though you’re about to fall. In that case I ought to call someone.”
“What?”
“I’m not quite that cold-hearted.”
The smile that curved Matthias’s mouth looked almost languid.
“I’ll call that Etman boy you’re so desperately looking for.”
Good heavens.
Leila could no longer even speak; she only gasped for breath.
“But what to do? Judging by the height, it seems Father Etman might be needed.”
Oh, God.
She felt she could hurl any words at the duke now, yet she was in no position to do so.
“……P-please save me!”
She had thought she would rather fall than beg that man, but the fear was great enough to make her forget the resolve.
“Is that so?”
At last uncrossing his arms, Matthias leisurely shrugged out of his jacket.
“Then call me.”
“What?”
“Call for me.”
He seemed about to take a few steps closer, then stopped again and merely looked up at her—as if he would not lift a finger and would simply watch her fall if his demand went unmet. And Leila knew perfectly well that he was a man who could do exactly that.
“Your Grace, please!”
Her voice, thick with sobs, rang through the air.
“Your Grace!”
As the moment of falling rushed nearer, her cries grew more desperate.
In the end, even as the branch snapped, she called and called for him. Her mind had gone white, so the memory was unclear, yet she was certain she had done so.
Then he came.
With a swiftness that belied his earlier idle spectating, Matthias dashed forward and caught the falling Leila deep in his arms. Even as the impact sent them both tumbling to the ground, he never released the girl he held so tightly.
The dust that had risen to envelope the two rolling figures gradually settled. Leila’s spinning mind began, little by little, to register reality.
It felt so secure that she could scarcely believe she had fallen from such a height. Only belatedly did she realize the sense of safety came from Matthias—more precisely, from being held in his arms. The Duke of Herhardt lay beneath her. And she rested in his embrace without a single injury.
Through their pressed chests his heartbeat reached her. The arms wrapped around the back of her head and her waist were extremely firm. When she gently lifted her face she met the nape of his neck; from that warm, smooth skin rose a faint scent like peppermint. Heat that began in her cheeks raced instantly through her whole body.
Sensing it, Leila recoiled in horror and thrashed. But the more she struggled to escape, the stronger Matthias’s hold became. Through their closely pressed bodies he felt excessively large and hard. As if denying the embarrassment and the unfamiliar sensations that fact awoke, she writhed frantically.
“Stay still.”
Matthias ordered low, almost sighing. But Leila, who could not grasp the meaning of the words, fought even harder.
No.
She shuddered at the heat that had grown denser still.
This can’t be. No.
She wanted to scream, yet no voice would come. Meanwhile the body holding her grew hotter by the moment. Greater strength gathered in the hands that cradled the back of her head and her spine. Every sensation was so strange and alien that she could scarcely bear it.
Seized by instinctive fear, Leila tried to tear herself free. Yet the more she resisted, the greater her helplessness became. No matter what she did she could not push him away. The moment that realization met a bottomless terror was the moment she blindly sank her teeth into the duke’s ear right before her eyes.
“Ah!”
Matthias let out a low groan and shoved her off. The way she trembled—so unlike someone who had just attacked so fiercely—was absurd. And yet how bright her eyes were even then. He ended up giving a hollow laugh.
“I told you to be a lady, Leila.”
His hand left the bitten ear and seized her hair. By the time she registered it, she was already lying on her back on the ground. Matthias’s face, looking down, filled her dazed eyes.
“Is this the price for saving you? Don’t you think it’s rather unladylike?”
“You’re not a gentleman, Your Grace, so why must I be a lady?”
Struggling to push him away, Leila turned her flaming face aside. But Matthias finally caught her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. That hand burned like sunlight.
“I believe you yourself once called me the finest gentleman.”
“……No! I was wrong!”
“Is that so?”
“A gentleman—if you truly are a gentleman—how could you…… do something so absurd as this……”
With a face that looked ready to burst into tears at any second, she stammered the words while desperately trying to free herself. Watching her rub her own lips as if something filthy had touched them, Matthias’s gaze sank deep.
“Get off me.”
She glared at him, brows drawn.
“This kind of thing, I…… Ah!”
She never finished. A sharp scream tore from her as Matthias bent and bit her ear. It happened before she could do a thing.
He caught the small hands that frantically struck and clawed at him, pinned them to the ground, and took the tiny ear into his mouth as if to bite it clean through. When he licked and chewed the outer curve, her breathing—threaded with screams—grew rapid.
Abandoning the simple impulse to return what he had received, Matthias drove her with relentless stimulation. When he bit hard on the thoroughly wet earlobe, she twisted and moaned. Those sobbing, panting sounds were moist and hot. Pinning her thrashing slender limbs with his weight, he left the marks of his teeth all over her flushed ear.
Lifting his head with a satisfied smile, he saw her disheveled face. Innocent eyes that did not even understand what had been done to her were swollen transparent with tears. Her lips, parted from panting, held a far deeper color than usual.
Crushing her tightly interlaced fingers as if he meant to shatter them, Matthias swallowed those lips. Shocked, she clamped them shut, but he easily overpowered the resistance.
This sweltering summer would soon end.
He knew that perfectly well, yet he could not stop.
As if to devour her, he thrust his tongue deep, sucked, and swallowed. Between their joined mouths transparent saliva, moans, and rough breathing began to flow.