Maylily - Chapter 17

When the small hand wrapped in a handkerchief finally fell into Hugh’s grasp, Maylily spoke in a slightly choked voice.

“This is just… a small cut.”

Nodding lightly in reply, Hugh took off his glove and placed it in Maylily’s free hand before untying the handkerchief from hers.

“After hearing your song, I had a thought.”

Slipping the untied handkerchief into his pocket, Hugh quietly began as he pulled out his own handkerchief from his coat’s inner pocket.

Waiting for his next words, Maylily carefully lifted her gaze to him, her face glowing softly. The evening’s incident, which had made her appear so foolish and ridiculous in front of Hugh, now seemed like something that no longer concerned her.

“In any case, I don’t want to see you unaffected.”

Even more, I dislike the thought of your tear-streaked face belonging to anyone else but me.

“What do you mean…?”

Unable to understand the words stripped of context, Maylily blinked slowly, unease spreading faintly over her clear eyes with each flutter.

“Well.”

Hugh’s faint smile dropped to the gentle rise and fall of Maylily’s bosom, heaving with her breath.

Though she wore a dress that covered half her long, slender neck and revealed not an inch of skin, her figure struck him as far more sensual than any woman lavishly adorned in the most opulent gown. For an instant, Hugh was consumed by a base desire to ravage the body hidden beneath that austere dress, rough and unrestrained.

Had he been bewitched by a siren’s song under the moonlight?

No. In truth, he admitted this desire had begun the very moment he first laid eyes on her. From the beginning, she had been as lovely as her name suggested, and precisely for that reason, he had wanted to break her.

Only, he had ignored that desire because he had intended to leave the dirtiest part of revenge to another.

In that plan, Michele Baratti was faithfully playing his assigned role, and Maylily Aile was obediently following the intended path.

But if that smoothness brought him nothing but thirst and dissatisfaction, was there really any reason to cling to the plan?

Even if he stepped into the mire with his own feet and played foul, the status and honor of Everscourt sat so high above that they would never be tarnished, and before him stood a woman so beautiful that he wanted to willingly plunge into that filth.

Her body, bare without a thread of clothing, moaning in surrender, would be far lovelier than now. To recount such a spectacle to Victor Heywood’s face and observe his reaction would be quite an amusing form of revenge.

Therefore, he had no choice but to break this woman himself.

Hugh tied the knot of the fresh handkerchief he had wrapped around Maylily’s hand, thus concluding his thought. The initials of Hugh’s name, embroidered on the handkerchief, lay beneath the knot, pressed like a brand into the center of Maylily’s palm.

“Thank you, Count.”

Perhaps it was due to his cold body temperature. Each time his long, thick fingers brushed against her skin, chills erupted along her flesh and still had not faded.

Just as Maylily hurried to pull her hand back, as though shaking off the strange sensation, the Count of Everscourt suddenly clasped her hand and began stroking her fingers one by one. Carefully, slowly, obsessively, as though memorizing the shape of her hand with his fingertips.

Startled, Maylily tried more firmly to pull away, but this time the Count intertwined his fingers with hers. The pressure on her palm brought pain with it. Tearful, Maylily looked up at the Count.

“It hurts, Count. Please let go.”

“Say it, Maylily.”

“……”

“What is the intent behind this touch?”

The voice that slipped from his lightly curved lips was like a spring breeze gently caressing her hair, yet Maylily felt the fear of facing a storm that could sweep everything away.

She never wanted to know or even think about the intent behind the Count’s touch.

“…I don’t know.”

Maylily shook her head violently, driving away the ominous premonitions that pressed into her mind. Surely it was just her imagination. Thinking so, she gripped the Count’s glove in her other hand tightly.

“So this much you cannot discern, after all.”

From the Count’s voice, as he brushed Maylily’s disheveled hair back behind her ear, faint amusement leaked through. What terrified her to such an extent was, to him, nothing more than a light jest, and the truth of it was wretched.

From the beginning until now, not once had they ever stood on equal ground. How pitiful, to realize it anew.

“…I don’t know. Truly.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Maylily lowered her head to avoid Hugh’s gaze. Her eyelashes cast comb-like shadows that fluttered loudly over her small, delicate cheeks.

Watching that for a moment, Hugh twisted his lips and lifted Maylily’s chin. Then, with his long, straight index finger, he pried between her soft lips. The rest of his fingers held her slender chin firmly as she shook her head in resistance.

“Ah, ah… Ugh…”

The sounds Maylily forced out with difficulty failed to form words and scattered into the night air.

Soon, his finger dug deeply into her mouth, carefully tracing her neat, even teeth, then stirring every corner of the damp warmth within. Her tender tongue, desperately trying to flee the merciless intrusion like one evading punishment, screamed soundlessly.

Even in that moment, Maylily shook her head with all her strength as though denying reality. Saliva, unable to be swallowed, slid down from her swollen red lips to her trembling chin.

“Now do you understand a little?”

Wiping the woman’s transparently wet chin with his thumb, Hugh tilted his head slightly as he withdrew his hand. His face was calm and composed, almost unbelievable for someone who had just violated Maylily’s tender flesh so ruthlessly.

Panting, Maylily scrubbed her mouth hard with the back of her hand. With a face on the verge of tears, she steadied her breathing before finally meeting Hugh’s gaze. In the eyes brimming with unshed tears, fear and resentment toward him surged.

“…No.”

At her unchanging answer, Hugh let out a short, incredulous laugh. She was a woman who seemed quick-witted, yet stubbornly brought ruin upon herself by clinging to strange points.

Then, Maylily, shall we see just how long you can feign ignorance?

Supporting her back, Hugh cupped her flushed cheek. In the next moment, his lips descended upon Maylily’s stubbornly closed mouth.

When he pushed his tongue inside, her lips, tightly pressed together, parted without resistance. It was less that Maylily accepted him obediently, and more that fear had left her frozen stiff. Hugh’s hand pressed firmly as he drank deeply of the breaths she exhaled in ragged gasps.

Her mouth, which his fingers had already explored, was hotter, slicker, and sweeter against his tongue. Hugh swirled his tongue slowly and indulgently, savoring hers as if it were candy, while Maylily’s tongue, frozen and motionless, offered no resistance.

A breeze shook the large cherry tree branches, scattering petals over the green lawn as it swept past, fluttering the hem of Hugh’s black coat and Maylily’s dark gray skirt. In that moment, the kiss carried the same fragrance of spring blossoms that her song had borne.

No matter how much of that fragrance he inhaled, his thirst was never sated. Suddenly, Hugh sucked her tongue hard to its root. “Mmph—” Maylily let out a suffocated moan as though her breath were stolen, and the glove she had held slipped from her hand, fluttering down the steps like a white butterfly.

After chewing softly on the heated flesh for a while, Hugh licked away the saliva glistening around her lips and pulled back. His throat bobbed heavily as he gazed into her pale blue eyes, blurred with heat and confusion.

“Even now, you still don’t understand?”

Pulling the waist wrapped in his arm closer, Hugh pressed the rigid swell of his body against Maylily’s flat lower belly, whispering as though to demand the answer he desired by pushing her to the very edge.

Startled by Hugh’s raw, unrestrained desire, Maylily stiffened, then soon lowered her head in resignation and squeezed her eyes shut.

Tears fell thick and heavy, drop by drop, down her trembling golden lashes. The sight was heartrendingly pitiful, yet Hugh had not the slightest intention of stopping with mercy.

“You must answer, Maylily.”

Hugh’s cold fingertips lifted her trembling chin.

“Do you need an even clearer expression?”

The woman reflected in his bluish-gray eyes, faintly tinged with a cold smile, bit her lower lip and slowly shook her head. A tear traced down the corner of her reddened eyes.

“…No. Now, I understand.”

Her voice, spilling out like a sigh from lips so red it seemed blood would stain his fingers if he wiped them, was sweet. Quietly savoring the delight given by her tear-soaked, luminously beautiful face, Hugh thought:

Indeed, this pitiful, lovely face would be the perfect ending mark to this relationship.