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Just one word. One small, insignificant word - but it turned the world on its head. I would have recognised that arctic voice anywhere. It made my wet feet feel toasty in comparison. A smile bloomed on my face, and all the tension to fight went out of me in an instant.
Nice of you to join me, Sir.
Trust Mr Rikkard Ambrose to do the impossible and find an unfindable place in the middle of nowhere. Warmth flooded through me. He had come for me! He had come to save me. Of course, I didn’t actually need saving - but that was no reason to ruin his work. After all, he had obviously put so much effort into this rescue of his, I couldn’t spoil it all for him by announcing I had already resc
ued myself, could I?
Closing my eyes with a smile, I leaned back against the woodpile. Yes. I’d stay here for a while. I would be considerate.
Plus, it would be great fun. I had never been able to listen to my own rescue before.
‘If she’s hurt…’ That was Mr Ambrose again, cold as the ice at the heart of a glacier. ‘Bring Dalgliesh to me. Alive.’
Bravo! An admirable amount of bloodthirsty vengefulness. Very good stuff so far, Mr Ambrose, Sir. Do continue.
‘Yes, Sir!’
I heard the sound of men sliding off their horses and readying their weapons. Then…footsteps. The creak of a door, and finally - silence.
Very silent silence.
For quite a bit.
‘Um…Sir?’
‘Yes?’
‘She’s not here.’
‘What?’
‘She’s not here, Sir. The only person who’s here is, um…a naked man.’
Silence.
Even more silently silent than before. And cold. Oh, so cold. I grinned from ear to ear, safe in the knowledge that no one could see me behind the log pile. Oh, my rescue was turning out to be fun!
When Mr Ambrose next spoke, his voice was so icy, it nearly froze the water in my boots.
‘What did you say?’
‘A, err…naked man, Mr Ambrose, Sir.’
A few more moments passed without a sound. Then I heard someone sliding off the back of his horse, and the thud as his feet hit the ground. Somehow - don’t ask me how - I knew who it had been. There had just been something so deliciously threatening and final about that thud.
‘Out. Of. My. Way.’
‘Yessir! Immediately, Sir.’
The brisk sound of marching feet, then again the creak of the door. From inside the cottage, I heard the delicious sound of a boot hitting a villain in the bollocks. Ah, what music to my ears…!
‘Where is she? Where?’
‘Nnn…what? I don’t…’
Thud!
‘Arg!’
