New Storm Rising

33. Humping with Hubby

Leaning back into the upholstery of the coach, I blew away the smoke rising from the muzzle of my revolver and checked my reflection in the pewter luggage rack. Yep, like I thought. Looking badass!

"Feeling better?" Mr Ambrose enquired.

"Very much so, Sir. Shooting people is an amazingly relaxing pastime."

"I concur."

"Although..."

"Yes?"

I glanced down at the now only half-full case of ammunition, then glanced up at my dear husband, batting my eyelashes. "Where exactly can I file bullets as business expenses?"

"Dream on."

"Awww, come on now! Don't you love me?"

"Indeed I do. Which is why I will let you pay for your own bullets so you can be a strong, independent woman like you always wanted."

Damn! Why did he have to be so bloody devious and stingy and....

Right. Absolutely right. I was too darn independent for my own good! Too independent to ever accept him paying for anything.

Except maybe solid chocolate.

Still, what I'd said earlier was quite correct. Shooting people really was amazingly relaxing. I should do it more often. Why, even though we were sitting in a carriage, I didn't even feel sick at the mome—

Suddenly, something in my stomach lurched.

Oh no. No, no, nononono—

I leapt towards the window.

"Blurgh! Bleearghargargh!"

Well, look on the bright side, Lilly: at least the populace of the United States is safe from being shot by feminist invaders from England.

Right now, that didn't seem like much of a consolation. It was quite a long time before I dragged myself back into the coach,

"Look at it this way," Mr Ambrose told me, cocking his head. "With the...projectiles you are currently firing, we are quite unlikely to be pursued."

I gave him a weak smile. "Thanks for the pep talk."

"Hm." He gave me a look that told me he was not in the habit of doing something as frivolous as talking, particularly of the pep variety.

Except for me, apparently.

I smiled even wider—then yawned, as exhaustion overtook me. Putting away my revolver and ammunition, I leaned back against the—regrettably not very soft—backrest, trying my best to keep my eyes open. It had been a long day. Or...I glanced out of the window into the shadowy landscape racing by. Was it night by now? I certainly felt like it.

"Mrs Ambrose?" A gentle hand came to rest on my shoulder. Odd...who could that be? It couldn't be Mr Ambrose, right?

"Hm...?" My eyelids fluttered open. Hey...how had they fallen shut? I hadn't even noticed.

"Rest, wife. I'll keep watch. Only..."

"Yes?" I murmured.

"How many more bullets did you bring?"

"Hm...few hundred." Blinking, I glanced his way, only now noticing that he was staring out of the window, back to where we'd left behind the desperados. "Why?"

"I have a feeling we're going to need them."

***

When I awoke once more, the sun was shining, the birds were singing and I was about to puke again. Shoving my husband out of the way, I lunged for the window.