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The coarse knocking of rain was distributed over the room, breaking through the dense curtains.
Eileen woke from the sound of pouring water.
Scarcely having opened eyes, she sharply turned, fearfully looking around.
Nearby a man slept serenely.
Watching his deep sleep, Eileen felt how the fog in her consciousness was dissipated.
It was the bedroom on the second floor of the brick house.
Judging by the absence of sticky discomfort on the body, he’d washed her while she was unconscious and transferred her upstairs.
At the thought of those who would have to clean the soiled sofa, her face flared.
Eileen decided that it was worth at least removing the cover from the sofa, and stealthily looked around.
The bed was single, therefore they with Cesare had to lie flush to each other.
Eileen only now noticed that she rested on his arm.
His strong, muscular arm entwined her waist, pleasantly weighing.
Eileen as-if-bewitchedly looked at Cesare.
Among the noise of rain was heard his even, calm inhale.
Suddenly to her Sogno's words were remembered.
He’d in passing dropped them when explaining to her the subtleties of the duchess's duties.
"His Highness in recent time almost doesn't sleep." In the butler's voice sounded anxiety.
But he didn't set about going into details, having switched the conversation.
Probably, didn't want to burden her with restless thoughts.
Having thought, Eileen understood that she herself rarely saw how he slept deep sleep.
Although they fell asleep and woke in one bed every day, Cesare always stood up with eyes in which there was not a hint of sleepiness.
It seems, for the first time he slept so firmly that even his breath was heard.
Looking at the sleeping one, she involuntarily remembered their night. among the frantic moments especially one scene was remembered.
"And to you only then to speak?"
His face, smiling as a boy's, didn't come out of head.
What then did she say to evoke such a reaction?
All then was foggy, and she couldn't remember clearly.
Yes and the smile of Cesare itself she didn't look at enough properly.
*‘Should have not stared, but examined more attentively.’*
She wanted to record in the diary exactly how he smiled.
She’d been bored without her records since she moved to the duke's residence.
Ten years she’d recorded all that was connected with him.
Maybe from the side this looked creepy?
But, in the end, Cesare himself read her diary.
*‘If he hadn't liked it, he would definitely have said.’*
While she was lost in these thoughts, examining his face, Cesare opened eyes.
She wanted to greet, but froze.
The noise of rain filled the room.
His blood-red eyes intently looked at her.
Cesare wordlessly looked at Eileen.
She was struck by an unfamiliar, impassive gaze.
Eileen froze, sensing alienation, and here Cesare quietly laughed.
"Eileen..." His voice, slightly hoarse from sleep, sounded strangely seductively.
It reminded her of that low timbre which he used during proximity.
Cesare slowly rose.
Having thought that he wanted water, Eileen too gathered to stand up.
But he deftly mounted on her from above.
She tried to rise, but unsuccessfully.
In fear she stared at him.
Exactly then she finally understood the reason of the strange sensation which didn't leave her.
Cesare's gaze was strange.
Although he looked straight at her, it seemed as if he looked through.
His eyes were foggy, as if he roamed in dream.
"Cesare-nim?.." Cautiously having called him, she saw how he slowly stretched out a hand.
Eileen trustingly looked at him, waiting for the habitual stroking over the head or touching of the cheek.
But Cesare grabbed her by the throat.
"!.." A large hand squeezed her neck, immediately having blocked breath.
Eileen thrashed, trying to free herself, but against the strength of a man having lived the life of a soldier she had no chances.
She convulsively opened mouth, trying to inhale at least a little air, but fingers squeezed mercilessly.
Cesare touched with lips her face as a petal of a flower and intensified the grip.
With the other hand he stroked her hair.
Why?
For what?
She couldn't understand.
Altogether a few hours ago they merged in passion.
Deeply penetrating into each other, they shared love.
She couldn't believe that exactly Cesare was strangling her.
Hands that always so carefully caressed her now caused pain.
She hoarsely groaned.
"All is good, Eileen," Cesare calmed her more tenderly and more kindly than ever.
"Quietly, be a good girl.
This time too there will be no pain...
Soon all will finish."
A quiet voice was distributed in her ears.
He kissed her convulsively jerking lips and whispered: "Love."
Having heard this, she ceased to resist.
Hands trying to tear away his fingers helplessly lowered.
She knew. in these words there was no truth.
Altogether only a sweet lie so that she would resign and quietly die.
But it was all the same to her.
Eileen no more feared.
*‘Cesare-nim said that he loves me.’* Once she’d dared to hear such words, probably, death was a worthy payment.
*‘There must be a reason by which I should die.’* If Cesare killed her, on that was a weighty reason.
Even if she couldn't understand it...
To her it was all the same.
Her life all the same belonged to Cesare.
Once she was his property, then to take it was his right.
Ceasing to fight, she looked at him through blurring vision.
She liked that the last that she saw was his smiling face.
Eileen submissively waited for death.
Consciousness began to fade.
Suddenly Malena was remembered.
That same one who asked to teach her to die beautifully, dreaming to become the most beautiful corpse of the capital.
Then she didn't understand her feelings, but now, it seems, realized fully.
For those who would see her last moments, she wanted to die without ugliness.
She with the last strength tried to smile to him, with difficulty lifting the corners of lips.
"..."
The sweet, like honey, smile froze.
He let go her neck.
Air gushed into the lungs, and Eileen greedily inhaled.
"Hah!
Kh-kh..." While she instinctively caught air with mouth, Cesare sharply rose from the bed.
Approached the table and grabbed a knife for opening envelopes.
Not hesitating, he lead with the blade over his palm.
"Cesare-nim!.." In the cramped bedroom sharply smelled of blood.
Eileen, who saw this self-harm, in horror called him, squeezing out of herself a hoarse voice.
"Stop... you wounded..."
She with difficulty squeezed out words, but Cesare, looking straight in eyes, again lead with the knife over the palm.
On the trembling hand a second ayline appeared.
But of this to him it seemed insufficient, and he inflicted several more cuts.
Aylya blood flowed over the skin.
Drops fell on the floor, forming puddles.
Eileen with difficulty rose.
Shakily, as if just about to fall, she approached and hugged him.
The hand continuing to cut finally stopped.
Having hugged him, she broke into sobs.
Having forgotten about pain in the dry throat, she shouted through tears.
"Please... enough... better me... cut me..."
Trembling, she stretched out to him a hand.
Red eyes, until then looking at her, slowly lowered.
Cesare stared at her small white palm and whispered: "Eileen." His breath was uneven.
"You..." he asked, his eyes trembled.
"You are my Eileen, yes?"