Page 82 of A Highland Duke to Claim Her Heart

A shadow of a smile flitted across her face. “I will try.”

An hour later, everything was in place. They had all heard as Dr. Ludley made a loud show of leaving the house, calling goodnight to Christopher and Lady Pembury, who were just finishing up inthe dining hall. Several minutes later, a maid entered the dining hall to tell Lady Pembury that her daughter wasn’t feeling well and she was needed upstairs to tend to her.

The maid then scurried back upstairs, where she told Ewan that the message had been delivered. Shortly after that, Ewan heard someone creeping along the corridor, then the sound of a door opening and closing as Dr. Ludley slipped into the closet across from his room.

At the same moment, Cassandra, who had been waiting at the end of his bed, stood and went to the wardrobe. She opened the door and stepped inside, then paused. Her eyes found Ewan’s from across the room. There was a long moment when they simply stared at one another.

She was smiling softly, as if to say,everything will be alright.

Then she closed the wardrobe door.

After that, silence filled the room.

And Ewan waited.

A minute went by. Then five. Then ten.

Ewan was beginning to sweat on the back of his neck, his palms were clammy.

Maybe Christopher wasn’t coming. Maybe he had seen through their ruse and suspected that something was up.

Or maybe he was simply preparing the potion.

A clock struck ten o’clock. And then, a moment later, he heard them. Footsteps on the corridor. Not creeping. Not trying to be subtle. The footsteps of a man who was perfectly innocent—or pretending to be.

The next moment, the door to the room opened, and Christopher came in holding a steaming cup of tea.

“Ahh, you are awake still,” Christopher said, smiling widely at his brother. “That is good.

“I am awake still,” Ewan said, then remembered that he was supposed to be acting sicker than he was. He immediately pretended to cough, which elicited a small smile from his brother.

“Your lungs still hurt, then?” he asked, and Ewan nodded, faking a grimace.

“What is that?” he asked, gesturing at the tea.

“Ahh, just a little herbal remedy I whipped up for you,” he said cheerily, setting the tea down on the bedside table. “Do you feel up to drinking some?”

Ewan felt his throat close slightly, all the moisture in his mouth and throat leaving him at once. Somehow, he nodded.

“Y-yes,” he stammered. “That would be very nice, thank you.”

“Oh good.” Christopher beamed. He picked up the tea and handed it to Ewan. Their eyes met, and Christopher kept hold of the mug, not releasing it quite yet. There was something in his eyes, some kind of tenderness, that Ewan had not seen in a long time.

“You know, it is nice to have this moment alone,” Christopher murmured. His voice sounded husky. “We have not had a chance to speak, just the two of us, in a long time. Your wife is always here. Or your friend.”

“Cassandra is very protective,” Ewan said. His heart was hammering. When would Cassandra burst from the wardrobe? Would she wait until the drink was at his lips?

“And that is a lovely quality in a wife,” Christopher said. His hand was still holding firm to the mug. “I am glad you got that, Ewan.” He sounded almost sincere now. “After the disaster with Margaret… You deserved this. To feel happy. To have love in your life.”

There was a tense silence as Ewan stared up into his brother’s eyes. Was his brother trying to apologize, in some small way, for what he was about to do? Or was he trying to justify his actions—that it was forgivable to kill him, since he had finally, at least, found love?

And had Cassandra heard that?

Did that mean she knew, at long last, how he felt?

“Yes,” Ewan said, loud enough that his voice carried throughout the room. “I am very glad to have found love at long last.”

Then he pulled the mug from Christopher’s hands and raised it to his lips.