Storm over the Caribbean

20. Irate Pirate

Humming, I turned and snuggled into the remnants of my dress-turned-cushion. Hm...how nice and comfy. Mr Ambrose's suggestion to wait a night before infiltrating the pirate camp was a really good idea. After spending more than a week sleeping on the cold floor of a cave, I had already forgotten what it felt like for my whole body not to be aching. Compared to that, the sand of the beach was so warm and comfy. I reached out for Mr Ambrose beside me to pull him close and—

My hand came up empty.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Instantly, my eyes flew open and I sat up. My head swam, and the bright light blinded me, but I saw enough to make one thing crystal clear: he wasn't here.

And if he wasn't here, that meant he would be...

Heck!

Scrambling to my feet, I raced out from behind the outcropping of rocks we had been hiding behind during the night, only to be faced with a trail of his footsteps in the sand, leading off into the distance. Towards the pirate camp.

Blast! Blast! Blast!

What the hell was he doing? We had a plan! He said he had a plan! He—

My thoughts abruptly cut off as my eyes fell on the sand before me. Right there in front of my feet, markings had been left in the sand. Letters forming curt sentences.

Stay here. There is enough food, and you know where to find water. I will make sure to keep the pirates away. You will be safe.

R.A.

Darn bloody son of a bachelor! He let himself be caught! And worse yet, he let himself be caught without me!

Crap, crap, crap! What the hell is this? I thought he said he had a plan!

Then it suddenly hit me. Of course he had. This was his plan. How could you possibly create a convincing male identity for a pregnant woman? The answer was simple: you couldn't. No, this had been his plan from the very beginning, the stupid, granite-headed, overprotective son of a...

Then again, who was I calling stupid? Did I really expect Mr Rikkard Ambrose to send his pregnant wife into a pirate camp?

Bloody chauvinist! He is so going to double his donations to the Rikkard Ambrose Foundation for Women's Suffrage and Equal Rights.

And I would make darn sure he would be alive to do it!

Not wasting another moment on anything else, I dashed across the beach, following the footsteps in the sand, and soon, the palisade around the pirate camp appeared in the distance. Yes! With any luck, I'd still catch him before he managed to get himself caught by—

"Hey! Hey, you there!"

Instinctively, I hurled myself to the ground, taking cover behind a rock. Raising my head ever so slightly, I peeked over the top of the large stone just in time to see two filthy men in linen and leather grab my husband and drag him towards the entrance of the camp.

Dammit!

I'd seen Mr Rikkard Ambrose in action before. He could have easily struggled free of those two. Heck, he could have taken them out in a blink! But he didn't. Instead, he let himself be dragged straight into the camp.

Bloody hell!

He was doing this for me. For me!

Keeping behind the rocks scattered over the beach, I slowly circled around the camp and approached it from behind. Even through the thick wooden palisade, I could hear rough voices inside, yelling at each other. Sidling closer, I pressed my face against the rough wood, close enough to not only watch, but listen. Through a gap between two posts, I could see Mr Rikkard Ambrose being frogmarched towards the centre of the camp, where a beefy man was sitting atop a barrel as if it were a throne. The two ruffians who were dragging him forward forced Mr Ambrose to his knees in front of the fat pirate.