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

And with that, she turned and hurried from the room, closing the door behind her.

I turned to gape up at the man beside. ‘What have you done? Now the entire hotel will think we are… we are…’

‘Married?’ he enquired.

‘Yes! No! I don’t know!’

‘Could you clarify that a little?’

‘She’s going to tell her friends, and they are going to tell their friends, and they their friends, and in half an hour it’ll be all over the hotel that we are in here doing… stuff!’

He cocked his head. If not for the fact that this was Mr Ambrose, a man who had as much emotion inside him as a volcano had snow, I might have thought there was amusement in his eyes. ‘Stuff?’

I felt my ears starting to burn. ‘You know! Honeymoon stuff!’

‘Which, considering the fact that we are supposed to be on our honeymoon, would be utterly scandalous, of course.’

My ears were in danger of spontaneous combustion by now. ‘You’re impossible!’

I tried to twist out of his hold, but his hands were too strong, blast him! Pulling me closer, he leaned down towards my face. His eyes darkened, and his lips opened a fraction.

‘Don’t you da-’

My protest was cut off by our mouths melding together. And I, instead of picking up the vase on bedside table beside me and smashing it over his rock-hard head, like I should have done, snaked my arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

God! What was wrong with me?

When we finally broke apart, I was panting like a panther. He, of course, was so cool and collected you’d think he was freshly imported from Iceland! His dark eyes bored into me.

‘I think we have discussed the matter of convincingly acting the married couple thoroughly enough for today, don’t you?’

His voice was just as cool as the rest of him, damn him! How was that possible? I was panting, burning up inside with a hot, persistent need to… do something, do anything! Preferably with him! And he - he just stood, there, gazing at me with those unfathomable eyes.

I raised my chin. ‘I quite agree.’

‘Adequate.’ Raising one hand, he stroked one long, lean finger down the side of my face. ‘It’s quite late. What do you say to a romantic candle-lit dinner on the hotel terrace, my dearest love?’

I fancy not many people could manage to make the words ‘my dearest love’ sound like ‘my obedient minion’. Rikkard Ambrose did it without the slightest problem.

I bridled. ‘You can take your romantic dinner and shove it up your-!’

‘Let me rephrase,’ he cut me off. His arms were like a vice around me, holding me in place. ‘We will go down and have a romantic candle-lit dinner. Now!’

I glared up at him, feeling sparks fly from my eyes. ‘And we’ll smile, and giggle and show everyone how very much

in love we are?’

‘That, and we will discuss how best to hunt bloodthirsty bandits in the desert.’

‘How very romantic!’

‘I always do my best.’ Leaning forward lightning fast, he brushed his lips against mine - hardly a touch, nothing compared to what he had done before, and yet… It was a promise. A promise of things to come.

Good Lord… What had I gotten myself into?

Releasing me from his hold and stepping away, Mr Rikkard Ambrose marched over to the door, turned and held his hand out towards me. His dark eyes seemed to gleam in the failing light.

‘Come, my love.’