Page 10 of Storm over the Caribbean
Ohh…!
On the other hand, husbands could be really useful. Yep, let’s keep him. At least as long he continues to…
Aah, yes!
“Did you say something, Mrs Ambrose?”
“Shut up! And don’t you dare stop!”
“As you wish, Mrs Ambrose.”
Maybe, just maybe, living in a hotel wouldn’t be so bad after all. The room service was certainly nice.
After the lengthiest and most enjoyable bath of my life, I emerged from the bathroom fresh, smiling and…invigorated. With a contented sigh, I stretched. Bathing was so much more relaxing when you had soft clothes to put on and a chiselled, naked husband to dry your hair for you.
“Your Ladyship.” A butler awaited me in the corridor, bowing deeply as soon as he spotted me. “Dinner will be served in a few minutes. May I show you the way to the dining room?”
“No,” a certain cool voice came from right behind me. “Iwill.”
A tall figure in a dark tailcoat and trousers appeared beside me, and a rock-hard, muscled arm linked with mine. Glancing sideways, I cocked an eyebrow up at my dear husband.
“Jealous of your own butler, Mr Ambrose, Sir?” I whispered.
He sent me a cool gaze. “I know how much he earns per month. Trust me, there is no need to be. Now…dinner?”
“Lead on, Sir.”
Dinner was scrumptious—and that was coming from a woman who could enjoy the eye candy that was Mr Rikkard Ambrose. I had never enjoyed any food so much in my life. Granted, considering the usual fare in my aunt and uncle’s house, that wasn’t really saying much, but still. It was wonderful.
Which brought to mind a question.
Slumped back in my chair, I slowly opened one of my lazy eyelids in an attempt to overcome my post-banquet drowsiness and peered at Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
“Why?”
He cocked his head. “Why what?”
I gestured at the luxurious room, the crystal chandelier, the table filled with the remains of various delicacies. “This house. The dinner. Everything. This isn’t like you. So…why?”
For a moment, there was silence. Then…
“A last meal for the condemned.”
I blinked. “Pardon?”
“A last meal for the condemned. Or did you forget already what we have planned for tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow? What are you talking abou—” My eyes suddenly widened. “Oh.”
“‘Oh’ is correct, Mrs Ambrose.”
“Crap, crap, crap! How could I have forgotten?”
“I am unaware.”
I was such a bloody idiot! With all that had happened, I’d completely forgotten aboutthat! First my day back at work, then the rather interesting bath, and well…suffice it to say, our plans for tomorrow had completely slipped my mind. Now that I wasn’t in the bath being, ehem…“distracted” by Mr Ambrose anymore, my anxiety set in with a vengeance.
Tomorrow would be the day. The day I had tried to avoid as long as I could. The day that could no longer be delayed. The day of my doom.
