Page 3 of Storm over the Caribbean (Storm and Silence Saga #8)

“I swear, the place we are going to is primarily used as a domicile?”

“I did not lie,” Mr Ambrose replied. “Technically.”

I felt my fingers twitch. “Then what, pray,” I enquired as I lifted one hand to point at the entrance door in front of us, “is that ?”

Mr Ambrose followed my outstretched finger with his gaze to where, above the entrance of the luxurious house in front of us, a sign proclaimed:

Emerald Meadow Racetrack Hotel & Casino

(Access to Emerald Meadow Racetrack Not Included in Room Prices)

“In retrospect,” he stated, “perhaps I should have had the sign taken down before we came here.”

I gave him a sweet smile, the doom of all husbands with pregnant wives. “Oh no, why would that be necessary? After all, how could I possibly demand you stop making money for the benefit of your wife and your unborn child.”

An arm came around me, pulling me close. “I am lucky to have such a kind and understanding wife.”

“Mr Ambrose?”

“Yes?”

“Have you perchance encountered something called ‘sarcasm’ before?”

He considered this for a moment.

Cocking his head, he sent me a challenging look. “Once. No one has dared to use it on me since.”

“You…!” That actually sounded like something that might happen, Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s charming personality considered. But, darn it, he wasn’t going to get out of this so easily! My eyes narrowed. “No changing the subject, Mister!”

I was pissed off! Not for myself so much, really. After all, for most of my life, I had called a single room my home, a room I was sharing with my sister Ella. I didn’t need a home to be happy. But my baby? That was another bloody matter entirely!

Plus, pregnancy might, possibly, be trying to make me just a tiny bit temperamental. Not that I would let that affect me. Nope, not at all.

“Let’s get back to the bloody point, shall we? The point being that, after you decided that staying at a hotel is unsuitable, your first move is to stuff me into a carriage and drag me to another bloody hotel ?”

“Ah.” Mr Rikkard Ambrose raised a finger. “A hotel that belongs to me .”

“Which makes a difference how exactly?”

“I would have thought that was obvious. I do not have to pay for our room.”

“Oh, it was obvious.” I cracked my knuckles.

All right, maybe pregnancy was influencing me a tiny little bit.

But not so much it mattered, surely. “I just wanted to see if you are brave enough to say it out loud, Dicky Darling. Now, let’s see if I can’t get you to take your husbandly duties a little more seriousl—”

I was abruptly interrupted by the carriage door being pulled open. A distinguished figure in a butler’s uniform appeared and bowed.

“Good evening, Your Ladyship. May I help you out of the carriage?”

I blinked. It took me a moment to realize I still hadn’t stopped cracking my knuckles. Ears reddening, I quickly shoved my hand into the folds of my dress.

“Ehem…sure. Right.”

“Thank you for your gracious acceptance, Your Ladyship.” He extended his arm and, dazed, I took it. “We have the royal suite prepared for you. Would that be sufficient?”

“Um, yes, I think so.”

“Marvellous. Please be so kind as to follow me, Your Ladyship.”

Before I could get out so much as a single word, the butler manoeuvred me down the carriage stairs and along the path towards the front door. Suddenly, two dozen figures in servant attire stepped out from the shadows of the trees along the way, bowing deeply.

“Greetings, Your Ladyship,” they chorused. “Welcome home.”

My mouth dropped open.

One of the older maids stepped out from the row, curtsying deeply. “My name is Magdalena. I am the head maid and have been assigned as your personal attendant. Naturally, you may pick any of the other maids if you require additional aid.”

“Any of the…but what about the other guests?”

“Other guests?” She blinked, seeming confused. “My Lady…there are no other guests. The only people residing in the hotel will be your husband and your esteemed self. You will have this place all to yourselves.”

I whirled around to stare at Mr Rikkard Ambrose. Mr Ambrose, who was currently standing beside the butler, probably discussing annual profits or something of the kind, and was very distinctly not smiling.

That devious, dastardly son of a…! He tricked me!

I was going to get my revenge for this. I was going to—

“We have a program prepared for the evening, Your Ladyship. If it pleases you, we shall commence with a relaxing bath in the marble pool, followed by a foot massage, before we continue to a sumptuous meal prepared by our five-star chef, and conclude the evening with a cup of hot chocolate for a night cap.”

—maybe postpone my revenge for tomorrow. After all, I wouldn’t want to break this poor woman’s heart by rejecting her hospitality, right? Or her hot chocolate.

“Would you like me to show you the way to the baths?”

“By all means, do.”

“Then please follow me, Your Ladyship. I shall show you the way. Is there any particular bathing oil you prefer? Lavender? Jasmine? Rose-scented?”

A wicked grin suddenly appeared on my face. Maybe I wouldn’t have to postpone my revenge after all.

“Oh, I’ve always preferred rose in my bath,” I told the older woman leisurely. Then, leaning over towards my dear husband, I whispered, “To be precise, a particular variety called Amb Rose.”

Instantly, his spine went stiff as a board. And probably not just his spine.

Putting on a broad, cheerful smile, I turned back towards the house. “Now I’m going to have a nice, long, naked bath in a steamy bathroom,” I announced. “Won’t that be fun?”

And I strode off, whistling, a confused head maid following behind me and an icy gaze burning holes into my back.

Married life is so much fun! This is going to be spiffing!

Ten minutes later I was relaxing in a massive marble pool, waves of hot water gently lapping over my bare skin.

Stretching, I cranked my neck from side to side and let the warmth seep into my aching muscles.

Hm…I felt so much lighter in the water. Only now did I realize how much weight I was lugging around with me since the pregnancy really started kicking in.

Maybe I could get a pool installed in my office?

Surely, that would fall under acceptable business expenditures.

If I were married to the exact opposite of my husband, that is.

And speaking of my husband…

I glanced around the luxurious room decorated in gold and marble.

Now that I thought about it…wasn’t all this a tad bit too extravagant for Mr Rikkard Professional-Penny-Pincher Ambrose?

Even if this was a hotel rented out to other people at exorbitant prices, I simply couldn’t picture Mr Ambrose buying or building such a place. Strange. I wonder why—

Just then, a knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.

“Your Ladyship? Would you like a massage?”

To heck with why! To heck with how and any other inconvenient questions. This was the life!

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Definitely! Unless…” I hesitated. “The masseuse is a she, right?”

No need to have my brand-new husband shipped off to prison for masseuse-murder.

“Naturally, Your Ladyship. Shall I send her in?”

A beatific smile spread across my face. “By all means, do.”

Moments later, soft footsteps approached across the marble floor, and a gentle pair of hands started massaging my back muscles, which recently seemed to have been under a lot more stress than usual.

Reaching down, I gently caressed my belly and levelled an accusing stare at the bulge. “You really couldn’t make yourself any lighter, could you?”

I felt two light nudges against my fingers as my little one gently moved inside me.

“If you get too fat, you’ll just have to start dieting once you grow up, you know?”

Nudge, nudge.

Almost against my will, I felt one corner of my mouth twitch.

“So, you can understand me? Give me one nudge for yes, and two nudges for no.”

Nudge.

“You are an ugly little brat that keeps me up all night with your shenanigans.”

Nudge, nudge.

“You’re going to be just as stubborn as your father, aren’t you?”

Nudge.

“And I’m probably being silly, right?”

Nudge.

What the…! Was my unborn child criticizing my lack of intelligence? I should probably stop the baby conversations for tonight. This was making me question my own sanity. Was I going crazy?

Nudge.

I couldn’t help it. My lips twitched, and I once more looked down at my belly as a warm feeling spread through me.

Then again, maybe sanity is overrated.

My masseuse seemed to agree, because she suddenly let out a squeak, leapt up and dashed out of the room without a single word.

I blinked, and turned around—or at least tried to.

But before I could, another pair of hands settled on my back.

A very different pair of hands. Large, strong, and very much familiar.

Not that I was going to let him know that, though.

“How dare you invade a lady’s privacy, Sir!” I exclaimed. “Just wait till I tell my husband about this!”

“Call me optimistic,” a cool voice came from right behind me, “but I do not think he’ll mind.”

His hands sped up, kneading my muscles like dough, eliciting a moan from me.

“Besides,” he continued, “didn’t you say something about enjoying bathing with Ambrose?” Suddenly, I felt his breath at my ear. Somehow, it felt ten times as hot as the steam rising from my bath. “Here’s your chance.”

“I…you…we shouldn’t—”

Dammit, why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut! Why did I have to bait him into coming here?

Well, Lilly…maybe you can be alone and naked with your hubby in a steamy, luxurious bathroom?

Good point, actually. But only now that I was naked, something that should have been very obvious occurred to me: along with being pregnant came the little fact of being very fat.

There was no way around it. I wasn’t pudgy.

I wasn’t curvy. I was fat. Did I really want to be naked in the same room with my tall, dark, chiselled granite statue of a husband?

Me and my bloody blabbermouth!