Ignatius Leclair carried her out of Squire Manor, having endured a chaotic night. Now, with the woman held in his arms, the restless blood in the man's veins finally calmed down.
"Head back to Leclair Residence," Ignatius commanded Six calmly, then placed Delphine in the back seat. Seeing her curled up at the corner of the seat, his icy brows deepened, sharp as knife edges, before silently getting into the car.
Once inside, Delphine shrank against the corner, saying nothing.
The man showed no annoyance. Without any expression, he pulled her back into his arms, pinning her hands and feet against him, firmly enveloping her slender figure, inhaling her familiar, faint fragrance.
Ignatius Leclair, by nature, cherished tranquility, a mind as sharp as a demon's. After standing atop Cloud Summit for so many years, he had seen through all worldly splendors. The only thing missing by his side—if anything—was a woman who could bring joy to his heart.
