"Stay down. Lift your hips higher."

"Mm... Your Heirship, I serve in the Eldest Young Master's courtyard as a wet nurse. You ought to find someone else..."

Rowena Mulberry's dudou was torn to shreds. The man pinned her beneath him in the dark hollow of the rockery, and everything on the tray in her hands had scattered across the ground.

He was rough to the point of madness. Even the broken words she forced out were crushed apart by the frenzy of his movements.

"Quiet."

After spitting that out in a low voice, Sebastian Hartwell bent down and bit hard at the back of Rowena's neck, sucking with force. One large hand clamped over her lush curves... under that layered assault, Rowena nearly lost control of herself.

His breathing was heavy. His usual cold, proud gaze was gone, replaced by a dazed, feverish blur. He looked like a man drugged with some aphrodisiac.

"It hurts... Your Heirship, could you be gentler..." The pain made Rowena want to curse out loud. Who on earth said being a wet nurse in some grand ancient household was easy? She had only transmigrated a few days ago and now she was already being forced by her master...

She had been a modern woman, older, still unmarried, and rejected in eighteen straight matchmaking attempts. That very night, after a blind date mocked her for being plain, chubby, and old-fashioned, and after she was laid off by her company, she spiraled. She bought herself a couple of drinks, took one mouthful—

and choked to death on the spot.

When she opened her eyes again, she had become a wet nurse in the Nan'an Marquis Manor.

And just like her, this body was also called Rowena Mulberry.

Her face was not the stunning, seductive sort. She leaned more sweet and fresh-looking. But her figure? Absolutely top tier. On the first night after coming here, she had stood before the mirror and admired, all night long, the miraculous upgrade from an A cup to a D.

No wonder the original owner had never borne a child and still dared pretend to be a wet nurse to make a living in the manor.

That was what real capital looked like.

Just moments ago, she had been on her way to deliver something to her master when someone dragged her into the rockery halfway there.

She belonged to the courtyard of the concubine-born Eldest Young Master and knew little about Sebastian Hartwell, this legitimate heir. She only knew he had once been lost as a child. The Marchioness had doted on him painfully after finding him again, spoiling him all the way into adulthood.

He was idle all day, reckless, extravagant, the number one wastrel in the capital.

Every few days he would go out drinking among flowers, and he always picked the most experienced beauties to enjoy.

Only now did she truly understand—

without some skill, no one could survive being handled by him.

This beast of a man—what innocent young girl could possibly take this?

Rowena was slammed until her head spun and her vision blurred. For the first time, she truly understood what those over-the-top short-drama men were like—the wild, rabid hounds who went at it seven or eight times in one night.

At first, she had even found some pleasure in it. But by the end, all she felt was that she was about to die.

Right before she was slammed into unconsciousness, she turned her head and caught only one last look beneath the moonlight: the man’s noble, striking face, sharp and fine as carved jade, and under it, that lean young body taut with raw heat and dangerous allure... and then came his relentless taking, wild as a crazed wolf, dragging on from midnight all the way until dawn.

When Rowena Mulberry woke again, she was already in Sebastian Hartwell’s courtyard.

She shifted a little and realized even her fingers were sore and swollen with fatigue... this was truly enough to kill a person.

Sebastian Hartwell was soaking in a full tub of ice water, his eyes half-lidded as he listened to a servant speak.

The young man, Celeste Vane, wore a fawning smile. “Heir, shall this wet nurse be sold off tomorrow morning, or would Your servant take her in?”

His young lord had never been one to taste the same beauty twice.

Amid the cold mist rising off the tub, Sebastian Hartwell’s brow and bone structure looked sharp and untamed. His handsome face was almost excessively beautiful, yet there was always that careless, unruly air about him.

A thin sheen of sweat slid from his neck over the raised line of his throat, soaking through the loose gauze draped over him.

The poison from last night had not fully left his body, yet there was not a trace of weakness on him. If anything, it only made him seem even more wicked and dangerous.

Sebastian Hartwell shot Celeste Vane a sidelong glance. “You’ve got your eye on her?”

Celeste Vane grinned. “When that wet nurse first entered the manor, her figure was already enough to stir people up. Half the servants in the estate climbed walls just to sneak a look at her.”

Sebastian Hartwell tapped the rim of the tub with idle fingers, his tone lazy. “Filthy dog. You dare fight your master over a woman? Fine, then. This heir is already tired of her. I’ll reward you with her.”

Rowena Mulberry shuddered hard and did not dare keep pretending to sleep.

If she was really handed over to a servant, how would she survive? At best she’d be ruined by a pack of them, at worst she’d be sold into some filthy underground brothel.

With a thud, she rolled off the bed first and dropped to her knees beside the bath.

“Heir, it seems Your poison has not fully cleared. Why not keep this servant girl by Your side?”

“This servant will never speak of it.”

She collapsed there on the floor, wearing only a thin gauze garment to cover herself. The dense marks all over her body were painfully obvious.

Because she was bent low in that posture, under the pale morning light, the already heavy softness at her chest was pressed together even more, rising in a breathtaking, heaving curve.

Rowena Mulberry lifted her head and met the man’s eyes in the bath at once—half smiling, half mocking, tight with a kind of dangerous amusement.

She was clearly looking at him like someone begging to live, yet those eyes of hers seemed drenched in spring warmth, as if the words come and take me were written plain across her face.

Celeste Vane’s cheeks flushed red. She had already dropped her head, too embarrassed to look again.

Sebastian Hartwell narrowed his eyes. A low, husky laugh rolled from his throat, and all at once last night’s scene surged back into his mind—there in the shadow of the rockery, her body limp and soft in his arms, that full, pale softness swaying with his movements, dazzling enough to make a man lose his senses, hot enough to set his chest on fire.

Now she was kneeling on the ground, her clothes hanging loose, one shoulder half bare. At the slightest movement, the lush fullness at her chest rose and fell gently, the soft curves enough to keep anyone’s gaze pinned in place.

Sebastian turned his face aside and gave a short laugh. “This Heir never touches the same woman twice. If it is only to cure poison, there are plenty of others. Why should I keep you?”

Rowena gathered her courage and said, “Your Heirship is brave beyond compare. How could a matter like being poisoned by some villain ever be allowed to spread? It would stain Your Heirship’s good name for nothing. Right now, only this servant knows of it. If you use someone else, would that not mean one more risk?”

Brave beyond compare?

Sebastian curled his lips slightly. That was a fresh one.

“And this servant lives right next door. It would be convenient for Your Heirship to use me.”

“Also, though Your Heirship and Madam seem to hold the upper hand in the manor, the secondary Madam and the eldest young master are deeply favored by the Marquis. If you keep this servant, then while I stay in the eldest young master’s courtyard, I can act as Your Heirship’s eyes and ears. No one would ever suspect a wet nurse.”

“Ah...”

With a sharp splash, the man’s large hand shot out and clamped around Rowena Mulberry’s throat.

Sebastian tilted his head, his gaze traveling slowly downward.

Only now, seeing his face from this close, did Rowena truly understand what people meant by long phoenix eyes. So this was how beautiful they could be.

He still looked lazy and careless, but the smile had vanished from his eyes completely. “You are only a wet nurse, yet you seem to understand quite a lot.”

“But this Heir dislikes most the people who know too much.”

As soon as he finished, the strength in his hand increased. Rowena was forced to crane back her neck, her face flushing red from lack of breath.

With death right in front of her, she did not pull away. Instead, she pressed her chest against his elbow, her mist-filled eyes hooking onto his soaking wet body.

“Your Heirship~”

Sebastian’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and the killing intent in his eyes was swallowed whole by scorching heat.

Just then, word came from outside that the Madam had summoned the Heir to the study.

Sebastian Hartwell clicked his tongue, then let go of Rowena Mulberry. He lifted a dipper and splashed a full scoop of icy water over himself before rising with lazy ease.

As he moved, Rowena caught a glimpse of the man’s broad, strong back, the lines smooth and tight with power. There were still a few red scratch marks on it.

He half closed his eyes and spread his arms, letting the young servant dress him.

"Leave her here. When this heir returns, I’ll decide how to dispose of her."

With that, the man strode out without another glance.

Only then did Rowena finally dare breathe properly. He had not said he would keep her, but at least he had not handed her off as a reward.

That meant one thing.

Her gamble had paid off.

He really was attached to her body.

But the moment Sebastian Hartwell left, a figure appeared outside the door without a sound. It was a middle-aged nanny.

"The Heir has gone. Go. Madam has given her order—take that wet nurse away and execute her at once."