Page 57 of Storm over the Caribbean
“Is that so, Mrs Ambrose?”
“Yes!” I confirmed, sounding more certain. “After all, I am your beloved wife. And pregnant to boot.” Seductively, I batted my up at him. “Don’t I deserve breakfast in bed?”
“You aren’t in a bed.”
Darn!Why did he have to be so bloody observant?
“Breakfast on the beach, then, Mr Ambrose, Sir.” Reaching out, I gently stroked the top of his pectorals, which were still visible through his unbuttoned shirt. “Doesn’t that sound romantic?”
“Hm.” He gave me a cool look. “Well…I suppose we would have to consume a meal at some point before discussing our next step. I might as well get to it.”
I grinned. Being a strong, independent woman was fun. But ordering around men was somehow even more fun. Especiallymyman.
Hm…maybe Patsy has a point after all. Establishing a matriarchy might not be such a bad idea.
Hastily banishing all hints of those thoughts from my face as Mr Ambrose looked over at me, I gave him a brilliant smile.
“Why, thank you, dear! Whatever would I do without you?”
He considered that for a moment. “I shudder to think.”
“You…!” I threw a shell at his head. The bloody son of a bachelor ducked out of the way without even looking. In a blink, he was out of range, heading down the beach in search of food.
“I hope the crabs bite your nose off!” I shouted after him.
He didn’t appear to have heard.
Grumbling, I pushed myself to my feet and, picking some coconuts off the pile of still unopened fruits, I pulled out mymakeshift tool from yesterday to start puncturing eyes. Greedily, I drank the contents of two coconuts, then set two more aside. Just in case I would be thirsty later, of course. It had nothing whatsoever to do with wanting to have something cool to drink for my stupid iceberg of a husband once he got back from having his crab-hunt.
It only took about half an hour for him to return and, to my severe disappointment, he did so without a crab dangling from his nose. He did, however, have several crabs in the palm leaf he was using as a makeshift bag. They seemed to have already met their demise.9 I spotted a limp crab leg dangling out of one side of the palm leaf. Right then and there, I wasveryhappy my husband was going to prepare breakfast.
My stomach rumbled again. Making my way over to the campfire, I stirred the ashes, and found some embers still glowering at the very bottom. Great! Seems like it wasn’t going to take long till I got something to munch on!
“How did you get that thing started at all?” I enquired. “I doubt any matches survived being shipwrecked.”
Reaching into his pocket, Mr Ambrose fished out two dark grey, almost black, stones. Were those…?
“Flintstones,” he told me curtly. “After…”
He cut off. Something about his tone of voice, though, made me think it was because of more than a simple lack of loquaciousness. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him tense ever so slightly.
“Yes?”
“After I ran away from home, it only took one night, alone, out in the dark, almost freezing to death. After that, I started always carrying those with me.”
I froze. My gaze flicked over to where he stood. His face was hard and unmoving as ever, but…
“Come here.” I reached out. “Let me take care of those.”
He glanced down at the bloody crabs. “Are you sure? It isn’t very…”
My hands closed around his, and I met his eyes. “I’m sure. We’re in this together, aren’t we?”
He gazed at me for a long moment—then nodded. “Yes. Yes, we are.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Then, would you mind bringing me some water from the ocean?” My finger pointed at the crabs without touching them. “I don’t fancy eating those things without cleaning them first.”
He nodded. “Coming up here, I saw a cracked-open coconut that had fallen from a cliff. I should be able to clean one and use it as an improvised bucket. Or maybe I can use a banana leaf.”
