Page 70 of A Highland Duke to Claim Her Heart

When the doctor had left, Alaric approached the bed warily. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

Ewan motioned for him to lean closer. Then he whispered, as quietly as he dared,“Cassandra.”

His friend nodded. “I will fetch her at once.”

Ewan must have fallen asleep while he waited, because the next thing he knew, he felt a cold, wet cloth on his brow, and he opened his eyes to his wife sitting next to him, smiling down at him as she sponged his forehead.

“How are you doing?” she murmured, her voice like honey.

Ewan tried to smile. “I am—”

“I know you are not supposed to speak,” she said, pressing her free hand to his lips and smiling. “I apologize. I should not have asked.”

Her fingers stayed on his lips, and he placed his own hand over hers, feeling the warmth of her. As he did, her eyes fluttered closed, then opened again.

Slowly, he removed her fingers.

“I must speak.” His lungs gave an angry flare of pain, but he ignored it. “I know it is against doctor’s orders, but I must speak to you, Cassandra.”

Her jaw worked, and he could see the conflict raging across her face.

“I do not want you to get worse,” she whispered. “Or to risk your life.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment there was a knock on the door, and Christopher entered, carrying a bowl.

As soon as he did, the air in the room changed abruptly. Cassandra stiffened, her jaw tightened, and he saw a flash of anger cross her face. Christopher was moving jauntily, but when he paused in front of the bed and took in his sister-in-law’s face, his smile slipped slightly.

“I brought this for you, brother,” he said, holding out the bowl. “It is just a little bit of broth to help ease your illness.”

“He cannot speak right now,” Cassandra said coldly. “But allow me to thank you for him.”

Christopher blinked. “Perhaps I can feed it to him?” he suggested.

“That will not be necessary,” Cassandra said. She tapped the table next to the bed. “You can leave it here, and I will make sure he gets it.”

Christopher hesitated. He looked between Cassandra and Ewan, his expression souring.

“Are you his doctor now?” he asked, a whine snaking through his voice.

“I am his wife,” Cassandra said, folding her arms across her chest. “And I will take care of him in his convalescence. Not you. Not anyone. Me.”

The fierceness in her voice was so gratifying that Ewan felt his heart swell in his chest. He had never heard someone defend him like this before. Very gently, he squeezed her hand, and she squeezed it back without looking at him. She was still glaring at Christopher.

“Very well,” Christopher sniffed. “Then I shall leave this here. But make sure he drinks it while it is still hot.”

He put the bowl of broth down on the bedside table, then lingered a moment or two longer. But with nothing else to say or do, he finally nodded goodbye and left the bedchamber.

The moment he did, Cassandra stood up, grabbed the bowl from the table, went to the window, and dumped their contents outside.

Ewan stared.

Had his wife completely lost her mind?

Cassandra came back to his bedside and sat back down on the bed. Taking up the cloth, she continued to sponge his brow.

“What was that?” Ewan asked.

Cassandra grimaced. “Doctor’s orders. He does not want you eating or drinking anything that was not pre-approved by him.”