Page 133 of New Storm Rising
“Yes,Sahib?”
“Spur the horses to a gallop. Mrs Ambrose wishes to arrive quickly.”
“Yes,Sahib!”
A moment later, the coach jerked forward, starting to wobble wildly.
“I hate you!” I moaned, clutching my stomach. “I really, really hate you!”
A familiar strong, elegant hand landed on my shoulder. “I love you, too.”
Damn him! Why did that man have to know me so well?
Because you married him?
Drat! That’d be it. Dear Aunt Brank always said I get the stupidest ideas.
Just then, two strong arms reached around me, holding me close, cushioning the rattling of the coach.
Or maybe this one wasn’t so stupid after all.
By the time we reached town, my nausea had mostly subsided. I was not, however, as pleased by this as I thought I might have been, because in the absence of the incessant urge to vomit, the exhaustion finally set in. I guess seven days of continuous puking, a bumpy coach ride through deserts and swamps, and, oh, nearly gettingbloody hanged, really takes it out of you.
By the time the coach rolled to a stop on the main town square, I was hardly able to clamber down on my own two legs. And I didn’t even protest one little bit when Mr Ambrose supported me. That, more than anything else, should tip you off about my condition.
“I’ll handle those jail birds,” the marshal, who, even with his star pinned to his chest and two revolvers at his sides,stillmanaged to look like a harmless little salesman, nodded down to the two of us from atop one of the prisoner carriages. “You go take care of your lady wife, Mr Ambrose.”
Mr Ambrose opened his mouth.
“A little marital advice,” I groaned. “Listen to him!”
Mr Ambrose closed his mouth again. His arm came around me, allowing me to lean into his oh so wonderfully solid chest.
“God, I’m dead on my feet!” I groaned, looking around the town square for a suitable, comfy grave. No, better a coffin. The fancy ones had upholstery, right? “Please tell me you’re not going to make us camp outside again and we can sleep in an actual room, on an actual, real bed?”
“Yes.”
I blinked. “Did…I just hear right? Did you say yes?”
“Indeed.”
“You rented a room? As inpaidfor it? Of your own free will?”
“Indeed, Mrs Ambrose. I happen to know some very affordable and comfortable accommodations around here. In fact, it is guaranteed that the beds will be soft and preheated.”
“Really?” I stared at my dear husband in utter disbelief. “They offer a service like that? That’s supposed to happen only in really fancy hotels!”
“Oh yes. They offer quite a wide variety of…services.”
“Well, that sounds marvellous, I must admit.” Especially coming from Mr Rikkard My-Piggy-Bank-is-Made-from-Titanium Ambrose. He really was taking care of me. He was taking me to a fancy hotel! And to think I had suspected him of being stingy once again. “Let’s go then, shall we?” I yawned. “I can’t wait to get into one of those soft, warm beds.”
I heard a choking noise from behind me. When I glanced around, I saw Karim trying to wipe the strained expression from his face.
“Something wrong, Karim?”
“N-nothing whatsoever,Sahiba. Everything is perfect,Sahiba.”
I looked at his strange expression for a moment longer—but then shrugged and turned around. Right now, I was too drained to think about what was the matter with him. With Mr Ambrose’s strong arm supporting me (Pleasedon’tletPatsyfindoutaboutthis! Pleasedon’tletPatsyfindoutaboutthis!) I let myself be led down the cobblestone street.
