#Chapter 53 – Yuletide Feast

Ella “You look radiant.” Sinclair’s father is beaming up at me from his wheelchair, “how’s my grandbaby treating you?” “Oh he’s certainly making his presence known.” I laugh, sliding my arms into the sleeves of my coat. Sinclair is holding the garment up for me, then straightens it around my shoulders as if worried I won’t be warm enough. He’s been particularly on edge tonight, and though I understand his agitation, I’m beginning to tire of being treated like a china doll. “Stop fussing, Dominic, I’m fine.” “I’m still not sure this is a good idea.” He grumbles. “Your blood pressure was much too high this afternoon and you didn’t get nearly enough rest.” “You’re the one who keeps telling me how important these events are.” I remind him. “And I feel perfectly well.” He’s still muttering to himself, and Henry chuckles, “You’re fighting a losing battle, my dear. There won’t be any reasoning with him – I was the same way when his mother was breeding and we weren’t campaigning.”