Page 69 of Storm over the Caribbean (Storm and Silence Saga #8)
“Coming, Darling.” Skipping after him with an entirely too innocent smile, I quickly reached the exit.
In the doorway, I stopped for a moment and glanced over my shoulder to send a last wave at the desperate man still lying on the floor.
“Toodeloo. I hope you enjoy your time with your new caretaker. If you miss us and want to chat, just let us know.”
“Wait! Maybe we can come to an arrangement! We could—”
Wham!
The door closed firmly behind us.
“How long do you think he’ll need to be convinced?” I enquired.
A high-pitched squeal issued from within the chamber.
“Not long,” Mr Ambrose stated with absolute certainty.
Another squeal.
“Ah. Yes. You’re probably right.”
“Indeed.”
“We’ll still need to give our favourite bristly beard some time.
What shall we do in the interim?” Sidling up to him, I batted my eyelashes like an innocent young girl.
Or at least an innocent young girl who’d gotten knocked up after getting sex-advice from her prostitute friend.
“We could go back home and make sure everything in the nursery is ready. And while we’re at it, we could also inspect the bedroom.
” I placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Thoroughly.”
Mr Ambrose stiffened under my touch. His icy eyes fixed themselves upon me. They didn’t heat up. They didn’t fill with the fire of passion. They became even colder, like the eyes of a Siberian tiger on the prowl.
“You,” he squeezed out between clenched teeth, “are a temptress.”
“Guilty as charged.” I grinned up at him, unrepentant. “But then…you like me that way, don’t you?”
“The word, Mrs Ambrose,” he growled as he grabbed hold of the back of my neck, “is love .”
And he slammed his lips down on mine.
Ahh…how nice it was to have my terminology corrected.
“But, unfortunately, now is not the time.”
Wait, what?
Taking a deep breath, he stepped back. I was about to protest, when his words stopped me in my tracks.
“I’ve found a suitable place for the girl.”
A surge of warmth rose in my heart. It was me and my new mama bear instincts that had insisted on bringing the miniature pirate-queen-to-be along.
My dear husband had been about as pleased about her presence as he would have been about a kleptomaniac magpie living in his wallet.
Yet still, he had brought her along. For my sake.
And now he was going the extra mile and finding her a home. An actual, permanent, good home.
He had changed as well, hadn’t he? I had married a good man.
Or rather, an adequate one.
“What are you smirking about, Mrs Ambrose?”
“Me?” I widened my eyes in sweet guilelessness. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Except…”
Standing up on tiptoes, I pressed a long, hard kiss onto his lips. When I broke away, he blinked rapidly, twice.
“What was that for?”
“Nothing.” I repeated and linked my arm with his. “Let’s go get Leah before she hoists a pirate flag atop Empire House, shall we?”
Maybe it was just my imagination, but after those words, Mr Ambrose seemed to walk just a little bit faster than before.
Unlike I had half feared (and half hoped), Leah wasn’t busy turning Empire House into her own personal pirate HQ. Instead, we found her on the top floor, gazing out of a window, cuddled up on a sofa.
Yes, Mr Ambrose owned padded furniture. With cushions . Shocking, I know.
But right now, there were even more important things to focus on—like the way the little girl was staring out at the city, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. Was she afraid?
What stupid question! Of course she was afraid! She was all alone in a strange city after basically being kidnapped from the life she had known and loved. The fact that what she’d known and loved was shooting and robbing people was beside the point.
I was at her side in three steps.
“Don’t you worry!” I hugged her close. “It’s all right. You’ll be all right. You’ll…huh?”
She wasn’t paying any attention to my words. In fact, she wasn’t even looking at me. From the moment we entered the room, she had been staring avidly at Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
“Y-you own all this?” She gestured at Empire House and the courtyard visible through the window, bustling with office workers and cargo wagons. “Everything?”
Like a mountain king from on high, Mr Rikkard Ambrose gazed down at the little girl. “Indeed.”
“How did you do it?” she demanded. “Where did you steal all that from? How did you steal it?”
“I did not.” His stony face was implacable. “I earned it.”
I watched with amusement as Leah’s mouth formed a little “O”.
“R-really?”
“Yes. Really.” Extending his hand, he cocked his head at her. “Would you like to learn more?”
“Yay! Can I?” Like an eager puppy, Leah leapt out of my grip and into my husband’s arms. “Can I really?”
I blinked, staring. Mr Rikkard Ambrose was… good with children ?
Had pigs learned to fly?
Well, little yellow ones, maybe.
“Shall we, Mrs Ambrose?”
My eyes re-focused to see my husband extending a hand towards me. Unable to keep a smile from my face, I grabbed hold of it and squeezed. “We shall.”
And together, the three of us headed down the hallway and stepped into the elevator. The moment we reached the bottom of the shaft, we stepped out into the entrance hall, and…
A hush fell over the cavernous room.
Complete and utter silence.
Apparently, I had underestimated what the reaction to our appearance would be. Mr Ambrose with a gagged man imprisoned in a wooden crate? No problem. An everyday occurrence. But Mr Ambrose with a happily smiling little girl in his arms?
The horror!
From all around, people stared at us with eyes as wide as saucers. Leah waved. Somewhere at the back of the hall, someone dropped a stack of papers.
Mwahahaha!
This was gold! If they were reacting like this because of a scruffy little ex-pirate, what would they do once I’d actually given birth, and Mr Ambrose came in here with a chubby, rosy-cheeked baby in his arms?
I giggled.
“Something amusing, Mrs Ambrose?”
“What? N-no, nothing at all.”
Do not smirk. Do not smirk.
“Then let’s go. We have wasted enough time.”
And, side by side, we strode through the hall and out the door.
A carriage was already waiting outside and, with a shiver, I quickly strode towards it.
After several weeks spent on a Caribbean island, the English autumn air was just a teensy-weensy bit too chilly.
Soon, we were warmly bundled up inside, and Mr Ambrose thumped his cane against the roof.
“Drive!”
The coach jerked forward and rattled down the road.
I cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t even tell him where we are going.”
“No.”
“Let me guess…he was already informed beforehand because it is more efficient?”
He blinked. “How did you know?”
Smiling, I leaned over and snuggled up against him. “Oh…just a wild guess. So, where are we going?”
All I got in response was…
You guessed it. Silence.
Hm…so, he wants to keep secrets? From his dear wife of all people?
Fine. Let him be all secretive for now. I could have fun imagining what kind of home he had picked out for Leah. Maybe a childless, wealthy merchant who owed him a favour had offered to adopt her? Or a noble lady too old to have children of her own? Ah, this was going to be good! I loved surprises!
Or at least that was what I thought until the carriage turned around a corner, and the smell of smoke drifted in through a gap in the window.
Not wood smoke from a chimney fire warming a nice house during the chilly autumn. No. Factory smoke.
What. The. Heck.
No. No, surely, I was mistaken. Surely, not even Mr Rikkard Ambrose would send a child to a—
“Chop, chop, you lazy brats!” I heard a rough voice from outside the carriage. “Work faster!”
Scratch that. He apparently would.
Slowly, very, very slowly, I turned to stare at Mr Rikkard Ambrose. I opened my mouth—then spotted Leah on his lap, still with a happy smile on her face.
Calm, Lilly. Calm. Don’t explode. At least until all innocents are out of the blast radius.
“Mr Ambrose?” I asked, very calmly, politely, and hopefully low enough for Leah not to hear.
“Yes, Mrs Ambrose?”
“I thought we were here because of Leah?”
“We are.”
“Then, pray, why are we driving into the industrial district?”
Cold eyes met mine. His answer came swift and ruthlessly. “Because we are heading to a factory.”