Page 204 of New Storm Rising
Hours later, night had long fallen and the waiters were sleeping in their hammocks. I myself had abandoned my comfy recliner for a spot at the prow of theTresoro. There in front of me, beyond the towering figurehead glinting silver in the moonlight, stretched the endless ocean, quietly lapping against the sides of the ship. Only at the front was the water harshly cut in half, sending up gusts of spray and foam into the air as the prow ploughed through the waves.
Straight towards Britain.
Only now had it really settled in: we were heading home. Home to jolly old England. Before, even when I’d realized I was really and truly in the family way, I hadn’t fully grasped the implications of this.
In the family way meant…a family.
Me, Mr Ambrose, and…our child.
Good God. How was it going to work?Wasit going to work? For years upon years, I’d been going to see my husband in trousers and a tailcoat, for heaven’s sake! What would happen if Mr Victor Linton suddenly and inexplicably won the award for fastest-fattening-employee of the year? Add to that the cravings, the constant retching and other ickier problems that were yet to come…it would only be a matter of time before someone found out who Victor Linton truly was! And then…and then…
I realized I was hyperventilating.
Crap, crap, crap! Get control of yourself, Lilly! You’re a strong, independent woman! You’re a strong, independent woman!
I chanted it like a mantra. But, in the icy sea air that whipped around me, all it made me feel was empty and cold.
And…afraid.
That was, until a set of strong arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me into a warm and oh-so-familiar embrace. Closing my eyes, I let myself sag against his chest.
“As I often tell my management staff,” a familiar cold voice came from behind me, “step one of problem solving: identify the problem.”
I swallowed.
He didn’t pull any punches, did he?
But, then again, that was part and parcel of why I had married him. Taking a deep breath, I screwed my courage to the sticking place and bit the bullet.
“I…I’m scared,” I admitted. “I don’t know what my friends will say. How can I work now? How can we be together, not just like any husband and wife, but likeus, like we always are? How…how can I still be myself?” I swallowed again and, this time without hesitation, repeated my confession. “I’m scared.”
His arms around me tightened. There was a moment of silence, and then…
“I am not.”
I stiffened. The answer in that cool, collected voice of his pierced me to my very core—until his hand captured my cheek in a firm grasp and turned me to face him. Gazing deeply into my eyes, he nailed me to the spot with the intensity of his stare. “I am not scared at all. Because you are with me.”
An explosion of warmth spread through my chest. In a blink, I had whirled to face him and threw my arms around him. And Rikkard Ambrose wouldn’t have been Rikkard Ambrose if he were willing to be idle. His arms were like a vice around me and yet, somehow, inexplicably gentle. Drawing me into an even tighter embrace, he leaned down towards me, his lips approaching fast. Three inches. Two. One, and…
Bliss.
Total, utter, unrelenting bliss. His lips caressed me in a gentle dance of desire, conquered me in a swift strike aimed straight at my heart. Every passing second felt like a millennium of rapture and yet was over far, far too soon. Greedily, I grabbed more, prolonging the kiss longer and longer. Breathing? Who would waste time with stuff like that! Mr Ambrose seemed to agree wholeheartedly and, with a splendid work ethic, started in on his husbandly duties. Hands started to roam my face, worshipping every square inch of skin as if it were more precious than diamonds. And coming from someone who probably knew exactly how much they were worth, down to a penny’s difference depending on the most insignificant of flaws, that was saying something.
And from the way he was looking at me, he did not find any flaw on my face, nor in my heart. Not a single one. And neither could I in his. No matter what, he would stand by me. And I would do the same for him. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so afraid anymore.
Loosening his grip on me, he broke our kiss and stepped back, just far enough to gaze into my eyes. Lifting his hand, he held it out to me and cocked his head.
“Together?”
I nodded, joining his fingers with mine. “Together.”
And, hand in hand, we turned to face the prow, ready for whatever life might decide to throw at us.
THE END
Needless Waste of Food
(Chapter 1, “Presents for Fish”, from Mr Ambrose’s Point of View)
