Page 209 of New Storm Rising
“Whatnow?” Whirling around, she speared me with a look which told me that yes, I should have kept silent. That was the best policy in most cases. Right now, however…
“That,” I told her, pointing towards the aforementioned rope, “was not the right kind of knot.”
“Wha—”
She didn’t manage to get out even one word before a wave crashed against the ship, and the entire vessel jerked violently. I was already on the move—but not in time to stop her from losing her footing and crashing to the ground. Nor was I in time to keep the topmost crate on the pile right next to her from breaking her loose knot and sailing right towards her.
Towards her belly.
NO!
I would never have thought that an unspoken word could be this loud. Inside me, it sounded like the explosion of a giant volcano large enough to cover the earth with ash and destroy humanity. With all my power, I launched myself forward, hoping desperately that I would be in time. No. Hope wasn’t enough. Iwouldmake it in time, come hell or high water!
Thud!
Pain lanced through my back. I let it spread throughout my body, luxuriating in it. Because I knew what this pain meant. Gritting my teeth, I braced myself against the heavy crate upon my back and looked down at my wife on the deck beneath. Safe. Unhurt. Along with my child.
She lay there, blinking up at me. The confusion on her face would have made me laugh—if I hadn’t been me.
“How chivalrous of you,” She informed me. A puzzled frown on her face, she reached up to place a hand on my forehead. “Are you sick?”
That little—
I had been about to think “ifrit”. However…could mythological fire demons get pregnant? If so, the progeny would be…
A tiny shudder went down my spine, and I decided then and there to start looking for a nanny as soon as possible. Preferably one in heavy armour.
“You’re very much welcome, Mr Linton,” I informed her and, tightening my muscles, threw myself against the load on my back. With a thud, the crate slid back in place. At one glance from me, sailors from all sides immediately leapt to my aid and started working on the ropes that had come loose. Still, I didn’t move. I just remained where I was, staring down at Mrs Lillian Ambrose.
“You know…you needn’t have done that. It would have hurt, but I would have been all right.” She raised her chin in that defiant way of hers that made me want to cut her salary. “I’m tough!”
Tough? Tough?!
Breathe. Breathe. Stay calm.
Fiercely, I stared down at her. Or more precisely, at her pregnant belly. Never had I wanted to cut her salary as much as in that moment. But I didn’t do it. Instead, I reached out to gently touch her cheek. My gaze swept over the most priceless treasure in my life, drinking her in.
“Not right now you aren’t.”
And, turning around, I stalked off across the deck towards my cabin. As for why? I was going to pursue a secret activity. Something that neither Karim, nor my wife, nor even the sailors on the ship could ever know about. A matter that, if it were to be revealed, would be my eternal shame, and would forever be held over my head by my wife.
I was going to take a five-minute break.
Somehow, I had a feeling I was going to need it.
More Needless Waste of Expensive Food
(Chapter 39, “Mrs Ambrose’s Method of Information Gathering”, from Mr Ambrose’s Point of View)
“Bleeeargh! Gargh!”
When other people describe their wives’ voices, they might use adjectives like “soft”, “sweet” and “melodious”. At least if they do not wish to spend the night in the dog house. I, however, found it difficult to apply the same adjectives to my own darling wife. Possibly because she was once again vomiting profusely.
“Grgh!”
Luckily, our hotel room was equipped with a sizable bowl.
“Blargh!”
