Damon had just blown out the oil lamp. The room was plunged into dark, silver moonlight. He heard her sudden cry. His military reflexes activated instantly.

He moved with blinding speed. He rushed forward across the dark room. He closed the distance between them in two massive, incredibly fast steps.

He didn’t just reach out to catch her arms. He knew her delicate bones could snap. Instead, he threw his entire, broad body forward, intending to use his own muscular frame as a heavy cushion for her fall.

He reached out his strong arms. He grabbed her firmly around her small waist just before she hit the floor.

His momentum was too fast to simply stop. He knew they were both going to fall heavily.

With a powerful, highly coordinated twist of his waist and strong shoulders, Damon spun them around in mid-air. He forcefully changed their direction so that his broad back was facing the floor. He made absolutely sure that he would be the one to hit the hard wood first.

THUD!

It was a loud, heavy, bone-rattling sound.

Damon hit the hard wooden floorboards flat on his back. The immense impact drove the air completely out of his lungs in a sudden whoosh.

Camilla fell directly on top of him.

Her soft, delicate body crashed fully against his hard, muscular chest. Her face was buried in the curve of his neck. His strong arms were wrapped tightly around her small waist, holding her securely against him to protect her from the impact.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

The room was completely silent, except for the sound of their fast, heavy breathing.

Camilla slowly lifted her head from his neck. She pushed herself up slightly, resting her hands flat against his warm, broad shoulders.

She looked down at his face in the pale silver moonlight.

Damon looked up at her. His eyes were wide open.

They both looked at each other with absolute, pure surprise. They were so incredibly close. They could feel the heat radiating off each other’s skin. They could feel the rapid beating of each other’s hearts pressed tightly together.

Outside the door in the dark hallway, Mr. Murry had been standing guard. He wanted to make sure the young couple did not fight too loudly on their first night sharing a room.

He had heard Camilla’s cry. He had heard Damon tell her to come back. He was pleased with the progress.

But then, he heard the loud, sudden cry, followed by the massive, heavy THUD that shook the floorboards.

Murry frowned in alarm. He thought the General had lost his temper. He thought they were having a violent, physical fight.

"Oh dear," Murry whispered nervously.

He slowly, carefully reached out his hand. He turned the iron handle just a tiny bit. He pushed the door open slightly, creating a very small crack.

He peeked inside to read the dangerous situation.

The room was dark, lit only by the moonlight from the large glass windows and balcony.

Murry’s eyes adjusted quickly. He looked toward the floor near the bed.

He saw Damon lying flat on his back. And he saw Camilla lying directly on top of him. His arms were wrapped securely around her waist, and she was looking down into his eyes. From Murry’s perspective at the door, it did not look like a fight at all. It looked like a very passionate, very sudden, romantic embrace.

A slow, highly satisfied, joyful smile spread across Murry’s wrinkled face. His eyes twinkled with happiness. His plan had worked perfectly. Removing the furniture and making Camilla’s door to have an issue was the best idea he had ever had.

"Well done," Murry whispered to himself softly. "It seems the old Duke will increase my wages very soon. The family will have an heir in no time."

He gently, silently pulled the door completely shut.

Click.

He locked it securely from the outside, making sure the young couple would not be disturbed until morning. He turned around and walked happily down the hallway, humming a soft tune.

Inside the dark bedroom, Camilla and Damon were completely unaware of the audience.

They were still lying on the floor. The tension between them was thick and heavy.

Camilla stared down at his handsome face. Her face was incredibly close to his. She was literally one single inch away from his lips. She could feel his warm, steady breath brushing softly against her own skin.

She looked closely at the sharp line of his jaw. She looked at his perfectly straight nose and the thin scar lining the bridge. She looked at his full, slightly parted lips.

"He actually looks this beautiful, I mean, handsome when up close," Camilla thought to herself, her internal voice completely serious and surprisingly calm. Her mind was not mocking him anymore. She was analyzing his features like a piece of fine art. "His lips look very soft for a man who fights with swords."

Damon lay perfectly still beneath her. He felt her soft hands resting on his shoulders. He felt the weight of her delicate body pressing against his chest. And he heard her quiet, appreciative thought. His heart gave a strange, unexpected thump against his ribs.

Camilla kept staring. Her eyes searched deeply into his.

His eyes were usually so dark, cold, and empty. They usually looked like dark brown stones.

But right now, in the pale, quiet moonlight, she saw something else entirely.

She looked deeper.

She saw a faint, warm light glowing softly deep inside his dark brown orbs. It was not anger. It was not annoyance. It was not cold military discipline.

It was a small, hidden spark of genuine care. It was the look of a man who had just thrown his own body onto a hard floor to protect someone else. It was the look of a protector.

For the very first time since she had transmigrated into this strange, violent novel, Camilla realized that the Tyrant General might actually have a human heart beating inside his chest.

She did not pull away. She stayed right where she was, tracing the faint light in his eyes, wondering exactly what kind of man was hiding behind the cold, angry mask.