In the Eye of the Storm (Storm and Silence 2)

But why would he store them in my cabin? I highly doubted Mr Ambrose intended me to be the spearhead of our offence.

Who knows? Even a man like him might turn sensible someday.

Perhaps there was money in those cases. Money to bribe informants with, to find out where the bandits are.

Come on, do you really believe that Mr Ambrose would waste money on that? He would just glare darkly at any informant, and they would spill their guts without him having to spend a penny! Besides, if it is money, it still doesn’t make sense for him to put it in your cabin, does it? It has to be something to do with you, specifically!

But what exactly? What?

We had reached the door to my cabin by now.

‘You-’ I began.

He pushed the door open and marched inside.

‘-may go in,’ I finished with a sigh. Why did I even bother?

Shrugging, I followed him in. It was a lot more difficult to fit into the miniature cabin now that, besides the giant stack of cases and me, there was also the tall figure of Rikkard Ambrose in there. I almost had no choice but to press myself up against him. I swear, it was completely incidental that I got squashed against his flat, hard front.

‘Well…’ I cleared my throat. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

Taking a key out of his pocket, he pulled one of the cases towards him. My eyes were drawn magically towards it.

What is in there? Weapons? Money? Bearer bonds?

As he leaned forward, he couldn’t help but press more tightly against me. I could feel the hard, lean muscles of his arm.

Or are there maps in there? With secret, safe ways through the desert? Hm… by the way, his arm does feel rather nice…

Hey! What the heck was that thought doing in my head?

The lock snapped open. With a shove, Mr Ambrose pushed back the lid of the case and revealed the contents.

No weapons. However, it wasn’t money, bearer bonds or maps, either. Oh no. It was something completely different. Nothing could have prepared me for the magnificent sight that actually met my eyes.

The Female Man who is a Woman

Clothes. That’s what was in the suitcases. Clothes, clothes, and more clothes. And not just any kind of clothes. Ladies’ clothes. And not just any kind of ladies’ clothes, either, but the kind of ladies’ clothes any girl would sell her soul for.

Any girl except me, of course! I’m totally immune to such things, being a feminist and all. I would never sell my soul for something as shallow as piece of oppressive fashion dictated to us by chauvinistic men!

Though, looking at those glamorous garments, I might decide to sell someone else’s soul, if I could get away with it. Not the soul of someone I really liked, of course, like my little sister Ella. But I wouldn’t really have minded handing my aunt over to the devil to get my hands on one of those dresses. If only…

Only then did it come to me:

These clothes were in my suitcases.

Well, not exactly my suitcases, since they had come from Mr Ambrose, but he had put them into my cabin. Did that mean…?

‘Well?’ I heard his cool voice coming from right beside me, and yet, somehow, from very far away. ‘What do you think?’

r /> Oh my God, oh my God, yes, it did mean what I thought it did! Yes! Yes! But… how? Where? When? And most importantly, why?

‘I don’t understand,’ I said slowly, not quite ready to believe it yet. ‘Why is there a case full of ladies’ clothes in my cabin?’

‘Not just clothes, Mr Linton.’ Taking down another, smaller, case from the pile, Mr Ambrose opened it. My eyes nearly popped out of my head as the lid lifted and revealed a dazzling array of jewellery in all sizes, shapes and colours. Pearls, diamonds, sapphires and rubies mounted on rings, set in necklaces of gold and silver. I stared at Mr Ambrose, wondering whether this really was the same man I knew. Maybe it wasn’t really him at all, but his generous twin brother. ‘A-are you feeling all right, Mr Ambrose?’

‘Of course! And if I let you touch those,’ he said, gesturing to the jewels, ‘be careful. They’re only on loan. If one is damaged, you’ll work the debt off till kingdom come.’