"No."
"Yes."
"No! I shall not go behind the Sahib's back."
"Oh yes, you will." Crossing my arms, I gave an evil chuckle. Now all I was missing was a pointy hat and a wart on my nose. "Unless you want me to tell the local ladies about Prince Fragrant Yellow Flower in the Happy Moonlight."
He sent me a betrayed look. "You wouldn't!"
My grin widened. "I absolutely would."
"You...you...ifrit!"
"Why, thank you for the compliment."
The sound of grinding teeth was music to my ears.
"Come on," I cajoled. "This can't be so bad, right? You've already helped me with putting the squeeze on a helpless home-owner and depriving him of his property for a pittance."
"That is different, Karim huffed. "That is normal!"
"It is?"
"Naturally. The Sahib used to do this kind of thing all the time. Threats, extortion, speculation, that is all in a day's work. But..." Wrinkling his nose, he glanced down at the pile of items on the lawn. "...interior decorating?"
I jabbed a finger into his side. "Don't be a baby! I've got one of those coming already." The expression on his face was priceless. "Now," I suggested, "why don't you gather up all the supplies and meet me at the back door."
Karim gripped his sabre—then his gaze slid down to my bulging belly, and his shoulders slumped.
"Yes, Sahiba."
"And do be quiet, will you?" I winked. "We wouldn't want Mr Ambrose to find out what we're up to, would we?"
"No, Sahiba."
Five minutes later, I was just surveying my new realm when the sound of the bell came from the back door. Skipping over, I pulled it open, revealing a massive mountain of assorted items, with a beard sticking out somewhere in the middle.
"Why, hello! Thank you for coming so quickly!"
"Beware," said the removal man mountain. "One day, I shall have my revenge for this."
"I'm sure you will. Now come in and put that stuff over there, will you?"
He did as ordered and, having put down his burden, gave a sigh of relief—until I stuck a paintbrush into his hand.
"I don't really like the wall colour in this room, but unfortunately, I can't reach the top of the wall, and I couldn't possibly risk climbing onto a ladder while I am in the family way." Giving a dramatic sigh, I switched on my doe-eyes and looked up at him. "If only helpless, pregnant little me had a big, strong man to take care of it for me."
His beard twitched. "Is that so?"
I patted his shoulder. "Make it something child-friendly, will you? A cheerful blue maybe, or bright pink."
The wood of the brush creaked under the pressure of Karim's grip. "I shall do my best to be...cheerful."
"Spiffing!" Giving him another encouraging clap on the shoulder, I skipped off towards the stairs to inspect the rest of the house.
The remainder of the afternoon passed in a whirlwind of colours, fabric and furniture. I knew I was doing this for the future, for my family, but I'd never realized how much I, for myself, had wanted this. Back at Uncle Bufford's house, the place I'd called "home" was a tiny room that contained nothing but two creaking beds, a cupboard and my sister Ella. This...
This place was mine. Unquestionably, completely mine. And I could do anything I wanted with it.
With a broad smile on my face, I pushed open the arched window at the very top of the house. Wind tickled my face and I gazed out over the back garden. The grass was lush and green, buds of opening flowers were scattered everywhere, and a towering oak's leaves cast soothing shadows over the lawn. Beaming, I turned around and returned to the living room. There was now a slightly moth-eaten but oh-so-comfortable chaise longue standing against one wall. The walls had been painted in a cheerful (and appropriately inexpensive) blue. A freshly tuned (second hand) piano stood in one corner, and a framed piece of paper proclaiming "Home, Cheap Home" hung on the wall.
Beaming, I turned towards Karim. "What do you think?"
Karim's fingers twitched, as if he wanted to decapitate me with his sabre. Then he realized he was still holding the paint brush.
"It is certainly...unique."
"I know, right?" Spreading my arms, I twirled around, then dropped onto the sofa, snuggling into the moth-eaten upholstery. "Isn't it perfect?"
"I'm sure the moths would agree with you."
I glanced over at him. "I'm sensing a subtext there."
"Well..." Shifting, Karim glanced from left to right. "You wanted a home suitable for your family, Sahiba. Isn't all of this a bit...cheap?"
I cocked my head. "I'm Lillian Ambrose now, aren't I?"
The bodyguard looked around again. "I withdraw my previous statements. This is the perfect home."
"I'm so glad you agree!" Pushing myself up from the chaise longue, I made my way to the door. "Then let's share the good news, shall we?"
"Err...with whom?"
I cocked an eyebrow. "Whom do you think?"
Before Karim could flee the room, I grabbed hold of him and started dragging him towards the hotel.
***
"Hello there!"
Waving, I stuck my head into the room. Mr Ambrose raised his eyes from the documents he had been studying and scrutinized me closely.
"Where have you been, Mrs Ambrose? I haven't seen you since this afternoon."
I rolled my eyes. "Hello to you, too, dear. I'm so happy to see you again, dear."
He didn't budge an inch. "Hello to you too, dear. Now, where have you been?" His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "And more importantly, what have you been up to?"
I put on a wounded look. "Why would you sound so suspicious of your dear wife?"
"Considering recent events?"
All right, that was just...a fair point, actually. Dammit!
"Well..." In a totally innocent manner, I started to fiddle around with the buttons of my dress.
My dear husband executed another microscopic narrowing of his eyes. "Yes?"
"Don't get upset, all right? It might sound damning, considering what happened the last time, but I promise it's something good."
"What. Are. You. Talking. About?"
"Ehem. Well...like I said. Don't misunderstand, all right? Here goes." I cleared my throat, and gave him my most cheerful smile. "I have a surprise for yo—"
"No!"
"Listen just a minute, I—"
"No! No more speeches!"
In retrospect, maybe I should have started my explanation differently.
"It isn't about that!" I protested.
"Doesn't matter. No. More. Surprises."
I pouted. "But I haven't even told you what it is about! You—"
"No!"
He speared me with an icy glare. The unspoken message was clear.
"I swear, it's not another suffragist event," I grumbled.
His eyes narrowed. "A charity event then?"
"No."
"An orgy?"
"No! Blimey, what do you take me for?"
"A woman who, in the early days of pregnancy, thought it would be a great idea to drink tree sap and eat ice cream and mustard on toast."
Well...I had to give him that. Blast!
Sending him a mutinous glare, I folded my arms in front of my chest. "Well, this woman still has a surprise for you. And she would like to show it to you, now."
The unspoken words "or else" hung in the air.
Mr Rikkard Ambrose met my fiery, ferocious gaze—and proceeded to completely ignore it. Wordlessly, he turned back towards his paperwork.
All right. I cracked my knuckles. He wasn't budging? Then it was time to use my ultimate, most lethal weapon.
"Please?" I batted my eyelashes at him. "Pretty please?"
Mr Ambrose's pen froze halfway back towards his documents.
I grinned.
***
"Just to be clear," Mr Ambrose stated coolly, while I did my best to drag him along the pavement. "I am only coming on this foolhardy excursion because I was finished with my business papers in any case."
"Sure, sure. Now come along, will you?"
A moment of silence. Then...
"Mrs Ambrose?"
"Yes, Mr Ambrose, Sir?"
"Why are you dragging me to the house next door?"
I sent him a bright smile. "Like I said. Surprise."
Moments later, we reached the front door and it swung open, revealing a familiar, towering figure. One with a rather dour expression on his face.
"Greetings, Sahib."
"Karim? What is going on he—"
He abruptly cut off.
There was a pause.
"Karim?"
"Yes, Sahib?"
"Is that paint in your beard?"
"Yes, Sahib."
"How...never mind. Step aside."
The bodyguard did as ordered. Mr Ambrose stepped into the house—and instantly froze in place. I had seen him stiff before. Unmoving. Unreadable. But never had I seen him quite like this. Cautiously, I stepped forward to hug him from behind. Under my fingers, I could feel him tremble ever so slightly. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw his gaze transfixed on the opposite wall, and the sign hanging there proclaiming Home, Cheap Home.
"Do you like it?" I whispered into his ear.
"It is...adequate."
I beamed. "So glad you love it!"
He turned his head, eyes boring into me with breath-taking intensity. "Love? I said nothing of the kind!"
Leaning forward, I gently brushed my lips against his. "I know."
"You..." A growl erupted from his chest, and Mr Ambrose whirled around to face me, drawing me into his arms. "Come here!"
Karim cleared his throat. "I, ehem...shall go and clean my beard."
Neither of us paid very much attention to him. Right now, he could paint his beard pink for all I cared! Which, considering the wall colour I had planned for a certain nursery, might very well be happening soon.
"My little ifrit..."
Not right now, though. Definitely not right now.
Swallowing, I lifted my head to gaze up into the icy eyes of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. And they were indeed like eyes. Shiny, beautiful and transparent, allowing me to see right into his soul.
"Upstairs!" The single word that entered my ear was both a command, and a promise of things to come. "Now!"
"Nah." Grabbing hold of him, I started dragging him towards the sofa. "Why go all the way upstairs when we have a perfectly nice, cheap, second-hand sofa down here?"
Judging by the flash in my husband's eyes, he seemed to agree. An animalistic sound erupted from his throat and, a moment later, he started hungrily kissing my cheeks, my neck, every single part of me he could reach.
"Ah." I smirked. "So that's the kind of thing that turns you on? Well, why not try my hand at a bit of dirty talk, Ambrose style?"
Standing up on my tiptoes, I brought my lips close to his ears and whispered: "I think you have been far too generous with me, Sir. You should immediately implement a reduction of my budget. Especially my clothing budget. Don't you agree?"
"You...!" Claiming my lips with a ferocious kiss, he swept me off my feet and crossed the distance to the chaise-longue in three long strides.
"Or maybe just saving money isn't enough?" I whispered, snuggling into his embrace. "You like to invest, don't you? Invest in stocks? How about instead you divest me of my vestments? And my stockings? I'm sure you'll find a lot to investigate."
A muscle in his jaw twitched. And it wasn't the only thing of his that twitched. Smirking, I reached down to caress him.
"Ah...I see you're focusing your cash flow on one particular area. Financing your companies can be hard at times, can't it?" I sped up my strokes. "Particularly when in my company. You—"
Before I could get another word out, his hands grabbed hold of my wrists and slammed them into the chaise-longue, pinning me to the soft upholstery. When his voice came, it was so gruff it sent a shiver down my spine. "You're playing with fire, Mrs Ambrose."
"No." Shaking my head, I gazed deep into his fathomless, dark, arctic eyes. "I'm playing with ice. And it's all mine."
Something flickered in those eyes of his. Something wild and...vulnerable. Swallowing, he glanced around at the newly decorated room.
"You shouldn't have done this," he murmured. "You shouldn't have wasted money like this."
Gently, I touched his face. "It wasn't a waste."
"Why?" His grip on me tightened, and he stared into my eyes as if he could find the answers to all questions of the world in there. "Why do all this?"
To that, there was only one answer. "Because you're worth it."
A muscle in his cheek twitched. "Worth spending my own money on something I most definitely didn't ask for?"
The corners of my mouth twitched. "Exactly."
"You...you...!"
"Wastrel? Profligate?"
"No." Pressing his forehead to mine, he closed his eyes. "You're my little ifrit."
Then, without further ado, he tore off his shirt and pounced on me. Needless to say our new second-hand sofa was very thoroughly tested that night. As was the bed. And the carpet. And the kitchen counter.
I should buy new houses more often.
***
"And?" I panted, when things had finally calmed down a little. Twisting around to face him, I trailed a hand down the side of his chiselled face. "What do you...think of my...furniture selection?"
"As I said." Reaching over, he covered my hand with his. "Adequate."
Pushing myself up, I glanced through the window where the sun was just rising. As in, rising after a whole night of strenuous activity. "Yes, just adequate." I cocked my head at him. "I'm sure that's why you kept our nightly activities brief, right?"
"Hm."
For a long moment, or maybe two, we lay together in companionable silence. Outside, the sounds of the waking city slowly started to rise into the air. And still, we just lay there, doing nothing but enjoying each other's company. That, more than anything else, told me how he really felt right now.
"Why?"
The word was nothing but a whisper. Snuggling closer into him, I cupped his cheek and gazed up at his perfect face. "Why did I do this? I already told you. You're worth it."
For a long moment, he gazed at me—then abruptly looked away.
And I will keep telling you till you believe me!
"The thought is appreciated, Mrs Ambrose. That's not what I meant, though."
Yeah, right.
"What did you mean then?"
He peered into the distance, gazing at the view through the window, which showed the racetrack and casino, and the outskirts of London beyond. Then he turned back towards me, his eyes intense.
"Why here? Why this place? I might, and I stress might, understand why you might wish to live in a home instead of a hotel. But a home right next to said hotel? Why?"
My lips twitched. Hm...he really was not able to fathom my genius, was he?
Well, let's enlighten him.
"Why? Of course, so we can call the hotel chef over to make us dinner, and the maids to keep stuff clean." Reaching out, I playfully flicked his forehead. "Just because I want a comfy home doesn't mean we have to waste extra money on more staff, right? Plus...." A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I gestured out the window towards the casino. "Once this place is opened to the public, I thought you'd appreciate a 24/7 view of people handing over their hard-earned money to you."
Something flashed deep in his eyes just then. In a blink, he cupped my cheek and leaned over towards me. "You really know me well, don't you?"
I raised my chin. "I'm your wife. That's my job."
"I thought it was driving me crazy?"
"That, too." I smirked, shifting towards the edge of the bed. "Which reminds me, I've wasted deplorable amounts of time. I should really get up and start doing my job so—"
"Stop right there!"
I froze in mid-movement.
"Now...come here!"
Just yesterday, I had taken part in a rally for women's rights. And now? Surely, I wasn't just willing to obey a man's commands at the drop of a hat, right?
Hah! Right.
One quick tug, and I fell into his arms. Somehow, those rock-hard arms of his caught me softly, even gently, and pulled me against his chest more tenderly than ever before. I didn't resist.
"You mentioned something about doing your job?" he growled into my ear. "Your duties? Well, I think you haven't quite fulfilled your marital duties yet."
"Oh?" I couldn't help but chuckle. "So there are still surfaces in the house we haven't...explored?"
"Perhaps there aren't." His grip tightened. "However, I have always believed it is best to be thorough in all things."
With a single move, he pulled me back onto the bed. In a blink, he was above me, holding himself up effortlessly, both arms planted in the mattress on either side of me. I felt a tug at my heart as I realized that he held himself just high enough to barely caress my abdomen with his, but not put the slightest weight on it. Pressing a fiery kiss on my lips, he tore away the blanket that was the only barrier between the two of us.
"Now," he rasped. "Time to—"
Ding-dong!
He froze.
I cocked an eyebrow. "Time to get the door?"
His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "I shall take care of that mouth of yours, my lady wife. Soon."
"I look forward to it."
Ding-dong! Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong!
"Err...excuse me?" a voice called from outside. "The people next door told me this is the new Ambrose residence?"
Dragging in a deep breath, Mr Ambrose pushed himself up. He wrapped himself in a blanket with a single flick of the hand and stalked down the stairs and towards the door. I sent a quick prayer heavenward for the hapless mailman.
The door swung open.
"Yes?"
"I, um...have a letter for, err..."
"Give. Now."
"Y-yes, Sir. Right away, Si—"
Thud!
The door slammed shut resoundingly. I watched through the open door of the bedroom as my dear husband tore open the letter and started to read. Really? Now?
Cocking an eyebrow, I opened my mouth, ready to call him back to bed—
That was, until his hands clenched around the letter and I saw the utter, unadulterated rage flash in his cold eyes.
-------------------------------------------------
My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,
I hope you enjoyed Lilly in the role of a "house wife" ;) Any guesses what the news might be...?
Yours Truly
Sir Rob