Page 15 of Storm over the Caribbean (Storm and Silence Saga #8)

Sweet. So very, very sweet. I had kissed Mr Rikkard Ambrose so many times already. So many lip-locks. So many unforgettable memories. And yet…

None of them could compare to this.

Sweet, seductive, and simply irresistible. His lips mingled with mine, caressing me with a fervour that made my blood boil and my mind go blank. Somewhere, distantly, I was aware that I probably had more important things to do than kissing the daylights out of him, but my lips didn’t seem to agree.

“We…” I swallowed, tasting the sweetness once more. But…was it the sweetness of the fruit, or of him? “We should stop. We should…look for…shelter…food…”

“Indeed,” he agreed, his voice gruff. “We should.”

Then he kissed me again, and I shut my mouth.

Metaphorically speaking, at least. Because, an instant later, his tongue parted my lips, invading my mouth with overwhelming force, spreading sweetness everywhere.

I hadn’t realized until then how horribly parched I’d been.

Both for water and for him. Only now, as he soothed my dried lips with soft caresses, did I realize how much I’d needed this.

Needed him. The taste of him gave me new life and hope. It almost…almost tasted better than…

No! That’s blasphemy!

But it was true. It almost tasted better than solid chocolate.

“Well?” he whispered against my mouth. Dipping one finger into the milk, he lazily trailed it down the side of my face, over my cheek and to the corner of my mouth. “Do you agree now you need to drink? Do you want another taste?”

Unable to squeeze out a single word, I nodded.

“Well, then…” He raised his finger, a single drop dangling from it—then lifted his finger to his own mouth, and licked. “I shall oblige you.”

And, once more, his lips came crashing down on mine. A flood of sweetness invaded my mouth once more. Before I knew what was happening, Mr Rikkard Ambrose captured the back of my neck in his grip and, slowly, inextricably, lowered me down till I felt my hair brush against the sand.

This…this is a little more than just a kiss, right?

We should really stop. We were shipwrecked on a bloody island, for heaven’s sake! We had a thousand things to do if we wanted to survive, and—

And his lips claimed mine once more. His grip on me tightened, and he guided me the rest of the way down to the ground. Like a beast on the prowl, he bent over me. I could see the desire shining in his cold eyes, the unquenchable need.

Dammit! We shouldn’t be doing this! We should be focusing on survival!

But I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t even stop myself. Because deep, deep down, I wanted this. I wanted to forget about everything that had happened, and lose myself in the arms of the man I loved. There was nothing I could do to stop this. There was nothing anyone could do to stop this.

He bent forward to kiss me, and—

Suddenly, he was stopped in his tracks.

Oh.

Anyone except one, apparently.

I tried not to smirk. I tried very, very hard—and failed utterly. Above me, Mr Rikkard Ambrose leaned forward again, intent on ravishing me—only to once more bump into a little problem. Bumped into a bump, to be precise.

“What is it?” I enquired, my eyes innocently sparkling. “Is there a problem?”

“Indeed, Mrs Ambrose,” he growled, trying to twist his body this way and that, attempting to get to me—with little success.

“Can’t get it up? Don’t worry.” I patted his arm. “I hear that sort of thing often happens to business moguls shipwrecked on Caribbean islands with their wives.”

“The problem,” Mr Rikkard Ambrose spoke, enunciating every single word very clearly, “is not that I cannot ‘get it up’ as you choose to put it. Rather…” Reaching out, he poked my belly. “…it is that I cannot get down because something is in my way .”

My smirk only widened. My kid wasn’t even born yet and was already getting one over on its daddy. I was so proud!

“You know,” I mentioned in a conversational tone, “this kind of buffer could be rather useful at balls and stuff. Too bad I didn’t have something like this a few years earlier.”

A growl erupted from my dear husband’s throat. “You can count your lucky stars that you didn’t acquire a bump such as this earlier! Earlier as in before you met and married me !”

“Why, Mr Ambrose, are you jealous of my past suitors?”

Coolly, he cocked his head. “There is no need to feel jealous of people whose companies have demoted them and shipped them off to distant outposts in Australia.”

“Those companies wouldn’t happen to have been acquired by a certain someone with the initials R. A., would they?”

“No comment.” Reaching out, he captured my chin in his hand. “In fact, I think we’ve talked more than enough. It’s time for action.”

Eyes blazing, he leaned down towards me—and once again bumped against a certain bulge. He stopped in his tracks.

There was a moment of silence.

An intense, prolonged moment of silence.

It was quite impressive what a superb facsimile of cursing Mr Rikkard Ambrose could manage to produce without saying a single word.

Taking a deep breath, he made a renewed attempt.

He tried to come at me from the left, then from the right, then in any number of positions that would make the authors of the kama sutra break out into a fit of giggles.

I, meanwhile, of course, maintained perfect decorum as a proper lady. I didn’t laugh at all.

Finally, he froze, snarling in frustration.

“Having problems?” I enquired, my voice growing progressively more innocent with every word. “I could think of a solution, you know.”

His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. “Which is?”

I grinned. “You could let me be on top.”

A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Out of the question.”

“What? Is the great and powerful Mr Rikkard Ambrose afraid of surrendering to a harmless little woman?”

“Setting the ‘harmless’ part aside for the moment—no. I am not afraid of anything. But currently, we do not have time for this. We should be focusing on ensuring our survival.”

“Ah.” I nodded, understandingly. “Unlike five minutes ago, when you were intent on ravishing me under the open sky.”

His eyes narrowed again, ever so slightly. “I might still do that if you continue to provoke me.”

I batted my eyelashes at him. “Please do. Just lie back and let me do all the work. I’ll be sure to be gentle with you.”

He was off me quicker than I could say “feminism”. Hm…was it just my impression, or did he not appreciate the idea of being “beneath” a woman, in any sense of the word?

One corner of my mouth quirked up.

“Well, well… Now I know what to say if I ever need to chase your lazy arse out of bed in the morning.”

Rising to his full height, he towered over me. “Mrs Ambrose…Did. You. Just. Call. Me. Lazy ?”

“Of course not,” I assured him, like any demure little wife would. “Only your arse.”

He speared me with an arctic gaze—then reached out and plopped a de-husked, unopened coconut into my lap. Apparently, cuddle time was over. At least for now. “Open,” he commanded. “Drink.”

“Yes, Sir, Mr Ambrose, Sir! Right away, Mr Ambrose, Sir!”

My fingers, not being granite implements of doom like those of a certain living statue, weren’t quite up to the task of piercing a coconut shell, even at its weakest point.

Luckily, it didn’t take me long to find some shells on the beach.

After smashing them with a rock, they gave me some nice, long shell-shards that were perfect for stabbing through eyes.

Coconuts’ eyes, of course. Yes, that’s really what the weak points at the top were called, apparently. Talk about a morbid naming sense.

Soon the sweet, splendidly delicious taste of coconut milk filled my mouth, moistening my dry throat.

And, oh my, was it dry! Distracted as I had been by a certain someone, I’d forgotten again how thirsty I was.

Only now did I notice the salty taste that had pervaded my mouth ever since we were stranded. Soon, it was washed away by sweetness.

“Aaah!”

With a sigh, I sagged against a nearby palm.

But it wasn’t enough! Grabbing another coconut, I punched through one of the eyes and lifted it to my mouth.

Mmm…yes, that hit the spot!

Licking my lips, I wiped some drops of coconut milk off my chin and glanced over at Mr Rikkard Ambrose, who had already finished three coconuts, and was currently on the fourth, Somehow, he managed to make his greedy guzzling look as elegant as sipping wine from a crystal glass.

When he was finally finished, he threw the empty coconut aside and, arms crossed, surveyed the surroundings.

Pushing myself up from the ground, I followed his example. The surroundings hadn’t changed much—but that only brought home the situation we were in all the more. There still wasn’t a single sign of civilization anywhere. There still wasn’t a single ship on the horizon.

Crap!

“We’re really stuck here, aren’t we?” Making my way over to him, I leaned against his shoulder. In front of us spread an endless blue sky and a deep, sparkling ocean. At any other place and time, this scene might have been beautiful. Romantic even. But right now?

Right now, it only told me how very, very alone we were.

“Don’t worry.” Sliding an arm around my shoulders, he gave a gentle squeeze.

“The disappearance of the wealthiest man in the British Empire won’t go unnoticed for long.

The moment my people notice my delayed arrival, they will send out search parties.

” His eyes frosted over. “At least they had better send search parties.”

“And…” Swallowing, I placed a hand on my belly—for once, not because of my unborn child. After all, my stomach was still in there. And right now it was feeling rather empty. “What if they don’t arrive in time?”

“They will.” His voice was a command. An undeniable truth, chiselled in stone. Turning towards me, he stared into my eyes, his gaze projecting nothing but certainty and unshakable, icy determination. “They will, Lillian.”