The Final Storm

17. Heat in the Jungle

My heart leapt, and I felt my lips tingle in anticipation.

"A-and that is?"

Reaching behind him, he grabbed hold of something and, a moment later, thrust a familiar fake beard in my face. "Put this on again."

One corner of my mouth twitched. Good to know that, deep down, my dear husband still was the same unfeeling ice block as ever.

Soon, the two of us were once more clad in our facial regalia and, together, we returned to the winding jungle path and caught up with the others. None of them seemed to have noticed our absence. Karim was deep in discussion with one of his countrymen on the merits of various methods of exterminating Englishmen. Adaira was pining for her man despite the distinct lack of pines in this tropical forest. And as for the last two Indians... Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at the other pair of them—only to find that they seemed to be discussing something.

"They don't seem to have noticed our absence," Mr Ambrose murmured, making sure to keep his voice low.

"True. Want to take another trip into the jungle?" I winked at him. "I could show you that Briton-screwing isn't so bad after all."

The intense gaze he shot my way sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine. "Don't tempt me, Mrs Ambrose."

"Shh!" Placing a finger on his lips, I gave him an innocent look from beneath lowered eyelashes. "No British names allowed around here, remember, Satish?"

A muscle in his cheek twitched. "Do not call me that."

Grinning, I patted his magnificent facial adornment. "As you wish, Mr Fuzzybeard, Sir!"

His gaze bored into me like two drills made out of ice. However, it didn't have quite the same intimidating effect as usual while he was wearing a humongous fake beard. "Sometimes, Mrs Ambrose, sometimes..."

"...you don't know whether to kiss or kill me?"

"Indeed."

My grin widened. "Then it's a good thing that, right now, you can't do either. After all, you can't very well hurt a fellow rebel against British tyranny. And as for kissing me...I don't think our new companions are ready for the sight of two bearded men's passionate love."

That muscle in Mr Ambrose's cheek twitched. "Neither am I, Mrs Ambrose. Neither am I."

There was a moment of silence between us. Finally, I reached out and inconspicuously placed one of my hands on his.

"Now...can you tell me what is really bothering you? You seem rather testy. More so than usual."

Silence.

"Because I'm pretty sure it's not the prospect of locking lips with me. You never really minded before."

More silence, except for the sounds of the jungle in the background.

"And I know it's not because you are peeved about the beard you have to wear. If you disliked beards that much, you would have sacked poor Karim years ago."

Some more silence. Ah, this reminded me of the good old days of being an underpaid office drone.

...except that we are in the middle of the jungle, heading right into a warzone.

So, all in all, not too different from his office then.

Still...the degree of danger here undeniably was slightly higher. No matter what, in Mr Rikkard Ambrose's office, there was at least no danger of being skewered by a pitchfork, right?

Probably.

Anyway, this was not a simple journey. It was the kind of journey the two of us might never come back from. If ever the two of us should have a good talk, it was now.