New Storm Rising

30. To Judge People Correctly

I yawned and blinked the sleep out of my eyes. Taking a deep breath of the fresh morning air that was drifting in through the draughty window, I pushed myself to my feet, wandered over to where my luggage had been placed, and stashed away the crispy, fresh bank notes that I'd nicked from Mr Ambrose's pocket last night while he was...otherwise occupied.

Whistling, I rubbed my hands. This had been fun. I should really do this more often.

I was about to close the case again—then hesitated. Reaching down, I gave the stack of banknotes a quick count, and a grin spread over my face.

Much more often.

Just then, a pair of strong arms encircled me from behind. "What are you doing?"

"Me?" With a totally convincing innocent smile on my face, I turned around. "Nothing. I was just wondering how I turned out to be so lucky to find such an amazing husband."

"Yes." His ice-cold eyes bored into me. "I've also been wondering what I've done to deserve such a...talented wife as well."

Almost instinctively, he reached down, as if to massage his nether regions. Noticing it, he quickly drew his hand back.

A grin spread over my face. "Ah, yes. I'm very 'talented', am I not?"

"Indeed." Mr Rikkard shifted. "A little too talented."

My grin widened. "Shall we go down to breakfast? I feel a craving for...sausage."

Mr Ambrose's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "You are insatiable."

"I know. I might even go for some spotted dick."

"This is America, Mrs Ambrose. I don't think they have English specialties here."

"Oh, I don't know." I glanced down to where his tailcoat met his trousers. "I can certainly think of one way to get it."

Mr Ambrose pointed to the door. "Breakfast. Now."

"Oh my. Is my dear spouse still sore from last night?" I gave him the concerned look of a strong man who had just deflowered a virgin. "Don't worry. I'll be more gentle with you next time."

"Mrs Ambrose?"

"Yes, Mr Ambrose?"

"Be silent!"

"You know, I'd have to be quiet if I had something in my mouth that—"

The icy glare Mr Ambrose shot my way quickly made me shut up.

"Ehem. All right, breakfast." Sliding out of his arms, I slipped into the rest of my clothes and strode towards the door—only to stop in my tracks. "Um...is there a place where we can get breakfast here?"

"There should be, yes." Striding over, Mr Ambrose reached for the doorknob—only to halt as well and gave me a penetrating stare. "You are, however, absolutely forbidden from asking for spotted dick."

I smirked, and, without bothering to reply, slipped through the door.

"Mrs Ambrose? That was an order, understood? Mrs Ambrose!"

"Come along!" I called up, already halfway down the stairs. "You wouldn't want to be late for...'ordering breakfast', would you?"

Mr Rikkard Ambrose moved faster than the Pony Express. In a blink, he was at my side and had linked his arm with mine in an unbreakable grip.

"I will be the one ordering breakfast, wife."

"A travesty! What happened to my freedom of choice?"