Page 47 of A Highland Duke to Claim Her Heart

“We are siblings now, are we not?” Christopher asked, and Ewan thought he saw something dark and hesitant flutter across Cassandra’s face. But then it was gone.

“Yes, we are,” she murmured. “I was ever so sorry to hear of your ship’s destruction, and to presume you were lost at sea. I cannot tell you the anguish I felt, and also the relief, be it surprising, when the duke generously offered to marry me instead.”

“My brother is very generous like that,” Christopher said, and Ewan was sure that he heard a note of coolness in his tone. But then Lord Pembury stepped forward.

“Come, let us eat, drink, and be merry,” he said. “And celebrate the return of the prodigal son… at last.”

The next few hours were some of the strangest of Ewan’s life. They dined early in the great hall, after giving Christopher a chance to bathe and change. His friend Thomas also dined with them, who, it turned out, was the son of a prominent tradesman in Edinburgh.

As their guest, Thomas was seated next to Ewan, with Lord and Lady Whitmore on his other side, while Christopher and Lord Pembury were seated down at the far end of the table. Next to Cassandra.

And all night long, Ewan watched as Christopher engaged Cassandra in conversation. She could barely put one morsel of food into her mouth before Christopher was asking her a question, or commenting on something, or paying her a compliment.

He made her laugh, too, and Ewan was too far away down the table to tell if her laughter was genuine, or if she was simply putting it on to be polite.

It made Ewan feel queasy, and although the feast that night was one of the most decadent and delicious Ewan had ever seen, he could barely touch a bite. Every time he tried, he would hear Cassandra’s laughter from the far end of the table, look up to see Christopher bent low toward her, whispering something in her ear.

It was impossible to focus on what Thomas Wainwright was saying, and Ewan knew, by the time they retired to the parlor for drinks, that he had been abominably rude.

But he could not help himself. Something had changed in him. He was glad to have Christopher home, of course he was, and beyond relieved and overjoyed that his brother was alive.

But seeing him with Cassandra, he could not help but wish that he was still far away.

Because there had been a time when Cassandra had preferred his brother. When she had hoped to build a life with him. And now he had returned. Even worse, with the marriage still unconsummated, it was possibly, legally, for Cassandra to ask for an annulment.

And while such a plan might anger her father, who seemed happy to see his daughter married to the duke, she would be perfectly within her legal rights to do so.

And the most shocking part of all was how afraid Ewan was that she would do so. Fear was clawing up through him, and he knew exactly where it was coming from. He was afraid to lose his wife.

Chapter 18

It was strange knowing that Christopher was in the house. Cassandra could barely sleep that night, imagining him in his quarters. She had come to this castle expecting to marry him, to live with him here in their chambers, until they moved into the house that the duke would give Christopher on the occasion of his marriage.

But now, he was here, and she was sleeping alone.

She would have preferred to sleep with Ewan, of course, to feel his large, warm presence beside her.

But Ewan had been quiet all throughout dinner, withdrawn during drinks in the parlor, and then had retired early.

Instead, she had been forced to endure another hour of Christopher’s conversation, during which he recounted the details of his shipwreck in such minutiae that it sounded more as if he had read it, rather than lived it.

She had finally feigned a headache in order to go to bed.

The next morning, she was feeling similarly restless, and was determined to try and speak with Ewan. She wanted to know how he was feeling about his brother’s return. Surely, hisemotions were turbulent. She wanted to comfort him, to be there for him. But no matter where she looked, she could not find him.

He was not in his bedchamber, or in his study, or even in the library. Finally, she made her way up to the nursery, wondering if he might be visiting Annabelle.

But he was not there, either.

Annabelle, at least, was eager to speak with her.

“Now that Uncle Christopher has returned, will you marry him again?” the little girl asked as she took a break from her lessons to have a cup of tea with Cassandra.

Cassandra shifted uncomfortably in her chair. The neckline of her dress suddenly felt too high, too tight.

“No,” she said quickly. “That is not how marriage works. One cannot simply go from being wed to one brother to the next.”

“Even though you were married to Uncle Christopher first?” Annabelle asked.