How to Tame My Beastly Husband — Chapter 12. Little Woman
This chapter has been re-worked by Regan, we have picked up the novel from chapter 64
It had been a very noisy morning.
Without pausing to rest while he completed his sword training, Raphael returned to the mansion, soaked with sweat. He had drunk himself to sleep the night before, and he was in terrible condition. Neither his arms or his legs were moving smoothly, but even so, it was not a good idea to miss a day of practice.
Apart from disruptions in his private life, Raphael never missed a single day of training. Until he had risen to become Marquis of Carnesis, he had been nothing. A bastard. The only thing that had protected him was his skill with swords.
Raphael’s eyes were dark as he peeled off his shirt and toweled the sweat from his body.
Why the hell won’t it work today?
Though everyone said he had nearly reached the rank of Sword Master, the fact was, he hadn’t done it yet. It felt suffocating, as if he were blocked by an invisible wall. If anyone could have given him advice, he would have paid them a thousand gold coins.
Would it be better if he stopped drinking? No, that was impossible.
His anger and frustration exploded, and he threw the towel aside and stalked to the window. Whenever he was in a bad mood, he liked looking at the view from the windows of his mansion. Seeing this magnificent mansion and its vast gardens, all of which he had acquired on his own, made him feel much better.
But today, even that beautiful scenery could not calm him. Hawklike eyes spotted the small woman sitting in the garden. Annette Bavaria. She was another trophy he had won, just like the Carnesis house.
It was technically true that her last name was now Carnesis. But Raphael had not yet accepted her as his family. She was nothing but an extension of the disgusting Duke of Bavaria. To Raphael, she was merely a curiosity.
Raphael narrowed his eyes. Annette looked as small as his finger from this distance, sitting on a bench and looking intently through some books.
Was it a trick to get his attention?
Raphael’s blue eyes glared coldly. From the window of his room, he could see the bench she was sitting on very well. It was definitely a deliberate ploy from the Bavaria woman.
She was an eye-catching figure in a light green off-the-shoulder gown, with all her shiny blonde hair braided down her back. If a man were to bite those white shoulders, the pink marks of his teeth would remain. To his eyes, she looked like an exquisite, expensive porcelain doll. A high-end product that a bastard like him would never have.
Raphael had not yet grasped the fact that she was now his wife. But Annette herself seemed to believe she already belonged to the Carnesis family. The corners of Raphael’s mouth turned up as he remembered her quarrel with the Bavaria butler.
My husband deserves respect, apologize!
“Huh. You are a cunning woman,” he muttered sarcastically. He tried to diminish her intentions in his heart, but he could not control the small smile at his lips. That impudent butler had been so crestfallen to see Annette taking Raphael’s side.
The thought made him feel better.
Raphael hadn’t expected her to take his side, either. Maybe it was just a ploy from the cunning Bavaria woman, but it was strangely satisfying. Gazing at Annette out the window, his eyes softened.
It was not a very sunny day, and the wind was blowing. Reflexively, Annette lifted her hand to brush her hair out of her face. Her blonde hair was a pale platinum shade, like flax thread on an overcast day. With her hair out of the way, she re-read the passage in her book.
Regression is an extremely rare occurrence, but many regressors have acquired strange abilities they did not previously possess. An excellent example is that of the prodigal daughter Natalie, who acquired the ability to release special pheromones that attracted men upon her return. Other regressors had rare abilities ranging from spiritual magics to the ability to spontaneously create small sugar cubes.
Annette snorted a little at the idea of being able to produce sugar on demand.
But her mind was whirling at the thought of what her own ability might be. She hoped it wasn’t something like summoning french fries out of her nostrils. Annette was not very fond of fried foods.
Whatever it is, please, make it something useful.
Unfortunately, the book did not say how or when the regressors discovered their new abilities. There were too few known cases of regression. Annette couldn’t hide her disappointment and paged backward, wondering if there was something she had missed.
At that moment, a sudden gust blew the book out of her hands, and the hem of her gown flipped upward. Hurriedly, Annette pushed her skirt down and bent to look for her book.
Oh, dear, what will I do?
Rising to her feet, Annette scurried after it. It was a humid day, and she was afraid of damaging the book. She had taken it from the Carnesis library, and if she somehow damaged it, she didn’t know how she could face Raphael.
The playful wind tugged at her braided hair, pulling it loose from its slender pins. All that blonde hair fluttered forward into her eyes, and as she chased after her book, she didn’t notice the pillar ahead of her.
Light flashed before her eyes. There was a sharp pain in her left temple. Annette picked up the book with one hand, touching the injured spot with the other. There was a dull, burning pain in the bump, and then a warm liquid trickled between her fingers.
“Blood,” she said, startled. “It isn’t blood?”
As a well-bred lady, she had hardly ever gotten hurt, and even more so because she was naturally cautious. Confused, she rubbed at the place where the blood was flowing. She was so embarrassed that she didn’t know what to do, but then she remembered reading somewhere that to stop bleeding, one was supposed to press down on the wound. Trying to stay calm, Annette pressed her fingers on the wound.
Theory and reality were not the same.
Applying pressure was so painful, tears burst to her eyes. Annette gave up on the idea of stopping the bleeding and lowered her hand, but it trickled down her face, staining her dress.
Maybe she needed some help.
Staggering, she headed toward the front doors of the mansion, but a solid wall had suddenly appeared before her. She was so surprised, she couldn’t even scream. Her body stiffened.
“Are you hurt?”
It was not a wall, but Raphael. He was so tall and broad that for a confused moment, Annette’s eyes were deceived. His gaze was disapproving as he looked down at her, reaching to examine her forehead.
Fortunately, the cut wasn’t big. There were many blood vessels in that area, which made the bleeding look severe. To Raphael, who had spent most of his life on the battlefield, it was just a minor wound, but Annette’s pale face and the stain of crimson in her light blonde hair made it look so much worse. He felt a jolt, as if he had been pushed off a cliff. The sight of her pain made his heart sink, and somehow, he felt that he had experienced something like this before.
Trying to shake off this unpleasant feeling, he rebuked her sharply.
“What, are you stupid? Are your eyes just for decoration?”
Annette’s lips parted, and she lowered her gaze. She had no defense; it was true that she had walked right into a column and hit her head. But between the harsh words and her shock at the sight of blood, all at once tears welled into her eyes. Blinking, she tried to inhale to keep from crying, but a sniffle escaped her.
Raphael’s hand on her forehead stiffened.
Annette peeked up at him, wondering why he was doing this.