22. Fallen

Lights. Small lights, dancing in the darkness.

Oh look! Pretty fairies.

Headache-fairies, to be precise.

A groan came from somewhere. It took me a moment to realize it had issued from my own throat. The lights got larger. Hm...no fairies after all. Not that this realization made the splitting headache go away.

Slowly, my eyelids started rising, feeling heavier than a hundred whales.

I instantly recognized the room I was in. Mostly because I had been making mad, passionate love in it almost non-stop for the last week or so. And because right beside the king-sized double bed in which I lay, sat the man with whom I had made mad, passionate love.

Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

He wasn't working. Wasn't doing anything, really. He was just sitting there, eyes closed, head leaned back against the backrest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced up at the sky, visible through the window. From the position of the sun alone, it was pretty evident that he'd been sitting there for more than just five minutes. For quite a long while, in fact. And yet, he had stayed beside me all the while. He'd sat there, watching over me, until he'd fallen asleep.

Mr Rikkard Ambrose had slept during the day, for hours. Just so he could stay beside me.

Before I knew it, I had reached out and grasped his hand in mine. A moment later, I felt his fingers tighten around my own.

"So...you're finally awake." His voice was low and deep, sending a shiver down my spine. He spoke without really lifting his eyelids—and yet I knew he was looking at me. Intensely.

"Yes," I whispered. "Yes, I am."

In a blink, he was leaning over the bed. His eyes weren't closed now. They were wide open, wide awake, and cold as ice. Once more, his grip on my hand tightened.

"Mrs Ambrose?"

"Yes?"

"Don't. Ever. Do. Something. Like. That. Again."

I swallowed. Why did those eyes of his have to be so deep, and dark, and penetrating? "Do what?"

"Put yourself in danger." Leaning further down, he approached until his face was only inches away from mine. "You could have snapped your neck! You could have died!"

I raised an eyebrow. "You make it sound as if I jumped off the roof on purpose."

"You might as well have! Don't you dare ever do something like that again! Don't you ever sca—"

He abruptly broke off.

"What?" A corner of his mouth twitched in a genuine, warm smile. "Scare you like that again? My oh my. Who would have thought it? The mighty Mr Rikkard Ambrose, scared?"

"That," Mr Ambrose said in a tone icy enough to freeze lava, "is not the point. You nearly fell from the roof of a house!"

My smile widened. "Not my fault. I simply can't help falling for you."

"You...!" With an unbreakable grip, he grabbed hold of my shoulders. "Do not dare to make jokes about this! You nearly ended up in a coffin."

"Yes, but...why?" I frowned, trying to untangle my hazy memories. "All I can remember is suddenly feeling dizzy, and then...nothing. Why the heck would that happen?"

"Isn't it obvious?" There was a fierce look in his eyes, fierce, and protective.

I frowned. "Obvious? Why would it be obvious?"

"Why, in your condi—ehem!" Mr Ambrose hurriedly cleared his throat, his glare intensifying. "I meant to say, of course it's obvious! I can't believe I even let you up there! I should have known better! Someone so fragile..." He cleared his throat. "I should have realized you would naturally faint sooner or later!"

Naturally? Naturally?

I opened my mouth to retort—

—then closed it again.

What the heck was I supposed to say? I had fainted. Bloody fainted! What else did that mean if not fragility?

"I...I was merely taking a spontaneous rest!"

Ah. That. Yes, a brilliant explanation.

"A spontaneous rest? That's it, is it?" Capturing both arms, he pinned them to the bed. Pinned me to the bed. "I could arrange another, if you wish. By tying you to this bed for the next two months!"

"Well..." I couldn't keep a grin from spreading across my face. "That doesn't actually sound too bad. It is our honeymoon, after all."

Mr Ambrose opened his mouth to respond—until I leaned forward, claiming it.

"Yes." His voice was deliciously raspy against my lips, giving me a thrill. I had done this. I had successfully changed the mind of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. "It is indeed."

Slipping free from his grip, my arms snuck around him, pulling him closer. Pulling him on top of me.

He hesitated. "I shouldn't. You might be injured—"

"I don't know if I'm injured," I purred into his ear, "but I know you will be, unless you get a move on and come here!"

And he came. Not in that way...but who knows what might happen later?

As if Mr Ambrose had heard my thoughts, his hands started wandering over my body, down towards restricted areas. Every touch was a caress, every grasp didn't just touch my body, but my heart.

Yep, it's definitely happening later!

"Mrs Ambrose?" His cold voice sent a shiver down my spine. The adequate kind.

"Y-yes?"

"I am about to claim my conjugal rights!"

My eyes narrowed. "I'm a free woman. The only rights you have over me are the ones I give you."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed. You've got no rights." Reaching out, I grabbed him by the lapels. "But you might have some lefts."

Then I pulled him down and kissed him. Hard.

Or at least I thought as much before he kissed me back. Good God...! Had I thought he was greedy for money and power? By the feel of it, there was one thing, and one thing only, that he wanted more.

Me.

Well...who was I to deny my husband?

His wife and secret boss?

Ah, yes, that's right. But this would be fun.

True. Go for it.

Will you look at that? My inner voice and I had found a subject we agreed on. Miracles truly do happen. And the magnificent man above me was living proof of it. His searing lips were like a brand upon my mouth, marking me permanently as his. When he finally broke away, I was left panting and wanting more. Needing more.

"You," he rasped, "are the most delicious thing I've ever tasted."

"And coming from a man who considers dry bread crusts a delicacy, this is a compliment how, exactly?"

His response was to silence me with another kiss. That is, until his lips started to wander across my face, down the side of my neck and onto...

"Aaaah!"

"Still have any cheeky remarks now, Mrs Ambrose?"

"S-sure I do. You—oooh! Nnnng! Aaaah!"

"That's what I thought."

With a soft noise, the top button of my dress opened. It was music to my ears. Not wasting even a second of time, Mr Rikkard Ambrose divested me of the rest of my clothes until only a few flimsy scraps of cloth were between me and the man who had set my heart on fire.

"Come here, you," he breathed, capturing my face between his hands.

Oh yes. Yes, yes, ye—

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

"Mr Ambrose! Mr Ambrose, Sir! Something's happening!"

Crap.

Someone thought it was a good idea to interrupt my personal time with my husband?

Well, seems like they would get to be up close and personal with me instead. Or at least a certain part of me. Like my fists, for instance.

"Want to ignore whoever that is?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Strangely...yes."

I grinned.

"However, what I want to do and what I should do are two different matters entirely, Mrs Ambrose."

"Hmm..." Reaching up, I traced a finger along the edge of his jaw. "And which of the two will you choose, I wonder?"

He hesitated. He actually hesitated.

My grin widened.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

"Mr Ambrose! Mr Ambrose!"

Thrice blasted son of a flea-bitten bi...!

No. Dogs were nice. No need to insult them. Especially when there was someone else who deserved insults so much more.

Bam! Bam!

"Mr Ambrose? Can you hear me?"

Oh yes. Insults. Lots of insults.

Taking a deep breath, Mr Ambrose slid off me and started to dress.

And maybe a black eye or two, damn husband-snatching bastard!

Grumbling, I pushed myself out of the bed and started wandering around the room on the search for the various bits and pieces of clothing that had been scattered everywhere. It was as I was stretching up on my tiptoes, trying to reach the petticoat dangling from the lamp on the ceiling, that I heard the hushed voice from the front door.

"...looking utterly hopeless! They want to talk. No...they're desperate to talk!"

"Hm...indeed?"

Ah. I nodded to myself. Seems things have been set in motion.

Struggling to poke my head through the (too bloody small!) opening in my dress, I peeked out into the hallway. "What is going on?"

Mr Ambrose turned around, revealing the nervous figure of the man standing on the porch outside. "Ah, my dear wife. It seems that the townsfolk waylaid one of the men sent to town to obtain supplies. They need urgent help with dealing with the outsiders who are terrorizing their town, and they seem to think I am a white knight in shining armour."

"Oh my!" I gasped. "I wonder who gave them that idea?"

"It must have been someone very insightful and intelligent, Mrs Ambrose."

"Must it? And I suppose he was irresistibly, ravishingly handsome, too?"

"Most definitely."

Dang! I wanted that poker face of his. No, scratch that. Considering how much dough I made the last time I played, I needed that poker face of his!

"Well then, let's go, shall we?" Buttoning up my dress the rest of the way, I smirked at him. "We wouldn't want to disrupt the plans of an insightful, intelligent, ravishingly handsome man."

"Indeed."

He extended his arm. Taking it, I let myself be led out into the clearing. This time, we didn't head into the mine to reach the town. Hardly surprising, considering the passage was nothing but dirt and rubble now. Instead, Mr Ambrose led me towards a familiar coach.

It wasn't long before we reached the meeting spot the guard had arranged. A crowd of...well, I suppose you could call them townspeople. But townspeople usually had a town, not tents. And clothes, not rags. And...well, lots of stuff these people didn't seem to have. Including hope.

The coach rolled to a stop, the earth crunching beneath its wheels. Pushing open the door, Mr Rikkard Ambrose descended, surveying the assembled crowd.

"I was informed you wished to meet with me?"

The people exchanged hesitant looks. Finally, a diminutive little woman was pushed to the front of the crowd.

"Um, Sir...we wanted to ask...that is...we wanted to talk about something."

"Speak."

The woman opened her mouth again—and then it all came flooding out. How the Spaniards had tricked them with honeyed words and promises of wealth. How those foreigners had brought men to the town—men who turned out to be the worst sort of thugs. Then came the thefts. The attacks, both on men and women. Especially women.

They bore it all. They suffered in silence. But then...then the thugs came down on the miners, first blocking access to their work, then destroying the mine itself. The mine had been the biggest employer in town. People could suffer in silence. But starve in silence? Die in silence?

That was another matter altogether.

"We must fight back," the little woman said, chin raised and fists clenched in determination. "But...we cannot win alone. Are...are you willing to help us?"

Mr Ambrose cocked his head.

"Are you willing to do what is necessary?"

"Y-yes!"

For a long, long moment, Mr Rikkard Ambrose regarded the woman.

"Very well then." Taking a step forward, he gazed down at the townspeople, his ice-cold eyes sweeping over them as though he could see not just them, but what the future held for them. "We will act tomorrow. Here is what we are going to do..."

***

The young woman, Nelly, glanced nervously from right to left. Probably because she, together with only four other townspeople, one icicle of an English businessman and my humble self, was currently making her way down the town's main street, Hispanic thugs glaring at them from all sides. The only reason the Spaniards hadn't attacked yet was that they hadn't figured out where the heck these ants had gotten the courage to show up in their territory.

From a glance at her face, I'd say that Nelly hadn't either.

"Um..." Cautiously, Nelly leaned over towards me. "Are you sure that coming here was a good idea?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say good, exactly." I couldn't keep my mouth from twitching. "I'd rather use the word 'adequate'."

"Errr...sorry?"

"Never mind." I patted her on the back. "You'll understand soon enough. Everything will be all right."

At least I bloody well hope so! Mr Ambrose has a plan, right? A brilliant one?

They continued down the street unhindered. Up ahead, the town hall loomed, its dark silhouette outlined against the bright, burning hot sky.

Lowering my voice, I leaned closer towards Mr Ambrose. "Um...everything will be all right, right?"

"Certainly."

"And...the fact that we're surrounded by dozens of thugs, while we don't have a single guard with us, won't be a problem at all?"

"Exactly."

"And you know this how, exactly?"

"Because everything is proceeding according to my plan."

"That brilliant plan you still haven't really explained to me?"

"Yes, that one."

"Oh. How...reassuring."

Doing my best to ignore the ominous feeling bearing down on us from all directions, I threw Mr Ambrose a wifely glare. When it proved to be completely ineffective, I harrumphed and ignored the son of a bachelor. Making a mental note to make him suffer for this later, I continued to trudge alongside him towards the town hall. Or at least I did until a voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Oh, hello there!" We all halted at the sound of that strangely, insanely cheerful voice. Turning my head in the direction where it had come from, I caught sight of the smiling figure of Angus Angleton, who came walking over with his sample case clutched under his arm. "What a wonderful day, isn't it? Are you all going somewhere?"

"Yes." Mr Ambrose gave a grim nod, reaching under his tailcoat to where he kept his revolver. "The mayor's office. We have...matters to discuss with him."

"The mayor? How splendid!" The little man rubbed his hands, his ears practically wiggling with excitement under those little tufts of hair of his. "I think I'm going to come along. I haven't told them about the amazing qualities of Fizzlewiz remedies yet."

I stared at the man. Some people really had an amazing talent for reading a situation.

"Yes." I cleared my throat. "Yes, I think you should. It should be...interesting."

"Indeed," Mr Ambrose confirmed. "Let us proceed."

Not long after, they came to a halt in front of the town hall. Pushing open the door without bothering to knock, Mr Ambrose stalked into the dark interior. The rest of us hesitated for a moment—then followed. None of the thugs did, however. Yet I did see one of them rush off towards the mansion the Spaniards resided in. He seemed to be in quite a hurry.

So everything is proceeding according to plan, is it? Well, Mr Ambrose, I hope whatever your plan is, it's bloody fast!

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My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

May I inquire, have any of you ever been visited by the headache-fairy? I must admit, she pays me a visit quite often ;)

I hope you enjoyed the little romantic scene in this chapter!

Yours Truly

Sir Rob