I lay there in my bed as Mr Rikkard Ambrose stalked towards me. Suddenly, I understood how the poor, big, bad wolf must have felt when the woodcutter came into grandma's hut.
What now? How to get out of this? What to say?
Ah, I've got it!
"Um...excuse me. I just remembered something very important."
And with that, I slipped out of bed and ran for my life. Ah, the nostalgia! It had been so long since I'd last used the strategy I had employed back when I was five and used to stuff frogs into my aunt's shoes: when in doubt, run!
In a few seconds, I was already out the door and halfway down the corridor, my arms and legs pumping hard. Yes! Yes, I'd done it! I'd gotten away!
Unfortunately, I had forgotten one little detail: Mr Rikkard Ambrose was a teensy weensy bit faster than my sixty-year-old aunt.
"You." A granite-hard hand closed around my upper arm, halting me in my tracks. "Stop."
I glanced over my shoulder, up at the tall figure of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. The day was coming to an end now, and, against the fiery light of the setting sun streaming in through the hallway windows, the towering black form of my husband was outlined in red and gold. His figure seemed like a fallen angel of vengeance, ready to devour me.
I swallowed.
"Thanks for the offer, but I'm in a bit of a hurry. I don't think—"
"That was not a request."
Tightening his grip on my arm, he whirled me around and pushed me into an alcove to my left, his icy eyes blazing with fury. His free hand reached out and, grabbing hold of the curtains on both ends of the alcove, jerked them shut, plunging us into darkness. Now I could see nothing but a faint glitter from his arctic eyes.
"Mrs. Lillian. Ambrose! Have you gone insane?"
"Mrs Ambrose?" Innocently, I blinked up at him. "You must have me confused with my sister, Sir. My name is Mr Victor Linton, or so my employer informed me. If you have some issue with my sister, I could help you look for her and—"
"Stop playing around!"
"Playing?" All mirth draining from my face, I reached up to cup his cheek and draw him close until his face was only inches away from mine. "Does it look like I'm playing to you?"
"Then what, pray, are you doing?" A small tremor went through his body. I was betting it wasn't because he was cold. "Going hunting in the wilderness? Alone? A week after giving birth? Alongside an enemy? Who already tried to kill you once?"
"What am I doing?" I tightened my grip on him and stared straight into those fathomless, icy eyes of his. Can't you see it? I'm trying to help you! "I'm trying to save your sister! I'm trying to help Adaira get out of this sham of an engagement! Just like you wan—"
A finger on my lips silenced me.
"Not like this." His voice was firm as bedrock, unwilling to brook any argument. And yet...somehow, it was unbelievably soft at the same time. "I want to save my sister, yes. I want it more than you could possibly imagine." Leaning forward, he gently pressed his forehead against mine. "But not at the expense of risking you."
I felt a surge of warmth inside me.
This is him. The man I love more than anything else in the world, and vice versa.
Swallowing, I stroked his cheek with my thumb. "Then don't. Don't risk me. Make sure it's the French bastard who'll be risking his neck instead!"
He considered that for a moment.
"Adequate suggestion, Mrs Ambrose."
I smirked. "Why, thank you, Sir. And remember, my name is Mr Victor Linton."
"Not right here," he growled as his strong hands took a firm hold of my face. "Not right now you aren't!"
And then he kissed me. Hard.
Ah...
How I had missed this. How I had missed him.
"You know..." I whispered against his lips. "I really wish I wasn't still a bit sore down there. I really wish we could, you know..."
In the darkness of the alcove, his eyes flashed. "Don't tempt me!"
"Why not?" I smirked. "That's half the fun."
Another predatory growl erupted from his throat, and his lips once more came down to slam a kiss on mine. And what a kiss it was!
Oh my...I knew teasing him was going to be fun, but I didn't think it would be this much fun!
In a blink, his arms slid around me and, with a jerk, he pulled me roughly against him. Hard muscles dug into me, so achingly familiar, and yet so very, very new. God, it had been so long! Originally, I'd wanted to tease him some more but, right now, I just wanted to rip his clothes off, mount him where he stood and—
—and footsteps came down the corridor outside.
The both of us froze. Or...scratch that. I froze! The living glacier I had married, on the other hand, seemed to think that now of all times was a good moment to make his move and get me to melt in his arms. Those dexterous hands of his started moving all over my body, uncaring of any clothes that might be in the way. Buttons popped and strings loosened—and all the while, outside, the sound of footsteps kept coming closer.
"Stop this!" I hissed, trying desperately to keep a moan from escaping my mouth.
"Stop what?" The low rumble of his voice right in my ear turned my knees to jelly. Then his hands slid up under my shirt and... Ooooh....! "Stop this?"
"Y-yes. You should r-really s-stop that."
"I see." His fingers shifted, moving up until they found certain assets of mine that had recently grown a bit. Immediately, he began the seizure of said assets. Thoroughly. "And should I stop that as well?"
"I...aah...ooh..."
For some reason, I didn't manage to get more words out of my mouth. Seeing this as my answer, Mr Ambrose continued to rapidly confiscate my assets, something which he apparently was very good at. Greedy scumbag business mogul!
Finally, his mouth broke away from mine. I could feel his hot breath wash over my face, and it sent a delicious shiver down my spine. Gathering all my willpower—which, right now, was about enough to fill a thimble—I licked my lips, trying to somehow gather enough moisture in my dry mouth to speak.
"We... we should really stop this."
"Indeed?"
That was when the footsteps outside arrived just in front of our little hideout. Now, only a curtain was separating us from whoever was out there.
"Y-yes!" I hissed. "We really bloody should!"
"Why?" he whispered in my ear like the snake in paradise, only a lot more seductively. "So we stay undiscovered? So you don't make any noise?"
"Of course! What do you think, you darn—"
He cut off my words halfway with a finger on my lips. "That won't be any problem," he growled. "I know how to silence people."
And he did. Oh God, how he did! His mouth covered mine tightly enough to rob me of my breath and block all sound whatsoever.
Holy Moly...!
I couldn't help it. My entire body melted against him, just as the footsteps passed outside. I didn't care. Heck, I wouldn't have cared if an elephant herd had come stampeding into the alcove. Right now, there was only me, my husband, and his magical hands. I wanted him! I wanted him here and now! God, it had been so very, very long.
And it probably was going to be even longer.
Why, you may ask?
Because, no matter how hard my heart pounded with need, the ache between my legs wasn't the kind that made me want to jump into bed with him. Heck, I'd only given birth just over a week ago! I was definitely not ready for Berty number two.
So, Lilly, if you aren't going to go all the way...that means you can have as much fun tempting him as you want, right?
Sometimes, my inner voice really had a good point.
Time to really get my revenge for that inane plan of his.
"W-want you...!" I squeezed out a whisper between kisses.
He swallowed. Hard. And that was not the only thing about him that was hard. "The feeling is mutual, Mrs Ambrose."
"It's really a pity..." I sighed, and, with some effort, ended our kiss, leaning back to stare up at him with longing.
He froze. "What is a pity?"
"Well, with my having given birth so recently. I can't possibly fulfil my wifely duties so soon again. Unless..." I batted my eyelashes up at him, doing my best to seem like an innocent little puppy. "...unless y-you don't care if it h-hurts me?"
A muscle in his cheek twitched. And that wasn't the only part of him that was twitching.
"No. Naturally I...would not...want to...hurt you." The words were dragged from his mouth like men over barbed wire. Distinctly unwillingly. "That would be...bad."
Oh my. Poor man. Seems like this situation is really "hard" for him.
I did my very best not to smirk. I wasn't entirely successful.
Mr Rikkard Ambrose's eyes narrowed. "Mrs Ambrose...are you enjoying this?"
"What? Oh no, Sir!" Innocently, I widened my eyes. "After all, how could I do that to my dear, dear husband? Teasing you like that? Why would I enjoy tormenting the man who persuaded me to put on a tailcoat and play his sister's future husband? Why would I enjoy torturing the man whose fault it is I have to compete for my sister-in-law's hand with a homicidal megalomaniacal madman less than ten days after giving birth? That would just be mean."
There was a pause in the darkness.
"All right...in retrospect, I can see why you might be slightly displeased, Mrs Ambrose."
"Indeed?"
"In my defence, the plan with Adaira was a spur-of-the-moment decision."
"Indeed? Well, so is this." And I grabbed my dear Dick by the body part he was named after.
"Nnng!"
"Now..." In the darkness, I smirked like an ifrit. "Let's kiss and cuddle a little more, shall we? After all, even if we can't go all the way, I can still show my affection to my darling husband."
And then I started kissing him again. And not just on the mouth, either.
Roughly half an hour later, Mr Rikkard Ambrose staggered out of the alcove, both hands clutched over his private region. After a moment or two, I followed him. And if there was a little swagger in my steps, it was surely completely coincidental.
"Mrs Ambrose," he squeezed out, "I think it is time to put an end to this for tonight. Let us go to bed."
"Hm..." Thoughtfully, I stroked my chin—then suddenly smirked and waggled my eyebrows at him. "You're right. We should really sleep together."
"To rest," he clarified.
"Why, of course." Batting my eyelashes, I smiled up at him. "After all, I am a delicate woman fresh out of childbirth. How could I possibly intend anything else?"
His little finger twitched. And his biggest one, too, most likely. Although, since his hands were still covering his private region, I couldn't be entirely sure.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes.
"Are you counting to ten to try and calm yourself down right now?" I enquired, curious.
"No. Ten million."
"My oh my. You've really got it bad."
"Yes." His eyes snapped open, and he stepped towards me. Leaning down, he placed a searing kiss onto my lips. Not one filled with passion. Not even with lust. No, this one was filled to the brim with just one feeling: love. "I have."
I heard the words he didn't need to say: I love you. You are an infuriating, feisty little ifrit, but I love you.
No...that wasn't quite right, I corrected myself as I gazed into his dark, fathomless eyes. He didn't love me despite who I was. He loved me because of it.
Standing up on tiptoes, I kissed him back.
I love you too, you big block of granite! I love you too!
When, finally, we broke apart, I had to suppress a yawn.
Mr Rikkard Ambrose cocked his head ever so slightly. "Am I boring you, Mrs Ambrose?"
"N-no." I couldn't resist another yawn. "Just really tired. Today has been...intense."
"We should probably really go to bed." Pulling me against him, my husband held me tight. "You will need to be alert tomorrow."
"Yes." Smiling, I leaned into his chest. "Let's get a good, long night's sleep."
***
"Waaaah! Waaah!"
I should really learn how to keep my mouth shut.
"Waaah!"
Rolling over in bed, I gave my husband a pleading look. "Can I escape out of the window again? You still have that bedsheet rope, right?"
In answer, I received a stern husbandly look. "No."
"No, you don't have the bedsheet rope anymore?"
"No, you cannot escape out of the window!"
"Waah, waah, waaaaaaaaaah!"
"Really?" I batted my eyelashes at him. "Are you sure? You see, I feel my disguise as Mr Victor Linton really isn't good enough yet. Maybe I should head back to London and fetch some more male attire. And nurses. And nannies who know how to take care of babies and—"
The sternness of his gaze doubled in intensity. It was impressive how he managed to do that while it was actually too dark to see his face properly.
"No."
Translation: our son needs his mother.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "You, Sir, are a horrible husband."
"No. Because..." Bending over me, he pressed a kiss onto my forehead. "...if I were a horrible husband, I would not do this."
Then he got up and walked to the corner of the room. Half a minute later, Berty's crying subsided.
Did he...
Did Mr Rikkard Ambrose just voluntarily get up in order to...?
My silent question was answered a moment later by a familiar sound, straight from all mothers' nightmares: a dirty diaper unfolding.
He...he really does love me.
A moment later, I heard the splashing of water, and the creak as the window was opened to let out the intoxicating perfume that Berty was producing so vigorously.
He really, really loves me!
Wrapping a blanket around my shoulders, I turned over in bed and stared straight ahead, unable to take my eyes off the other side of the room. He was right there, a dark, broad-shouldered silhouette in front of the moonlit window. His dexterous hands were moving with an elegance and tenderness you would normally associate with a genius painter, or a pianist playing Chopin. Yet he was using those same hands to change our child's diapers.
For a moment or two, I simply sat there, drinking him in. Watching his every move. When the reality of what the high and mighty business mogul was doing for me had finally fully settled in, I moved to get up and help—but by then, he was already long done, and Berty was back in his cradle, happily giggling. When I stepped forward and reached out to rock him back to sleep, my husband was suddenly beside me, his hands already clean and smelling of fresh...bank notes?
How the hell did he find a soap like that?!
That question slipped from my mind as he leaned forward and gently pressed me back into bed.
"Go back to sleep," he ordered, placing a gentle kiss onto my forehead. "I'll take care of everything."
I gazed into his fathomless, dark, sea-coloured eyes for a moment—then I lay back and fell asleep with a smile on my face. He had my back. My everything. No matter what I had to face tomorrow, that was enough for me.
***
I blinked, blinded by the golden light. Had Mr Rikkard Ambrose piled up his personal treasury in front of me?
Ah, no. It was just the morning sun.
Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I slowly pushed myself into a sitting position. What a beautiful morning it was. With a stretch and a yawn, I turned towards my still sleeping husband.
Beautiful in more ways than one.
That was when I heard a knock from the door.
"Enter!" I called as I, just as a precaution, pulled a blanket over the juicy deliciousness that was my husband's derriere.
Cautiously, a maid pushed open the door and stuck her head into the room.
"Um, begging your pardon, My Lady, but do you know where your brother might be found? He's supposed to be preparing for the hunt right now."
And there went my beautiful morning.
"Oh, I have a feeling he's already up," I replied with a cheerful smile that wasn't forced at all. No, not in the least. "He's probably preparing for his challenge at this very moment."
"I-is that so? Well...thank you kindly, My Lady. If you see him, please relay the message. His Lordship was rather...insistent."
Crap.
"Then I shall go looking for him straight away." I gave her a meaningful look. "That is, as soon as my husband and I are decent."
"Of course, My Lady. I shall leave you alone forthwith." And, with a bow, the servant girl ducked out of the room. The door clicked shut behind her.
Instantly, I was on the move and out of bed. In a blink, I had stripped off my underclothes and, throwing open the closet, pulled out my secret stash of men's clothes. Once I was dressed and ready, I turned towards the bed—only to find my husband still stretched out on the mattress.
Had...had my husband just slept through his wife stripping?
One of my eyebrows twitched.
Stalking over to the prone form of the philistine, I raised my hand over his butt and—
"Don't. You. Dare."
My hand froze.
"Um...you are awake, Mr Ambrose, Sir?"
"Do you honestly think I would sleep longer than you, Mrs Ambrose?"
Point taken.
"Then what are you still doing in bed?"
"Stalling for time. My men are at work as I speak. Or did you think I would simply let you wander into the wilderness without making any preparations?"
Of course he wouldn't, the scheming son of a bachelor. But...
"When the heck did you have time to give orders to your men? You and I went to bed together, and you didn't speak to them before."
"I did not."
"Oh?"
"But I did get up around three am."
Of course he bloody did. I couldn't help but smile.
"And are your preparations concluded?"
He sat up, his cold eyes finding mine, their fathomless depths filled with plots and ploys that would make any man's blood freeze. "Indeed."
My smile morphed into a smirk.
"Then let's go, shall we?"
"Let's," he agreed. "Although..."
"Yes?"
He cocked his head. "It would not be suitable for Mr Victor Linton, future betrothed to Lady Adaira, to leave Mr Rikkard Ambrose's bedroom in the small hours of the morning, now, would it?"
I frowned. "True. But then how am I going to get downstairs and—"
That was when I spotted him staring meaningfully at the window.
"You...!" I felt my eyebrows twitch. "Last night, when I wanted to, you told me no. And now you want me to... You can't be serious!"
He gave me an imperious look.
Roughly five minutes later, I found myself climbing down a makeshift rope of bedsheets, muttering curses under my breath.
"I am always serious, Mr Linton," I mimicked. "Oh, Dicky Darling, just you wait! Just you wait till I get my hands on you!"
Of course, that would have to wait till I wasn't clinging to this bloody rope anymore. For the second time in two days!
What was the world coming to? Back in Romeo and Juliet's day, it was the men who were climbing up to the ladies' balconies, not the ladies climbing down from the men's!
Well, Lilly, just look at it from the positive side: feminism is making progress! Equality! Yay!
True. Though I might perhaps be slightly more inclined to applaud this admirable move towards equality if I had my bloody hands free!
At least, this time, I didn't land in a bush but on a moderately soft patch of earth. Dusting myself off, I headed east, towards where my father-in-law was apparently waiting for me. While on the way, I did my best to check my reflection in the passing windows and straighten my clothes. After all, I was an honourable gentleman. I wouldn't want to make a bad impression on my future in-laws, would I?
Um...Lilly? You might have spent a little too much time crossdressing.
Good God...was I starting to believe my own con?
Remember, Lilly, you are female. Repeat, F-E-M-A-L-E! And you already have a husband!
I had to get out of this insane scheme before I ended up hitched to two Ambroses!
Shuddering at the mental image, I hastened my steps. Soon, I reached the gate in the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the property, where a man in plain, grey clothes was waiting for me, a rifle and a knapsack under his arm. Wordlessly, he handed both to me, and, giving him a nod in return, I proceeded out onto the open grounds. The land beyond the gate was all wild, wheat-coloured grass and gnarled, windswept trees in fiery and earthy tones, hinting at the coming of autumn. Not far away, I spotted a small group of men waiting for me next to a clump of bushes.
There they are.
Without hesitation, I strode towards them. Coming to a stop a few feet away, I gave a curt bow.
"Your Lordships, gentlemen. It is a pleasure to see you on such a fine, English morning."
As if on cue, it began to drizzle.
"Indeed," the marquess agreed without batting an eye. "It is good that you are here. Shall we begin?"
This garnered nods from all around. I let my gaze sweep over the people gathered here: the marquess, the vicomte, his attendants, Mr Ambrose and his men. Everyone was armed. There was no sign of Lady Samantha or Adaira. This was men's business.
Just peachy. I'm so glad I brought Uncle Bufford's socks.
"Here are the rules," the marquess declared. "Each contestant may bring with them one rifle, two dogs, and as much ammunition as they can carry. You have an hour to hunt your prey and may take a servant boy with you to carry your game and supplies. Whom will you choose?"
Beside the vicomte, a young boy with a knapsack over one shoulder stepped up.
Beside me, a huge, bearded figure with a rifle slung over one shoulder and a sabre strapped to his waist stepped up.
The marquess raised an eloquent eyebrow at the bearded behemoth.
"I am young at heart," stated Karim straight-faced.
"I...see." Clearing his throat, the marquess regained his composure and let his imperious gaze sweep over the assembled crowd, only to come to rest on me and the vicomte in the end. "Very well, then. Are you ready?"
"Yes!" My rival and I chorused, glaring at each other.
"Good. May the better man win. Remember, you have one hour, and whoever brings back the most game shall be declared the victor. Now...go!"
--------------------------------------
My dear readers,
I hope you enjoyed the Lilly / Mr Ambrose scene in this chapter. Am I doing a good job of letting their relationship develop into married life?
Constructive criticism is welcome! I'm not sure if I'll be able to work it into this book, because it is already pretty much planned out, but I will definitely keep it in mind for my future writing.
Yours Truly
Sir Rob