Page 95 of Storm over the Caribbean
Crap, crap, crap! They heard you! Why the heck can’t you keep quiet when you need to, Lilly?
Out of protest against Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s sealed lips policy?
That…is a fairly good reason, actually. But it doesn’t bloody help right now! Crap, crap, triple crap with a cherry on top!
“Go all the way up the cliff? Are you bloody nuts?” The other man scoffed. “Ain’t worth whatever we’ll find up there.”
I sagged in relief.
“All right, all right.” Pirate number one grumbled. “Well, we’ve already got a pretty good haul for today, I guess.”
“Aye, we do. Let’s head back to the beach before the others start without us. I can practically hear the feast starting from all the way up here.”
“But we’re hunting again tomorrow, do you hear? I’m getting sick of those little furry critters we’re always catching. I want to head deeper in and catch something juicy!”
The man’s friend grumbled in reluctant agreement and, moments later, the two of them slunk off, back into the forest and towards the beach. I remained stock-still, holding my breath, for a minute or so more, then slowly breathed out and turned towards Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
“Mr Ambrose?”
“Yes?”
“Perhaps we should try that idea of yours after all. You may just have a point.”
“Indeed.”
***
Apparently, the plan still needed a bit of work. Turns out, joining a pirate crew is a little more difficult for a newlywed woman than a towering granite statue of a man who could heft a cannonball with one hand.
“Are you sure this will work?” I asked as I slipped on Mr Ambrose’s tailcoat over my blouse. My bloomers19 had been thoroughly mutilated until they looked like a torn-up pair of shorts befitting of Mr Masculine Castaway. My dress had been torn into strips and used to constrain two certain bulging bits that had grown more prominent recently. Still, all in all… “I do not feel very manly right now.”
“You will be fine.”
Straightening my tailcoat, I glanced over at Mr Rikkard Ambrose, standing there in a half-open shirt, his normally smooth hair tousled and wild. His well-defined pectorals drew my gaze, no matter how much I tried to look at the oh-so-interesting sky and clouds.
“Unlike you,” I pointed out. “You already are.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Mrs Ambrose.”
My eyes slid down to his pants which, unfortunately, unlike his shirt, were not unbuttoned. The corner of my mouth twitched. “Well, it might get mesomewhere. Hopefully.”
“Focus, Mrs Ambrose. Focus.”
“Iamfocusing.”
He sent me a cold gaze. My eyes, for my part, were still focused downward. “Not onthat.”
“Oh. Are you sure?”
“Very.”
I gave a sigh. How regrettable. Well…there was always later.
“So…” I glanced down the cliff at the distant pirate camp once more. The ship had reached the shore by now, and the pirates were in the midst of their welcoming festivities. My jaw clenched. “I guess it’s time to go?”
“Indeed.” Reaching for the spear of fire-hardened wood that was his only weapon, Mr Rikkard Ambrose turned towards the path that led down the cliff. “It is. Remember to stick to the plan.”
Ah, yes.The plan.
