Silence Breaking (Storm and Silence 4)

Behind him, the shadowy form of a massive dark ship approached, sails flapping in the wind. Of course. Of course he would have a ship ready in any port of England, ready and waiting to do his bidding. Curse the man and his power and perfection!

‘Karim?’ Taking his gaze from me, Mr Ambrose locked eyes with his bodyguard behind me. ‘Take care of her.’

‘Yes, Sahib.’

With a thud, the gangplank of the ship slammed onto the pier. A crew member appeared at the railing, signalling Mr Ambrose. Without another word, he turned and strode off towards the ship. But then, just as he reached the bottom of the gangplank, he stopped and half-turned to look back at me, pinning me to the spot with his arctic gaze.

‘Oh, and Miss Linton?’

‘Yes, Sir?’

‘If by any chance you think my leaving will alter your fate in the slightest - think again!’ His dark, unfathomable eyes flashed. ‘I’m going to return. And when I do, I will come for you. I am not someone who takes no for an answer. You, Miss Lillian Linton, will be mine. Fully and completely.’

And with that, he whirled, gathering his black coat around him, and marched onto the ship waiting to take him across the sea.

THE END

Special Additional Material

THREE CHAPTERS FROM MR AMBROSE’S PERSPECTIVE

‘Gone’, ‘After Her’ and ‘Expressions of Superfluous Sentiment’

Gone

’God rest ye merry gentlemen

Let nothing you dismay…’

My finger froze halfway through the report I was trying to read. It was at moments like these that I was filled with gratification at being neither merry nor a gentleman. I had no intention whatsoever to rest.

And there are more than enough reasons to be dismayed.

My finger resumed its movement across the page—a page that detailed at least one such reason: Dalgliesh. The man had been busy. From what my agents in India had to report, far too busy for my liking.

‘Away in a manger, no crib for a bed…’

For a moment, I considered sending Karim to find those carol singers, and fulfilling their dearest wish. Sending them away stuffed into a manger, preferably with the lid nailed shut, seemed like a very tempting idea at the moment. It would definitely allow me to finish my report in peace. However…the Christmas enthusiast was most likely a member of my mother’s staff, and she usually didn’t appreciate members of her household being stuffed into crates and shipped off to distant lands. She tended to get over-excited about a lot of things.

Such as what is between you and a certain lady?

Nothing. There was nothing there. I would remain cool, calm and collected. And there was nothing whatsoever a certain disrespectful, rebellious woman could do about that. No woman had the power to make Rikkard Ambrose do as she wished.

‘Sir?’

My head jerked up to face the servant who was standing right beside me. How had he gotten there without my noticing?

A lack of vigilance. That’s how.

Giving a jerk of my head, I nailed the young servant to the spot with my stare. ‘Yes?’

The young man swallowed. ‘Y-your mother was wondering where you are, Sir. She ordered me to fetch y—’ Abruptly, he cleared his throat and changed the direction of his sentence. Wise decision. ‘Um, she requested me to enquire whether you could spare her a few moments.’

Instinctively, my head jerked towards her. The woman who was the reason for my being here. The woman who was responsible for my lack of discipline, my mother’s sudden interest in my affairs, and a host of other unpleasantly irregular events in my life.

‘Go!’ She waved her hand. A greeting or a dismissal? The former, surely. She wouldn’t dare to dismiss me. ‘I’ll be perfectly safe! Mabel—it is Mabel, right?’

‘Yes, Miss,’ the housemaid curtseyed promptly.