My eyes widened in panic.
"Mr Ambrose! We can't—"
Before I could get another word out, his arms were around me and his lips were on mine. I forgot all about why we couldn't. I forgot how to breathe. I forgot my own name.
No. Not my name.
Because with every caress of his lips, with every breath he took, Mr Rikkard Ambrose reminded me of it. Reminded me that I was Mrs Lillian Ambrose, and that I belonged to him. That I would bear his name forever after.
Reaching up with one hand, he caressed my cheek and gazed straight into my eyes, as if unable to resist. "My little ifrit...!"
I smirked against his lips, one of my hands sliding down to my stomach. "Not so little anymore, I think."
A growl erupted from his throat, and he resumed his efforts to devour me whole with renewed vigour. I didn't exactly put up much of a fight anymore. Pirates? To hell with the pirates! Right now, I was the Queen of Pirates, and the King was about to ravish me! I felt his hands tangle in my wet hair, stroking my skin, stoking the fires inside me.
"P-please..." The word that escaped my mouth was no more than a whimper. "Please...."
Was I asking for more? For him to stop? For both? In the end, it didn't really matter. My hormone-ridden body seemed to have a mind of its own, doing anything and everything to get closer to him. If only my bloody, ballooning belly weren't in the way! If only...
"Allow me," the rumbling voice of Mr Ambrose cut off my mental rambling.
In a blink, his arms were around me. Hard, muscled arms that were holding me so close not even a breath of air would fit between the two of us.
Apparently, my dear husband had learned from our castaway encounters. Somehow, in spite of my bulging belly, he had managed to wrap me in an iron embrace, trapped against the cabin walls, in a prison I never wanted to escape from. My breathing sped as I felt wet skin press against skin, and his icy heart pounding in sync with mine.
"Mrs Ambrose?" The rumbling of his voice set my whole body atremble. "You are being tardy."
Huh? What?
My muddled brain was desperately trying to decipher his words. But I couldn't really bring myself to pay enough attention. The feeling of his fiery lips on mine and his icy eyes staring straight into my soul were all I could think about.
"T-tardy?" I managed to squeeze out.
"Oh yes." His eyes flashed like twin stars in the arctic night sky. "You're supposed to be changing, aren't you?"
And, in a blink, he tore the towel off me.
"Now," he murmured, "that's much better."
Then he was on me. His lips were devouring mine, his hands were worshipping every inch of my body. And when I say worshipping, I mean worshipping. His hands were so incredibly tender, caressing my skin as if it were silk, as if my abdomen were made of priceless porcelain and filled with the most precious treasure in the world. And yet, somehow, his gentle touch was more enthralling than my wildest fantasies of pleasure. I felt my legs go limp as I slowly sank into his embrace. Blood pounded in my ears. Slowly but surely it drowned out everything. The murmur of the sea. The mewing of the gulls. And, most importantly, the protests of my own voice of reason.
Dang it! We aren't alone on this ship! We shouldn't be doing this! We shouldn't...shouldn't...
His tongue delved into my mouth, driving a spear of desire straight through me. Tingles spread all across my body, setting my skin aflame and my heart on fire.
Shouldn't...shouldn't...
Oh yes, Lilly, that darn inner voice of mine screamed. We should! We most definitely should!
I tried to fight it. Tried to get back my reason, which seemed intent on taking an extended holiday. This was bloody madness! Hadn't we worked long and hard to make sure our true identities remained secret? We were on a ship full of goddamn pirates! We shouldn't be doing this! We shouldn't—
"My little ifrit," he murmured against my lips. Then his hand slid down to my belly, cupping it with unbelievable tenderness. "My family. My everything."
My last vestiges of resistance crumbled. I melted into his arms, letting his hands roam wild and his lips scatter searing kisses all across my face. When his mouth returned to mine, he reclaimed it with the ferocity of a conqueror staking his claim.
And yet...
And yet it wasn't enough. Never enough. Yes, he could kiss me, yes, he could hold me, but there was always a barrier between him and myself. A barrier that kept giving me loving kicks now and again!
A growl of frustration ripped free from his throat. Whirling me around, he pressed into me from behind, his rock-hard muscles somehow feeling better than the softest cushions I had ever touched. Especially one that was nestled right between the cheeks of my...
Oh dear.
I swallowed. Or at least I tried to. But my mouth was far too dry. The only thing separating him and me now was a pair of rather threadbare trousers.
"Mr Ambrose?"
"Yes?"
"Shouldn't we both change? I think you are also overdressed."
"Agreed."
He didn't hesitate for a moment. In a flash, he had divested himself of his half-open shirt. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw him shrug it off and hurl it into a corner of the room. Then, with a fierce look in his eyes, he captured my cheek in his hand.
"Ready?" he demanded.
Unable to look away, I gazed deep into his dark, sea-coloured orbs. "Since I said yes at the altar."
His dark eyes flashed with untold emotions and, without waiting another instant, he reached down to his trousers, shoved them down and—
Someone knocked at the door?
"Captain? Captain!"
The both of us froze.
Slowly, very slowly, I turned my face enough to stare at him. Leaning closer, I whispered into Mr Rikkard Ambrose's ear with an icy voice that even he would have been proud of: "You did lock that door, didn't you?"
A pause.
"With a fifty percent certainty, Mrs Ambrose."
"In other words, you have no bloody idea!"
I swallowed.
Any moment now. Any moment now, that door could fly open, and we would be discovered, and, and...
And why the heck does that make me feel hot?
Oh, don't get me wrong, if anyone actually did open that door, I would scratch their eyes out before throwing them overboard. But the idea that it could happen, that I was having a secret tryst with my pirate captain of a husband that nobody could know about...
A delicious shiver went down my back as I glanced over my shoulder at Mr Rikkard Ambrose. He was staring at the door with a steely look in his eyes. In those dark orbs, I could read the future. If anyone actually dared to open that door, I would not have to do anything. My husband would eviscerate them and pluck out their eyes before I could so much as blink. If it was for me, for his family, he would do anything.
Suddenly, feeling hot didn't seem so strange anymore. Neither did the excitement racing through my veins and the blood pounding in my ears.
"Leave!" Mr Ambrose barked.
"But, Captain, we've almost reached the docks, and—"
"I said leave! I'll be out in a minute."
"A-aye aye, Captain!"
Footsteps hurried away outside the cabin. Cocking an eyebrow at him, I gave my dear husband a questioning look. "In a minute?"
His arms snaking around me to hold me tight, he raked his eyes over my naked form. "...or possibly two."
A wide grin spread over my face.
***
Roughly twenty-two minutes later, the door to the captain's cabin creaked open and I waddled out onto the deck.
Hey, don't look at me like that! The difference between 2 and 22 is only an additional 2, right? It's not a problem to take an extra two minutes. Definitely not.
Especially not if you're enjoying yourself, right?
Shut up, inner voice! Shut up!
I was spared my inner voice's response to that when Mr Ambrose stepped out of the captain's cabin behind me and everyone's attention abruptly snapped to him. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him step up beside me. He wasn't wearing his rugged pirate captain outfit anymore. Instead, he was wearing, drumroll...
A white shirt.
A black tailcoat.
A black top hat.
A pair of black trousers.
A black and silver cane.
All brand-new and fitting perfectly.
"So..." Lowering my voice, I leaned towards him. "Did you just become a pirate to get a new outfit for free?"
"Of course not, Mr Linton."
"Oh?"
"I obtained a lot of other things for free as well."
"Captain!" One of the pirates dashed towards us and came to an abrupt halt a few yards away. "Where have you been? Woolridge is already getting antsy!"
"I was examining some plans in detail."
"Plans?"
"Cave exploration," Mr Ambrose responded, his face perfectly immovable. "From previous probing, I'm fairly certain there's treasure to be found there."
I nearly choked on my own spittle.
"Great, Captain! Need any help?"
"Oh no." Mr Ambrose's eyes flashed coldly, though the pirate didn't seem to notice. "This particular cave I shall have to explore more fully on my own. Soon."
I gave another strangled cough and felt my ears go scarlet. That son of a bachelor! I was going to...
...let him explore your cave? Thoroughly?
Shut up, you stupid inner voice! Shut up!
"But that's beside the point," my dear husband continued.
Beside the point? Beside the bloody point?! He just told a ship full of pirates he was planning to roger me!
Hm...yes, he did. Yay!
"Now...enough time wasted. We have work to do." Mr Ambrose snapped his fingers. "Grant! Smith!"
Two rough-looking men stepped forward. "Aye aye, Captain!"
"Go into that store room over there." He jabbed a thumb at a door to the left. "In there, you'll find some clean clothes to change into. When I venture into town to meet our host, you'll be acting as my bodyguards."
"Our," I corrected, smiling brightly as I patted his shoulder. "Our bodyguards."
He cocked his head at me. "I do not believe there will be a need for a ship's cook on this excursion, Mr Linton, do you?"
Translation: I am not going to let you take a single step into that viper's nest. Not you, and especially not our child.
Standing on my tiptoes, I whispered into his ear, "If you think you can leave me behind, think again. And besides, would it be a good idea? What do you think is more likely, that your merry band of pirates gets me into trouble somehow if I stay here, or that I will be perfectly safe if I stay by your side?"
A muscle in his cheek twitched. I couldn't help but smirk at the struggle that had to be going on in that granite head of his. He had little choice now. Either he could retract his order for me to stay and take me with him, or he could admit that I wouldn't be safe while in his company. My oh my. Which would he choose, I wonder?
Mr Ambrose's jaw worked for a moment—then he gave an abrupt jerk of the head. "On second thought, maybe we will need a ship's cook after all."
Translation: I know what you're doing!
"Why, thank you!" I beamed up at him. "I knew that, deep down, you appreciated my cooking!"
Translation: I know you know. But you can't do anything about it. By the way, I'm cooking you dinner this evening.
Mr Ambrose answered by taking a stiff pose worthy of a deserter waiting for his firing squad. Before I could comment on that, the door to the store room opened again, and the two burly pirates stepped out, looking distinctly uncomfortable in grey tailcoats and bowler hats. Pity that I didn't have a camera to commemorate the occasion.
"Ready?" Mr Ambrose demanded.
The two pirates shifted uncomfortably. "Err, well..."
"Are. You. Ready?"
"Yes, Captain, Sir! Ready as can be, Captain, Sir!"
Without another word, Mr Ambrose gestured to another sailor, who dashed over to the side of the ship and lowered the gangplank. With a thunk, it hit the dock, and, a moment later, our little procession strode off the ship.
As I walked beside my husband, I couldn't help but swagger ever so slightly. I hadn't noticed back in the captain's cabin while my mind had been, ehem...otherwise occupied. But now I was very well aware of the clothes I was wearing. The clothes he had laid out for me. They consisted of a comfortable tailcoat, a pair of trousers and bowler hat, along with a pocket watch and last, but certainly not least...
A vest.
A vest decorated with peacocks. Bright, purple peacocks, exactly like the ones on my favourite vest that was now irrevocably lost. Where the heck had Mr Ambrose found an actual, honest-to-god, amazingly fancy, big-enough-for-a-pregnant-lady-to-fit-in peacock vest? I couldn't help but send a long gaze at my husband's back. How many ships did he have to plunder to find that, I wondered?
Probably a lot. Yet he did it anyway and didn't even say a word. He's a keeper.
For once, I didn't disagree with my inner voice.
"Captain? Ah, Captain, there you are!" The moment we stepped onto the dock, Woolridge strode towards us, a beaming smile on his face. Either he was really happy to see us, or he was really, really happy to get away from us bloodthirsty pirates now that his job would soon be over. Somehow, I had a feeling it was the latter. "My employer is waiting. Shall we go?"
All that Mr Ambrose gave in answer was a silent nod.
"Excellent! Follow me, please!"
And he was off, striding down the main street with determination. The four of us followed, trying our very best to look normal and non-piraty. With varying levels of success, incidentally.
"How are you doing this, Captain?" one of our bodyguards whispered from behind, glancing at Mr Ambrose striding confidently through the street. "You look like some rich toff out for a walk on the lemonade."
"Promenade. That's promenade."
"That's what I'm saying, Captain! I mean..." Lowering his voice and nervously glancing around, the man leaned towards Mr Rikkard Ambrose. "...you're doing this stuff like it's normal to walk through a town and not burn and plunder everything in sight! How do you do it?"
"It is a mandatory skill to acquire if you wish to become a successful captain in...our line of business," my dear husband said with a completely straight face. "Blending in with the wealthy and powerful is necessary to acquire information on suitable targets."
The two pirates stared at him with star-truck eyes, while I pretended to gag on air.
Blending in with the wealthy my juicy derrière! Do beans need to blend in with vegetables?
I didn't know whether to give my husband a round of applause or a kick in the bollocks for his supreme shamelessness. But before I could decide, we reached the end of the street we were walking down and stepped out onto a large square somewhere in the centre of town. From said square, streets led in all directions, and people were bustling everywhere, buying, selling, enjoying the fresh morning air before the tropical heat set in.
"Where to now?" Mr Ambrose demanded.
"This way." With a gesture, Woolridge led us down one of the streets.
Most certainly not one I had been expecting, though.
I had thought we'd be heading into the dingier parts of town. We were heading to see the secret instigator of a band of pirates, right? It was only right to expect some sort of secret underground villain hideout.
Don't judge me. I'd actually been in one of those.
But no. We weren't heading to a secret hideout, or a gothic dungeon, or even a dingy cave. We were heading to the suburbs.
"Is he for real?" I whispered to Mr Ambrose, while staring at the back of the man who was leading us.
My hubby's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Apparently."
I glanced around, wondering which of the neat, elegant houses in resplendent white we would be stopping at. That is, until we moved past the last of them and walked out into the countryside, where we ended up standing in front of a manor. A real, honest-to-god manor at the centre of a large, luscious park filled with beautiful tropical flowers and various examples of neoclassical architecture. The house—if it could be called that—was bigger than Buckingham Palace and the Tower of London put together. The meticulously manicured lawn in front of it was being tended to by half a dozen gardeners in livery. It was one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen.
I hated it at first sight.
"So..." Stopping in my tracks, I leaned towards Mr Ambrose while keeping my eyes focused intently on the distant edifice. "This is it?"
He glanced at Woolridge, studying his profile for a moment—then gave a curt nod. "This is it."
The words he didn't speak nonetheless were clearly audible to me: This is where he lives. The one who tried to kill our child.
Farther ahead, Woolridge turned around to glance back towards us, gesturing at the coach in the driveway. "Seems like our employer is at home. Shall we go?"
"Oh yes." Smiling, I slid my hands behind my back so, without anyone seeing, I could crack my knuckles. "Let's go meet him."
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My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,
Time for the plot behind the pirates to unfold! :)
Yours Truly
Sir Rob