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Marriage?
Yes, I wanted Mr Ambrose, but…marriage?
To love? Maybe. Honour? A big maybe. Obey? Ha! Never in a million years!
Could I marry Mr Rikkard Ambrose? Could I marry anyone, taking into account what that institution would mean for my freedom?
Before I could find an answer to that question, a hand settled on my shoulder.
‘Mr Linton?’ a familiar cold, hard voice reached my ear. ‘A word. We have some business matters to discuss.’
I swallowed.
‘Tush!’ Lady Samantha chastised. ‘Can’t you see Mr Linton is speaking to us?’
‘Yes,’ I agreed desperately. Anything was better than facing that cold fury behind me. Anything. Even a discussion about the M-word.
‘I’m talking to Lady Samantha, Mr Ambrose, Sir. If you will please excuse me…’
I tried to step away. The grip of the hand on my shoulder tightened.
‘Last I checked,’ he breathed into my ear, ‘I pay your bills, Mr Linton. Which means I get to decide when you talk and whom you talk to.’
And without waiting for an answer, he grabbed my arm, dragging me off like a caveman. We were across the room in a blink, and he shoved me into a curtained-off alcove, pulling the curtain closed behind us.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I demanded. ‘You can’t manhandle me like that! I’m not-’
But exactly what I was not - A duck? A giant garden gnome? A pink-haired pygmy? - I never got to reveal. Those were the last words I got out before his lips came down on mine and silenced me.
‘You know that man.’ Every hard word, every harsh breath, was a punishment against my mouth. ‘I’ve seen you with him, back in Alexandria.’
I didn’t pretend not to know whom he was talking about. ‘Yes.’
His arms slammed into the wall on either side of me, caging me in, cutting off any avenues of escape. Dark, sea-coloured eyes, churning with the rage of the ocean, bored into me.
‘Who is he? And more importantly, who is he to you?’
‘Don’t you already know?’ I raised a defiant eyebrow. ‘After what you said to him, I supposed you had dug through every aspect of his life.’
‘I have. But that still doesn’t give me the necessary information to answer my latter question.’ One of his hands slid away from the wall, caressing my face in a move so caring, so gentle, it almost took my breath away. Not fair! ‘Who. Is. He. To. You?’
I opened my mouth to say ‘no one’ - and closed it again.
Captain Carter wasn’t no one. He was the man who had taught me to dance the galop, who had helped me foil the plans of my devious aunt and who had risked his career to bring me safely home. He was the man who had saved my little sister Ella from a fate worse than death - marriage to his best friend. How could I call a man like that nothing?
It turned out I didn’t need to. My silence was answer enough. Mr Ambrose’s jaw muscles tightened, the cold sea in his eyes freezing over with ice and iron.
‘I see.
I see? What did that mean?
‘Mr Ambrose?’
Silence.
‘Mr Ambrose, Sir?’
More silence. I leaned forward, peeking up at him, trying to decipher the immovable mask of his face.
