by Robert Thier
Pulling a parasol from behind her back, she held it out to me. ‘Want to do the honours?’
Really, really, really loved her.
‘Nothing would please me more.’
I snatched up the parasol. Focusing my gaze on my hapless victim, I raised the deadly weapon above my head.
‘You…you…you….’
‘Son of a bachelor?’ Adaira suggested. ‘Foozler? Flapdoodle?’
‘…you have known me for over a year now! How could you do this? How could you ever think this is what I want? What I need?’
‘Oh. Pardon. I thought you were aiming for an insult. Don’t let me interrupt.’
Dragging in a deep breath, I stabbed the parasol downwards. The old top hat flew away into the distance. And so did the head. ‘Take that!’
‘Good one! Now get him in the gizzard!’
‘And that! And that! Ha! Got anything to say to that? No, of course you don’t, because you never ever talk! And when you do you don’t - talk - sense!’
‘Ha! Right through the middle! Keep going, girl! Keep going, you’re nearly done!’
‘There! And there! Take that you…you…foozler!’
‘You’re welcome.’
The snow man Ambrose - unsurprisingly - was proving remarkably stubborn. But he was only hanging on by a thread. Panting, I raised the parasol for one final blow. ‘Take that, you…you…flapdoodle!’
The parasol came down. Snow exploded in a silver-white cloud all around me. Adaira let out a burst of laughter, dancing in the glittering confetti. I joined in, and soon we were both dancing around in the snow, laughing like little girls. Good God, this had been fun! This had been just what I needed.
When my laughter had subsided enough for me to speak, I demanded: ‘What…what in God’s name is a flapdoodle?’
Adaira gave another giggle. ‘How should I know? The coachmen don’t often explain their language to young ladies.’
‘A pity.’ I wound my tongue around the word. ‘Flapdoodle…I kind of like the sound of it. I’ll have to find out.’
‘I can save you the trouble, Miss Linton,’ came a very familiar cold voice from behind me. We froze. ‘That particular expression describes a man whose reproductive organs are no longer in working order.’
Oh crap…
All is Fair in Love and Carrots
Adaira cocked her head, looking down at the remnants of the snowman Ambrose in front of us. ‘We really did do a great job, didn’t we? It even talks.’
‘I,’ Mr Ambrose said from behind us, his voice a few degrees colder, ‘am not amused.’[17]
The words made the hair on the back of my neck stand up and travelled down my spine like fingers of velvet frost. I swallowed. Slowly, I turned to face him. There he stood, as tall and indomitable as ever.
Keep it together, Lilly! Keep it together!
‘What are you doing here, Miss Linton? What is the meaning of all this snow?’
He knows. He already knows. But he wants me to say it.
I racked my brain for a rational, sensible, adult explanation of why we were here. Since there apparently wasn’t one, I gave up and went with the truth.
‘Oh, we were just amusing ourselves, you know. Passing the time.’
‘Indeed?’ His gaze bored into me, daring me to say it.
‘Indeed, Sir.’
‘Doing what?’
The pile of snow that had been the snowman Ambrose’s head chose this strategic moment to crumble. The dilapidated black top hat fell off and rolled a few yards before coming to rest in front of Mr Ambrose’s feet. He gave it a look. One of those looks. Honestly, I was surprised the poor hat didn’t spontaneously grow legs and run to hide behind the nearest tree.
‘I see.’
Adaira, I noticed, had begun to inch away from the evidence of our little snow escapade. Trying to escape, was she? I had to commend her initiative, but I could have told her it wouldn’t work. This was Rikkard Ambrose we were dealing with. He lifted his eyes from the offending top hat and nailed her to the spot with just one icy look.
‘You. To your room.’
‘What? You can’t do that! You’re not my father!’
‘Indeed I am not. If I were, you would most likely not obey. Now - go!’
Poor girl. She had no chance. Her legs ran away with her, and she just had time to throw me one last supportive look before she disappeared into the manor house.
Finally, Mr Ambrose turned away from his sister, and our eyes met again. My mouth felt dry, and I cleared my throat.
‘I…I can explain-’
That was all I got out before he crossed the distance between us with three long strides and pulled me against him. His lips crashed down on mine, taking my mouth with a cold ferocity that made me shiver inside. His nose brushed mine, and it didn’t feel at all like a carrot.
Well…this wasn’t the kind of explanation I had planned, but it would do just fine in my opinion.
‘You…!’ Breathing hard, he broke away just long enough to glare down at me, then reclaimed my lips and started to kiss the life out of me. ‘You’re impossible! Unlike any other woman I’ve ever…You’re impossible!’
‘Does this mean you’ve reconsidered my offer after all?’
‘No!’
The word was a ferocious growl against my lips. I pulled a face - which is not easy thing to do while being kissed by Rikkard Ambrose, believe me. ‘You’re being unreasonable about this.’
‘I, unreasonable? You’re the one who is suggesting that I…that we…’
I waited - but he couldn’t even say it. Living in sin apparently didn’t appeal to him for some reason. Strange. I would have thought he’d jump at a cheaper alternative to marriage.
‘Just think about it,’ I coaxed. ‘There would be no commitment, no pressure, no need for a really, really expensive ceremony-”
‘That will not happen!’ he hissed. ‘Either you will be mine completely, or not all.’
‘Why?’
His hands slid into my hair, holding me fast. ‘Because I am a gentleman.’
‘And a chauvinistic tyrant.’
He did not deny it.
‘I heard you and Adaira talking at the end.’
‘And?’
‘And you were talking nonsense!’
‘Really? So you did not intend to demand my obedience at the altar, then?’
He looked almost surprised. As surprised as a stone statue when someone asks it to be more flexible. ‘Of course I will! What’s nonsense is that you would object to the idea.’
I felt fire spark inside me. ‘You…you insufferable flapdoodle!’
Tightening his grip on me, he shoved me back until I was pressed up against the remnants of the snow Ambrose. Cold bit into me from behind, while icy fire burned me from the front.
‘I could easily demonstrate the incorrectness of that insult,’ he growled, ‘if the marriage contract were signed.’
‘Forget contracts! Forget promises! Show me here and now!’
I didn’t care about the cold. I didn’t care about the snow. I had one Ambrose behind me and one in front. And, all right, one was headless and made from oversized snowballs, but still! There was only so much a girl could stand before catching fire.
‘I’m not going to say it again!’ Using my hair like reins, he pulled my face forward until my lips were nearly touching his. I desperately wanted to close the last bit of distance between us, but he wouldn’t allow it. He was too strong. ‘You know what I want. You know what you want, and what you’ll have to do to get it.’
I met his gaze head-on. ‘And I’m not going to give you my answer again! You know it already, and knowledge is power is time is money, right?’
I saw something flicker in his eyes then - something I had never seen there before. It wasn’t exactly confusion, and neither was it exactly anger. Such useless emotions were foreign to Mr Rikkard Ambrose. What I saw was realisation. The realisation that right here in front of him w
as something he wanted and couldn’t have.
I might have laughed had I not felt exactly the same.
My heart gave a painful tug. Blast! Why him? Why does it have to be him? Why not someone simpler? Someone who would jump at the chance of a clandestine affair?
The answer to that question came a moment later when he roughly pulled me towards him.
Not to kiss me.
Not even to glower at me, or give me a reprimand.
No, he just wrapped his arms around me and held me close. And suddenly, for one moment, my heart overflowed with warmth, and all was right with the world. That moment stretched into two moments, then into three. That was some premium time-wasting we did in those moments. For once, Mr Ambrose didn’t seem to mind.
‘How did you even find me back here?’ I whispered into his chest. ‘We came back here to be alone.’
He made a derisive noise in the back of his throat. ‘You’re never alone.’
‘What?’
‘Did you think after what happened with Dalgliesh I would be taking any further risks? My men have been watching you since we returned to Battlewood.’
I thought for a moment whether I should protest against this. I was, after all, an independent woman, who was very well capable of watching out for herself, right?
Then I thought about Lord Dalgliesh and his smile, sharp as a knife.
No. Wrong.
I couldn’t watch out for myself. And neither could Mr Ambrose. We would have to watch out for each other to survive. And if we had help - all the better. There was only one thing I had to make sure of…
‘Err…when you say your men have been “watching” me…do you mean all the time?’
Like when I am getting ready for bed, for instance?
If he said yes, Mr Snowman Ambrose wasn’t going to be the only one to lose his head!
Somehow he seemed to read my meaning on my face. His arms tightened around me, holding me so close I could hardly breathe. Who knew lack of oxygen could feel so nice?
‘Do you think I would ever allow something like that to happen?’ His voice was so cold. So terribly cold and ruthless. How come it made me feel so wonderfully warm inside? ‘You’re mine. No other man will ever see you, let alone touch you.’
Holy…that was so proprietary, tyrannical and chauvinistic! For him to take that tone with me, as if I were already his, was completely egotistical and unacceptable-
-sweet and wonderful, and please, God, let him say it again, because it sounds so magical on his lips.
No! No, absolutely not! He had spoken as if my saying yes or no to him didn’t matter. As if he were in charge, and his loving me, his wanting me, was more than enough to settle the matter. I couldn’t accept that! I was going to protest. I was going to-
‘If any other man ever caught a glimpse of you like that,’ his cold voice whispered in my ear, ‘do you know what I would do?’
I shivered, and forgot all about protesting.
‘No.’
‘I don’t yet know either, Miss Linton.’ Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. ‘And that should scare you. I have always known what I would do to my enemies. A bullet, clean through the skull, a watery grave, a few sessions with Karim in a remote underground room - there is not much I have not done. And yet, all that seems insufficient when I think of you and another man together. Keep that in mind.’
Lifting my face from his chest, I looked up straight into his icy, sea-coloured eyes.
‘And you had better keep this in mind.’ Raising an arm, I pointed to the sad remnants of Mr Snowman Ambrose. ‘You’re not the only one who doesn’t know their limits.’
Silence hung heavily between us - a silence charged with ice and fire and anger and love. Our eyes were fastened to each other as if we were magnets, unable to let go. Hot need flared up inside me, a need to cross the distance and finally do what had been hovering as a dark promise in the air between us for months now. I could see the same hunger in his eyes. But I could also see that he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Not yet. Not without his ring on my finger.
So, instead of devouring Mr Ambrose, I did the next best thing. Bending down, I picked up the fallen snowman’s carrot and bit off the tip.
‘Hm. Not bad. Bloody hell, I’m hungry! Building a snowman is hard work.’
I caught Mr Ambrose giving me a look and raised an eyebrow. ‘What? Why are you looking me like that? It’s not your nose I’m nibbling on.’ A sudden grin spread over my face. ‘Or is that the problem? Would you prefer that?’
‘Miss Linton!’
I held out the carrot to him. ‘Want a bite?’
‘No.’
‘Come on. Vegetables are good for you.’
He gave me another look. Shrugging, I took another bite of Ambrose’s nose.
‘All right, if you prefer.’
We weren’t standing as close anymore as we had been. Without really noticing, we had put a little distance between us - just enough of a safety radius so we couldn’t touch anymore. But we still watched every movement the other made, every flicker of emotion in each other’s eyes. For a while we just stood there like this, while I nibbled on my carrot, and Mr Ambrose exuded Ambroseness. We kept eyeing each other, trying to discern what the other was thinking, while not entirely sure what we were thinking ourselves.
Finally, I decided to ask.
‘So…what now?’
Silence.
Absolute silence.
How wonderful. Was Mr Ambrose back to normal? Had he gotten this wedding nonsense out of his head?
Suddenly, out of the blue, I felt a painful twinge in my chest.
Wait a minute, Lilly…you do want him to get it out of his head, right?
Of course I did!
Do you? Do you really?
‘Shut up!’
Only after the words were already out of my mouth did I realise I had spoken aloud.
Mr Ambrose cocked his head. ‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘I was talking to myself.’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘That makes for much more interesting and varied conversations than the ones I usually have with you.’
His left little finger twitched. Other than that. I got no answer. I met his gaze, challenging him.
‘So, what do you say? What about the two of us? What’s going to happen?’
His silence was really answer enough. We each wanted different things from the other. Neither of us was the type to give up. The lines had been drawn. Really, there remained only one thing to say: let the battle begin.
I nodded.
Mr Ambrose nodded.
The air between us crackled with tension. Who would make the first move?
We might have found out if not, at that very moment, a man had come dashing out from the woods, waving his hat in the air in a signal that I had seen Mr Ambrose’s men use before. Instantly, Mr Ambrose stiffened. In a second, he had placed himself between me and woods, sweeping me behind him.
‘What is the matter?’ I demanded.
‘I would very much like to know that myself, Miss Linton. He’s signalling danger. Stay where you are.’
The man ran towards us, coming to a panting halt a few yards away. Trying desperately to speak around his panting breaths, he supported himself with his hands on his knees.
‘Speak up, man!’ Mr Ambrose demanded. ‘What is it?’
The man glanced up, his face grim. He didn’t bow to his employer. He didn’t waste time with greetings or honorifics. He just rasped one single word.
‘Dalgliesh!’
Dark Promises
Had Mr Ambrose and I been arguing? I suddenly couldn’t remember or care. That one word, that name, tipped the whole world on its head. Our eyes met, and it was as if our disagreement had never existed. Suddenly, Mr Rikkard Ambrose and I were on the same team, and we would fight fiercely till the end.
The end of anyone who was against us.
Oh Lilly, a voice whispered in my head.
It doesn’t really matter whether you want to bind yourself to him or not. You already are. And you don’t even want to get free.
Squashing that rogue thought with all my might, I stepped up beside Mr Ambrose and took his hand. He gave mine a squeeze, and I squeezed back. No words were spoken - and yet, for once, I knew exactly what he was thinking.
I turned to the man who had come to warn us. ‘Fetch Karim. Tell him to come quickly and… no. No, don’t tell him that.’ An idea popped into my head and, suddenly, insanely, I had to smile. ‘Tell him it wasn’t me who invented Prince Fragrant Yellow Flower in the Happy Moonlight - but I know who did, and I might be willing to tell him.’
The man blinked at me. ‘P-pardon, Miss? Prince who?’ His gaze flickered to Mr Ambrose in an are-you-sure-she-has-all-of-her-marbles way.
He returned the man’s gaze with implacable force.
‘Do as she says.’
The man paled, turned on his heels and dashed off through the snow. Glancing over at me, Mr Ambrose cocked his head. ‘I believe Karim will be coming to meet us very quickly indeed.’
‘Yes, Sir. I believe he will, too.’
‘You have learned quite a lot about how to handle a man.’
‘Indeed I have, Sir.’ Smiling, I lifted one eyebrow at him. ‘And don’t you forget it.’
He gave me a long, long look. ‘I shall endeavour not to.’
Mr Rikkard Ambrose extended his arm to me like the perfect gentleman he would never be.
‘Shall we?’
Without thinking twice about it, I slipped my arm into his.
‘We shall.’
And we set out towards the house, leaving behind a sad pile of snow, an old top hat and a half-eaten carrot. As we proceeded along the garden path, more people joined us. Men of all sizes and ages, but all with the same hard, sharp, sensible look in their eyes - a look that I had seen every time I looked at one of Mr Ambrose’s hired guards. Halfway to the house, a big shadow rushed out from behind a hedge and planted himself in front of me.
‘Who?’ Karim demanded. ‘Who was it that brought shame upon me? Whoever it was, I shall rip them apart! I shall fight them to the death and then I shall take their dead body and-’
Further description of what the poor, unsuspecting bodyguard intended to do with his employer’s little sister was cut off by one of Mr Ambrose’s trademark arctic stares.
