Page 35

I bring a hand to my cheek, feeling the heat throbbing beneath the skin. I exhale slowly, trying not to show how much it burns.

“Do you realize what you’ve just done?” my voice is low, incredulous.

“For a damned deer!?” A bitter laugh vibrates in my throat. “You are ridiculous, Viscount. What is the difference between a pheasant and a deer?”

His nostrils flare. I take a step toward him.

“Is it because a deer is more enchanting to your eyes than a pheasant? Therefore, it deserves to live?” I sink my gaze into his eyes, which are bright with fury. “You are a hypocrite.”

His arm snaps out, but this time I don’t let him. His fist meets my open palm. My fingers wrap around his knuckles, with a sharp twist, I wrench his wrist, forcing him to bend. A choked sound escapes his lips, his brows knitting into a tight line as the pressure increases.

I look at the back of his hand: pale, elegant, almost luminous in the filtered forest light. A hand made for music, not violence.

“I repeat, brutality does not suit you, boy,” I hum, my breath grazing his fingers. “These fair hands should be touching some—”

The sudden blow cuts off my sentence.

He drives a lightning-fast knee into my lower stomach. The air leaves me all at once. My grip slips, my knees buckle. I fall among the leaves, my breath refusing to return, a flash of disbelief crossing my eyes as he stands over me. The valets’ footsteps rustle through the leaves, fast and alarmed. I hear them approaching, but the pain in my stomach keeps me anchored to the muddy ground. I barely lift my head.

“Don’t you dare come closer!” my voice echoes through the trees.

“Go, Étienne.”

His chest moves irregularly, fast.

“Go away,” I repeat to the valets, no need to shout this time.

“My lord...” Laurence murmurs hesitantly, taking one step too many.

“Please, Viscount—”

“Back away, I said.”

The two retreat, the rustle of their boots fading. I remain sprawled in the mud, the damp earth soaking into my trousers.

I look up at him.

“It isn’t the deer that is the problem, Viscount. Be honest.”

“The problem is you.”

The kick arrives before I can tense my muscles. A crash against my ribs, the mud swallowing me an inch further away.

A crooked smile forms on my lips, gritted teeth smeared with dirt. “You’ll have to hit harder than that.”

He responds without speaking. His boot sinks into my thigh, the impact vibrating in the bone before the pain even registers. He stands over me, breath short, eyes blazing; I stay in the mud, half-propped on one elbow.

“You are a beast. Arrogant, conceited. You think everything is permitted to you, that you can act however you please.”

“I thought I didn’t dwell in your thoughts. And yet it seems you have a very settled opinion of me.”

He takes a step forward, his boot grazing my chest. Then he pushes.

The boot stays pinned to my chest as he stares down at me.

“You’ve insinuated yourself like a cursed snake. You continue to annoy me, to disturb my peace.”

Disturbing his peace? How interesting.