Madam and the Stable Keeper (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 11
Walter abruptly scooped up the flustered Edith and pressed her back against the window. Because the outer shutter was closed, only Edith’s thick golden hair would be visible through the narrow gap to anyone outside.
Though it wouldn’t be clear who held her, the situation itself was suggestive enough for onlookers to grasp what might be happening.
‘If he’s only pretending to desire me, could it possibly be…?’
Edith swallowed hard, this time for a different reason than before. Her face felt ready to burst from the heat radiating between their bodies pressed flush together.
But there was no time to hesitate—the rider approaching from beyond the horizon was drawing near quickly, visible even through the narrow slit in the window.
Trapped like a cornered mouse, Edith mustered all the dignity she could and spoke.
“Walter. You’d better not betray my trust. You won’t, will you?”
Though her words unmistakably carried the tone of a superior addressing a subordinate, her voice trembled faintly.
Walter let out a soft chuckle at Edith’s clumsy attempt at playing the lady.
The fourth mistress had a talent for phrasing commands like pleas—yet when confident, she could command others with clear eyes and a firm voice.
Suddenly wanting to see Edith flustered, Walter grinned mischievously, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“I’m not entirely sure what trust you’re referring to.”
“You just need to pretend convincingly enough to fool the head butler.”
“My decision to betray your trust or not will depend entirely on how quickly Whitman lets go of his suspicions.”
Walter spoke as if he didn’t care either way.
This was the first time she’d been held so intimately by a man like this, and her heart pounded as if it might burst from her chest.
From this slightly elevated vantage point, he appeared as flawless as a living sculpture. His gaze, darkened like that of a wild beast, stole her breath away.
Unconsciously, Edith wondered what it would feel like if his high, smooth nose brushed against her cheek or shoulder.
‘…You’re losing your mind, Edith.’
Walter seemed unnervingly skilled at this. He made it feel less like a scheme to deceive the butler and more like he was genuinely lost in desire.
The sound of hoofbeats grew steadily closer.
Walter could hold her up with just his left arm. With his right hand, he tousled Edith’s hair, sending a shiver like electricity through her—she bit her lip.
He lightly brushed her awkwardly dangling legs and whispered,
“You’d be more comfortable if you wrapped them around my waist.”
Edith squeezed her eyes shut. His voice, slightly deeper than usual, echoed inside her head.
Just as the hoofbeats neared and then abruptly stopped, footsteps approached cautiously.
Walter, seeing her frozen like a wooden doll, moved her legs for her himself.
Edith, now awkwardly straddling his waist, clung to him tightly, tensing her legs so she wouldn’t slip.
Walter let out a short, strained groan. When he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed roughly.
He adjusted his hold on her, pressing even closer. Edith felt strangely unsettled noticing that his breathing had grown as ragged as her own.
Reflected in his eyes, her own face looked utterly unfamiliar—no longer the composed viscountess, but someone trapped in another world altogether. Feeling her strength drain away, she whispered softly,
“…Can I hold your shoulders?”
“…”
When Walter nodded as if entranced, Edith carefully looped her arms around his shoulders and shut her eyes tight.
Shadows cast by her long lashes deepened the flush on her skin, and of all the heated redness spreading across her face, her plump lips burned the brightest.
“Ah…!”
At the very moment Edith let out a faint gasp from the window’s chill, Whitman turned away, seemingly satisfied his suspicions were unfounded.
Even after confirming Whitman had remounted and was slowly riding off, Walter couldn’t bring himself to stop.
Edith carried a scent he felt he’d encountered before—fresh yet deep, like wildflowers blooming in a rain-drenched forest.
Just as he leaned closer, intoxicated by that fragrance, ready to claim her lips—
“No.”
“…”
Walter looked down at Edith’s palm pressed firmly against his lips. Moments ago, that same hand had clutched his shoulder hard enough to leave marks.
He found himself oddly amused at his own dissatisfaction with the situation.
Keeping his lips against her palm, he rolled his eyes upward to meet Edith’s face—flushed, tense, and utterly flustered.
“…Not the lips, Walter.”
This command, too, sounded like a plea. Her breath came out hot and quick, making her sound like a master sternly scolding a restless beast they secretly feared.
“…”
Walter summoned his patience and halted what he’d been doing. It was the first time he’d ever been so stirred by someone, and though he hadn’t fully calmed himself—
He set Edith down. Still trapped between the wall and his arms, she quickly offered an excuse.
“Whitman seems to have gone, so this should be enough.”
Her whole body burned, her breath unsteady, and she avoided his gaze—looking exactly like a mouse frantically searching for a hole to escape into.
Indeed, Edith felt deeply embarrassed and ashamed by the situation.
Kidnapped and tangled in a pregnancy scheme, yet refusing a kiss—how terribly adolescent that sounded.
‘At least Walter stopped reasonably well without pushing further.’
Would she sound like she’d expected even more? Edith slipped out of his arms.
Walter persistently watched her averted face and asked,
“I have one question, just in case.”
His voice still carried warmth, making it feel as if their encounter weren’t quite over yet.
“If we’re watched like this again—and if Sophia or Whitman insists on verifying everything from start to finish…”
“…”
“Then, even if you’re embarrassed or say ‘not the lips’… would going further be acceptable?”
Edith unconsciously moistened her lips. His words seemed to carry an expectation of more—whether real or imagined—and her thoughts grew too jumbled to reason clearly.
“…I don’t want to think about something that hasn’t even happened yet.”
Though she’d only been held for a few minutes, she already felt drained. Edith sank down onto the ground.
Walter turned her words over in his mind. He didn’t understand why he’d asked about something that hadn’t happened yet.
Did he simply want to see the ever-composed woman before him truly unravel—pleading or enjoying herself, just once?
He swallowed the answer that rose unconsciously to his lips.
An awkward silence settled between them after they left the cabin. Edith merely mounted the horse Walter held by the reins and took in the scenery.
Portrion Manor was vast, stretching wide horizontally—so much so that the distance from the easternmost room to the westernmost was considerable.
From what she’d learned, Sophia avoided spending time with the other wives, but Elizabeth and Isabel often shared tea together.
‘When the viscount dies, the other wives will inherit something too—and Sophia will surely scheme to strip them of their inheritance rights.’
Edith gazed toward the manor’s western wing. Though too distant to see who was inside, she thought it wise to quickly establish rapport with the ladies staying there if she intended to confront Sophia.
“The horse seems thirsty—let’s take a short break.”
Walter had spotted a small spring and patted the horse’s flank. Edith dismounted and looked around. True to the western ladies’ tastes, the nearby garden featured several delicate sculptures.
It was just then that a faint singing reached her ears.
「I know why
your breath grows warmer.
When you pull me close by the waist,
something begins between us.」
‘Who’s singing?’
Though the lyrics were indistinct due to the distance, the voice was clear and resonant—so much so that even Edith, standing far away, was captivated.
“Isabel Portrion. Nicholas’s third wife.”
Walter had approached unnoticed and explained that Isabel always practiced singing in the garden center at this hour, and many of the staff admired her voice.
“I’ve heard the western staff look forward to hearing her sing each evening on their way to dinner.”
Edith nodded in understanding—and realized it was already nearly time for dinner.
When confined in the manor, tangled in Sophia’s schemes, time had dragged unbearably slow—but with Walter, sunset arrived in the blink of an eye.
“Let’s head back. Sophia might grow suspicious, and Vivian will be waiting.”
“Before we go…”
Walter looked Edith straight in the eyes and asked,
“You must tell me everything suspicious—any odd behavior the viscount showed before his death, or anything from your past.”
“Oh.”
Only then did Edith recall the terms of their agreement. He was protecting her while deceiving Sophia, so she owed him something in return for his memory.
“There’s only one truly unusual experience in my life—something most people never go through. When I was young, Mother took in a mysterious lady and her son as lodgers.”
“Lodgers?”
“Yes. Father passed away early, so money was tight—but our house was fairly spacious.”
The Lowell estate had been gambled away by her uncle shortly after her mother’s death.
Edith gave a bitter smile and continued.
“Anyway, that boy… he looked somewhat like you.”
“Looked like me…?”
“Just… when I first saw you, I remembered him. If not for the different eye color, I might’ve mistaken you for him.”
As Edith recalled both Walter and Isaac simultaneously, she suddenly remembered something crucial.
‘Right—Isaac has a deep scar on his thigh.’
Madam Leah had once mentioned it would never fully fade, even in adulthood, and sometimes grew sorrowful over it.
Edith’s gaze drifted naturally toward Walter’s thigh. He gave her a strange look and remarked dryly,
“Judging by how you’re checking if it’s the same spot, you must have been quite close with that boy.”
Male lead first thought she played hard to get, only to realize she
really disliked him
Short intro:
What she can’t stand the most is the streets full of effeminate men, especially that so-called top beauty whom she avoids at all costs.
Shen Yaoxing looks at Jiang Mingyue, who keeps approaching her with coy shyness.
Shen Yaoxing: Bro, don’t be like this, I’m really about to throw up!
She fears nothing in heaven or earth, except for him getting close to her.
*
At first he thought she was just using the trick of feigning indifference to attract his attention. Later, he learned that she truly despised him.
This dealt a heavy blow to Jiang Mingyue, and he vowed to make her, like everyone else, fall at his feet in worship!
***
Synopsis:
Before transmigrating, Shen Yaoxing only wanted to find a reliable man to spend her life with. Who knew that after transmigrating, she would become a reliable woman herself…
A forced misandrist, highly skilled, and reliable female lead
vs.
An initially aloof and arrogant, later morbid, obsessed male lead
_____
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