New Storm Rising

19. Gaining Weight?

In blissful peace, we continued to enjoy our honeymoon, but of course we were not idle. Over the next couple of days, Mr Ambrose and I discussed in detail what we might do in case the Spaniards went on counterattack. And if most of those discussions happened to occur in bed, with a distinct lack of clothing...

Well, clothes were expensive. As a new wife, I had to help my dear hubby save money, hadn't I?

Even when we were not exercising in the fresh air of the bedroom, I was keeping myself busy. I was not exactly a brilliant cook, and years of boiled potatoes in my uncle's house had not really turned me into a gourmet of gastronomical proportions, but when I saw the men and women coming out of the mine, exhausted after a hard day's work, I simply couldn't stop myself. I knew all too well what it was like to come home from work sweaty and exhausted, driven all day by a boss who was a merciless, slave-driving son of a b—

"What are you thinking about, Mrs Ambrose?" a voice came from behind me.

I cleared my throat. "Ehem. Nothing, really, hubby, dear. I...was just thinking about how much I love you."

Two familiar, possessive arms snaked around me pulling me close. "Is that so?"

Marriage 101: when in doubt, distract.

"You know it is." Purring, I turned around within the grasp of his arms, standing up on my tiptoes to place a kiss on the hard angles of his jaw.

"So...you were thinking of how much you love me while cooking potato and onion stew?"

Drat!

"Onions can be very romantic?" I hedged, reaching over to stir the pot once or twice. "I've heard of them moving people to tears."

"Ah." He nodded. "That does make sense."

I blinked. "It does?"

"Indeed. Now I know what to give you for our first anniversary."

Double drat!

"Um...perhaps we can re-discuss this at a later date?"

"I don't think that will be necessary."

"Of course you don't."

Mentally, I made a note to keep my big mouth shut around certain significant dates. With any luck, I would say "Crap!" around my next anniversary, and he would give me a present of...

Well, the less said the better.

With another peck on Mr Ambrose's cheek, I quickly turned back towards the ginormous steaming pot on the stove and once more started stirring. Ten minutes later, I stepped out of the house with a large pot in my arms. Starting down the meandering forest path, I soon stepped out from between the trees, panting under the weight of the steaming monstrosity.

"Dinner, everyone!" I yelled.

Instantly, Karim came racing forward, nearly stumbling over his feet in his rush to reach me. Before I could blink, he tried to grab the entire pot of stew.

"Err...hungry, much?"

"Give me that," he harrumphed, tugging the massive kettle out of my hands. "I am under orders that you are not to carry heavy things!"

"Orders? From whom? And why?"

"Ehem..." His gaze flicked to my stomach, before he suddenly showed distinct interest in the songbirds up in the trees. "From, um...someone. And the reason is...something."

I stared at him, meaningfully, raising an eyebrow.

"Um...I'm really, really hungry?" he tried a second time, hugging the pot.