Page 87 of A Touch of Charm
“My lord.” Paul looked up at Andre with a vicious stare. “You’re a mere physician. Address me with my title, bastard.”
Andre was seething with rage.
“That is Dr. Andre Fernando von Dürer for you, Paul.” Andre dragged the last word out as if it were an insult to the lord. “I would strike you that you’d spit your teeth further than you can see, milord, but I know that you feel it where I wouldn’t even slap you. It’ll always come back.”
Paul’s eyes grew wide. “You know—”
“I know because I studied medicine. I am a man of science. You pretend to be a man of honor, but you have nothing to show for it, not even your own wife’s respect or affection.”
Paul formed his lips as if to speak, but nothing came out.
He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a near growl. “You owe her an apology. Not for her sake, but for yours. Otherwise…” He allowed the unspoken threat to linger, not needing to finish it.
Andre straightened, smoothing his cuff with deliberate precision, his gaze slicing through the man like steel. His temper was banked—for now. “Consider this your only warning. Anna is under my protection. Do not forget it.”
The man swallowed hard, his face pale and taut. He gave a jerky nod but did not speak further, his confidence thoroughly shaken by the weight of each of Andre’s words.
Andre tilted his head, his lips curling into another chilling smile—one that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Just give me the ointment. That’s your job.” Paul still had a self-indulgent smugness that provoked Andre even further.
“It’s not.”
“You’re a mere doctor, a bastard. I’m a lord. Give me the ointment.”
“Exactly, I am a doctor. I’m not an apothecary. And if you’d like me to ensure that my friend, the apothecary, gives you the right medicine, you’ll have to ask for it as a patient.”
“It’s a disgrace. How dare you?”
“How. Dare. You. Cheating on my sister, sullying your line, and now you’re threatening me when it is you in need of my medicine?”
“But I am—”
“Titled? You’reentitled. But you have not earned my respect. Even though I may not have a title, I’m a hundred times a better man than you’ll ever be. And I am a very, very, very dangerous man when my little sister is imperiled.”
“I’ve done nothing to imperil her or the baby.”
“And you will do nothing. Do you understand my words?”
Paul raised a brow.
“I will make myself very clear. You will uphold the clause and support her and the child, but you will never interfere with their lives. Should you as much as breathe in the direction of my sister’s bed chambers, I will come to you at night. Not bound by the duties of my profession or any rules that keep me from inflicting upon you what I know you deserve.”
“You have no right to stop me from visiting my wife.”
“I do! As your doctor and hers, I’m bound to ensure that neither of you imperil your health. If you were to cross me or my pregnant sister, or the baby when he or she is born, there’s no way to tell how far I will go to protect my sister. I lost her once and will not risk it again. I’m not ever going to turn away from my family again. You’ll have to get past me—but you won’t—do you understand?”
“But she’s bearing my heir!”
“Yes, she might be. And she’s bearing my niece or nephew. They are under my protection.”
“And under my roof!”
“You can take the roof but not them. What will you do with a roof, hm?”
Paul didn’t respond.
“Then our roles are defined. Are there any questions?”
