The Possessive Lord's Contract Wife

"Come back here! Guards! You must capture him!" Camille cried out as she chased after Michael.

Michael continued forward, refusing to glance back at Camille or meet the eyes of the servants he passed. Every fibre of his being screamed for escape. He longed only to reach the gates, to break free onto the road where safety might still exist.

As long as he was within Camille’s home, he could become her prisoner.

The pounding of footsteps echoed behind him. He assumed it was Camille, relentless in her pursuit, determined to drag him back.

"Guards!" Camille shouted again, clutching the sides of her dress to lift the heavy fabric. "He has killed my husband!"

Michael panicked as the accusation surrounded him, but he felt there was hope when he reached the stairs. His escape was far from assured, as the guards at the gates would never let him pass if Camille chased him, but he kept hope.

His only hope was to see a traveller at the gates. Someone he could wave down, someone who might listen to his plea for help.

Luck seemed to be on Michael’s side as visitors stood at the door.

Nathan, startled by the sight of Camille in pursuit of the Hawthorne family doctor, frowned. "What has happened?"

Michael seized the moment, ducking behind the men he recognised to be from the court. "Her husband did not recover from his injuries, and she is trying to blame me for it. She has lost her mind and is out to destroy me."

Camille slowed, her chest heaving. "I did not give permission for you to be allowed inside."

"We came here on important business of the court and were admitted by your guards," Nathan replied, stepping forward. "I apologise for entering without your permission, but it appears we arrived at the right time.

Nathan carried on, "We came to take your husband, but it seems we were too late. Do you mind explaining why you are chasing the doctor? Do you have good reason to believe he killed your husband?"

Camille’s voice shook with grief and rage. "My husband was well before he came here to change his bandages. His eyes were open, his heart was beating."

"It is no coincidence that after he saw my husband, he died. You must arrest him for the crime he has committed!" She jabbed her finger at Michael, her hand trembling.

Nathan turned to the man beside him. "Is what she says true? Did you kill her husband?"

Michael bowed his head. "No. I treated him as I would any patient. His internal wounds were far too severe for me to heal. As I told her, I should have remained overnight to monitor him, but I left after she insisted on speaking to the town guards."

Nathan’s brow furrowed. He looked between Camille and Michael, uncertain which one told the truth. "I shall take a look at your husband. For now, I ask that you stay apart. Take me to him."

Camille stared at Nathan in disbelief. "You would not take my word and have him arrested? My husband was awake all morning until the doctor came. I suspect he is working with my nephew. You are close to him too, are you not?"

Why did it feel as though everyone around her was against her?

Nathan remained calm even after the accusation. "I am not close to Lord Hawthorne. You may recall me from assisting him when he struggled after his parents’ deaths. I assure you, I will be fair and hold no bias."

He stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back. "Now, will you take me to see your husband? My men will keep watch over the doctor. Is there a room where I can hold him?"

"In the drawing room," Camille said reluctantly, her eyes never leaving Michael. "But you must keep an eye on him."

"Watch him," Nathan ordered his peers before following Camille upstairs. "I will see your husband."

Camille led the way back to her chamber. "I know he was wrong for attacking me," she whispered, her voice cracking, "but he did not deserve to die."

Nathan studied her, wondering if she had heard Damien’s accusations against Hayden. Surely, if she knew the truth, she would not wish for her husband to live.

"What am I to tell my children?" Camille asked, not having the strength to do it. The thought of their innocent faces shattered her composure.

"You must be honest with them," Nathan said gently. "It will be difficult, but it must be done. Have you spoken to your nephew?"

Camille shook her head. "Damien and I are not on good terms. He is not welcome here, and I am not welcome at the estate. We are moving forward, but we are not as we once were. Why? Has he spoken to you about me?"

She realised now that she could not accuse Damien of conspiring with Michael. To do so would risk her own ruin.

"He has not spoken of you," Nathan replied. "But I must warn you that there is proof of a crime your husband committed. That is why we came. Though he may now be dead, the matter will still be investigated."

Camille’s lips parted, but no words came. No matter how she tried, she could not escape the truth that she was the wife of her brother’s murderer.

She felt defeated. She had been wrong from the start, and now she had no choice but to surrender.

"I think I was mistaken about the doctor killing my husband," Camille said, changing her story. "It is true he was severely beaten and would not have lasted long. I was hoping, for the children’s sake, that he might recover. I am exhausted from caring for a man who hurt me."

Nathan found her response now to be the most truthful. "You must not dwell on what the town or his parents may say. You must care for yourself and your children. Perhaps some time away from the town, away from the gossip, would do you good."

Camille turned to Nathan. "And what of my guard? When will he be released from your hold? He was only trying to protect me."

Nathan sighed. "It has become more complicated now that your husband has passed. You may plead for his release, but success is not guaranteed. You will be opposing your in-laws."

Camille pressed, "And if my husband were a criminal who committed a heinous crime, would the court be more lenient with my guard?"

"There is a chance we would be more understanding," Nathan said, but he could not make any promises. "But you must act quickly, or the opportunity will slip away."

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