Page 241 of Storm of Bells
‘Reload, everybody!’ The young woman at thefront wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. What was her name again?Amy? ‘And make sure ye don’t miss your shot!’
I made a mental note to help my wife findsome new friends.
Cheers went up from the crowd as the fiendswith an R between the F and the I grabbed new ammunition.
‘I have never really understood thisparticular tradition,’ muttered my wife, who just happened to havetaken cover behind me. ‘It’s so silly.’
‘It is a fertility ritual,’ I informed her,suddenly not so upset about the rice anymore as I remembered thatlittle piece of information. ‘The seeds are supposed to improve thebride’s chances of getting preg—’
‘Yikes!’ she cut me off and abruptly duckedto avoid a new round of rice fired straight at the back of herhead. ‘Move! Let’s get out of here!’
Translation: let’s get to our wedding night.I did not have the slightest objection to that.
To the cheers and claps of the congregation,we dashed out of the church, past the people pelting us with rice.Outside, the crowd had not been idle. A number of long tables hadbeen set up on the meadow in front of the church, tables which werebent under the weight of cakes, pies, huge mugs of juice and ale aswell as various other superfluous foodstuffs that weren’t bread orwater.
‘Shouldn’t we have invited everyone to themansion?’ I heard a whispered question from beside me.
Glancing down at my wife, I squeezed herhand. ‘This way, the villagers will be much more comfortable. Theywanted to contribute something to your special day.’
She grinned up at me. ‘And, this way, youdon’t have to spend a penny on the food.’
It was truly comforting to know I had marrieda woman who knew me so well. ‘Indeed.’
‘Well, under normal circumstances, I’dremonstrate with you, but…’ She glanced at the noble lords, ladiesand gentlemen who were part of the wedding party, mostly due to mymother’s influence and my tendency as the richest man of theBritish Empire to attract countless bootlickers and beggars. Allthose lovely lickspittles looked rather queasy as they franticallytried to clean imaginary dirt off the rough wooden benches andtables scattered across the meadow. Several pampered and powderedladies were holding perfumed handkerchiefs in front of their facesto ward off the terrible odour of fresh country air. Out of thecorner of my eye, I saw my lady wife grin. ‘I think a picnic in theopen could be a fun wedding supper.’
I could not help but agree. That being said,looking at the new Mrs Ambrose in her tight, figure-hugging weddingdress, I came to the silent conclusion that we could have simplyskipped the supper and proceeded to the more interesting parts ofthe evening. When I met her gaze, she was looking at me with asparkle of anticipation in her eye. Hm…apparently she also—
‘Now you’re my husband,’ she whispered,cutting off my thoughts. ‘Now you have to tell me. What’sEnfield?’
I froze, my eyes narrowing infinitesimally.So, not anticipation. Curiosity. About a dangerous subject she hadno business sticking her nose into. ‘Asking about another man onyour wedding day? Shame on you, Mrs Ambrose!’
‘So it’s a person?’ she demanded eagerly. Fartoo eagerly for my taste. ‘Who is he? What does he have to dowith—mmm!’
Utilizing a nearby strawberry to its fullestpotential, I stuck it into her mouth, effectively cutting heroff.
‘Mmm! Mmm!’
‘Interesting. If I’d known it was this easyto silence you, I would have used that method before.’
‘Mmm…!’ She swallowed, licking the strawberryjuice from her lips in a most intriguing manner. ‘You can’tjust—’
Leaning forward, I promptly replaced thestrawberries with my lips. An excellent substitute, in my opinion.Keeping my wife silent was proving to be a more and morefascinating pastime.
‘Nnnmmm!’
‘Although,’ I whispered against her lips, ‘Ithink I like this method even better.’
‘Mmmm…’ The low purr coming from her throatsent a tingle down my spine. My fingers twitched, instinctivelywanting to reach out and claim what wasmineand—
Audience! You have an audience!
The problem was—right now, I could hardlybring myself to care. I could always order Karim to evacuate thearea. Or the town. Or the county.
This idea became all the more tempting themoment one of my wife’s friends started wolf-whistling. Then twomore joined in. I was just considering whether, instead of sendingKarim to take care of guest evacuation, why not guest eviscerationinstead? At least some of the more annoying ones. I was just aboutto raise my hand to signal him when my wife simply leaned towardsher impudent friends and wolf-whistled right back at them.
I knew there was a reason why I married thiswoman.
The next hour and twenty-seven minutes passedastoundingly quickly.Tooquickly. Normally, while I was notworking or planning my competitors’ demise, every second in my lifeticked by in slow motion. That should have been doubly the caseright now. Considering the horrific activities I was forced toindulge in…
