Page 10 of Storm over the Caribbean (Storm and Silence Saga #8)

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No! I shall not go behind the Sahib ’s back.”

“Oh yes, you will.” Crossing my arms, I gave an evil chuckle. Now all I was missing was a pointy hat and a wart on my nose. “Unless you want me to tell the local ladies about Prince Fragrant Yellow Flower in the Happy Moonlight.”

He sent me a betrayed look. “You wouldn’t!”

My grin widened. “I absolutely would.”

“You…you… ifrit !”

“Why, thank you for the compliment.”

The sound of grinding teeth was music to my ears.

“Come on,” I cajoled. “This can’t be so bad, right? You’ve already helped me with putting the squeeze on a helpless home-owner and depriving him of his property for a pittance.”

“That is different, Karim huffed. “That is norma l!”

“It is?”

“Naturally. The Sahib used to do this kind of thing all the time. Threats, extortion, speculation, that is all in a day’s work. But…” Wrinkling his nose, he glanced down at the pile of items on the lawn. “… interior decorating ?”

I jabbed a finger into his side. “Don’t be a baby! I’ve got one of those coming already.” The expression on his face was priceless. “Now,” I suggested, “why don’t you gather up all the supplies and meet me at the back door.”

Karim gripped his sabre—then his gaze slid down to my bulging belly, and his shoulders slumped.

“Yes, Sahiba .”

“And do be quiet, will you?” I winked. “We wouldn’t want Mr Ambrose to find out what we’re up to, would we?”

“No, Sahiba .”

Five minutes later, I was just surveying my new realm when the sound of the bell came from the back door. Skipping over, I pulled it open, revealing a massive mountain of assorted items, with a beard sticking out somewhere in the middle.

“Why, hello! Thank you for coming so quickly!”

“Beware,” said the removal man mountain. “One day, I shall have my revenge for this.”

“I’m sure you will. Now come in and put that stuff over there, will you?”

He did as ordered and, having put down his burden, gave a sigh of relief—until I stuck a paintbrush into his hand.

“I don’t really like the wall colour in this room, but unfortunately, I can’t reach the top of the wall, and I couldn’t possibly risk climbing onto a ladder while I am in the family way.

” Giving a dramatic sigh, I switched on my doe-eyes and looked up at him.

“If only helpless, pregnant little me had a big, strong man to take care of it for me.”

His beard twitched. “Is that so?”

I patted his shoulder. “Make it something child-friendly, will you? A cheerful blue maybe, or bright pink.”

The wood of the brush creaked under the pressure of Karim’s grip. “I shall do my best to be…cheerful.”

“Spiffing!” Giving him another encouraging clap on the shoulder, I skipped off towards the stairs to inspect the rest of the house.

The remainder of the afternoon passed in a whirlwind of colours, fabric and furniture.

I knew I was doing this for the future, for my family, but I’d never realized how much I, for myself, had wanted this.

Back at Uncle Bufford’s house, the place I’d called “home” was a tiny room that contained nothing but two creaking beds, a cupboard and my sister Ella. This…

This place was mine. Unquestionably, completely mine. And I could do anything I wanted with it.

With a broad smile on my face, I pushed open the arched window at the very top of the house.

Wind tickled my face and I gazed out over the back garden.

The grass was lush and green, buds of opening flowers were scattered everywhere, and a towering oak’s leaves cast soothing shadows over the lawn.

Beaming, I turned around and returned to the living room.

There was now a slightly moth-eaten but oh-so-comfortable chaise longue standing against one wall.

The walls had been painted in a cheerful (and appropriately inexpensive) blue.

A freshly tuned (second hand) piano stood in one corner, and a framed piece of paper proclaiming “Home, Cheap Home” hung on the wall.

Beaming, I turned towards Karim. “What do you think?”

Karim’s fingers twitched, as if he wanted to decapitate me with his sabre. Then he realized he was still holding the paint brush.

“It is certainly…unique.”

“I know, right?” Spreading my arms, I twirled around, then dropped onto the sofa, snuggling into the moth-eaten upholstery. “Isn’t it perfect?”

“I’m sure the moths would agree with you.”

I glanced over at him. “I’m sensing a subtext there.”

“Well…” Shifting, Karim glanced from left to right. “You wanted a home suitable for your family, Sahiba . Isn’t all of this a bit…cheap?”

I cocked my head. “I’m Lillian Ambrose now, aren’t I?”

The bodyguard looked around again. “I withdraw my previous statements. This is the perfect home.”

“I’m so glad you agree!” Pushing myself up from the chaise longue, I made my way to the door. “Then let’s share the good news, shall we?”

“Err…with whom?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Whom do you think?”

Before Karim could flee the room, I grabbed hold of him and started dragging him towards the hotel.

***

“Hello there!”

Waving, I stuck my head into the room. Mr Ambrose raised his eyes from the documents he had been studying and scrutinized me closely.

“Where have you been, Mrs Ambrose? I haven’t seen you since this afternoon.”

I rolled my eyes. “ Hello to you, too, dear. I’m so happy to see you again, dear. ”

He didn’t budge an inch. “Hello to you too, dear. Now, where have you been?” His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. “And more importantly, what have you been up to?”

I put on a wounded look. “Why would you sound so suspicious of your dear wife?”

“Considering recent events?”

All right, that was just…a fair point, actually. Dammit!

“Well…” In a totally innocent manner, I started to fiddle around with the buttons of my dress.

My dear husband executed another microscopic narrowing of his eyes. “Yes?”

“Don’t get upset, all right? It might sound damning, considering what happened the last time, but I promise it’s something good.”

“What. Are. You. Talking. About?”

“Ehem. Well…like I said. Don’t misunderstand, all right? Here goes.” I cleared my throat, and gave him my most cheerful smile. “I have a surprise for yo—”

“No!”

“Listen just a minute, I—”

“No! No more speeches!”

In retrospect, maybe I should have started my explanation differently.

“It isn’t about that!” I protested.

“Doesn’t matter. No. More. Surprises.”

I pouted. “But I haven’t even told you what it is about! You—”

“No!”

He speared me with an icy glare. The unspoken message was clear.

“I swear, it’s not another suffragist event,” I grumbled.

His eyes narrowed. “A charity event then?”

“No.”

“An orgy?”

“ No! Blimey, what do you take me for?”

“A woman who, in the early days of pregnancy, thought it would be a great idea to drink tree sap and eat ice cream and mustard on toast.”

Well…I had to give him that. Blast!

Sending him a mutinous glare, I folded my arms in front of my chest. “Well, this woman still has a surprise for you. And she would like to show it to you, now .”

The unspoken words “or else” hung in the air.

Mr Rikkard Ambrose met my fiery, ferocious gaze—and proceeded to completely ignore it. Wordlessly, he turned back towards his paperwork.

All right. I cracked my knuckles. He wasn’t budging? Then it was time to use my ultimate, most lethal weapon.

“Please?” I batted my eyelashes at him. “Pretty please?”

Mr Ambrose’s pen froze halfway back towards his documents.

I grinned.

***

“Just to be clear,” Mr Ambrose stated coolly, while I did my best to drag him along the pavement. “I am only coming on this foolhardy excursion because I was finished with my business papers in any case.”

“Sure, sure. Now come along, will you?”

A moment of silence. Then…

“Mrs Ambrose?”

“Yes, Mr Ambrose, Sir?”

“Why are you dragging me to the house next door?”

I sent him a bright smile. “Like I said. Surprise.”

Moments later, we reached the front door and it swung open, revealing a familiar, towering figure. One with a rather dour expression on his face.

“Greetings, Sahib .”

“Karim? What is going on he—”

He abruptly cut off.

There was a pause.

“Karim?”

“Yes, Sahib ?”

“Is that paint in your beard ?”

“Yes, Sahib .”

“How…never mind. Step aside.”

The bodyguard did as ordered. Mr Ambrose stepped into the house—and instantly froze in place.

I had seen him stiff before. Unmoving. Unreadable.

But never had I seen him quite like this.

Cautiously, I stepped forward to hug him from behind.

Under my fingers, I could feel him tremble ever so slightly.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw his gaze transfixed on the opposite wall, and the sign hanging there proclaiming Home, Cheap Home .

“Do you like it?” I whispered into his ear.

“It is…adequate.”

I beamed. “So glad you love it!”

He turned his head, eyes boring into me with breath-taking intensity. “Love? I said nothing of the kind!”

Leaning forward, I gently brushed my lips against his. “I know.”

“You…” A growl erupted from his chest, and Mr Ambrose whirled around to face me, drawing me into his arms. “Come here!”

Karim cleared his throat. “I, ehem…shall go and clean my beard.”

Neither of us paid very much attention to him. Right now, he could paint his beard pink for all I cared! Which, considering the wall colour I had planned for a certain nursery, might very well be happening soon.

“My little ifrit …”

Not right now, though. Definitely not right now.

Swallowing, I lifted my head to gaze up into the icy eyes of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. And they were indeed like eyes. Shiny, beautiful and transparent, allowing me to see right into his soul.

“Upstairs!” The single word that entered my ear was both a command, and a promise of things to come. “Now!”

“Nah.” Grabbing hold of him, I started dragging him towards the sofa. “Why go all the way upstairs when we have a perfectly nice, cheap, second-hand sofa down here?”