Page 26 of Storm over the Caribbean
“Yes. My dear husband has two adorable dogs. What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t take care of them?”
“I see, My Lady. I shall take care of it immediately, My Lady.”
With a curtsy, she closed the door and disappeared. I, for my part, lifted my head and sent a challenging look at Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
Your move.
It would have been a whole lot more impressive if I didn’t have to dive into my bucket two seconds later.
“Bleeeaaargh!”
For the next few minutes, I was rather busy. When I finally came up for air again, slightly trembling, I sent my husband a weak smile. “Perhaps showing me to the bathroom isn’t such a bad idea after all. I have a feeling I could use a toilet bowl right now.”
It might have been my imagination—in fact, it probably was—but I thought I saw his face soften ever so slightly.
“Come.” Two strong arms swept me up, and I felt myself being carried away, down the corridor, towards the bathroom. Moments later, I was gently set down on the bathroom floor. Instinctively I reached out to grab the toilet.
“Hold me?” I asked, trying my best to keep my eyes open as exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed me.
“I will.”
“And then, maybe…help me relax?”
“Mm.”
***
An hour and a half later, I gave a blissful sigh, leaned back in the steaming hot bath tub and, once again, praised the advantages of living in a hotel. For instance, having multiple bathrooms in the house. Something which turned out to be extraordinarily beneficial when you spent the afternoon vomiting into the toilet bowl of one bathroom, and didn’t feel like enjoying your bath within the same four walls.
Just then, a maid stuck her head into the room.
“Excuse me, would you like some bathing oil, Your Ladyship? Some scented soap?”
Hm… oh yes. Plentiful advantages indeed.
“Yes, please. My back is killing me. Could you…?”
“Right away, Your Ladyship.”
A few moments passed, and then I felt gentle hands on my back, massaging my aching muscles.
Aah…oh yes. Marvellously advantageous advantages. Hotels are the best! Long live room service!
Although…
Leaning forward a little, I was just able to spot the figure of Mr Rikkard Ambrose through the window, striding up and down outside on the veranda. He was studying a thick business report, but he didn’t seem to be quite himself. I could tell by the way he had apparently read the current page three times already.
He was…anxious.
Well, that much wasn’t really surprising. One corner of my mouth quirking, I reached down to cup my belly. But…
I glanced down at Mr Ambrose again. It was more than that. Over the years, I’d learned to be very good at interpreting Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s non-expressions. He didn’tjustlook anxious. He looked…lost. Forlorn. And not at all at home.
And to tell the truth—he wasn’t the only one, either. I glanced around at the magnificent marble bathroom. It was shiny. Beautiful. And…sterile.
Sure, this place was extravagant. Sure, it was large and luxurious. One of the most luxurious abodes I had ever stayed in. Yet…
My other hand joined the first, protectively cupping my belly.
