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I told her.

She nearly dropped the cup of chocolate.

‘He didn’t!’

‘He did.’

‘That poor man!’

‘Poor?’

I had some words in mind to describe Mr Rikkard Ambrose - but that was certainly not one of them. Seeing my face, Adaira waved a hand.

‘Not my brother! The captain!’

‘Oh.’

‘He seemed like such a nice man.’

‘He is.’

‘And now he’ll be crawling through the South American jungle, hunted by wild animals and bloodthirsty soldiers!’ She shuddered. ‘Can you imagine living like that?’

I kept diplomatically silent. Because if I had answered truthfully and said ‘Yes, I did it a few weeks ago’, that would probably have led to a few questions I did not have the patience to answer right now. Instead, I took a step forward and repeated the question that was still hammering against the inside of my skull. ‘Where. Is. He?’

Adaira raised an eyebrow. ‘Where do you think?’

Five minutes later, I kicked open the door to Mr Ambrose’s room. The space had been transformed into an impromptu office. Files decorated the bed in orderly piles, a table had been pushed away from the wall to serve as a desk, and behind the desk sat a familiar figure, busily going through page after page after page of documents.

‘You…!’

My whispered accusation got his attention. Slowly, he looked up.

‘I am working, Miss Linton.’

‘I wouldn’t care if you were dancing tango with a monkey on the moon! I’m going to have a word with you!’

‘Indeed?’

Stepping inside, I slammed the door shut behind me. ‘Oh yes indeed, Sir!’

‘What, pray, is it that you wish to discuss?’

‘You broke your word!’

His eyes glittered dangerously. ‘Never.’

‘You said you wouldn’t have Captain Carter killed or kidnapped!’

‘Yes. And?’

‘And? What do you mean, and? You…’

My mouth worked as I searched for the right words - but they would not come. Damn and blast! I had been so busy being enraged that I had completely overlooked the fact that, technically, he hadn’t broken his word. Technically, he had done nothing but exert a little bit of influence so Captain Carter would get a job he was trained to do, and would most likely have been doing sooner or later anyway. He had managed to keep his word, get rid of his rival, and achieve the satisfaction of knowing that the aforementioned rival was probably going to return bullet-riddled and mosquito-bitten - all in one swoop.

I raised a trembling finger. ‘You’re a despicable, sneaky son of a bachelor!’

He cocked his head. ‘Indeed. Was that all, Mr Linton?’

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