Knock…
Knock..
Knock.
Suddenly, a loud, clear voice echoed from the quiet hallway outside.
"My lord, are you awake?"
It was Mr. Murry.
The older housekeeper stood on the other side of the door.
"There is something that needs your attention," Murry called out respectfully, knocking softly on the wood.
The sudden sound shattered the quiet, intimate bubble inside the bedroom.
Camilla gasped softly. Her eyes widened in panic. She realized exactly what position they were in. She was lying in bed, tangled in the General's arms, with her leg draped heavily over his hip. If Murry walked in and saw them like this, she would be mortified.
"Oh no," Camilla thought to herself, her internal voice filled with frantic embarrassment. "I need to move right now."
She quickly placed her hands flat against Damon's broad chest. She tried to push herself away. She wanted to scramble out of his warm arms, roll to the far edge of the large mattress, and pretend she was just waking up normally.
