"If you stop me now, I swear, I will walk there myself, with or without your help."
He froze.
The threat wasn't loud but he knew her well enough to know she was not kidding.
He exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping. "You're impossible."
Her lips curved faintly. "You married me knowing that."
He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Fine," he muttered. "But you're eating first. And you'll wash. No arguments."
Daphne smiled, soft but triumphant. "Deal."
While Alice hurried away to prepare her dress for the day, Alaric moved around the chamber, adjusting her chair, ensuring her cloak was warm enough, double-checking the temperature of the water.
He said nothing, but every movement screamed restraint, he was forcing himself to obey his own compromise.
By the time Alice returned, Daphne was seated near the fire, finishing the fruit and broth he'd set before her.
