Page 46 of Storm over the Caribbean
Bam!
“Freaking!”
Bam!
“Thing!”
Bam! Bam!
“Why!”
Bam!
“Won’t!”
Bam!
“You!”
Bam! Bam! Bam!
“Open!”
Bam!
“Well, Mrs Ambrose?” came a familiar voice from high above. “How are your efforts progressing?”
I resisted the urge to brain him with a coconut. Mostly due to the fact that my arms were aching too much for me to raise them.
“You…” I panted, directing an accusing glare in his direction. “You…!”
With a softthud, Mr Rikkard Ambrose descended from the palm, his mint-condition tailcoat and trousers somehow, infuriatingly, unblemished and unwrinkled. Dusting himself off, he turned towards me. “Yes? I?”
Unable to squeeze out any words between my desperate pants for breath, I accusingly held up my scratched, but undoubtedly still whole, coconut. Those evil beasts! Peeling off the outer husk wasn’t really difficult. But below lurked the impenetrable shell,ready to drive me insane! Seething, I glanced over at where, beside me, a huge pile of untouched coconuts rose towards the sky.
Mr Ambrose cocked his head. “Have you been slacking off? I should inform you, Mrs Ambrose, that I do not tolerate slackers. And I certainly do not pay them.”
“We’re shipwrecked on an uninhabited island, you bloody son of a bachelor! You don’t have any money to pay me to begin with!”
“Irrelevant.”
“You knew, didn’t you?” I panted. “You knew!”
He cocked his head again, to the other side this time. “Knew what, pray?”
Raising the coconut, I shook it at him. “That this wasn’t going to work!”
I value your help my arse!
Well, that tempting little voice at the back of my mind piped up,he probably does value your arse. And certain other parts, if memories of the wedding night are anything to go by.
Not helping.
“Oh, but it does work, Mrs Ambrose. I do not give my employees tasks that cannot be completed.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Indeed, Sir?”
“Indeed. Perhaps I should try,” The chauvinistic son of a bachelor graciously extended his big, strong, male hand. “That might work better.”
