Page 207 of New Storm Rising
As a firm believer in the principle of “knowledge is power is time is money”, I had moved fast for most of my life—but right then and there, I broke all my speed records. In a blink, I was beside my wife, plucked the crate from her hands and pushed it back in place.
I needed a reasonable excuse for her to stop working, and I needed itright now!
But there isn’t one.
Well…then that left only one avenue. Anunreasonable excuse. Something illogical and idiotic. Something I would never ordinarily say.
Fighting against my every instinct, I pried open my mouth.
“Nonsense! We are married. Everything I own, you also own. So any salary I pay you is, in fact, paid by yourself. Why would you have to work for that? Sit down and relax!”
Great and all-powerful god of wealth, Pluto, did I really just say such a thing?
My lady wife seemed to have similar doubts. She was staring at me, the crates beside her completely forgotten.
“Who are you and what have you done with Mr Ambrose?”
I felt my little finger twitch. “Sit down and relax now! That is an order!”
An order she apparently didn’t intend to obey. She was still standing there, scrutinising me strangely. Then she…reached out for my forehead? DidshethinkIwas sick?
My little finger twitched again.
All right. Enough.
Sweeping her off her legs, I wiped the dirt of a nearby crate and plopped her down onto it. For a moment, she looked stunned, then was about to stand up—only to freeze when I pinned her in place with my gaze. Once I was certain she would not get up again, I whirled on the surrounding sailors, who were watching the scene with gobsmacked expressions. And more importantly, they were not working.
“What are you fools standing there for, staring? Go hurry up and rela—ehem, I meanwork! What do you think I pay you for?”
The sailors stood frozen for a moment longer—then leapt back to their work, now moving twice as fast as before. I nodded to myself, mildly satisfied. That is, until I noticed my wife moving to get up again.
Stepping towards her, I loomed over her, doing my best to convey what would befall her if she dared to move. Then I opened my mouth and spoke one word. “Sit!”
My darling wife’s response to this was a cocked eyebrow. “Woof, woof?”
“I’m being serious, Mr Linton!”
“So am I,” she huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not just going to sit around like an obedient little puppy.”
Hm. A leash? Not a bad idea. Maybe…
“Didn’t we get this straightened out before the wedding?” she interrupted my perfectly reasonable thoughts. “What’s up with this caveman attitude of yours all of a sudden? Or—” Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “That’s it, isn’t it? The reason you’ve been hovering around me all this time! The reason you won’t let me anywhere near your paperwork, or the cargo, or any work whatsoever!”
I stiffened. Had she guessed the truth? Should I say something to try and justify myself?
“Ehem. I—”
“And Karim,” she continued, her gaze fixed on me. “He knew, too, didn’t he? And he didn’t say anything!”
One of her hands gently touched her stomach. Oh yes, she knew all right. Well…perhaps it was better like this. It had taken long enough for her to realise what was going on. If she was finally ready to accept having a child, ready to accept the limits that would place on her dreams of freedom, we could start the next phase of our lives together and—
“The reason you won’t let me do any work, won’t let me near any work-related documents or the load of the ship… it’s because you’re afraid I’ll puke all over it!”
—on second thought, never mind.
“Ha! Suddenly, you have nothing to say?” Standing up, she took a stride forward and stabbed my chest with a finger. “Just because of a little seasickness, you won’t allow me to raise even a single finger? It’s not even that bad! I can totally keep it in check, and—bluuurgh…!”
Instinctively, I leapt to the side.
