Page 8 of Storm over the Caribbean
A wicked grin suddenly appeared on my face. Maybe I wouldn’t have to postpone my revenge after all.
“Oh, I’ve always preferred rose in my bath,” I told the older woman leisurely. Then, leaning over towards my dear husband, I whispered, “To be precise, a particular variety called Amb Rose.”
Instantly, his spine went stiff as a board. And probably not just his spine.
Putting on a broad, cheerful smile, I turned back towards the house. “Now I’m going to have a nice, long, naked bath in a steamy bathroom,” I announced. “Won’t that be fun?”
And I strode off, whistling, a confused head maid following behind me and an icy gaze burning holes into my back.
Married life is so much fun! This is going to be spiffing!
Ten minutes later I was relaxing in a massive marble pool, waves of hot water gently lapping over my bare skin. Stretching, I cranked my neck from side to side and let the warmth seep into my aching muscles. Hm…I felt so much lighter in the water. Only now did I realize how much weight I was lugging around with me since the pregnancy really started kicking in. Maybe I could get a pool installed in my office? Surely, that would fall under acceptable business expenditures.
If I were married to the exact opposite of my husband, that is.
And speaking of my husband…
I glanced around the luxurious room decorated in gold and marble. Now that I thought about it…wasn’t all this a tadbit too extravagant for Mr Rikkard Professional-Penny-Pincher Ambrose? Even if this was a hotel rented out to other people at exorbitant prices, I simply couldn’t picture Mr Ambrose buying or building such a place. Strange. I wonder why—
Just then, a knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.
“Your Ladyship? Would you like a massage?”
To heck with why! To heck with how and any other inconvenient questions. This was the life!
“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Definitely! Unless…” I hesitated. “The masseuse is a she, right?”
No need to have my brand-new husband shipped off to prison for masseuse-murder.
“Naturally, Your Ladyship. Shall I send her in?”
A beatific smile spread across my face. “By all means, do.”
Moments later, soft footsteps approached across the marble floor, and a gentle pair of hands started massaging my back muscles, which recently seemed to have been under a lot more stress than usual.
Reaching down, I gently caressed my belly and levelled an accusing stare at the bulge. “You really couldn’t make yourself any lighter, could you?”
I felt two light nudges against my fingers as my little one gently moved inside me.
“If you get too fat, you’ll just have to start dieting once you grow up, you know?”
Nudge, nudge.
Almost against my will, I felt one corner of my mouth twitch.
“So, you can understand me? Give me one nudge for yes, and two nudges for no.”
Nudge.
“You are an ugly little brat that keeps me up all night with your shenanigans.”
Nudge, nudge.
“You’re going to be just as stubborn as your father, aren’t you?”
Nudge.
“And I’m probably being silly, right?”
