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‘That is out of the question.’ The diary closed with a decisive click and he was on his feet looking tall, austere, and oozing simmering disapproval while inside his gut was churning with visceral fear.
She clung to her temper and reminded herself that this fragile peace between them required concessions on both sides. ‘I don’t have to wear fancy dress.’
‘Running five K is a reckless risk in your condition.’
Her lips tightened as she pushed out her chin to an aggressive angle and, hands on her hips, stalked towards him, stopping a couple of feet away. ‘There is nothing reckless about it. It is basically a fun jog or walk for a good cause, and I will enjoy it!’
‘The risk is too great.’
Struggling to channel a calm she was not feeling, Beatrice held his stormy gaze. ‘Do you really think that I would risk the life of our child on a whim?’
His eyes slid from her own, his chest lifting, before returning as he growled out reluctantly, ‘No. The last time—’
The shadow of fear she glimpsed in this strong, seemingly invulnerable man’s eyes drained the anger from her. She hurt for him because he couldn’t own that fear, he couldn’t reach out. ‘I’m scared too, Dante,’ she confessed, tears standing out in her eyes. ‘But I can’t…’
Nostrils flaring, he looked down into her face and felt the anger and frustration drain away. ‘I’m your husband. Why won’t you let me protect you?’
‘Protect, not suffocate.’ She took his silence as encouragement and added, ‘And I’ll make my own appointment, choose my own doctor.’
‘Shall I come back later?’
Dante stepped back and gestured towards the table under the window embrasure. ‘No, that’s fine,’ he said to the maid, without taking his eyes from Beatrice’s face. ‘Put it on the table.’
‘Shall I fetch another cup?’
‘No!’ Beatrice supplied as the door closed silently behind the scared-looking young maid. ‘So, I’ll tell Lara, no, you won’t come to cheer me on, shall I? She figured that would be worth double in sponsorship.’
He dragged a hand through his dark hair, the internal struggle clear on the hard drawn lines on his handsome face. ‘I will donate, and I’ll come and support you.’
Her jaw dropped at the capitulation. ‘You’ll come.’
He shrugged. ‘Someone has to make sure you don’t decide to get competitive, but in return—’
‘Return for what?’ she began explosively before literally biting her tongue. ‘In return what?’
‘In return you go and see the doctor I made the appointment with. She is the best.’
Was it really a point worth making? She released a long hissing breath. ‘All right.’ She fixed him with a warning glance. ‘But the next time you make a unilateral decision concerning me or the baby—don’t!’
He gave a slow smile. ‘I wouldn’t dare.’
The walk through the private grounds calmed Beatrice after the confrontation. Gradually her pace slowed to a stroll as the healing of the quiet and solitude and nature’s beauty seeped imperceptibly into her.
She remained, what? Wary, confused? Nobody in the universe made her feel as much as Dante did, and she couldn’t get the fear she had seen in his eyes out of her head.
Instead of lunch with his wife, Dante spent a half hour pounding his body into submission in the private gym.
His mind remained another matter. Had he made the right decision? He knew that their marriage could not survive if they maintained a war of attrition. There had to be compromise even though it went against his instincts, and the idea of her running…falling… He threw himself into the next series of repetitions in the hope the pain in his muscles would drown out the torturous thought in his head.
Drenched with sweat, he was finally heading for the shower when he felt it.
Around him, weights in their cradles began to shake as the low distinctive subterranean growl of the earthquake built.
His first thought was Beatrice. He didn’t pause. He grabbed his phone and got a low static buzz…and hit the ground running. Face set in grim lines, he was exiting the leisure facility when he encountered a uniformed figure who, without a word, fell into step beside him.
‘We have set up a command centre in the old armoury to coordinate all rescue efforts.’
Dante nodded his approval. It made sense; the walls were ten feet thick and the building was cut into solid rock. ‘Highness, we have choppers ready and waiting and the King and Queen will be evacuated as a priority. It’s the communications that are the problem.’
