Page 67 of Storm over the Caribbean (Storm and Silence Saga #8)

Mr Ambrose strode past him without a word. I was about to follow when, halfway through the door, Mr Ambrose froze, then took a step back and speared the fellow in uniform with an icy gaze.

“A doorman?” His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. “When exactly did I authorise money for hiring a doorman ?”

The doorman swallowed. “W-well…the manager you left in charge during your absence decided it might be a good idea if we present a proper image for—”

“Ah.” Mr Ambrose nodded. “So there are two people I have to fire.”

“F-fire?”

Before Mr Ambrose could hand the man his notice of dismissal (i.e.

, a kick in the butt, which does not require precious paper and ink), we heard a thump from behind us.

Turning away from the poor ex-doorman, I saw Karim try to pull a large crate down from on top of the carriage.

He (unsurprisingly) didn’t seem to have any trouble with the weight—but considering how large it was, the thing appeared rather hard to balance.

A fact Mr Ambrose seemed to have noticed as well.

“Hm…” Eyeing the crate, my dear husband tapped his chin—then glanced over at the doorman. “Change of plans. Seems like you might keep your job after all. That is, if you would be amenable to helping us with this…cargo?”

“Anything!” the doorman blurted out. “I’ll do anything!”

Just then, the crate rocked, and from within issued a slightly muffled, yet distinctly human sound of protest.

With a broad grin, I reached out and patted the doorman on the shoulder. “You’re going to regret ever saying that. Welcome to the club.”

“Err…thank you, Madam?”

For some reason, he did not sound very sure.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Mr Ambrose demanded. “Get to it! Chop, chop!”

“Y-yes, Sir! Right away, Sir!” Hurriedly, the ex-doorman, now gofer, rushed over to the carriage and took hold of the other end of the crate.

Together, he and Karim carried the wooden box towards the front door.

I had to give the new fellow credit. He almost didn’t flinch when the crate rattled and muffled French curses came from the inside.

“You two.” Mr Ambrose snapped his fingers. “Wait here for a moment.”

Then he headed back to the carriage and, a moment later, re-emerged, a certain little girl in his arms.

“Let me go, you bastard! I don’t care if you’ve got a nice bird! If you don’t let me go back to the pirate fleet, I’ll rip your eyes out and use them as marbles! Get me on a ship to the Caribbean this instant, or I’ll cut off yourmmphmphmph—!”

Mr Ambrose clamped his hand over her mouth. She responded to this by promptly biting said hand, hard. A muscle in Mr Ambrose’s cheek twitched—then, without a word, he proceeded to march back up the stairs and past the ex-doorman, who was staring at him with wide open eyes.

“Um…Mr Ambrose, Sir… The girl, who…?”

The man threw a questioning look at Leah, who was currently chewing on Mr Ambrose’s fingers in an attempt to gain freedom. Or turn herself into a flesh-eating zombie, maybe. With this girl, one couldn’t really be sure about how realistic her aspirations were.

My dear husband cocked his head and gave his new employee a frosty look. “This is my ward.”

Leah chose this moment to reach up under Mr Ambrose’s tailcoat to try and grab his revolver.

“Your, um…ward, Sir?”

“Yes,” my dear husband repeated, snatching the girl’s hand before she could gun him down. “My ward .”

“Um…yes, Sir! Definitely, Sir! Your ward, Sir!”

The crate rattled again, and from within issued some more muffled curses in French.

“And our new pet,” I added helpfully.

My dear husband nodded. “Indeed.”

“R-right.” The ex-doorman gulped. “Of course. Pet.”

Wasn’t it wonderful to have understanding employees?

“Now, enough of this useless chatter.” Clapping his hands, Mr Ambrose strode into the entrance hall. “Let’s take our new pet to his new home, shall we?”

It probably said something about Mr Rikkard Ambrose as an employer that he could walk through the entrance hall of his main office building with a crate that was cursing in French and a girl shouting about wanting to become the Queen of the Pirates while none of his employees even blinked an eye.

If I had to venture a guess, they had been told in the past that blinking wasted precious time, and it would get their pay docked.

“I must say, I’m looking forward to welcoming our guest to his new home.

” Coming to a halt in front of the door at the other end of the hall, I rubbed my hands with a glint in my eye that was most definitely not evil.

My gaze moved over to a certain crate. “Let’s head down to the dungeo—ehem, I mean cellar.

Yes, let’s head down into the cellar, shall we? ”

“Indeed.”

A protesting groan came from within the crate.

I reached out and gently patted the rough wood.

“Don’t you worry. We’ll get to you soon enough.

The moment we get you situated, we can start our little chat.

Mwahahaha…!” Oh, if only I had a nice, villainy moustache right now.

Well, maybe I could buy one later. “But first…”

Stepping over to Mr Ambrose, I grabbed hold of Leah, and, after unclamping her jaws from Mr Ambrose’s wrist, handed her back to the nanny. Said nanny looked about ready to draw his sabre and go on a massacre.

“Now, you behave, all right?” I told the little girl. “Me and Uncle Dick have some stuff to take care of. But we’ll soon be back, and then we can talk about what you want to do in the future…”

“I want—”

“…that doesn’t involve raiding ships and slaughtering people while singing sea shanties.”

“Go boil your head, you bloody balloon-shaped tart!” 44

And she pouted at me. Cutely.

That impudent little…! This brat had just called me fat to my face! I was not going to cave just because she pulled a cute face! I was not! I was not going to be overwhelmed by those bloody motherly instincts of mine! I was not! I was no—

“Aww…don’t be sad!”

Crap.

Before I knew it, my arms were wrapped around the bloodthirsty little midget. “Don’t be sad! Everything will work out all right.”

“R-really?”

Suddenly, her voice sounded a lot less confident and bratty.

“Yes. I’ll make sure of it.” Hugging her close, I gently stroked her hair. “Say…why do you want to be the Queen of the Pirates, anyway?”

There was a pause.

“…read a story once.” Her voice was nothing but a whisper now. She avoided my gaze by hiding her face in the folds of my dress. “The pirate queen in the story…she’s not afraid of anything. She’s free. She’s tough. She…she’s always got enough to eat, and to drink, and…and never gets beaten and…and…”

Suddenly I felt like sailing back to the Caribbean and burning down everything in sight till everyone acknowledged this little girl as the Queen among Queens of the Pirates.

Bad Lilly, bad! You can’t just start killing off people just to make a little girl happy!

No matter how much I might have wanted to. Those dratted maternal instincts!

“Don’t worry.” I squeezed her as hard as I could without squashing anything important. “Nothing like that will ever happen to you again!”

“P-promise?”

“Promise! Isn’t that right, Dicky Darling?”

When no answer was forthcoming in the next two seconds, I planted my heel strategically on Mr Ambrose’s toes.

“Isn’t that right, Dicky Darling?”

“Hng!”

“You see!” I beamed at the little girl. “That’s a promise if I ever heard one!”

In answer, Leah gave me her first tiny, shaky, but undeniably present smile.

“Here.” One step took me in front of Karim, and I firmly placed the little girl back into his arms again before he could flee. “Mr Ambrose and I have to take care of some things for now. Can you look after her in the meantime?”

Instinctively, the bodyguard’s hand went to his sabre. There was a hint of pleading in his eyes, and in his beard, too. There was even a little bit of pleading in his left foot. “Can I go back to hunting pirates instead?”

“Hey!” A small hand grabbed hold of his bard and tugged in protest. “I ain’t that bad!”

“Or I could hunt serial killers,” Karim suggested hopefully. “Or brigands in the Sahara. Or wild beasts in the jungle!”

I placed a hand on his shoulder and, gesturing at Mr Ambrose, gave the bodyguard a serious look. “Just take it as practice for when you will have to guard our child.”

Suddenly, Karim didn’t look nearly as unhappy anymore. Squaring his shoulders, the bodyguard straightened abruptly.

“Yes, Sahiba ! As you command, Sahiba !”

And without another word of protest, he turned around and marched off, his chest swelling with pride.

“Adequately done,” Mr Ambrose commented. “He didn’t even require a pay raise.”

“I learned from the best. Now…” Linking my arm with his, I turned towards the crate that was once more issuing muffled curses in French. “Let’s take care of business, shall we? I’m dying to find out what our guest has to say.”