43. Vow at the Prow

Yep, that's it! We went to the land registration and assignment office. During my honeymoon. While I was pregnant.

Am I the only one who sometimes has to suppress her urge to strangle Mr Rikkard Ambrose?

"Here you go," the stick-thin bureaucrat behind the desk, who looked like he lived off of paper and dust alone, handed Mr Ambrose a stack of documents. "The documents confirming your ownership of the gold mine in Tomb Gloom and the surrounding lands as well as a certain vessel known as the...Tresoro de España? Yes, that's the name. The land deed just arrived today from the territories in the West, and the ship ownership documents came from the court only a few hours ago. I was asked to pass it along to you."

"I see." Giving a curt nod, Mr Ambrose took the pile of documents, leafed through it and held it against the light to check for authenticity. After a moment, the slightest gleam of satisfaction flashed in his eyes. "Adequate."

"Then that should be taken care of. If there's nothing else..."

"Of course not. Good day, Sir."

And, rising to his feet, Mr Ambrose strode out of the office, with me following right behind. Soon we sat in our coach, rattling back towards our hotel. My dear husband was still gazing intently at the land deeds clutched in his hands.

"Finally. Our task is achieved, Mrs Ambrose. I think this is my favourite part of the honeymo—"

Abruptly cutting off, he glanced my way. Probably because of the searing death-glare I was sending at him.

"I think," he corrected, "I should not finish that sentence. Silence is golden, after all."

"Wise choice, Mr Ambrose. Wise choice."

With a triumphant smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, I linked my arm with my hubby's and snuggled into his side.

Our last few days in the Big Apple flew by in a blink. Then, at long last, the time had come. We packed our things, checked out of the hotel, haggled over our bill for a few hours, and stepped outside. And finally, once we'd taken a last stroll through the city and I had said goodbye to my favourite spots, the four of us made our way to the harbour and climbed up onto our ship.

Four?

Weren't there just three of us, you might wonder? Mr Ambrose, Karim and I?

Well, there was one rather simple explanation for the discrepancy...

"Bleeeeawwwwk!"

Taking a deep breath, Mr Rikkard Ambrose slowly raised his gaze and met the camel's eyes. "Go. Away."

"Now, now, Ambrose Senior," I admonished him, shaking my head. "Is that any way to talk to Ambrose Junior?"

"You are going to change that name."

"Am not."

"You are."

"Am not."

"You. Are."

"Isn't this amazing?" Beaming at him, I pulled him into a hug. "We've only been married a few weeks, and already we can argue like an old married couple. We're really talented at this marriage stuff!"

"If you think that this will manage to distract me from the subject at hand, you are very much mistaken. I will not accept some flea-infested member of the species Camelus being named after me! Is that understood?"

"You're a bit grumpy today, aren't you?" I patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. I know just the thing to cheer you up."

His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "What?"

With an innocent smile, I slung one arm around his shoulder and the other around Ambrose Junior's neck.

"Why, of course...a group hug!"

It was amazing how fast the brave beast of a man who had fought to defend me with his life on the line yesterday could run. In roughly half a second he had crossed the deck of the ship to the other side. I gazed up at Ambrose Junior with a forlorn look in my eyes.

"He has forsaken me!"

"Blaaaaaawwwk?"

"Yes, I know. Tragic, isn't it?"

"Bleeaaawwwk!"

So kind. So considerate. It was really amazing how well I got along with this chap. I couldn't wait to introduce him to my friends.

Just then, a dock worker appeared at the end of the wharf and, untying the rope that connected the ship to land, hurled it at a sailor who stood at the Tresoro's railway. "All ready ta go?"

"Aye aye! Ready and set!"

"Good ta hear. Fair winds ta ya!"

Mr Rikkard Ambrose's figure reappeared on the upper deck. Black coat tails fluttering in the sea breeze, he zeroed in on the sailor below.

"Ready?"

"Aye aye, Sir!"

"Then pull up the gangplank! Raise the anchor!"

"Ya heard him, mates! Let's get to it!"

The Tresoro's anchor chain rose from the water, creaking and clanking. A moment later, with a resounding thwump, the first sail came down and was gripped by the wind in an instant.

"Make all sail!" Mr Ambrose shouted his command. "Make all sail back to England!"

"Bleeeaaaawk?"

"And you be quiet!"

I grinned. This cruise homewards was already shaping up to be a lot better than my last journey across the seas. Not in small part due to the little fact that we were travelling on a very, very different kind of ship.

And speaking of this ship...

Strolling over to a nearby deck chair, I sank into the soft cushions and snapped my fingers.

"Garçon!" I called, causing a Hispanic waiter in a white tailcoat, who was hovering some distance away, to snap to attention.

"Si, Señora? How may I help you, Señora?" Rushing over, the young man bowed low enough to nearly polish the planks with his nose. He seemed quite anxious for some reason. I wondered why that would be? We hadn't really done anything to him, except maybe stealing the ship he worked on, throwing his former employers into prison and setting them on fir—

All right, maybe we had done quite a bit.

But look at the result! Wasn't it fabulous?

Smiling at the poor, trembling waiter, I gestured across the deck towards various paraphernalia. "Be a dear and fetch me that parasol, won't you? And a drink with a slice of lemon. Oh, and a Kashmir blanket."

"Si, Señora! Right away, Señora!"

And the waiter raced away. Smiling broadly, I leaned back and closed my eyes, ready to enjoy my luxury cruise. And if it happened to be on a misappropriated ship with waiters pressed into service by the threats of lawsuits, that was a minor detail I was more than willing to leave for my husband to deal with.

Wasn't marriage an amazing institution?

Hours later, night had long fallen and the waiters were sleeping in their hammocks. I myself had abandoned my comfy recliner for a spot at the prow of the Tresoro. There in front of me, beyond the towering figurehead glinting silver in the moonlight, stretched the endless ocean, quietly lapping against the sides of the ship. Only at the front was the water harshly cut in half, sending up gusts of spray and foam into the air as the prow ploughed through the waves.

Straight towards Britain.

Only now had it really settled in: we were heading home. Home to jolly old England. Before, even when I'd realized I was really and truly in the family way, I hadn't fully grasped the implications of this.

In the family way meant...a family.

Me, Mr Ambrose, and...our child.

Good God. How was it going to work? Was it going to work? For years upon years, I'd been going to see my husband in trousers and a tailcoat, for heaven's sake! What would happen if Mr Victor Linton suddenly and inexplicably won the award for fastest-fattening-employee of the year? Add to that the cravings, the constant retching and other ickier problems that were yet to come...it would only be a matter of time before someone found out who Victor Linton truly was! And then...and then...

I realized I was hyperventilating.

Crap, crap, crap! Get control of yourself, Lilly! You're a strong, independent woman! You're a strong, independent woman!

I chanted it like a mantra. But, in the icy sea air that whipped around me, all it made me feel was empty and cold.

And...afraid.

That was, until a set of strong arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me into a warm and oh-so-familiar embrace. Closing my eyes, I let myself sag against his chest.

"As I often tell my management staff," a familiar cold voice came from behind me, "step one of problem solving: identify the problem."

I swallowed.

He didn't pull any punches, did he?

But, then again, that was part and parcel of why I had married him. Taking a deep breath, I screwed my courage to the sticking place and bit the bullet.

"I...I'm scared," I admitted. "I don't know what my friends will say. How can I work now? How can we be together, not just like any husband and wife, but like us, like we always are? How...how can I still be myself?" I swallowed again and, this time without hesitation, repeated my confession. "I'm scared."

His arms around me tightened. There was a moment of silence, and then...

"I am not."

I stiffened. The answer in that cool, collected voice of his pierced me to my very core—until his hand captured my cheek in a firm grasp and turned me to face him. Gazing deeply into my eyes, he nailed me to the spot with the intensity of his stare. "I am not scared at all. Because you are with me."

An explosion of warmth spread through my chest. In a blink, I had whirled to face him and threw my arms around him. And Rikkard Ambrose wouldn't have been Rikkard Ambrose if he were willing to be idle. His arms were like a vice around me and yet, somehow, inexplicably gentle. Drawing me into an even tighter embrace, he leaned down towards me, his lips approaching fast. Three inches. Two. One, and...

Bliss.

Total, utter, unrelenting bliss. His lips caressed me in a gentle dance of desire, conquered me in a swift strike aimed straight at my heart. Every passing second felt like a millennium of rapture and yet was over far, far too soon. Greedily, I grabbed more, prolonging the kiss longer and longer. Breathing? Who would waste time with stuff like that! Mr Ambrose seemed to agree wholeheartedly and, with a splendid work ethic, started in on his husbandly duties. Hands started to roam my face, worshipping every square inch of skin as if it were more precious than diamonds. And coming from someone who probably knew exactly how much they were worth, down to a penny's difference depending on the most insignificant of flaws, that was saying something.

And from the way he was looking at me, he did not find any flaw on my face, nor in my heart. Not a single one. And neither could I in his. No matter what, he would stand by me. And I would do the same for him. Suddenly, I didn't feel so afraid anymore.

Loosening his grip on me, he broke our kiss and stepped back, just far enough to gaze into my eyes. Lifting his hand, he held it out to me and cocked his head.

"Together?"

I nodded, joining his fingers with mine. "Together."

And, hand in hand, we turned to face the prow, ready for whatever life might decide to throw at us.

THE END

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...at least the end of the book. Since I know some of you would be very cross with me if I ended this series before little Ambrose Junior is born, I most certainly would not do that ;-)

Wondering what happens next? Well, you shall find out next Wednesday! And here is a little something to wet your appeite:

Summer, sunshine, and a lovely beach...Lilly couldn't have asked for a better way to relax during her pregnancy together with her hot billionaire husband. Except maybe for the little problem of them being shipwrecked.

No water.

No supplies.

No hope of rescue.

Now it is Mr and Mrs Ambrose against the jungle. All that is missing is a sinister plot and some bloodthirsty pirates...

Welcome to Lilly's & Mr Ambrose's latest adventure - "Storm over the Caribbean"! Starting next Wednesday.

Yours Truly

Sir Rob