‘Where? Speak!’
I had to resist the urge to clap. As dramatic rescues went, this really was a prime performance. It almost made me wish I were still bound and helpless to see the final scene. Almost.
‘Anderson! Renshaw! Get in here, and bring rope! Everyone else, spread out! Search the woods!’
I dared to peek over the pile. Two men were dismounting, hurriedly taking a coil of rope from one of the packhorses. They entered the cabin. The rest of them scattered to shouted commands in all directions. It wasn’t long before they had disappeared into the forest. From inside the cottage, meanwhile, came the sounds of a naked man being turned into a casserole.
Time to make my entrance.
Rising from behind the log pile, I sauntered over to the lonely three horses remaining in front of the cabin. One of them I instantly recognised as the magnificent animal from the stable of the marquess that Mr Ambrose had ridden during my riding lessons.
‘Hello there, you ugly beast,’ I greeted him in a whisper and reached out to pat his head. The stallion promptly lunged and tried to bite my hand off.
‘Yes, I missed you, too. But no time for sentimentality today.’ Grinning, I grabbed the saddle and swung myself up on the horse. ‘I think it’s time we left, don’t you?’
‘Whee hee hee.’
I supposed that was stallionish for ‘Of course, you silly hairless ape!’ So I wasted no more time. Slipping two fingers between my lips, I took a deep breath and gave an ear-piercing whistle.
Inside the cottage, everything went deadly silent.
A moment later came racing footsteps, and Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s face appeared at the window, eyes widened almost half a millimetre.
I gave him my prettiest smile. ‘What are you waiting for, Sir? Let’s go!’
Confession by Instalments
For a moment, one single, solitary moment, Mr Ambrose didn’t move. Then he disappeared from the window, and a moment later, the door was torn open - literally. The flimsy thing flew right off its mouldy hinges and clattered to the floor somewhere inside. Mr Ambrose didn’t seem to care. He was striding across the snow-covered yard with singular purpose, all his focus, all his icy energy, all his power concentrated on one thing - me.
He stopped a few paces away.
‘Miss Linton.’
Just those two words. Nothing more. But the meaning vibrating in every syllable…
I swallowed.
‘You took your time, Sir.’
His eyes met mine, delving, devouring, claiming.
‘You seem to have managed well enough on your own.’
‘Yes, I did, didn’t I? Maybe I should just ride away and leave you here. It wasn’t a particularly good rescue, you know.’
‘Miss Linton?’
‘Yes, Mr Ambrose, Sir?’
‘Get off my horse.’
I smiled. ‘I don’t think so. I think I’ll-’
But that was as far as I got. Because in the very next moment, Mr Rikkard Ambrose crossed the remaining distance between us. His arms lunged up. His foot found the stirrup. And the next thing I knew, he was half dragging himself up, half dragging me down. He didn’t wait for either of us to make it the whole way before his lips claimed mine.
‘Silence!’ he growled against my mouth.
I didn’t usually hold with men telling me to shut up - or telling me anything, for that matter. But with him kissing me like that…I might just make an exception. His mouth was a searing brand on mine. Waves of heat coursed through me, interlaced with shivers all over my body. How a man this cold could ignite such a fire inside of me was a mystery to me - but he did. Oh, how he did.