Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts

Chapter 293: Chapter Two Hundred And Ninety Two

Knock...

Knock..

Knock.

Suddenly, a loud, clear voice echoed from the quiet hallway outside.

"My lord, are you awake?"

It was Mr. Murry.

The older housekeeper stood on the other side of the door.

"There is something that needs your attention," Murry called out respectfully, knocking softly on the wood.

The sudden sound shattered the quiet, intimate bubble inside the bedroom.

Camilla gasped softly. Her eyes widened in panic. She realized exactly what position they were in. She was lying in bed, tangled in the General’s arms, with her leg draped heavily over his hip. If Murry walked in and saw them like this, she would be mortified.

"Oh no," Camilla thought to herself, her internal voice filled with frantic embarrassment. "I need to move right now."

She quickly placed her hands flat against Damon’s broad chest. She tried to push herself away. She wanted to scramble out of his warm arms, roll to the far edge of the large mattress, and pretend she was just waking up normally.

But Damon did not let her go.

As soon as she tried to pull away, Damon moved his arms. He tightened his hold on her body. He pulled her flush against his chest, refusing to let her create any distance between them.

"Wait," Camilla whispered urgently, struggling slightly against his strength. "Let me go, he is coming in."

Damon simply smiled a slow amused smile.

He moved his hand, deliberately, gently fondling the soft flesh.

Camilla stopped struggling instantly.

A sudden rush of intense heat flooded her chest and rushed straight up to her face. Her cheeks turned a bright, burning shade of pink. She could not believe he was doing this while someone was standing right outside the door.

"Mmmm," Camilla let out a very soft, tiny, helpless whimper from the back of her throat. She bit her lower lip to stop herself from making any more sounds.

Damon leaned his head down. He brought his face very close to hers. His warm breath brushed against the sensitive skin of her ear.

"Don’t run away," Damon whispered directly into her ear. His deep voice was a low, husky, teasing rumble that sent a sudden shiver straight down her spine.

He squeezed her soft flesh just a tiny fraction more, making sure she knew he was in control of the situation.

"We are already husband and wife," Damon murmured softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "So we are not committing any immoral act. There is nothing to hide."

Camilla glared up at him. She wanted to scold him. She wanted to tell him he was acting shameless. But the feeling of his hand holding her so intimately made her mind feel fuzzy.

Damon looked at her flushed, angry face. He leaned forward and pressed a soft, warm kiss onto her forehead.

Then, Damon turned his head slightly toward the door.

"Come in, Uncle Murry," Damon called out loudly. His voice immediately returned to its normal, calm, commanding tone, as if he were not currently trapping his blushing wife under the blankets.

The brass handle clicked. The door pushed open slowly.

Mr. Murry walked into the bright bedroom. He kept his head bowed respectfully as he entered the private space.

Murry was holding an expensive-looking parchment in his hands.

Camilla quickly pulled the thick blanket all the way up to her chin, hiding her red face and her tangled body as much as she possibly could. She peeked out over the edge of the blanket, glaring secretly at Damon’s chest.

Murry stopped a few feet away from the side of the bed.

"Good morning, my lord. Good morning, my lady," Murry greeted them warmly.

Murry stepped closer and held out the expensive envelope toward Damon.

"I bring an urgent letter, my lord," Murry spoke as he handed the letter over. "It came in yesterday afternoon. But because of the terrible kidnapping incident, the storm, and the doctor arriving for the lady, the house was in chaos. I didn’t have the time to deliver it to you last night."

Murry took a step back and bowed very deeply from the waist, showing his sincere regret.

"My sincere apologies, my lord, for the delay," Murry said.

Damon reached out his free left hand and collected the letter. He looked down at the parchment.

Right in the center of the envelope, sealing the folded paper shut, was a large drop of hardened red wax. Stamped clearly into the red wax was the image of a roaring golden lion. It was the official royal crest of the Kingdom of Daril.

Damon’s eyebrows pulled together slightly. The playful, teasing mood instantly vanished from his face.

"It is from the king," Damon murmured quietly, tracing his thumb over the red wax seal.

He knew the King was currently planning something for the kingdom. An official royal letter meant serious movements were about to happen.

Damon looked up at the old housekeeper. He did not look angry about the delay. He knew yesterday was a terrible disaster for everyone in the mansion.

"It’s fine, Uncle Murry," Damon reassured him, his deep voice smooth and calm. "You did the right thing by prioritizing safety yesterday. You may leave."

Murry smiled, relieved that he was not in trouble. But the housekeeper did not leave the room immediately. He remembered one more small detail from the morning chores.

"Before I go, my lord," Murry spoke politely, gesturing slightly with his hand. "The cleaning maids were sweeping the courtyard this morning. They found your military coat lying in the dirt outside."

"It was completely soaked and covered in mud," Murry explained. "It has been taken in to the laundry room to be washed thoroughly."

Damon listened to the report. He remembered exactly how the coat got into the mud.

Damon’s eyes shifted downward. He looked at Camilla, who was still hiding under the blankets right next to him.

A very slow, dark teasing smirk appeared on Damon’s lips. He decided to use this opportunity to poke fun at her.

"Ah, yes," Damon spoke out loud, nodding his head at Murry. "Thank you for retrieving it. I forgot about it."

Damon paused for a single second. He kept looking at Camilla.

"And," Damon continued, making sure his voice was loud and clear. "Tell the kitchen staff to prepare a large bowl of hot porridge for my wife for breakfast."

Camilla blinked. She hated hot, plain porridge.

"She caught a bit of a cold yesterday," Damon explained to Murry, his eyes shining with amusement. "Because she was just too stubborn and refused to wear a coat in a freezing storm."

Camilla lost her cool noblewoman act.

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