Page 64 of A Highland Duke to Claim Her Heart

Christopher hesitated another moment. Then he cleared his throat. “It is about your health, Ewan. I could not help but notice that you have been skipping meals, you are more tired than usual, and you have been complaining of headaches. I have been very worried, and I know that your wife has been, as well. And your daughter. Therefore I hope you will not mind that I took the liberty of having a tonic sent from an apothecary I know in London.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of liquid, which he held out to Ewan. “This man is very good. He has healed me on many occasions. He says it will ease your pain and improve your lethargy.”

Ewan took the vial and examined it. “What is in it?” he asked.

“All sorts of herbs you will not have heard of,” Christopher assured him airily. “But trust me, I have seen the proof of their efficacy. This particular tonic has helped me to alleviate headaches after many mornings where I imbibed far too much and felt that my head was being hammered open.”

“I do not know if this is simply a result of drinking too much,” Ewan said. “I fear that it is stress that is giving me these headaches.”

“Stress?” Christopher did not look convinced. “What do you have to be stressed about, brother? You have a beautiful wife, a thriving estate—”

“—if the land reforms go through—”

“—and your brother whom you thought was dead has turned out to be very much alive. I am personally of the opinion that your life is not very stressful at all.”

“A duke has many responsibilities,” Ewan observed, but Christopher just laughed.

“You take on more than you need to,” he said. “Your life should be enjoyed, not simply endured. Yes, you have responsibilities, and I am not suggesting that you neglect them. But you also have to learn how to revel in the many pleasures that being a powerful, titled man can give you. I do not mean that you should make the same mistakes that I did, but simply that you do not always need to be so rigid.” Christopher smiled fondly down at him. “You are allowed to enjoy your life, brother.”

Ewan sat for a long moment, observing these words. As the truth of this washed over, he felt another wave of guilt follow close on its heels. His brother was right. He deserved to enjoy his life more.

This was why he had always supported Christopher, despite his brother’s many mistakes: Because he was one of the few people who would ever remind him to do anything other than work.

And how had he repaid that? By blaming his headaches and lethargy and irritation on his brother’s return.

By suspecting him of trying to steal Cassandra back.

By wishing that he was gone.

“You are right,” he murmured at last. “There is more to life simply than drainage pipes and land reforms.”

“Yes,” Christopher said dryly, “there certainly is.”

And suddenly, Cassandra’s face filled Ewan’s mind’s eye. Her sly smile when she was challenging him, the stubborn tilt of her jaw, her wide-eyed awe at being shown the drainage system, her interest and quick learning when he taught her what the various tools were for.

She was how he could learn to enjoy life more. She was the person he wanted to revel in life with. She was the one who made him want to spend his days doing anything other than working, managing the estate, and fighting for political reforms.

“Drink that up,” Christopher said, clapping him on the back. “Then, when you feel better, we can go into Edinburgh or Glasgow and have a little bit of fun, just us brothers. Responsible fun,” he added quickly.

“I would like that very much,” Ewan said, and he meant it. Maybe it was high time, now that Christopher was trying to reform, that he got to know his brother again, spent more time with him, figured out why he had gone so astray.

Ewan uncorked the vial and threw back the tonic. It tasted like anise, and he made a face, but swallowed it all down anyway. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alaric make a small movement, but when he looked at him, his body was still and his face was perfectly neutral.

“Very good,” Christopher said. “I shall see you both for supper.”

He left, and a long, strained silence filled the study, although Ewan was not sure of the source of this strain. He raised his eyes at Alaric.

“Is everything well?”

“I am simply wondering if it was a good idea for you to drink that,” Alaric said slowly. He was watching Ewan withan expression that was overly careful, as if he were reading a difficult document, rather than talking to an old friend.

“Why would it not be?” Ewan asked.

“Well, we do not know what was in it,” Alaric observed.

“You heard my brother: He has been taking these potions for some years now.”

“We only have his word for it.”