Page 38 of Storm over the Caribbean
“I’m coming with you, Sir.”
“No. You are not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes. I can do this all day, you know?”
His little finger twitched at the idea of the outrageous waste of time. His teeth clenched. “So. Can. I.”
I grinned. “Let me rephrase that. I can do this forthreewhole days. Till the fifteenth, to be exact.”
Which just so happens to be the day your father arrives, went unsaid.
His little finger twitched again. “That, Mrs Ambrose, was a low blow.”
Smirking, I glanced down at his lumbar region. “Those are the best kind.”
“Don’t think you can change the subject, my lady wife.” His grip on my shoulders tightened. “For the final time: you arenotcoming with me.”
I gazed into his eyes, full of iron, ice-cold determination.
Guess it was time to take out the big guns.
“Oh, well…” I swallowed, doing my best to squeeze out some fake tears at the corners of my eyes. “I…I suppose I could stay here. I’d be all alone, of course, and during my pregnancy, too, but…ah!” I snapped my fingers and a smile spread across my face. “But I don’t have to be, do I? I can just go visit your mother and sister. I’m sure they’d be happy to take care of me and keep me company. And it probably won’t matter at all if I happen to mention that my husband abandoned me a week after the honeymoon to go gallivanting around the world on his own, right?”
I had to admit, Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s control over his facial muscles wasreallyimpressive. There wasn’t a single twitch on his face, or a single flicker of unadulterated terror in his eyes.
“You wouldn’t!”
I grinned. “I so absolutely would!”
Then I added the important bit.
“Unless…”
And I glanced meaningfully towards the yacht. It took a lot out of me not to let out a wicked cackle when his shoulders sagged.
Caribbean Cruise
“This doesnotmean you will be accompanying me into danger, understood? Wherever we are going, I will find a nice hotel room with three locks on the door and you. Will. Stay. There.”
I nodded most obediently and demurely, like a proper wife should. “Of course, Dicky Darling. Just as you say, Dicky Darling.”
My words probably would have come across as more sincere if I hadn’t been relaxing on a deck chair, sipping a drink through a straw. This was the life!
I glanced over to where Mr Rikkard Ambrose was lying on another deck chair which I’d practically had to force him onto.
“You know…relaxing works better if you don’t clench your butt and keep your back straight as a rod.”
