Page 233 of Storm over the Caribbean
And frankly, so would mine.
“We should probably go to sleep,” I whispered. “We’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”
“I am not sure if I can sleep.” The words were spoken so low I could barely hear them. Maybe I had only imagined them. After all…Mr Rikkard Ambrose, admitting weakness? Unthinkable! He would actually have totrustsomeone for that, right?
“Just try it.” One tender hand reached out to touch his cheek. “For me, please?”
All I received in answer was silence.
Being stubborn, are we?
“Besides…” I added innocently and batted my eyelashes up at him. “I am a poor, delicate, pregnant lady. You wouldn’t want me to stay up all night and possibly aggravate my condition due to sleep deprivation, would you?”
A pair of eyes that, even in the fiery light of the sinking sun, somehow still managed to glitter icily bored into my own. “That was underhanded, Mrs Ambrose.”
“I learned from the best, Sir. Plus, does it being underhanded make it any less true?”
“…No.” Those icy eyes of his flicked down to my belly, a moment later followed by the touch of a gentle hand. “No, it does not. Maybe you should simply—”
“Don’t you dare!” Stabbing a finger into his face, I glared at him. “Don’t you dare suggest leaving me behind!”
“Mrs Ambrose…your condition—”
“—won’t matter one bit as long as you have me surrounded by three dozen armed guards. Which, I’m guessing, is what you were planning in any case, whether I stay or go, correct?”
“No!”
I gave him a sceptical wifely look. “No?”
“…I was planning on four dozen.”
I gave him another wifely look.
“…and I promise I will not leave you behind.”
Yay! Wifely looks were amazingly effective. I’d have to remember to use them more often.
“Butonlyif you go to sleep.” He sent me a stern husbandly look. Darn cheater! He was copying my methods! “You need your rest.”
I met his gaze with a determined one of my own. “As do you.”
“I…” His body stiffened, and I could see his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. His face was impassive and unmoving as always, but his eyes…oh, his eyes made my heart ache. “I really don’t know if I can. If I sleep, I’ll see…”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. It didn’t really require a lot of imagination to realise what kind of nightmares might plague Mr Rikkard Ambrose tonight.
“Youhave to sleep,” he reaffirmed one final time. “But I can’t.”
“You can and you will,” I told him as, gently but firmly, I slid my arms around him. “I’ll hold you.”
In answer to that, once again, all I got was silence—for a moment. Then, I felt my stone statue of a husband come to life as he shifted closer and allowed me to enfold him in my arms. Very, very slowly, I felt the tension drain out of him, and he relaxed in my embrace. As I felt his breathing slow, a smile crept onto my face and I felt warmth spread through my chest. I had nearly done it!
“Thank you,” I whispered.
I didn’t say more. I didn’t need to.
Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for letting me in.
“No,” he mumbled, already half-asleep. Which was probably why the next two words slipped out. “Thankyou.”
