Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts

Chapter 297: Chapter Two Hundred And Ninety Six

Damon smiled a very handsome smile.

"My Lady," Damon called out loudly. His deep voice carried clearly through the hot noon air, reaching her easily on the balcony.

He looked at her with dark, teasing eyes.

"How do you see today’s training?" Damon asked her. "Was it to your liking?"

As he asked the question, Damon deliberately raised both of his large, bare arms high above his head. He stretched his upper body backward.

He flexed his back muscles and pushed his broad, sweaty chest forward into the bright sunlight. He stretched his arms wide, making absolutely sure that she had a perfect, unobstructed, detailed view of his upper body.

Up on the balcony, Camilla watched him stretch.

She saw the way the sunlight caught the drops of sweat on his chest. She saw the definition of his abdominal muscles.

It was an undeniably pleasing sight.

Camilla’s mouth went slightly dry. She could not help herself. She slowly moved her upper teeth down and bit her soft lower lip, trying to suppress the intense attraction flooding her stomach.

She realized he was staring right at her, waiting for an answer.

Camilla quickly let go of her lip. She cleared her throat softly to hide her nervousness.

Ahem.

She forced her face to remain polite and composed.

"It was good," Camilla called back down to him. Her voice was steady, but slightly quieter than usual.

Down in the dirt ring, Damon’s teasing smile grew even wider. He dropped his arms to his sides. He knew exactly what she was thinking, and he fully intended to tease her for her jealous thoughts.

"Just good?" Damon asked, feigning a tone of disappointment. He placed his hands on his hips.

He looked up at her, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I thought I performed quite well today," Damon called out loudly, making sure his voice was very clear. "Especially for a man who acts like he belongs in a cheap brothel."

Camilla froze on the balcony.

Her eyes widened. Her heart skipped a beat.

She stared down at him. How did he know? How could he possibly know the exact, specific word she had just used in her private, internal rant? Was it just a lucky random coincidence?

Before she could process her shock, Damon continued his teasing.

"I was hoping my training would please my wife," Damon said smoothly, running his hand casually through his hair.

He tilted his head slightly, offering her a very slow knowing smirk.

"After all," Damon concluded his teasing, raising his voice so it carried clearly to the balcony. "I wouldn’t want to disappoint my wife in both training and showing off my body since she likes having a good view of me."

Camilla’s face instantly turned red from embarrassment. He had caught her ogling at him. But the situation was so ridiculous, and his smirking face was so funny, that she could not maintain her embarrassed posture.

Camilla threw her head back. She burst into a very loud laugh.

Her happy laughter echoed warmly across the quiet garden. She covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking with amusement. She had been caught red-handed being a jealous, possessive wife, and he was punishing her with teasing mockery.

Down in the dirt ring, Damon stopped smirking.

He listened to the sound of her happy laughter. He watched the way her eyes crinkled with joy, and the way her curls bounced around her face.

Damon stared up at her. His dark brown eyes softened entirely. He spoke. His voice was no longer loud or teasing. It dropped into a very soft, low murmur. The words easily carried through the quiet air between them.

"My lady," Damon said softly, his eyes locked onto her smiling face. "You know you are the most beautiful when you smile genuinely."

Up on the balcony, Camilla heard his soft, gentle words.

Her laughter stopped.

The bright, happy smile was stuck on her face. She stared down at his warm sincere expression. She saw the truth shining in his eyes. He meant every single word.

Slowly, her smile began to fade away.

Her heart began to beat a very fast, nervous rhythm against her ribs. She felt overwhelmed by his intense, unhidden affection. She did not know how to respond to such a direct, honest compliment from her husband.

Just as the romantic silence stretched between them, a fast, urgent sound broke the quiet peace of the garden.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

The sound of fast footsteps walking on the gravel path echoed clearly.

Damon turned his head away from the balcony. Camilla looked past the dirt ring.

Mr. Murry was walking very quickly into the garden. His wrinkled face looked serious and deeply worried.

In his hand, Murry was holding a yellow piece of parchment paper. It was a sealed letter.

"My Lord! My Lady!" Murry greeted them quickly as he approached the dirt ring. He bowed his head rapidly, bypassing the usual, slow, polite formalities.

Murry walked up to Damon. The old man stepped very close to the General. He raised his hand to his mouth and quickly whispered something quiet into Damon’s ear, handing the yellow letter over at the same time.

Camilla watched from the balcony.

She saw the moment the whispered words hit Damon’s brain.

The soft, romantic man who had just complimented her smile vanished. His posture instantly turned rigid, stiff, and alert. His dark brown eyes turned cold and serious.

Damon gave Murry a single, sharp nod of his head. He crushed the yellow letter tightly in his large right hand.

Damon slowly looked back up at the stone balcony.

He looked at Camilla. His tried to hide the urgency but it was of no use.

"Something urgent needs my attention in the camp," Damon announced clearly. His deep voice was flat, carrying no emotion. "I need to go immediately."

Camilla looked at his serious face. She knew better than to ask questions about military business. She understood that his duty to the kingdom always came first. She hid her tiny hint of disappointment behind a calm, polite mask.

Camilla nodded her head slowly.

"It is fine," Camilla replied softly, her voice steady and understanding. "Go ahead, My Lord."

Damon did not say another word. He did not offer a goodbye smile. He turned his back immediately. He marched quickly away from the dirt ring, his boots stomping loudly against the ground, heading straight to freshen himself, and moved to the stables to mount his warhorse.

Mr. Murry bowed deeply to the balcony one last time, then quickly turned and rushed after his master.

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