The Heir's Secret Bride

Byron stood beside the sofa, furrowing his brow as he reached out to touch Maeve's forehead. As expected, it was burning hot. Maeve, restless in her fevered slumber, sensed the coolness on her forehead and couldn't help but nuzzle into it, yearning for more. "Maeve, wake up," Byron said in a serious tone, caressing her damp hair. "You have a fever. We need to go to the hospital."

Maeve clung to his hand, groaning in discomfort. "I just got out of the hospital. I won't go back... she mumbled through her haze, her words barely audible.

"Do you think lying here with the window open is wise when you've just been discharged?" Byron's face darkened. "Are you tired of living?"

'She didn't even bother to cover herself with a blanket. Is she a child? Byron thought with a sigh.

Maeve's shoulders twitched, her eyes still tightly shut. Byron pursed his lips slightly, lifting her into his arms. Itwasn't until he reached the guest room that he remembered the furniture had been removed. Since she had decided to leave, he had tossed out all the furniture she had used, so the guest room was now empty,

He carried her to the master bedroom, placed her on the bed, and pulled the blanket over her. He then took out his phone and called Ray. "It's me. What medication is effective for reducing a fever?" Byron asked as he stepped outside. "It's not for me, it's for Maeve." "Maeve has a fever? I heard you're about to get a divorce. Why are you taking care of her while she's sick?" Ray asked his tone having a touch of irony.

Byron's temples throbbed with irritation. "Who told you that?"

Ray glanced at Bonnie, who was munching an apple on the hospital bed. "It's better if you don't know."

Byron grabbed the medicine cabinet from the living room and said flatly. "Stop wasting time. Just tell me what medicine to give her. She refuses to go to the hospital."

Ray was astonished, thinking, "Who would've thought? Byron is actually taking care of someone. He never worries about his own health, yet he's so concerned for Macve "Byron, is there any chance you could consult another doctor? I'm a surgeon; I don't deal with fevers and colds," Ray spoke delicately.

"Then find out and give me an answer in five minutes," Byron replied tersely and hung up.

Ray was so exasperated he could hardly breathe. He grumbled as he consulted other doctors and then sent Byron a lengthy list of instructions. And he didn't even receive a reply.

"I just heard you say that Maeve has a fever?" Bonnie, seeing Ray return, immediately asked with concern-What happened? Who is taking care of her?"

Ray's scowl softened into a calm expression. "Yes, she has a fever Byron is taking care of her and just asked me what medicine to give her."

The Great... um, Mr. Mcdaniel is quite nice to Maeve, isn't he?" Bonnie remarked. She had expected someone of his starus to delegate such matters to the servants, but he was surprisingly more caring than she had imagined. "Of course, he's my friend after all, Ray quipped.

Bonnie's lips twitched. "Are you sneaking in some self-praise with that compliment? You really have nd shame

D

"How am I being shameless Ray protested playfully. It was just an accident that I touched your butt. Is it really necessary for you to hold a grudge over it?"

The word "but seemed to act as a special trigger, making Bonnie's face flush red. She grabbed a pillow and threw it at Ray "Get out! Don't let me see you again today."

Ray caught the pillow with case, grinning as he said, "That might not be possible. You have another check-up tonight." He then glanced at the image on the pillow with a puzzled expression, thinking. Why did Maeve draw Bonnie's husband like that? While her taste was unique, his was even more so.

Meanwhile, in the apartment, Maeve felt much better after taking the fever medication and managed to sleep more soundly. However, she kept kicking off the blanket due to the heat.

Byron had covered her several times but finally lost his patience. He lay down beside her, pulling both her and the blanket into his arms. Maeve's restless legs were pinned beneath him, and only then did she settle down.

Holding the warm body in his embrace, Byron felt uneasy. He gazed at Maeve's flushed face, the heat causing her cheeks to glow. Her fine eyebrows furrowed, and her lips, more red than usual, were slightly parted revealing the tip of her delicate tongue. There was a subtle allure to her soft, feverish state.

Byron genuinely felt that if he could remain calm in this situation, he would no longer be human. But he had to stay

the

top of composed. If her fever persisted, he would be the one most troubled. He pressed her closer, resting his chin on her head, and breathed out softly, his voice husky and sensual. "Sooner or later, you'll be the death of me," he whispered.

The next morning, Maeve's fever had subsided, but the lingering effects of the cold left her with a splitting headache. She woke up with a blocked nose and sore throat, her whole body feeling heavy and weak.

Did I catch a cold on the terrace last night?' Maeve wondered, touching her forehead and smiling wryly at her fragile constitution. She groggily got out of bed to find some medicine.

Before she could reach the door, Byron came in with a bowl of oatmeal and medicine. Seeing her standing barefoot, his expression instantly hardened. Maeve was taken aback. Before she could react, Byron placed the items on the table, walked over, and lifted her, placing her back on the bed.

"Don't you know to wear shoes when you get out of bed? Has your fever made you stupid? If you don't want to live, I'll throw you out right now." Byron's tone was harsh, and his hold on her was firm.

Frightened into silence, Maeve felt even more vulnerable in her weakened state, and her eyes soon brimmed with tears. "I didn't do it on purpose... she said with a wounded tone. "I'm only barefoot, not undressed."

Seeing her reddened eyes, Byron's face softened with a touch of remorse. He released her and sat up straight. After a long silence, he asked softly. "Do you want some oatmeal

After hesitating for moment, Maeve nodded and said, "TII have some." She ate the oatmeal slowly, letting it cool before putting it in her mouth, as swallowing it hot would only aggravate her sore throat.

After finishing the bowl of oatmeal, she felt warm in her stomach and a bit more energetic.

Byron looked at her, his arms crossed. "Do you want more?" he asked.NôvelDrama.Org © 2024.

Maeve shook her head and replied, "I'm full. Did you make this oatmeal?" "Who else?"

"I didn't think you'd bother, Maeve muttered.

After all, he didn't look like someone who knew how to care for others.

Byron narrowed his eyes at her comment. "Take your medicine

Maeve grimaced slightly and slowly swallowed the pills.

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"Didn't you say that even if you're sick, it's your own problem and you wouldn't come to me for help?" Byron's voice was cold

as he brought up old grievances. "Now you're enjoying my care and food."