Icy silence. Icy, utter silence. That was what filled the room of the inn right then and there.
It should have been familiar. Something I was used to by now. But the way Mr Ambrose was staring at the innkeeper and the delivery men behind the old fellow spoke of an entirely new kind of danger.
"What. Did. You. Say?"
"Aye, right?" The innkeeper nodded, giving a sigh of envy, apparently completely oblivious of the murderous gaze my dear husband was directing his way. "This many presents just to win a girl's heart? What a lucky lady that must be!"
"Indeed." Mr Ambrose's fingers twitched in a decidedly homicidal way. "So...very...lucky..."
"Ah, well." Shrugging, the proprietor jabbed a thumb at the rest of the people in the room. "Listen to me chatting away. The long and the short of it is that most of my rooms are already full. So if you wanna stay, I'm afraid you're gonna have to share, guv."
"Share."
"Yes."
"Share a room with the people who are taking wedding presents north."
"Um...yes?"
I acted on instinct. In a flash, I leapt forward and grabbed Mr Ambrose by the coat tails. In my humble opinion, a murdered innkeeper would delay our travel north considerably.
"Thanks!" I beamed at the innkeeper, doing my very best puppy eyes. "But, as you see, we're a newly married couple, and well..." I held up Berty, praying for him to do the puppy eyes as well. My son did not disappoint. "Is there really no way we could possibly be alone? We'll share a room, of course."
"Um, well..." The proprietor scratched his head. "I mean...I suppose if you two will share anyway, I might just as well ask two of the others to vacate their rooms and share with their travelling companions..."
"Why, that would be amazing! Thank you very much!"
And before the poor fellow could get out another word and possibly damn himself to a long and painful death at my dear husband's hands, I snatched a key from his grasp, tightened my grip on Mr Ambrose and dragged my hubby off towards the stairs.
Only, I had made one tiny, bearded oversight.
"Karim!"
I froze in place as Mr Ambrose called out his bodyguard's name. He wouldn't...
My husband glanced at the people filling the room and gestured at the massive Mohammedan. "You know what to do."
He absolutely would! Damn and blast!
"Yes, Sahib!" Inclining his head, Karim whirled around and stalked out of the room.
"Um..." I cleared my throat. "What did you just order him to do?"
Mr Rikkard Ambrose could do a deadpan look like nobody's business. "Water the horses."
"Err...right." I cocked an eyebrow. "And did you tell him to water the flowers out front and weed the garden, too?"
"How did you guess?"
Don't choke him! Don't choke him! That's overreacting. And, oh, you've also got your newborn baby in your arms.
What the heck was Karim going to do?
Remember Lilly, what you don't know can't hurt you.
Right then, I heard an ominous crunching noise from outside.
Well...it probably can't.
"Let's go upstairs, shall we?" I hurriedly suggested. "I suddenly feel really tired."
"Yes. Let's." Icy eyes swept over the common room full of delivery men. "I don't feel like spending much time in this company."
...lest I incur a murder charge, the unspoken words hung in the air.
Not that that might stop him if he weren't in a hurry.
Together, the two of us ascended the stairs and found ourselves in a tiny room with a slanted ceiling. There, we lay together on a tiny, creaky bed and held each other while, from downstairs, the noise of laughing and carousing men drifted up through the wooden floor. No matter how long we lay in bed, however, I was not able to fall asleep. The look on Mr Rikkard Ambrose's face while he listened to the people downstairs having fun...
It made me want to say something. Anything. Anything that could make him feel better.
Swallowing, I parted my lips.
"Um....Mr Ambrose, Sir..."
His stern gaze silenced me immediately.
"Sleep, Mrs Ambrose." Enfolding me in his arms, he pulled Berty and me close. "Sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow."
***
We were awoken early in the morning by excited shouts from outside.
"Ugh..." Blinking into the blinding sunlight, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. "What the...! I wonder who is making such a racket this early in the morning?"
Mr Ambrose did not answer. I threw a sideways glance at him, and couldn't help but notice that he did not look as if he were wondering.
Carefully, I made sure to tuck in Berty next to my husband, threw on some clothes and made my way to the door. Outside, from the landing, I could see the total chaos reigning down in the common room. People were running around, shouting and cursing. A frown marring my face, I stepped up to the railing and scanned the room below for the proprietor.
"Mr Innkeeper? Hey, Mr Innkeeper!"
The poor, frazzled man looked up. Judging by the shadows under his eyes, he hadn't gotten much sleep last night.
"Oh! It's you, Mrs...Mrs...?"
"Ambrose," I finished for him. "Mrs Lillian Ambrose. Can you tell me what happened? The whole place is in a hubbub."
"Aye, well...it's the damnedest thing! Those fellows I was telling you about last night? The delivery men? Their baggage carts got attacked by a wild beast last night! You should see the things!" He shuddered. "They've been torn apart! There must be some kind of wild beast prowling the forest. But what kind of animal could do something like that?"
Karim, who was sitting at a table eating his breakfast, strategically hid his face behind a newspaper.
"Probably a bear." I sent a glare at the big man. "A particularly big, hairy one."
"Hm...aye, that might be right. Whatever it was, I for sure am gonna lock my door tightly tonight."
Then the old man quickly ducked into the back room, probably to get the bear traps out of storage. I wished him the best of luck on his hunt.
It didn't take long after that for Mr Ambrose to make his appearance. With Berty still sleeping in his arms, he descended the stairs, using one hand to prevent baby slobber from staining his ten-year-old vintage tailcoat.
"Mrs Ambrose?"
"Yes, Mr Ambrose, Sir?"
"Stop grinning."
"Aww! But you two make such an adorable picture!"
"If you use the A-word in relation to me one more time, I shall go on strike for diaper duty effective immediately."
Well, well...seems like Mr Ambrose still knew how to negotiate. Dang!
Mumbling grumpily, I proceeded downstairs and got started on breakfast. Luckily, Berty was still fast asleep. I had a feeling that, if I'd decided to feed Berty his breakfast in the crowded common room, Mr Rikkard Ambrose would have something to say about it.
Neither of us really wanted to waste much time eating. In a quarter of an hour, we were done and leaving the inn.
"What about paying our bill?" I asked as he held open the door to the carriage for me.
"Karim took care of that last night. He happened to find some money while out on a stroll."
"He did, did he? And was that money perchance found at the site of a recent bear attack?"
No reply.
"Ah." One corner of my mouth curled up. "That's what I thought."
"Mrs Ambrose? Get in the coach!"
"Yessir! Right away, Sir!"
And thus, we once more embarked on our journey. For most of the following few hours, the both of us just sat there, lost in our own thoughtsâexcept for when I was feeding Berty, and Mr Rikkard Ambrose focused on me with a rather...intense gaze. A gaze that sent a tingle down my spine and made my cheeks flush. Especially since his eyes were focused on certain assets that motherhood had made somewhat more...generous.
"Stop staring!"
"I am inspecting changes to my property. A wise thing for any businessman to do."
"You...property my arse!"
"Yes, that belongs to me, too."
I was about to reach for the closest thing to throw it at him when I realised that the closest thing was my newborn son. So...bad idea. Instead, I just shot him a haughty look.
"I see you'd like to volunteer for diaper duty again?"
That shut him up quickly. Although, in retrospect...maybe making Mr Rikkard Ambrose stay quiet wasn't all that great of an achievement.
Fiddlesticks!
The rest of the day once more passed in silence. And, the closer we got to Battlewood, the less comfortable it became. It might have had something to do with the way the icy cold emanating from Mr Ambrose became more intense with every mile we travelled north. Then again, it might also have something to do with how afraid I was of what we might find once we arrived there.
We reached another roadside inn just before dusk. Luckily, this time there was no sign of another group of gift-bearing well-wishers, or I might not have been able to hold my dear husband back. I was about to step in through the front door when I stopped and looked back. Mr Ambrose was frozen in place a foot or two away, fists clenched and staring north.
"One more day," I told him, gently clasping his hand. "Just one more day."
For one long moment longer he stood there, glaring at the horizonâthen he relaxed, and gave a curt nod. "Indeed. Let's get to bed."
The next day came. The last day. Once more, we departed at the crack of dawn, and soon the carriage was racing northward for the final time. It wasn't the only thing that was racing, either.
"Calm down, Mrs Ambrose." A familiar hand with long, elegant fingers settled on mine. "I can hear your heart pounding from here."
"I know." I swallowed. "But I can't help it. How much longer?"
"About six hours."
"Berty..."
"...will have a dozen guards around him at all times. Even if you cannot see them, they will be there."
"Good."
As we continued to move north, the weather seemed to start mirroring my mood. Cold autumn winds began to howl around the carriage, and through the windows I saw loose leaves being blown by. From outside, I heard the muffled curses of Karim. Yet he never slowed the coach down even a bit, or asked for a break.
And I had a feeling he wasn't going to, either.
"We're getting close," Mr Ambrose suddenly broke the silence. "I recognize this place."
I stared out of the window, where, right now, rain was pounding against the glass. "How can you recognize anything in this weather?"
No answer.
"Mr Ambrose?"
Again, no answer. Until...
"This is the road I headed down when I ran away from home. I remember every single sign. Every single bend. Every single pebble on the ground."
I felt my heart clench. Yes. Yes, he would remember that. And now the atmosphere was even more sinister than before.
And I think it's about to become even worse, whispered a little voice at the back of my mind as, through the torrential rain, the vague shape of a sprawling manor house became visible. Even at this distance, I could see two tiny figures waiting at the top of the steps, underneath the Grecian-style canopy. I took a last, deep, calming breath as the coach rolled up the driveway. It had hardly begun to slow when Mr Ambrose leapt out and strode towards the house twice as fast as others would run.
Muttering a curse, I clambered after him, trying my best to shield Berty from the rain with one arm. I reached the wet gravel just as, with a thud, Karim landed on the ground beside me. Without hesitation, I held out my son to him.
"Look after him," I ordered.
Karim's face was determination itself etched into ironwood. "I shall defend him with my life, Sahiba."
Berty, with his admirable sense of timing, used this chance to fart. Loudly.
"Ehem, well...I'll be going then. Have fun!"
And I ran off after my husband.
I didn't want to be a bad mother, but...I'd seen Mr Ambrose's face. It was in all our best interests if I went after him right now. I'd joked about him committing murder before, but...if he encountered the Vicomte de Saint-Celeste in this state, our child might truly have to visit his father in the chokey.
Well, not as long as I can help it!
I caught up to him just as the two female figures on the porch came fully into view. And there she was. Adaira! I hardly recognized the girl. It wasn't anything definite. She wasn't pale, nor did she have dark circles under her eyes. There wasn't anything to see on her face to make me concerned. No, it was what wasn't there that made me feel cold inside.
Life.
There was no life in her eyes. Those sea-coloured orbs that were normally sparkling with mischief were suddenly dead inside.
That is, until she spotted her brother.
"Rick!" Rushing forward into the rain without hesitation, she threw her arms wide to hug him. "Rick, father wantsâ"
"I know," he cut her off and side-stepped her hug so she nearly face-planted into the gravel. Without breaking his stride, he marched up the stairs. "I'll take care of it. Wait here."
That was Mr Rikkard Ambrose in his role of kind, overprotective brother. God help all the women of the Ambrose family.
Wait...I was one of those now, wasn't I?
Crap!
"Lilly!"
Suddenly, I found myself engulfed in a fierce hug. I hesitated for a moment, then wrapped my arms around the other girl.
"Hey there, Adaira. How have you been?"
She gave me a tremulous smile. "Just peachy. And you? How come you're thin as a rail? Why aren't you big as a balloon? I thought you were supposed to be pregnant!"
I smirked at her. "'Were' being the operative word."
Her eyes widened. "You mean..."
"Yes."
"Where is he? I've got to cuddle him to death! Where is he? Oh, please tell me it's a he! I've always wanted a cute little nephew!"
"It is." The mirth abruptly drained from my face as I looked past her. "But we can take care of that later. For now, I think we have other things to take care of."
"Other things? Whaâ"
Wham!
She whirled around, just in time to see the front door bursting open under Mr Rikkard Ambrose's violent kick and almost splintering against the wall.
"Father!" he roared. "Where are you?"
"Ah. Um." Adaira wet her lips. "I think you're right. Let's chat about cute babies later."
We exchanged a look. Then, in silent agreement, we dashed forward, up the steps and after the wrathful figure of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. Halfway through the entrance hall, Adaira's mother caught up with us. At any other time, I knew she would have welcomed me with open arms. At any other time, she'd now be cooing over Berty along with her daughter. But this was no other time. This was here and now, and for the moment she had no eyes for anyone but her son, who was stalking down the hallway ahead, radiating ice-cold killing intent.
"Where...pant pant...is he...pant...going?"
"Where do you...pant...think?" was Adaira's answer.
Then she pointed ahead. I followed her outstretched finger with my gaze, and my eyes fell on an ornate set of mahogany double doors. It felt vaguely familiar from my previous visit. What exactly was...?
"Father!"
Ah, yes. Ambrose Senior's office.
Grabbing both doors with his hands, Mr Ambrose flung them open and strode inside. A crash echoed through the room as the doors collided with the walls.
Inside the room, the figure behind the desk didn't even blink. He finished the line he was currently writing, put away his quill, folded the letter, and only then looked up at his son.
"Have you still not learned how to knock?"
"I did." Mr Ambrose met father's gaze head-on. "I knocked the door against the wall."
I had to resist the urge to give my hubby a thumbs up. Now that was the kind of good manners I could fully support!
"And while I am at it..." Cracking his knuckles, my dear husband took a step forward. "Would you like me to do the same with you as well?"
"Pardon? I don't think I heard you correctly."
"Oh, you did. You very much did." I had no idea how a voice could be so soft and yet so horribly, terrifyingly angry. But, somehow, my husband managed it. "Now, unless you want me to demonstrate some of the things I learned during my travels through the less civilised parts of the world, I suggest you explain yourself. Now."
"Explain? I am your father, boy! What would I need to explâ"
Mr Ambrose moved.
Wham!
In a blink, he had appeared in front of his father's desk, and the entire thing shuddered under the force of his fists. His face only inches from that of his father, Mr Ambrose hissed, "Don't play games with me! You know perfectly well what I'm talking about! Adaira's engagement!"
"To one of the wealthiest and most well-respected noblemen in the entire world, you mean?" Slowly, the Marquess Ambrose rose to his feet, his face unmoving, not seeming at all perturbed by the icy fury shining in his son's eyes. "To the most sought-after bachelor in Europe? That engagement?"
Mr Ambrose's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "Did you even bother to ask her if this is what she wants?"
"Since when do the opinions of women matter in matters like these?"
I felt Mrs Ambrose's mother stiffen beside me.
Uh-oh...
Somehow I doubted the marquess had noticed his dear wife Samantha was standing right there, in easy hearing range. I also doubted the marquess would be getting any once he got to bed tonight.
"And what about my opinion?" The hidden message in Mr Ambrose's words was all too clear. What about the opinion of the man who single-handedly rescued you from a life of misery? A man you rely on for everything you have, are and will be?
"What about it?" The older man's face remained perfectly expressionless. "You are merely Adaira's brother. It is up to me, her father, to decide what is best for her."
"No. No, it is not." Every word was punctuated by a tap on the desk, like the footsteps of an approaching predator. "It. Is. Up. To. Her."
"It is what?" For the first time since we had entered the room, the marquess seemed genuinely surprised. And to be honest, so was I.
Mr Ambrose didn't evade his father's gaze. "You heard me. It is up to her."
The older man's eyes narrowed. "You have changed."
"Yes." With a deep breath, he glanced back over his shoulderâstraight at me. "I guess I have." Then his head snapped back to face his father. "But not where it matters. That man won't lay a finger on Adaira! Not while I am here!"
"And what precisely do you plan to do about it?" A slight sneer distorted the stony features of the marquess. "Adaira is not of age yet and, as her father, it is within my legal rights to choose a suitable groom for her. I am exercising that right, and the vicomte is the one I have chosen! Adaira is going to marry Armand Odilon DeMordaunt, Vicomte de Saint-Celeste!" His disdainful sneer deepened. "Unless you have a better candidate in mind?"
Oh dear.
I closed my eyes, knowing we had lost. No way would Mr Rikkard Overprotective-is-my-middle-name Ambrose have a suitor lined up for his innocent little sister. Not unless he knew someone who preferred men and was castrated, just to be sure.
"I have."
My eyes flew wide open. He had? Good God, who was the poor bastard, and how had he lost his genitals?
"Really now?" Ambrose Senior gave a snort. "Who?"
"Mr Victor Linton."
My jaw dropped through the floor straight to the centre of the earth.
"W-what?"
-------------------------------------------
My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,
Well, what do you think of my idea? Personally, I believe there can be no suitor who is more marvelously manly than Mr Victor Linton! ;-)
Yours Truly
Sir Rob