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Without another word, the Mohammedan disappeared into the underbrush.
‘Well, well, now, Mr Linton…’ Raising one hand, Mr Ambrose stroked it down the side of my face, sliding strands of my hair through his fingers. ‘You’ve had quite the adventure. I hope you’ve learned something from it?’
I tried to spit out the gag and bite him. But the bloody thing stayed firmly lodged in my mouth. ‘Grr! Ng! Mph!’
‘Apparently not.’ Stepping around me, Mr Ambrose slid one arm around my waist. Suddenly, he tugged, pulling me hard against him.
‘Don’t ever do that again, Mr Linton!’ His voice was a satin-covered ice shard in my ear. ‘Do you hear? Don’t ever leave the camp at night again! Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?’
‘Nnng! Mph!’
His lips moved over my ear, whispering against my skin. ‘Well? Do you?’
‘Ng! Wss pffrct ffnn!’
Something glinted in the traces of moonlight falling through the roof of branches. I tensed.
‘Hold still.’
A moment later, I felt cold steel against my skin. There was tearing noise, and - Yes! - the bonds holding my hands fell away. I didn’t hesitate a second. My legs were weak, my arms were numb and my head felt woozy. But that didn’t stop me from throwing myself at Mr Rikkard Ambrose and punching him in the face.
However, his hand did stop me.
It was just suddenly there, closing around my wrist, tight as a torture device and far more dangerous. A torture device would have made me want to scream. His hand made me want to moan and beg for more.
Kiss!
Kill!
Kiss!
Kill!
‘Y blldy bstrd!’
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Blast! I still had that bloody gag in my mouth! Kicking Mr Ambrose in the shins, I lunged forward. The kick didn’t really hurt him, but it distracted him enough for his grip on the knife to loosen. In a flash, I had twisted it out of his hand and raised it to my face, slipping it under the knot that held the gag in place. There was a ripping sound, and the filthy cloth fluttered to the ground.
‘You bloody bastard!’ Ah, the bliss of free speech! ‘Chauvinist pig! Dastardly, ditch-digging deviant!’
There was so much fire in my belly I didn’t even realise I’d cut myself until I tasted blood. I didn’t care! I aimed another kick at Mr Ambrose, but he caught my leg between his.
‘Let me go!’
‘Why?’ he breathed, his hot breath tickling my skin. ‘I prefer things like this.’
Raising his hand, he slid a finger along the corner of my mouth.
Kiss!
Kill!
Kiss!
Kill!
His finger came away bloody.
