Dietrich and Rose hung back as Alexander undid his wife’s wet cloak, then swooped her up into his arms and carried her into his study, where the hottest fire he’d ever seen blazed in the fireplace. She let out a surprised whoop, throwing her arms around his neck, and he grinned down at her.
He hadn’t realized how fun it could be to pick up one’s wife, but he suddenly wanted to do it more often.
The tension of the search began to melt along with the snow currently coating his hair, sending cold drops sliding down his neck.
She was safe.
Jenkins hurried into the study after them with the blankets, followed by Mrs. Jenkins, as he placed Beatrice in the chair that had been pulled up next to the roaring fire.
“You all needn’t make such a fuss,” Beatrice said, and there was a chorus of voices instantly informing her that they had every right to make a fuss and she should not have gone out in the storm. “I didn’t know there was going to be a storm,” Beatrice protested. “If I had, I wouldn’t have gone.”
“You shouldn’t have gone anyway,” Alexander said as he knelt down and began to unlace his wife’s boots. This was the second time in three days that he’d done so, but this time, he didn’t feel the urge to pass off the task to a maid.
He unlaced her boots and set them aside before he reached for the top of her sock and began slowly pulling it down off her foot. She was so cold that she was trembling, which made pulling thewet sock away from her skin harder than it should have been, but he went slowly and gently so he wouldn’t hurt her.
He finished with one foot and reached for her other foot, carefully doing the same on the other side. Her feet were so cold. He began rubbing them, and she winced in pain. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We have to get them warm.”
Guinevere arrived with dry clothes for Beatrice, catching his eye from the doorway.
“Everyone out,” he announced.
Everyone looked at him in surprise, including Beatrice.
“Guinevere has dry clothes,” he explained, “and you’re not leaving this fire.”
“I don’t need to change,” Beatrice said, and Alexander shook his head.
“You are getting out of those wet things,” he said firmly, getting to his feet and walking away, ushering everyone out.
He looked back before closing the door, and Beatrice was looking over her shoulder toward him, a grateful smile on her face.
He smiled back before closing the door to give her privacy, but then his face turned to stone.
His wife could have died, and he hadn’t even known she was outside.
If they had been so lax now, what would happen when the sorcerer arrived?
“We need to talk,” he said to Jenkins. “She could have died, and there’s more. I’m going to go change into dry clothes, and I’ll talk to you in my study.”
Dietrich stood by, arms crossed against his chest. “Whatever it is, I’m in,” he said.
“You don’t even know what I’m talking about,” Alexander said. “You don’t want to be involved.”
Dietrich planted his feet. “If it involves Beatrice and her safety and well-being, yes, I do. I love that girl, and she seems to genuinely care for you. I will do anything in my power to see that she is happy and healthy for the rest of her days. So whatever you’re discussing, I want to be involved.”
Alexander took a deep breath and looked at Jenkins, who shrugged. He took another deep breath and turned back to Dietrich. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
Dietrich grinned. “I can’t wait.”
Chapter fifteen
Beatrice
Beatrice was finally beginningto warm up again when Alexander and Dietrich came back into the study, both of them wearing dry clothes. Guinevere had tucked her in under the blankets and moved her chair even closer to the fire, which felt so wonderful. The painful tingles in her feet were beginning to subside, her teeth were no longer chattering, and the shivering had calmed a bit.
She hadn’t expected to be so cold once she came into the warm air, but it almost felt worse than being outside.
She looked up at Alexander and Dietrich and smiled at them.
