Page 49 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
“Dahlia, inside the castle, now!”
His tone and manner brooked no argument.
“Peter, we were just enjoying the snow!” exclaimed Claire.
“Like we used to do when we were young!” added Mary.
The dark look he gave them had them both holding their tongue.
“Peter, what is the matter with you?” Dahlia exclaimed walking faster to keep up with their longer strides. “You are overreacting!”
Indeed, Peter knew that he was, but he could not help himself. Fear held him like a vise.
They were now near the castle, and Mary and Claire, sensing a confrontation, hurried inside leaving Peter and Dahlia to themselves.
“Overreacting?” Peter could hardly control his voice. “Do you have any idea how many people die of hypothermia? How many idiotic people get sick because of their carelessness?”
Dahlia’s face blazed red in her answering anger.
“Careless? Idiotic?” Dahlia’s fairly spat out fire. “Allow me now to name some adjectives for you!”
She moved closer to him and jabbed his chest with her finger.
“Authoritarian!” Another jab. “Harsh! Tyrannical!”
They now stood so close together that Peter could see the fire in her eyes. Without warning, he bent down and wrapped his arms around her legs. Lifting her up and over his shoulder, he carried the Duchess of Icedale in that most undignified manner inside the castle.
Screaming murder, Dahlia struck his back with her fists but to no avail. They did not even seem to affect him.
“You beast!” Dahlia cried. “I demand that you put me down at once!”
They had now entered the sitting room.
“As you wish.”
He put her down on the settee next to the fire.
“Warm yourself.” Peter handed her a woolen blanket.
“Have you gone mad?” Dahlia hissed at him. “What kind of behavior was that?”
“Warm yourself,” he repeated.
When she still ignored the blanket, he took it and wrapped it around her shoulders. “You and the twins are forbidden from doing that again.”
“Forbidden from enjoying in the snow? Youhavegone mad! Good heavens, I married a madman!”
“I will be taken seriously, Dahlia.”
“I have never met anyone as controlling and mad as you!” She whirled at him, blanket flying. “You hardly talk to me since we arrived here, you barely see your sisters, and then, all of a sudden you come crashing down on us because we have decided to entertain ourselves in the snow!” She threw up her hands in defeat. “Mad, I say!”
Peter gritted his teeth. He stared her down until she gave him one final disgusted look and left the room.
Peter took off his greatcoat and threw it onto a chair. He scrubbed his hands over his face. Counting his breaths, he forced himself regain his calm.
Alone in the quiet room, he had to agree with her. It seemed, even to him, that he had gone mad. He could understand why she was furious, but he cared not what she called him or thought of him. He would not have her risking her life. He could not lose her.
Lying on the bed, her dark hair cradling her pale face. Unsmiling, unmoving…
