Page 65 of Storm over the Caribbean
“Does that feel good?” the son of a bachelor enquired. As if he didn’t know! “Are your legs better now?”
“I…oh…hmm…yep, just like that, you…”
It was really impressive how eloquent I was becoming. I should start writing speeches someday.
Parting my lips, I tried desperately to squeeze out some more comprehensible words. Not that I was having much luck with it. I ended up lying in Mr Ambrose’s arms like a limp noodle, all my muscles relaxed as if I’d been whacked over the head with Morpheus’ personal parasol. Slowly, I drifted off. In some distant corner of my mind, I noticed that, even now that I was unable to resist and was presenting myself to him practically on a silver platter, not once did his hands stray from the massage to more…interesting places. A moment earlier, I would have been pissed off about that, but now…
Now I just felt safe. Warm. Wonderful.
I was with a man in whose arms I could fall asleep without hesitation. A man who loved me. And right then, right there, I knew he would take care of me no matter what.
Maybe this little trip through the jungle wouldn’t be so bad after all.
***
“Bluuurgh!”
I retract everything I said yesterday! Everything!
“You know,” a cool voice came from behind me, “right now is not the best time to be regurgitating fluids.”
Lifting my head, I glared back at him over my shoulder. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Next time I have to vomit from morning sickness, I’ll swallow it right back down again!”
“Adequate.”
“You—” But, unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance to tell him what I thought of his amazing skills at understanding sarcasm. “Bleeeargh!”
“Come here.”
His arm slid around me from behind, gently holding me, while, with the other hand, he tugged my hair out of my face.
Dammit! Why did he have to be so caring and thoughtful? That made it almost impossible to be pissed off at him!
Without a word of complaint, he held me until my stomach stopped rebelling. When it finally did, he pulled me back against his chest, holding me close.
“Better?”
“Y-yes.” Taking a deep breath, I sank against him.
“Adequate. Then we can proceed.” Reaching behind him, he held out something towards me. “Breakfast?”
“Bleeeargh!”
All right, scratch what I said about him being thoughtful.
It took a while before my stomach once more decided to settle. In the end, my mouth tasted of dried donkey droppings and felt as raw as sandpaper. The water rationing was already showing its effects.
“Here.”
Looking up, I saw Mr Rikkard Ambrose holding out a coconut to me. Greedily, I grabbed it and began to drink. Only after I had finished the second one did a realization sink in.
“B-but that’s your ration, too!” I managed.
“I am aware.”
Scowling, I punched his shoulder. Bloody chauvinist! “You can’t just do stuff like that! We two are equals! We should get exactly the same, no more, no less!”
He shook his head. “Not two.” His hand came to rest on her stomach. “Three.”
