Chapter 2

William Ashforth, the Duke of Montford, found himself inspecting the grounds where the boys had done their mischief the previous evening. It was a solitary endeavor. He was the only one in his family alive. Something he never thought possible. He had walked through those paths many times with his older brother, and then they were gone. His brother and his father, both gone as a result of a robbery gone wrong.

"Darn children," he mumbled angrily, looking up at the broken window of his study.

He tried reminding himself that it was not really the children's fault. It was the fault of their parents. Their mothers and fathers taught them that it was all right to trespass onto someone else's property, and even worse, destroy it. He didn't understand why they would do that. He stayed away from the village, not having stepped foot there since his return from the war. He never bothered anyone. He just wanted to be left alone, and yet, that was obviously too much to ask. He had no idea why.

He sighed heavily as he continued pacing around the house. A bit further away from it, he found the stone he had thrown. He bent down to pick it up, examining the little droplets of blood on it. He sighed heavily, raking his fingers through his hair. The truth was, he never meant to harm that boy. He hit him accidentally.

He only picked it up and threw it back at them after they had broken his study window. He couldn't understand the need for such senseless violence. Wasn't there already enough of that in the world? Why did children need to be spurred into causing it? It was nothing but a vicious cycle that had a tendency to trap everyone inside of it.

As he was checking over the stables, suddenly he heard a scream from the nearby woods that bordered with his property. Without thinking, he dashed in the direction where he heard the scream, the urgency echoing in his ears. He couldn't even begin to guess who that might be, but that didn't stop him from running as fast as he could.

Finally, he arrived at the scene to find a young woman lying on the ground, her form still and unmoving. His heart raced with concern as he dropped down to his knees beside her. Her copper blonde hair was covering most of her face, and he dared not touch her, as her willowy frame rested on the ground, as if she were a wood nymph just taking a respite.

"Miss, can you hear me?" he asked softly, his voice laced with concern, but she didn't appear to hear him.

Instead, the sound of a breaking twig was heard from somewhere behind him. His senses immediately sharpened, as he quickly turned around, aware of the fact that he could be moments away from disaster. That was when he saw a wild boar staring at him. Adrenaline surged through him as he realized the danger that the animal posed, especially with the unconscious woman on the ground.

William knew that he had to act swiftly. Without thinking, he began shouting and making as much noise as possible, hoping to startle the boar and drive it away. His voice echoed through the woods, filled with a mixture of fear and determination, as he waved his arms and stomped his feet in a desperate attempt to intimidate the beast.

The boar, startled by the sudden commotion, hesitated for a moment before turning tail and retreating deeper back into the woods. With a sigh of relief, William watched its departure, thankful that the conformation ended without any harm.

Well… almost. He turned his attention to the woman, still lying on the ground. He slowly knelt next to her once again. He gently brushed her hair back to reveal her face. The touch of her skin sent a bolt of thunder through his body. She was mesmerizingly beautiful. He was immediately struck by her serene beauty, even in her unconscious state. Her features were delicate, her lips full, a blushing pink hue on them.

Her skin felt soft and ethereal in the dappled light filtering through the verdant canopy above. He couldn't help but admire the gentle, slim curve of her cheek, the occasional flutter of her dark eyelashes against her pale complexion framed by her curls.

At that moment, he noticed a wound on her head. The blood had already thickened, but that feeling of urgency washed over him. Without hesitation, he carefully lifted her into his arms, cradling her close as he began the journey back to the safety of his manor house. Each step was deliberate, his focus solely on ensuring the mystery woman's safety and well-being as he navigated through the dense underbrush of the woods. The weight of her in his arms was both a reminder of the fragility of life and a testament to his sudden and unexpected determination to help a stranger.

With each passing second, the manor drew closer, and he could feel the tension in his muscles ease slightly as he approached the familiar surroundings that have provided him with safety as well as seclusion. Relief flooded through him as he carried her inside.

"Your Grace! What happened?" Peter Hancock, William's loyal and trustworthy steward, gasped upon finding him in the main hallway. However, even without any words being spoken, Mr. Hancock quickly grasped the gravity of the situation and rushed forward to assist.

"I found her unconscious in the woods," William explained. "She's hurt. We need to lay her down somewhere soft."

"The chaise lounge in the drawing room," Mr. Hancock remembered immediately. "That is the closest place."

"Open the door, Mr. Hancock," William asked as he headed in that direction.

His steward didn't need to be told twice. He rushed ahead to do as he was told, allowing William into the drawing room. William had to admit that Mr. Hancock's steady presence provided a sense of reassurance in the midst of all this uncertainty. The man's calm demeanor was a balm to William's frayed nerves. As they settled the woman in the quiet room, Mr. Hancock offered a supportive nod, silently conveying his willingness to help in any way he could.

"We need something to clean her wound, Mr. Hancock," William whispered, and the man immediately nodded, swiftly turning to fulfill the task. With a brisk yet purposeful stride, Mr. Hancock departed the room, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors of the manor.

Left alone with the mystery woman, he wrestled with his conflicting emotions, a knot tightening in his stomach. He was torn between his desire to shield the woman from his scars and his determination to provide her with the care she needed.

He knew that closing the curtains would dim the room, making it difficult to properly clean her wound, yet the fear of her reaction to his appearance gnawed at him. At the same time, he was certain that she fell unconscious due to her shock at having stumbled across that boar. He didn't want to cause any further shock or distress.

Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself of the urgency of the situation, pushing aside his own insecurities in favor of helping her. With trembling hands, he resisted the urge to draw the curtains closed, at least for the time being. He glanced at the door, waiting for Mr. Hancock, who appeared moments later.

Relief flooded William as he accepted the basin of warm water, some clean cloths and antiseptic solution from the tray Mr. Hancock had brought, his hands steady with resolve as he prepared everything. With gentle precision, he began to clean the wound, his movements careful and deliberate as he removed any dirt with the utmost tenderness. That was one good thing he had brought back from the war: knowledge to tend to minor injuries.

Despite the nervous flutter in his chest, his touch remained steady, his focus unwavering. He expected her to wake up at any moment, her eyes widening in shock at him, but no such thing happened. William couldn't remember the last time he had been so close to a woman without her staring at him in sheer horror. Women, children. Even men refused to look at him for too long, almost as if his scar was contagious somehow and they might catch it if they looked at him too long.

Finally, he was done. He offered used supplies to Mr. Hancock.

"Please, dispose of these," he asked softly, his voice down to a whisper. "And bring us some tea for two, if you will."

Mr. Hancock nodded immediately, doing as he was told, closing the door behind him. Suddenly, the woman stirred gently. Her eyes were still closed, but William knew it was just a matter of time before she would wake up. Without hesitation, he moved swiftly to close the curtains, his actions driven by a desire to shield her from the harsh light as well as potential discomfort upon waking.

He stood by the window, slightly away from her, not really sure what to do. His pulse quickened at every sound she made, at every flutter of her eyelashes. Her delicate features seemed even more softened by sleep, and a twinge of self-consciousness gnawed at him, a silent reminder of the scars that marred his own image. Taking a deep breath, he approached her bedside, his movements gentle and cautious as he prepared to offer her reassurance and comfort in her moment of awakening.

As she blinked at him, her gaze filled with confusion and vulnerability, he reminded himself that he had the power to ease her fears. It was then that she spoke in the voice of an angel.

"Where am I?"