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She’d never seen anything so brave.

The man is The Dark Knight, isn’t he?

Well, yes, so Alistair was normally quite brave.

But tonight…tonight, he’d done it for her.

God in Heaven, she loved this man.

There was a lump in her throat. “Alistair?” Olivia managed, although it was as raspy as his tone was. He merely hummed without opening his eyes.

She swallowed. How to explain what he meant to her? How to thank him for what he had done?

Before she could begin to consider it, there was a faint knock at the door. She jolted in surprise but Alistair reacted quicker. He was on his feet before she could blink, moving toward the door.

Hiro stood there, carrying a tray, which Alistair took from him with a nod. “Thank…ye.”

And Olivia’s eyes filled with tears. Only a few weeks ago, Alistair would have satisfied himself with just a nod. Now he was using his voice around servants? No, Hiro was more than a butler, he was a friend…

A friend who was looking quite surprised at being thanked aloud.

With a click of his heels, the butler gave a little bow. “Will that be all?” His tone was as supercilious as always, but he wore a smirk.

Alistair was already turning away. “Go away,” he growled, and Hiro’s grin grew bigger.

“Good night, Your Grace.” His gaze met Olivia’s across the room, and his grin turned into a smirk. He said nothing to her, but nodded again.

She quickly dashed her knuckles across her eyes, trying to rid her visage of the evidence before Alistair returned.

Instead of seating himself, however, he plopped the tray on the ottoman beside her. She couldn’t help the curious way she craned to see what it contained, but needn’t have bothered. Alistair dragged the ottoman closer, picked up a plate from the tray, and handed it to her.

Cheese. Of course. Smiling now, she picked up a grape, revealing a pile of cubes beneath. “Is this Danish Blue?”

Alistair merely grunted as he poured two glasses of wine. One he placed on the table beside the doctor’s reports, one he took with him as he settled himself on the sofa beside her.

It absolutely was Danish Blue. Olivia sighed with contentment. She was married to the most amazing man. He risked himself for her, he pleasured her in bed, and he brought her cheese.

How could you think he doesn’t care for you?

The creamy, blue-veined cheese suddenly seemed stuck in her throat.

He cared.

Alistair cared for her. It was so silly, so obvious. After what he’d done tonight, how could she ever doubt it?

The cheese thing helped too.

She was just turning to him when he startled her by reaching for her ankles and she gasped, which resulted in the Danish Blue going down the wrong way. Coughing with watering eyes, she reached for her wine, taking several frantic gulps to get herself back to normal.

When Olivia decided she wasn’t dying, it took a moment to realize her legs were now in Alistair’s lap, her back to the sofa’s arm.

She glared at him.

He smiled.

“Aright?” he croaked.

“You startled me. Why are you—”