Page 50 of Storm of Bells
‘What is it you want?’
I blinked up at him. ‘Pardon? What do youmean, Dicky?’
‘Stop calling me that! What are yourdemands?’
‘Well, since you mention it…There is this onelittle thing, my dearest Dicky-Wicky.’
‘I swear, Mr Linton, if you use that word onemore time…!’
Sidling closer, I stroked a gentle, lovinghand over his face. ‘What word, my darling Dicky-Dum-Dums?’
Under my hand, I could feel him take in avery, very deep breath. Holding it in, he squeezed out betweenclenched teeth, ‘What. Is. It. You. Want?’
‘Well…’ Gently, I stroked a finger along hischeek, down to his chin, and forced it down until he was lookingstraight into my eyes. ‘There’s a nice lady out there, a relationof yours if I’m not mistaken, who wouldreallylove for herson to have a wedding at a beautiful venue. And just in case we’reunclear on the definition of “beautiful”, I’m not talking about thecentral vault of the Swiss National Bank. I had something moreromantic in mind.’
His arctic gaze pierced me like a deadlyshard of ice. ‘Are you trying to force my hand?’
‘Why yes, I believe I am.’ Beaming up at him,I tapped the tip of his nose. ‘I learned from the best.’
Strong hands suddenly gripped my arms andslammed me against the nearest wall. Towering over me, Mr Ambrosebrought his chiselled face down until only inches separated us.
‘And what, exactly,’ he breathed, ‘did youhave in mind for this frivolous festivity?’
‘Well…a church, definitely. The bigger thebetter. We’ll need it for all the guests.’
‘How many guests?’
‘Well, at least five—’
‘Five? Hm. That will be expensive, but Isuppose I could grant you that much.’
‘—dozen.’
‘What?’
I gave him another happy bridal smile. ‘Ormaybe six, who knows. I’m feeling festive. And it would be nice tomarry in a place that’s bigger than a shoebox. Don’t you agree,Dicky-Wicky?’
‘You…!’ Growling, Mr Ambrose plunged down toseal my mouth with his. His kiss was hungry, demanding, takingeverything I had, with interest. His lips were like a searing brandof arctic ice, hot and cold, burning and flowing, taking me toplaces I’d never even dreamed of. I gave back as good as Igot—until he tore away, to stare down at me, his eyes alight withneed.
‘You…are you planning to ruin me?’
Grabbing his lapels, I pulled him close untilour lips were almost touching once again. ‘Thoroughly. But I’llwait for the wedding night.’
‘You…my littleIfrit!’
Once more, he took my mouth, hard, fast andunrepentant. When he finally released me, I was so shaken to thecore, I had almost forgotten what we had been talking about. Whichprobably was his plan, the sneaky devil!
‘Well?’ I whispered, holding on to his solid,immovable shoulders. ‘Do we have a deal?’
There was a moment of silence.
And another one.
A long one.
A muscle in his cheek twitched. ‘This weddingyou imagine…’
‘Yes?’
