Silence Breaking (Storm and Silence 4)

Maybe not command. But influence? Certainly.

Suddenly, I felt a hand grasping mine. Looking up, I saw Captain Carter’s eyes had lost their excited gleam. Instead, he was looking at me now, if possible even more intently than when he had been dreaming of adventure in far-off lands. As if the real adventure were standing right in front of him.

‘This doesn’t change a thing between us, Miss Linton. Queen and country call, and I must go - but I stand by what I said. I want you. If you ever change your mind…’

He let the end of the sentence hang in the air, full of possibilities. I tried to part my lips and answer, tried my very best - but couldn’t.

‘Think about it.’ Gently, he squeezed my fingers. ‘You’ll have plenty of time to think, now. Whoever the other man is - he’s not your only choice.’

Yes, he is, blast him! Because I love the cold-hearted son of a bachelor!

Which wouldn’t prevent me from tanning his hide when next I got my hands on him.

The captain gave me a roguish grin. ‘Will you wish me luck?’

The words hit me in the stomach like a fist. I looked up into his cheerful face - the face of a friend who had been there whenever I needed him. And now he was going off adventuring a thousand miles away, and there was nothing I could do about it. What could I possibly say?

‘Good luck.’ The words were a whisper, but he heard. A smile spread across his face.

‘Thank you, Miss Linton.’ Lifting my hand to his lips he pressed a gentle kiss on the back of it. ‘I shall be thinking of you every time someone in Uruguay steps on my feet during a waltz.’

I swallowed, somehow managing to smile. ‘How romantic.’

He flashed me a boyish grin. ‘I know. I’m a regular Casanova, aren’t I?’

‘Yes, you are. Do me a favour?’

‘What?’

‘Don’t get yourself killed.’

That smile flashed again. ‘Anything to oblige a lady. Goodbye.’

And, with a last gentle squeeze of my hand, he turned and strode out of the room.

*~*~**~*~*

I was not an enthusiastic reader of romance novels, but even I knew how this kind of scene was supposed to go:

• Girl discovers that romantic interest A has sent romantic B to what will probably be a painful and violent death.

• Girl becomes ballistic.

• Girl marches to romantic interest A and proclaims him a vile villain, black-hearted beast and dastardly devil.

• Romantic interest A falls to his knees begging for forgiveness.

• Girl leaves him hanging a little bit for the fun of it.

• Girl grants forgiveness on condition that there will be an immediate marriage, the diamond on her ring will have at least twenty carats, and love interest B be rescued (if possible).

Needless to say that, with Mr Rikkard Ambrose, things did not go quite like that.

I marched into the breakfast parlour under full steam, smoke practically curling out of my ears. No Mr Ambrose. But Adaira was sitting at a window, a cup of hot chocolate in her hand, gazing out over the snowy landscape.

‘Where is he?’ I demanded.

She cocked her head. ‘What has my brother done now?’