Page 3 of New Storm Rising
I raised an eyebrow. “Woof, woof?”
“I’m being serious, Mr Linton!”
“So am I,” I huffed, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “I’m not just going to sit around like an obedient little puppy.” Lowering my voice, I leaned forward. “Didn’t we get this straightened out before the wedding? What’s up with this caveman attitude of yours all of a sudden? Or—”
I cut off, and slowly, my eyes narrowed, sudden understanding flashing through my mind.
“That’s it, isn’t it? The reason you’ve been hovering around me all this time! The reason you won’t let me anywhere near your paperwork, or the cargo, or any work whatsoever!”
“Ehem. I—”
“And Karim…he knew, too, didn’t he? And he didn’t say anything!”
I placed a trembling hand over my stomach.
“The reason you won’t let me do any work, won’t let me near any work-related documents or the load of the ship—”
“Now, see here! I can understand why you might be upset, but—”
“—it’s because you’re afraid I’ll puke all over it!”
He blinked.
“Ha! Suddenly, you have nothing to say?” Standing up, I took a stride forward and prodded his too-darn-chiselled chest. “Just because of a little seasickness, you won’t allow me to raise even a single finger? It’s not even that bad! I can totally keep it in check, and—bluuurgh…! Grrrrnnnk! Blaaagh!”
“You were saying?” enquired Mr Rikkard Ambrose, who by some extremely enervating miracle had managed to move out of the way of the vomit aimed at his ten-year-old mint-condition shoes.
“Blargh! Argh!”
“Indeed, that is what I thought, Mr Linton.”
Hands on hips, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to let them anywhere near my bloody oversensitive stomach again, I glared up at him.
“This proves nothing! It’s mere coincidence!”
“I’m sure.”
“I’ll be right as rain as soon as we step on land!”
“Do you wish to bet on that, Mr Linton? Preferably a large sum of money?”
Responding with an expletive that made even some of the nearby sailors pale, I pushed past him and made my way towards the nearest stack of crates. He thought he could use this as an excuse to order me around? He thought he could make me sit around idle just because my stomach was a teensy-weensy bit irritable? Ha! He’d have to find another way to protect his precious cargo from puke projectiles. Knowing my dear husband, if he was shipping moonshine, it was so cheap a little vomit would only serve to improve the taste, anyway.
Rejoining the sailors, I resumed my work—or at least as far as I could. He’d let me tie knots and spread tarpaulins, but whenever I tried to lift a crate, Mr Rikkard Ambrose would instantly be breathing down my neck, snatching it out of my hands. Was this truly Mr Ambrose, or the bloody removal man? It was enough to drive you bonkers! And to judge by the slack-jawed looks on the sailors’ faces, they weren’t used to this kind of behaviour from the big boss, either.
“Will you stop?” I hissed, after he had snatched away the latest crate before I was even able to touch it.
“No.”
“That was supposed to be a rhetorical question!”
“Indeed?”
Grumbling something in a language I very much hoped he didn’t speak, I pushed past him and pounced on the ropes, fastening the crate in place before he could snatch that task away from me as well in his effort to give his precious cargo puke-protection. The sailors had long since decided it might be wiser to keep a safe distance, and had removed themselves to another stack of cargo that suddenly seemed to be much more interesting than this one.
Traitors! That should teach me to share the load with people. Here I had gone out of my way to help them with their work, only for them to leave me alone, and me not having to do any of the work because my boss did it all himself.
All right…somehow, that didn’t end up sounding as terrible and traitorous as I thought it would.
