Page 56 of Stolen By the Duke of Ice
“But now that you are here?—”
Now that I have you.
—can we perhaps make the most of it?”
“You mean will I be an obedient wife?”
The twinkle in her eye told Peter that she was teasing him.
“I hardly think that is possible.” He grinned in reply.
“Let us be friends,” Peter continued. He pressed his lips to the back of her hand that still joined with his. Her skin smelled of lavender.
Was it his imagination, or did he feel her shiver.
“You are cold,” he observed.
Standing up, he led her near the fire and, settled them both on the settee. He was very aware that they still held hands.
If she does not want to let go, I certainly shall not.
What did it say that his thoughts did not surprise him? But the day had been tiring, both physically and emotionally, for him, so he preferred not to dwell too much on his confusing feelings.
“Yes.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Let us be friends.”
Dahliah smiled at him. A full, sweet smile that turned her face radiant. For a moment, Peter stared. Against the glow of the firelight, her hair was a reddish gold. Reaching out he smoothed it away from her cheek.
Dahlia, transfixed by his gesture, did not move until the silence stretched out uncomfortably. Disconcerted, she finally looked down.
Peter cleared his throat and shuffled in his seat.
“Perhaps you can play the pianoforte again?” Dahlia suggested, her cheeks red. “You played so beautifully that other night; I was surprised.”
Standing up, Peter reluctantly let go of her hand.
“You are surprised that I can play beautifully?”
“No,” she said laughing. “I am surprised that you play at all. I would not have supposed you to be the musical type.”
“Then what type would you have supposed me to be?”
He reached the pianoforte again and started playing the same tune.
“That is a trap, Your Grace. I refuse to answer it.”
Peter chuckled.
“Ask me,” he said. “About you.”
“What type would you have supposed me to be, Peter?”
“Trouble,” he said with laughter in his eyes.
“Peter!”
