THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

The world had melted into a puddle of honeyed warmth. Katrina lay nestled against David, their bodies slick with sweat, a testament to the storm that had just passed. His arms were a comforting weight around her, a safe harbour after a whirlwind voyage on a sea of forbidden desire. In this quiet aftermath, the frantic rhythm of their hearts gradually slowed, replaced by a contented lull.

Each breath felt like a shared secret, a sigh of contentment escaping Katrina's lips as she burrowed deeper into his embrace. David's voice, a husky whisper against her ear, shattered the peaceful aftermath. "Did you enjoy the massage, Miss Katrina?" Katrina, still reeling from the electrifying dance they'd just shared, could only manage a shaky breath.

This was uncharted territory, a stolen pleasure that left her breathless and bewildered. The stiff head maid had melted away, replaced by a woman awakened to desires she never knew she possessed, desires that bloomed under the touch of the young master. David, sensing her fluster, chuckled softly. "Is the head maid shy now?" he teased, his finger playfully tracing circles on her bare back.

Katrina, cheeks burning, puffed out her lips in a mock frown. They were stealing precious moments, a stolen oasis in a desert of duty. Laughter bubbled up inside her, a sound so foreign to the stern woman she used to be. Just as they were savouring this stolen intimacy, a harsh voice shattered the fragile peace. "Madam Katrina!

Madam Katrina!" A woman's voice, laced with urgency, echoed through the room. A jarring jolt ripped through the room. A heavy hand pounded on the door, shattering the bubble of intimacy that surrounded Katrina and David. She flinched, thrown back into the harsh reality of her position. David, ever the quick thinker, squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Relax," he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. "It must be important. Open the door." Katrina's heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. "But what if they see us together?" she whispered, dread coiling in her gut. A mischievous glint flickered in David's eyes. "No need to worry about that, my dear Katrina," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

"You are mine, remember? And right now, nothing else matters." His words, though possessive, carried a strange comfort. Yet, Katrina knew the consequences of discovery. "You should hide," she pleaded, a blush creeping up her neck. "Just for a moment, so it doesn't cause any trouble for you." David nodded, his expression softening. He understood her predicament.

As they scrambled to dress, a frantic urgency filled the air. Katrina smoothed her rumpled clothing and took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever awaited her on the other side. Throwing open the door, she braced herself. Standing there, panting and wide-eyed, was Meissy, the young maid. The girl's frantic demeanour sent a fresh wave of trepidation through Katrina. What news did Meissy bring?

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Was it something dire, something that would shatter this fragile moment of stolen pleasure? "Madam… Madam…" she sputtered, her words tumbling over each other in a desperate rush. "Meissy, slow down, child," she soothed, her voice laced with concern. "What's wrong?" But Meissy was beyond calming words. She shoved past Katrina, a frantic energy propelling her into the room.

Katrina followed, a prickle of apprehension crawling up her spine. Where was David? Had he somehow… vanished? The room was empty, the lingering warmth of their stolen moment a chilling ghost in the sudden stillness. Panic threatened to engulf Katrina, but she forced it down, a rock in the storm for the mature maid.

Meissy spun back, tears streaming down her freckled face, her gaze meeting Katrina's in a heart-wrenching plea. "They took her," she choked out, the terror raw in her voice. "They took her, Madam Katrina!" The words, though garbled, were a hammer blow. "Who?" Katrina breathed, her voice rough with a rising tide of dread. "Who took who?" Meissy fought for composure, her sobs hiccupping back.

"Vivian," she finally managed, her voice thick with despair. "Gareth took Vivian!" The name slammed into Katrina like a physical blow. Vivian! Gareth the guard! The world tilted on its axis, throwing everything into horrifying confusion. "What do you mean, 'took Vivian'?" Katrina forced herself to ask, her voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in her hands.

"Gareth… kidnapped her?" Meissy, eyes brimming with tears, nodded mutely. The weight of the words settled on Katrina's shoulders, a suffocating cloak of fear and anger. Gareth, a man whispered about in hushed tones, a predator known for his cruelty and ruthlessness, taking Vivian… the implications were horrifying.

The stolen moments of pleasure with David faded into insignificance against the backdrop of this new, terrifying threat. Dread coiled in Katrina's gut, a cold serpent squeezing the life out of her. Vivian, the bright and cheerful maid, always humming a tune as she worked, was gone.

In her mind's eye, Katrina saw Gareth, a sneer twisting his features, his rough hands clamped around Vivian's slender arm. The image sent a fresh wave of terror crashing over her. What did Gareth want with Vivian? Was this a random act of cruelty, or something more calculated, a twisted message sent to someone else? A thousand questions swirled in Katrina's mind, each one more agonizing than the last.

The stolen intimacy with David, the lingering warmth on her skin, felt like a cruel trick of fate. Here she was, caught between the afterglow of a forbidden encounter and the icy grip of a new nightmare. A cold gust of shadows swirled around Meissy, and before Katrina could react, a tall figure materialized behind the young maid.

The air crackled with sudden tension – Meissy, wide-eyed and breathless, fear a fresh stain on her face, and Katrina, heart hammering against her ribs, the memory of stolen moments dissolving into ice in her veins. "Young Master?" Meissy stammered, confusion warring with terror in her voice. Her gaze darted between David, his expression a mask of cold fury, and Katrina, frozen in surprise.

David ignored her. His words, each one a sharp shard of ice, were directed at the trembling Meissy. "When was Vivian taken?" The authority in his voice, a stark contrast to the playful teasing of moments ago, sent shivers down Katrina's spine. It was as if a stranger, cloaked in the familiar form of David, stood before her. Meissy, overwhelmed by the sudden shift, could only manage a choked sob.

"S-some hours ago, Young Master," she finally managed, tears blurring her vision. "We went to the night market… I ran as fast…" Her voice hitched, dissolving into a raw wail. Katrina, the shock wearing off, stepped forward. "Did you notify the guards?" she demanded, a sliver of hope flickering within her. Meissy shook her head, a fresh wave of panic washing over her features.

Before she could elaborate, David cut her off, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down even Katrina's spine. "Why not?" "T-that's because…" Meissy stammered, her eyes darting between the two imposing figures. Finally, she took a shuddering breath. "Gareth warned me… he said to tell you, Young Master," she revealed, her voice barely a whisper.

"'Meet him at the Misty Tavern at first daylight, or… or else!'" David's hand clenched into a fist, knuckles turning white. So Gareth, that conniving snake, was using Vivian as a pawn. His plan was clear – draw him out, force him to confront their old animosity, all at the expense of an innocent girl.

The revelation hung heavy in the air, a suffocating weight that squeezed the breath from Katrina's lungs. Gareth. Vivian. A twisted game of power played with an innocent life as the pawn. The air in the room turned thick with a suffocating dread. Katrina's heart hammered against her ribs, the echo of stolen moments now a cruel mockery in the face of this new terror.

"Why?" she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. "Why does he want the Young Master to meet with him?" Meissy, still trembling, opened her mouth to answer, but a figure blurred past them. David, his face etched with a cold fury Katrina had never seen before, scooped Meissy up with surprising ease.

In one swift motion, he hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of flour, his steely gaze fixed on Katrina. "We don't have time for explanations," he growled, his voice devoid of its usual playful charm. "We're going after her." He stalked towards the window, the moonlight glinting off a hidden edge in his eyes.

Before Katrina could utter another word, he flung open the shutters, a blast of cold night air whipping Meissy's hair into a frenzy. "Young Master, it's dangerous!" Katrina cried out, her voice a desperate plea. "It has to be a trap!" David paused, his eyes meeting hers for a fleeting moment.

In that instant, Katrina saw a flicker of something she couldn't quite name – a fierce protectiveness, a determination that burned brighter than the fear in her own eyes. "Trust me, Katrina," he said, his voice softer now, almost a promise. "I'll be back before you know it." And then, as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.

With a single, powerful leap, David propelled himself through the window, the night air swallowing him whole. Meissy shrieked, clinging desperately to his shoulder, her terror a stark contrast to the unnatural calmness that settled over David. At that moment, he wasn't the young master anymore, not the playful tease who had stolen kisses moments ago.

He was a predator on the hunt, a weapon honed for a purpose. Katrina watched, a cold knot of fear twisting in her gut, as they disappeared into the night. David had taken Meissy with him, an unwilling accomplice in his quest. Now, alone in the quiet aftermath, Katrina was left with a chilling realization – she wasn't just worried for David's safety.

She was worried about the terrifying power he now seemed to possess, and the lengths he was willing to go to for a maid, Vivian.