I smiled proudly at my husband who had just identified himself as murderous pirate scum. Was it any wonder that I was a happily married woman?
Not to be outdone, I followed his example and proudly pointed at my own chest. Striking a pose, I sent a broad smile at Karim.
Yep, that's right! Proud pirate bride, right here!
Poor Karim just stared.
Then stared some more. And some more.
It took a while for the penny to drop. Probably because Mr Ambrose didn't want to let go of it.
"No." The bodyguard shook his head, his beard whipping from left to right. "No, no, no. You can't be serious."
"Of course we aren't." With an earnest nod, I pointed at Mr Ambrose's stony visage. "Can't you see this is the face of a lifelong comedian?"
He looked from Mr Ambrose, to me, and back at Mr Ambrose, almost as if imploring us to shout "April Fools!" Instead, I gave him a wide smile and, behind my dear husband's back, started striking pirate poses.
"But...you? Pirates? How...where...when...why?"
"To answer in order: in a very interesting way, in many places, the last few weeks, and 'cause it's fun," I replied over my hubby's shoulder, happily.
He, for his part, jabbed a thumb at me. "What she said."
"Exactly!"
"Except for the fun. It was profitable."
"Excusez-moi!" A more than somewhat annoyed voice with a French accent interrupted our heart-warming reunion. "Not that I do not enjoy your little theatre performance, Messieurs et Madame, but could you perhaps remember that I am still tied up over here?"
All three of us turned to gaze at the man who had spoken—a certain Frenchman, who, after everything that had happened, was still tied to his chair.
Mr Ambrose and I exchanged a look.
"Who is this?" Karim demanded, tensing. "A pirate?"
"No." Mr Ambrose shook his head.
"Oh." The bodyguard's shoulders slumped.
"This is one of the men who hired the pirates."
"Hired them to kill us," I added helpfully.
Karim's slumped shoulders stiffened, and, righting himself, he fixed a burning gaze upon the bound man. "Is that so...?"
The Frenchman paled ever so slightly. It apparently had just occurred to him that attracting attention to himself with a bloodthirsty, vengeful giant in the room might not have been such a good idea.
"Um...Monsieur, before you do anything you might regret—"
That was as far as he got. The last thing the Frenchman saw was a mallet-sized fist approaching rapidly.
Wham!
"You know," I pointed out as I watched the unconscious man slump in his chair, drool trickling from one corner of his mouth, "we had intended to question him."
Karim cocked his head. "He's still alive, isn't he?"
That made me grin. I just couldn't help it. Instinctively, I gave the bearded mountain another hug. "I missed you. I really missed you."
"If you do not let go of me, I shall pull out my gun and not miss you."
"You see? That's what I'm talking about! I don't know how I survived these last few weeks without our friendly banter!"
The big man's beard twitched, his dark brown cheeks somehow seeming to blush even through the black bristles that covered most of his face. "By not getting shot?"
"Ah, it warms my heart how concerned you are for me, indeed it does."
Patting the man on the back one last time, I let go of the poor fellow before his head exploded. A distinct possibility, not just because of his embarrassment, but due to the way Mr Ambrose was staring daggers at his bodyguard.
"Oh. Ehem. Sahib." Clearing his throat, Karim hurriedly took a step back. "I did not mean to—"
"Grab him." Cutting the bodyguard off, Mr Ambrose stabbed a finger at the slumped figure of the Frenchman.
"Right away, Sahib!" Karim snapped to attention. Without wasting another second, he grabbed the prisoner, along with the chair he was tied to, and swung both over his shoulder. The Frenchman's head slumped backwards and, with a thunk, slammed into the chair's backrest. Karim didn't seem to notice. "Will we be leaving then?"
"Momentarily." Turning away from Karim, Mr Rikkard Ambrose speared me with his gaze. A gaze that quite clearly, without using a single word, told me: You just embraced another man. You just dared to embrace another man. In front of me.
Oh crap.
"Come here."
It was not a request. It was an order.
Not that it mattered. I didn't move an inch. After about one second, my dear husband apparently decided he had waited long enough. Stalking towards me, Mr Rikkard Ambrose wrapped his arms around me, enfolding me in an iron embrace. I couldn't really suppress my smirk.
"Jealous, Sir?" I whispered.
A growl erupted from deep within his throat. "In your dreams, Mrs Ambrose!"
"In my dreams we wear less clothing."
I felt his hand take hold of the back of my neck, his fingers entangling in my hair. His eyes flashed, gaining a hungry look the likes of which he usually reserved for gazing into bank vaults. "Indeed?"
"Indeed, Sir."
"Mrs Ambrose?"
"Yes?"
Releasing my hair, his hand slipped to the front and cupped my cheek. The way he was staring at me... It was as if I was already bare and spread out on his bed. "I have always pursued the policy of making my dreams reality."
I swallowed. Suddenly, my mouth felt very, very dry.
In a flash, Mr Ambrose's hand moved again. Capturing my chin, he lifted my head ever so slightly, and then his lips were suddenly on mine. I had thought that, over the last few weeks, Captain Rockface would have gotten his fill of plundering. I had been mistaken. When my lips parted in a startled gasp, he instantly claimed them with his own and started plundering my mouth for all it was worth.
Oh my...!
My head whirled. I tried to free myself from his embrace, tried to tell him now wasn't the time. But my limbs simply wouldn't cooperate, because Mr Rikkard Ambrose was laying a kiss on me that made my knees go weak and my blood pound in my ears until I was nearly delirious. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty. Thirty.
When he finally broke the kiss, I swayed, only really staying upright due to his tight hold on me.
"My, my," I whispered against his lips. "I thought a gentleman was supposed to ask before accosting a lady in such a manner?"
"Currently, I'm not a gentleman," he growled, his icy eyes pinning me to the spot. "I am a pirate!"
And he reclaimed my mouth, proceeding to take everything he wanted and more. His lips were wild, voracious and not to be denied. Not that I was planning to. Right now, my plans consisted of staying in my husband's embrace and emulating a nice piece of putty. But for him that still wasn't enough. In a blink, he had slid one hand beneath my derriere and, without a hint of effort on his part, lifted me bodily into the air until my face was on his level, and my lips more easily accessible. Something which he did not hesitate to take advantage of. And take. And take. And take.
Did I mention that my husband might just be a tiny bit greedy and possessive?
Not that I currently was planning to complain.
Not at all.
Plus, my lips were busy anyway. So why bother trying?
"You...!" he growled, his breath caressing my skin, his eyes burning with cold fire. "You will not touch other men. You will not look at other men. And you most definitely will not hug other men! Do you understand?"
The corners of my lips lifted into a cheeky smile. "A bit much jealousy for a fat ship's cook, don't you think, Mr Pirate Captain?"
"Yes." Cupping my face with both hands, he rested his forehead against mine. "But not for my wife."
Then, without another word, he slammed his mouth onto mine once more, resuming his ravaging and plundering.
Oh my...! Maybe having him moonlight as a pirate wasn't such a bad idea.
Another fierce, relentless kiss. And another.
Yes, definitely not a bad idea!
Hm...maybe, when we got back to England, I could get the Queen to issue him one of those nifty papers making you an officially licensed pira—ehem, I mean a "patriotic privateer"?
Oh yes! Sounds fun!
Well...maybe later. Pirating might be entertaining, but what was currently going on was even more fun.
We continued to be...occupied for the next few minutes. When we finally parted, I was breathless and dizzy.
"Home?" he asked.
Never had a single word sounded so beautiful.
"Yes," I agreed. "Take me home."
One last time, his arms tightened around me. "Adequate. Let's go."
"And what about him?" I asked, jabbing my head at the unconscious Frenchman.
"Oh, I think we shall bring him along." Eyes glittering coldly, Mr Ambrose stared at the figure dangling over Karim's shoulder—then turned to stare off into the distance. "I have some nice, comfortable rooms underneath Empire House where we can host our guest as long as we wish and ask him all the questions we want."
I grinned. And my grin wasn't at all vicious. No, not in the least. "An excellent idea, my dear husband. Being hospitable is an important quality."
"Indeed." Releasing me from his embrace, he extended an arm to me. "Shall we?"
Unable to stop smiling, I linked my arm with his. "We shall, Sir."
Arm in arm, we started towards the exit. Halfway to the door, Mr Ambrose stopped for a moment and glanced back at Karim, who was standing in the corner, one hand clutching the Frenchman, the other covering his eyes and part of his reddened face. For some reason, he didn't seem to have enjoyed our marvellous romantic scene very much.
"Oh, and Karim?" said Mr Ambrose.
"Yes, Sahib?"
"Adequate to have you back."
"Thank you, Sahib!"
"Now stop covering your face and get moving! Chop chop!"
"Right away, Sahib!"
And, together, we stepped out into the fresh morning air. We were going home.
A savage smile split my lips.
And when we're ready...mastermind, the one behind all this, whoever you are... you'd better say your prayers. We're coming for you!
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My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,
My apologies. Today's chapter is a little bit shorter. I will make up for it next week :)
Yours Truly
Sir Rob
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GLOSSARY:
Excusez-moi!—French for "Excuse me!"