Cautiously, I crooked a finger. His iron hands were still pinning my wrists to the wall. I could hardly move an inch. Still, I managed to just reach the tips of his fingers and stroke, gently, once.
He twitched under my touch.
Careful, Lilly. Careful. One wrong move, and Captain Carter will find himself chained in the hold of a frigate bound for Beijing.
'You don't really want to do that,' I said softly, continuing to stroke his hand. With every touch, his grip loosened infinitesimally. 'You don't really want to do something that callous and heartless.'
He returned my gaze with a stare so icy it nearly broke my resolve. Leaning forward, he brought his face near enough that I could feel his breath on my cheek. 'Do you know what happened to the last man who tried to manipulate me, Mr Linton?'
'Something unpleasant, I'd guess. But you forget something, Sir.'
'Indeed?'
'Yes, Sir,' I said, my eyes sparking with fire, 'I am not a man!'
And, throwing myself forward, I kissed him.
If he had taken me by surprise with his earlier attack, it was nothing to what I did to him. His grip around my wrists instinctively tightened, until it was almost painful. His whole body jerked as my lips took his, claiming what was rightfully mine. But the shock didn't last long. After only a few seconds, his hands released my wrists, coming up around me to pull me against him. Hard muscle pressed into me, caging me in just as securely as the wall had a moment before.
And what did I do?
I kissed him. I kissed and kissed and kissed for all I was worth, utilising every trick I knew, and a few I didn't. Inwardly, I sent a thousand thanks to Amy, to whom I owed ninety per cent of my expertise. God bless prostitutes! Unless, of course, one of them ever got it into her head to come too close to the man currently clutching me in his arms and kissing the life out of me...
'Lillian...' His voice was a rough whisper against my lips, unused to saying my name out loud. 'Lillian, I...'
'Shh.' I silenced him with another kiss. And another. And another. Slowly, my fingers trailed down to the front of his shirt, popping open the top button, and I spoke words to Mr Rikkard Ambrose that I would never have thought necessary: 'No need for talking now.'
He groaned his agreement. Another searing cold hot hard soft kiss. Another button popping open. Tightening his grip, he pulled me off my feet. I saw the room fly by, and then there was softness, and warmth against my back. A sofa? He settled us down, deepening his kiss. I popped another button, revealing taut, hard muscles. Gently, my fingers began stroking along his collarbone, eliciting a shiver. He was nearly there. Nearly at the edge. Just where I wanted him.
Drawing back my fingers, I broke the kiss.
He stared down at me, blinking.
'Now is the time for talking,' I informed him. 'What do you think of a little business negotiation?'
'Business...negotiation?'
'Yes. It's simple, really. Just a tiny little thing.'
His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. 'What do you want?'
'No need to be so suspicious.' Playfully, I trailed my lips along his neck. He didn't even flinch. Impressive. But I could see it in eyes: he was burning. Burning with cold, ice-blue fire. 'It's really not much.'
'What. Do. You. Want?'
You could have frozen lava with his voice. Ignoring old frosty's mood, I smiled up at him. 'Simple. You leave Captain Carter alone for one day – and in return, you get this.'
Grabbing him by the back of the head, I pulled him down into a hard, hot, merciless kiss.
When I released him, I wasn't the only one who was breathing heavily.
Victory!
'Just...' His voice sounded rough. Clearing his throat, he tightened his grip on me. 'Just one day?'
'Yep. For every kiss, of course.'
'What?'
'And anything else that goes beyond a handshake.'
Cold fury blazed in his eyes. The kind the frost giants feel just before Ragnarök.
'Are you,' he said, his voice no more than a whisper, 'going to use your body as a weapon to keep another man safe?'
'Pretty much, yes,' I agreed cheerily. 'Don't let it bother you.'
'I should not let it bother me?'
'Yep.'
His arms tightening around me, Mr Ambrose leaned forward, pressing me harder into the sofa. His face above me was a mask of granite. 'I should just sit back and relax, letting that red-coated fool go free to gallivant around you and pant at your feet, and for what? A kiss each day?'
I met his cold gaze without blinking. 'Not a kiss.' Grabbing his face in my hand, I pulled him down on top of me. 'This kiss!'
And I kissed him.
And kissed him.
And kissed him.
When, a long, long time later, I finally released him and gazed into his eyes, I saw everything that was burning in me reflected there.
'Well, what do you say, Sir?' I whispered. 'Do we have a deal?'
*~*~**~*~*
I had to admit, I reflected as I sat in the coach back to Battlewood, gazing out over the white landscape rushing by, I was quite pleased with myself. Not only was I now a private secretary, but also a businesswoman in my own right, who had just brokered her first major deal with one of Britain's richest financiers. Granted, the deal was a tad unconventional, but still, it was something to be proud of, right?
Particularly at night, when I was going to enjoy the dividends and benefits.
Pulling my gaze from the endless white outside, I glanced around the coach from one of the two men to the other, and only with a lot of effort managed to suppress a smirk. Dear Lord...! This would have been funny if it weren't so deadly serious.
Who was I kidding – it still was funny!
Captain Carter cleared his throat. 'So kind of you to let me travel in your coach, Mr Ambrose,' he said.
Silence.
The captain cleared his throat again. 'Riding all this way on horseback again would not have been comfortable.'
More silence. Utter, complete, ear-killing silence.
'I suppose what I wanted to say was...I really appreciate the gesture. You're a true gentleman.'
At that, Mr Ambrose made a sound somewhere between the grumble of a volcano and the grunt of a polar bear. His hand tightened around the handle of his cane with a force that...
Well, 'poor cane' was really all that needed to be said.
'But where is Mr Linton?' the captain enquired, glancing around in the coach, seeing only two other occupants. 'Isn't he coming back with us?'
'He,' my dear employer said with frostbite in his voice, 'had to ride. I thought he deserved a lesson. His performance has been less than pleasing, lately.'
'Indeed?' I raised an eyebrow. 'You sang a different tune yesterday night when–'
A kick from Mr Ambrose silenced me. Probably better that way. The ending of that sentence would likely have given the good captain a rather nasty shock.
With three passengers, plus luggage, and a coachman and gigantic bodyguard on the box of the carriage, we travelled more slowly than we had done on our way to Newcastle. Still, only once did we stop at an inn. The sun was just rising high enough to peek over the trees when we continued our journey towards Mr Ambrose's ancestral home.
'Do you think anyone will be expecting us?' I enquired as I caught the first glances of the huge manor house through the trees. 'Did you send word ahead?'
'And waste perfectly good money on a message that will only arrive a day earlier than us?' Mr Ambrose gave me a cool look. 'Don't be absurd, Miss Linton.'
'Oh. Well, I suppose we can knock and see...'
'There! There they are!'
The last words didn't come from me. They didn't come from Captain Carter either, and they most certainly did not come from Mr Rikkard Ambrose. No, they came from two figures on the steps of the manor house, waving and calling as if we were a whole boatload full of prodigal sons returning.
'Seems like your dear mama has been missing you.' I gifted Mr Ambrose with a brilliant smile. 'Isn't that sweet?'
The look I got in return didn't contain much sugar.
'Well, let's not keep her waiting!' The coach rolled to a stop and, grabbing Mr Ambrose by the hand, I towed him out of the coach and towards the waiting women. They started to rush down the steps towards us. 'I'm sure your mother will be ecstatic to see you agai–'
'Lillian!' Throwing her arms around me, Lady Samantha engulfed me in an ocean of pink fluff. 'Lillian, dear, oh we were so worried! Are you all right? Are your injuries better? Oh, we were so terrified when we heard! We're so happy that you're back on your feet again!'
'Yes,' Mr Ambrose's voice came from somewhere beyond the fluffy pink vice that engulfed me. 'I can see that my mother is clearly ecstatic to see me again.'
'You...' Letting go of me, Lady Samantha marched up to her son, glared up at him and poked him in the chest. I am not joking. She actually and truly extended her forefinger and poked Mr Rikkard Ambrose in the chest. And her finger didn't freeze and drop or anything like that. 'How could you! How could you take Miss Linton into such terrible danger? Rick, I don't know what to do with you! I really don't...'
Her words drained away, and she simply stood there, gazing up at her son. She didn't look angry. She didn't even look mildly annoyed. No, it was much worse than that. She looked disappointed. Her big blue eyes gazed up at her son with a look that said: You did this? I thought you were better than that. I thought I could rely on you,
Mr Ambrose shifted.
'Miss Linton insisted on accompanying me. She–'
'Well, of course she did!' Lady Samantha glanced over at me, and her gaze held so much warmth and love and tenderness, I felt the instinctive urge to duck behind a bush to shield myself from the onslaught. 'I wouldn't have expected anything less.'
'You shouldn't have listened to her!' That was Adaira, jumping into the conversation and glaring at her brother. 'It obviously was a stupid idea!'
Then she turned to me and threw her arms around me. 'I'm so happy you're back! You're the only sensible female hereabouts!'
I could have pointed out that those two statements were a tiny little bit contradictory, but instead simply hugged her back and grinned at Mr Ambrose over her shoulder. The look he shot back at me was less than pleased. My grin widened.
'Lady Samantha?' Bowing, Captain Carter approached the lady of the house. 'I see that you have quite a lot to discuss with Miss Linton and your son. I shall return to my room and see you at dinner.'
'Of course, Captain. Of course. Thank you for ensuring that this county is secure again, and we can all sleep safely in our beds tonight.'
'Only doing my duty, Your Ladyship.'
And, with another bow, he marched off towards the house, where a footman was already waiting for him.
'I will leave as well,' Mr Ambrose stated coolly. 'I have some urgent business matters to take care of that cannot–'
'You stay right where you are!' Letting go of me, Adaira marched up to her brother, blocking his way. 'Mother and I have a few things to say to you, brother dear.'
'But first,' Lady Samantha added, turning back to me with that expression that simultaneously made me feel warm inside and made me want to run for the hills, 'we'll take care of you, my dear. You must be exhausted! After all the things that excuse for a son of mine put you through–'
'I'm fine,' I protested. 'Really, my injuries weren't as bad as you might have heard. A few scrapes, a black eye, a couple of bruised ribs – nothing much.'
'Black eye? Bruised ribs?'
Oh. Hadn't I mentioned those in my letters yet? Oops.
'Rikkard Ambrose!' Blue eyes wide with horror, Lady Samantha turned on her son. I judged this might be the right opportunity to sneak away – but no such luck. She immediately turned back and engulfed me in another hug, as if trying to shield me from the whole big, bad world. A second later, she was joined by Lady Adaira. Unfair! Two against one!
'Oh, you poor, poor dear...'
'We'll keep you safe here, don't worry.'
'Come. Let's find you a quiet place to rest, and you can tell us all about it.'
Can I? Does that include my crossdressing and my recent 'business deal', My Lady?
But I didn't even get a chance to ask that question. Instead, I was dragged away, well aware that something was going to happen to me that I hadn't experienced for nearly fifteen years. I was going to be intensely, thoroughly, and lengthily mothered.
May God have mercy on me.
*~*~**~*~*
I was sitting in the small pink drawing room – a rather great honour, probably, for from the decor I deduced this was the favourite room of the lady of the house – when a knock sounded from the door. Lady Samantha ceased plying me with tea and biscuits for a moment, and glanced over her shoulder.
'Come in.'
The door opened, and Rikkard Ambrose appeared in the doorway.
'Not you! You stay out. You've caused enough damage as it is.'
'Mother, I–'
'Not another word!'
Hurriedly, I swallowed a mouthful of biscuit, clearing the way. 'It's all right, Lady Samantha. I don't mind if he comes in.'
'Of course you don't, child.' She gave me a smile that was more motherly than a pregnant midwife expecting her thirteenth child. I almost could read her thoughts stamped on her forehead: He's let you get hurt so badly, and still you want to be near him. Oh dear, you can't help yourself, can you?
Well, as a matter of fact, I couldn't. But there was also the small fact that he was the one who signed my monthly pay cheque. I could hardly order him from the room, especially one that wasn't mine.
Mr Ambrose's jaw tightened. 'I am coming in.'
'Rikkard Ambrose, don't you dare! I forbid–'
Ignoring his mother, Mr Ambrose strode into the room, followed by the hulking figure of Karim.
'I will speak to Miss Linton alone, Mother.'
'You will do no such thing!'
It sounded brave, and Lady Samantha even tried to put her hands on her hips and look properly outraged, but next to the towering form of Karim and the black-clad menace that was her own son, she appeared distinctly unscary. There was simply no way you could look as sweet and harmless as Lady Samantha and order someone like Mr Rikkard Ambrose around. It was a physical impossibility. I wondered how she had gotten him to eat his spinach when he was little.
'Please, Your Ladyship.' Just as she was about to gather her courage and attempt to move mountains and icebergs for me, I placed a restraining hand over hers. 'I'd like to have a word with him.'
'Oh dear...are you sure?' Her eyes wandered from me to Mr Ambrose, and back to me and the faint remnants of bruising still visible on my face.
'Yes,' I told her. 'I'm sure.' Sure that I don't want him to pick you up and throw you out of the room. Which he will do, if you don't move.
'Very well. You may speak with him, and I will go. But I will not leave you alone with him. A gentleman alone–' She interrupted herself, glanced at Karim, and after some clearly painful deliberation, corrected herself: 'Two gentlemen alone with a lady in her room – that isn't seemly. I won't allow it.'
Reaching for a little bell on the table next to the chaise longue where she had wrapped me up in blankets and started stuffing me with home-made biscuits, she rang. Immediately, a maid scurried into the room and curtsied.
'Yes, My Lady?'
'I shall leave for a little while. Remain here and keep Miss Linton, my son and Mr...', again, she glanced at Karim, '...and his associate company. If Miss Linton needs anything, or there is anything else amiss, fetch me immediately, understood?'
The maid's eyes flickered from me to Mr Ambrose and back. She blushed, and her eyes widened.
'Oh. Um, yes My Lady.'
'Good. I shall take my leave, then.'
And giving her son a last meant-to-be-stern-but-really-loving look, she strode out of the room.
Silence descended.
For a long, long moment, Mr Ambrose simply stood there, staring at me with those icy, sea-coloured eyes of his. Then, finally:
'I am sorry you were hurt, Miss Linton.'
I raised an eyebrow. 'Indeed?' An apology from Mr Rikkard Ambrose? A rare thing indeed. But why is he telling me this? I already know this.
'Yes. I can think of people who deserve it much more than you do. One in particular comes to mind.'
Ah. So that's it.
This wasn't about what had happened to me. This was about what might happen to someone else if I wasn't careful.
'I trust you remember our agreement?' Mr Ambrose enquired, his voice soft as the snow before the avalanche.
'Indeed I do.'
'Adequate.'
In the corner of the room, the maid was practically panting with the effort to appear as if she weren't listening.
'And you shall keep up your end of the bargain?'
'Certainly I shall.'
'And you are, I presume, aware that it is an exclusive agreement?'
'It is?'
'Oh yes, Miss Linton. In fact, I insist on exclusively receiving the benefits from this particular contract.'
'I see.'
In the corner, the maid was blinking fast, trying to decipher Ambrose's speech – to no avail.
'Is that all?' I enquired.
'Yes, Miss Linton. That was all.' Turning, he strode towards the door. Only when he had reached the door did he turn around once more, and for the first time I noticed that Karim hadn't moved.
'One more thing, Miss Linton...after the terrible ordeal you've lived through, I feel concern about your safety.'
'You do?'
'Oh yes. You must allow me to extend my protection to you. Karim here, my trusted bodyguard, will remain with you for the foreseeable future. He has sharp eyes and will make sure that nothing untoward happens in my absence.'
My eyes went wide with shock. He couldn't be serious! He couldn't be planning to–
In the corner I heard the maid sigh. 'How romantic...'
Romantic? Romantic my feminist foot!
'Till we meet again, Miss Linton.'
And he strode out of the room, closing the door behind him.
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My dear Lords and Ladies,
Mr Ambrose is a sneaky fellow, isn't he? ;)
Good news, by the way! I'm back on my feet again. Thank you so much for all your good wishes.
And finally: I'm considering starting a completely NEW KIND OF PROJECT, EXCLUSIVELY HERE ON WATTPAD. Something that will be all about you, my dear readers, and at the same time would give you a chance to get a peek at Sir Rob's secret writing process. Interested? ;)
Yours Truly
Sir Rob