Chapter 53 

Cedric Edwards was oblivious to the wound he bore as Elowen Howard cradled him all the way to Fairfax Cottage. It wasn’t until she set him down that she noticed the faint traces of blood staining the light fabric of his shirt, a sure sign that his injury had reopened. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Elowen hustled him inside, eager to shield him from the sight of his own condition. Once she was certain he was settled, she stepped back outside, wanting to let him know. “Your wound has split open,” she called out cautiously. 

She had thought he was doing alright while walking, that the injury wasn’t as severe. The stories hadn’t lied–severe injuries were severe, and Cedric had an incredible tolerance for pain. Aside from the paleness that cloaked his features, he showed no other signs of distress. 

Alistair Edwards took a seat, undressing in front of her until his bare chest was exposed. With a steady hand, he peeled away the bandages covering his injury. Even after treatment, the wound was still a raw mess. 

Elowen winced at the sight; the bandages had been on for so long that some of the cloth had fused with his flesh. It pained her to watch him handle it calmly, his face betraying no hint of discomfort as he slowly removed the torn fabric. 

“I’ll get you some medicine,” she offered, unable to continue bearing the sight. 

Leaning against the bed to rest, Alistair casually replied, “And help me reapply it while you’re at it.” 

The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She could hardly bear to look at the injury on his chest without feeling faint. After arriving in this time, she’d gotten a little better with blood–just a little–but the memory of the time before still haunted her. 

Shaking, she handed him the ointment. “Maybe you should handle it. I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” she said, her hands trembling slightly. 

To her relief, Alistair took care of himself with ease. After fastening his shirt, the high- quality fabric hung slightly open, revealing a glimpse of skin that caught the 

Wife 

candlelight, enhancing his striking looks. 

Elowen couldn’t help but swallow hard. The sight of him was undeniably appealing, striking enough that it felt almost like a spell. His features were sharp and alluring- pure as white jade. 

She stole a glance out the window, noting that dusk had settled in, painting the sky a dark blue. The dining table was ready, and she and Cedric took a seat together, while Alistair chose to sit alone at the other end. 

Silence enveloped them as they ate, the only sounds were the clinking of chopsticks, and with Alistair not saying a word, Elowen found herself following suit. 

Dinner was a quiet affair; Elowen barely touched her food. The jade pendant around her neck felt like a heavy weight, branding her as his in some way that made her uneasy. 

Afterwards, Alistair commanded the servants to return Cedric to his room, leaving just the two of them alone in the main quarters. Elowen always felt a sense of pressure whenever it was just the two of them. She soon made an excuse to bathe, looking for 

any reason to escape. 

As the sound of water splashed from beyond the screen, Alistair stood silently for a moment before stepping out into the hall, where a hidden figure awaited him. 

In the dim light, Alistair’s expression was unreadable. 

The shadowy figure calmly filled him in on the happenings of the last few days, noting her encounters with Gareth the Cook. Alistair’s gaze darkened at the mention, an icy chill settling in his eyes. 

“Get lost,” he ordered. 

“Yes, sir.” 

After what felt like an eternity, Elowen emerged from her bath, still wrapping herself in the lingering steam. Her cheeks flushed and her lips a rosy hue, she looked like a flower caught in the rain, waiting to be picked. 

Difficult to Escape a Doting Wife 

Alistair’s gaze was all too familiar; it mirrored that night she had slipped him the drug 

A cold wave of dread washed over her. She remembered how helpless she’d felt then. 

As she approached him, confidence flickered for just a moment, but it was quashed when he grabbed her wrist and threw her down on the bed. He positioned himself ove her, eyes darkening as he loomed above. 

Elowen bristled, panic setting in. “Your wound…” she managed to stammer. 

He leaned closer, biting her bottom lip–the metallic taste of blood meeting his tongue -while loosening her waist cinch. “It’s nothing,” he whispered. 

His lips traveled over her face, seeking out the small cut that had opened from the earlier encounter, gently sucking away the blood that had escaped. 

Fear knotted in Elowen’s stomach, and she struggled against him. He merely tightened his grip on her waist, amusement flickering in his eyes at her futile attempts. 

“Calm down,” he murmured, his voice low but dripping with a promise that made her 

skin crawl. 

The implication was clear–the stakes were far too high for her to defy him.