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‘I believe what she is trying to say,’ Mr Ambrose commented, ‘is that her feet are cold and she wants us to take her wet shoes off.’
‘Oh. Right.’
Karim stepped forward with a determined expression, but Adaira instantly held up a hand. ‘Oh no you don’t, big boy! Out!’ She waved at the men I could just about see, gathered at the doorway, through the haze covering my eyes. ‘All of you, out! This is lady’s work!’
The men retreated faster than you could say ‘Jack Robinson’.
Well…all except one.
‘Have I missed something?’ Adaira cocked her head at her brother. ‘Are you a lady?’
He met her gaze implacably. ‘No.’
‘Well then get ou-’
He lifted a finger. One finger. That was all it took to silence her. Holy moly! I had known a whole lot of families in my life, and a whole lot of people with amazing talents. But never in my life had I seen a man who could shut his little sister up with just one look. I had to get him to teach me that trick. Maybe I could use it on the twins.
‘Rick, I really don’t think-’
‘Not another word,’ Mr Ambrose cut her short. Striding past her, he knelt at my feet. Yes, Rikkard Ambrose, the Mr Ambrose, the most powerful business mogul in the British Empire, knelt at my feet. Granted, it was for the purpose of removing my wet boots, but still…
‘Let him stay,’ I croaked.
Adaira looked at me, then at her brother, then back at me. Rolling her eyes, she knelt beside my other foot. Soon, the wet things were off, and my feet, along with the rest of me, were wrapped in thick woollen blankets. Dimly, through the thick veil exhaustion had cast over me, I could hear Adaira ordering servants to bring hot broth and wood for the fireplace. Mr Ambrose was a comforting presence, sitting just about as far away as propriety required, his hand clasping mine in a firm grip. Slowly, safe in the knowledge that all was well now, I began to sink off into darkness.
‘Karim?’
The cold voice seemed to come from very, very far away…
‘Yes, Sahib?’
‘Tell the men to get some rest. Be ready to ride in three hours, with provisions for a one week journey.’
‘Yes, Sahib.’
Journey? I found myself frowning in half-sleep. Why would we go anywhere? Why would we do anything now that we were safe and well?
But before I could even start to ponder the matter, I was swept away into the realm of sleep.
*~*~**~*~*
When I awoke, the morning sun was shining through the frost-coated windows. A tall, dark, figure was standing in front of the largest arched window, the dawn painting a red-golden halo around him. It was probably the only time ever that he would remotely remind me of an angel.
‘Good morning, Sir,’ I croaked.
He stiffened at the sound of my voice. Slowly, he turned around to face me. His cool gaze swept over me in a way that made me shiver - and it had nothing whatsoever to do with icy feet. There was something new in his eyes when he looked at me. The same kind of look he wore when gazing at gold, banknotes and London real estate. A look that said: You’re mine. You just don’t know it yet.
‘Miss Linton.’ Striding across the room, he reached out and snatched up my hand.
‘What-’
‘Silence!’
Shoving up my sleeve, he pressed a thumb to my wrist. I waited for a moment or two - but he didn’t do anything. Was he checking my pulse?
He was!
A moment later, he let go of my wrist and started wagging a finger in front of my eyes. I followed the motion instinctively, and he gave a nod to himself and started feeling my skull for bruises.
