Page 7 of Storm over the Caribbean
Cocking his head, he sent me a challenging look. “Once. No one has dared to use it on me since.”
“You…!” That actually sounded like something that might happen, Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s charming personalityconsidered. But, darn it, he wasn’t going to get out of this so easily! My eyes narrowed. “No changing the subject, Mister!”
I was pissed off! Not for myself so much, really. After all, for most of my life, I had called a single room my home, a room I was sharing with my sister Ella. I didn’t need a home to be happy. But my baby? That was another bloody matter entirely!
Plus, pregnancy might, possibly, be trying to make me just a tiny bit temperamental. Not that I would let that affect me. Nope, not at all.
“Let’s get back to the bloody point, shall we? The point being that, after you decided that staying at a hotel is unsuitable, your first move is to stuff me into a carriage and drag me toanother bloody hotel?”
“Ah.” Mr Rikkard Ambrose raised a finger. “A hotel that belongs tome.”
“Which makes a difference how exactly?”
“I would have thought that was obvious. I do not have to pay for our room.”
“Oh, itwasobvious.” I cracked my knuckles. All right, maybe pregnancy was influencing me a tiny little bit. But not so much it mattered, surely. “I just wanted to see if you are brave enough to say it out loud, Dicky Darling. Now, let’s see if I can’t get you to take your husbandly duties a little more seriousl—”
I was abruptly interrupted by the carriage door being pulled open. A distinguished figure in a butler’s uniform appeared and bowed.
“Good evening, Your Ladyship. May I help you out of the carriage?”
I blinked. It took me a moment to realize I still hadn’t stopped cracking my knuckles. Ears reddening, I quickly shoved my hand into the folds of my dress.
“Ehem…sure. Right.”
“Thank you for your gracious acceptance, Your Ladyship.” He extended his arm and, dazed, I took it. “We have the royal suite prepared for you. Would that be sufficient?”
“Um, yes, I think so.”
“Marvellous. Please be so kind as to follow me, Your Ladyship.”
Before I could get out so much as a single word, the butler manoeuvred me down the carriage stairs and along the path towards the front door. Suddenly, two dozen figures in servant attire stepped out from the shadows of the trees along the way, bowing deeply.
“Greetings, Your Ladyship,” they chorused. “Welcome home.”
My mouth dropped open.
One of the older maids stepped out from the row, curtsying deeply. “My name is Magdalena. I am the head maid and have been assigned as your personal attendant. Naturally, you may pick any of the other maids if you require additional aid.”
“Any of the…but what about the other guests?”
“Other guests?” She blinked, seeming confused. “My Lady…there are no other guests. The only people residing in the hotel will be your husband and your esteemed self. You will have this place all to yourselves.”
I whirled around to stare at Mr Rikkard Ambrose. Mr Ambrose, who was currently standing beside the butler, probably discussing annual profits or something of the kind, and was very distinctlynotsmiling.
That devious, dastardly son of a…! He tricked me!
I was going to get my revenge for this. I was going to—
“We have a program prepared for the evening, Your Ladyship. If it pleases you, we shall commence with a relaxing bath in the marble pool, followed by a foot massage, before we continue to a sumptuous meal prepared by our five-star chef, and conclude the evening with a cup of hot chocolate for a night cap.”
—maybe postpone my revenge for tomorrow. After all, I wouldn’t want to break this poor woman’s heart by rejecting her hospitality, right? Or her hot chocolate.
“Would you like me to show you the way to the baths?”
“By all means, do.”
“Then please follow me, Your Ladyship. I shall show you the way. Is there any particular bathing oil you prefer? Lavender? Jasmine? Rose-scented?”
