New Storm Rising

43. Vow at the Prow

Yep, that's it! We went to the land registration and assignment office. During my honeymoon. While I was pregnant.

Am I the only one who sometimes has to suppress her urge to strangle Mr Rikkard Ambrose?

"Here you go," the stick-thin bureaucrat behind the desk, who looked like he lived off of paper and dust alone, handed Mr Ambrose a stack of documents. "The documents confirming your ownership of the gold mine in Tomb Gloom and the surrounding lands as well as a certain vessel known as the...Tresoro de España? Yes, that's the name. The land deed just arrived today from the territories in the West, and the ship ownership documents came from the court only a few hours ago. I was asked to pass it along to you."

"I see." Giving a curt nod, Mr Ambrose took the pile of documents, leafed through it and held it against the light to check for authenticity. After a moment, the slightest gleam of satisfaction flashed in his eyes. "Adequate."

"Then that should be taken care of. If there's nothing else..."

"Of course not. Good day, Sir."

And, rising to his feet, Mr Ambrose strode out of the office, with me following right behind. Soon we sat in our coach, rattling back towards our hotel. My dear husband was still gazing intently at the land deeds clutched in his hands.

"Finally. Our task is achieved, Mrs Ambrose. I think this is my favourite part of the honeymo—"

Abruptly cutting off, he glanced my way. Probably because of the searing death-glare I was sending at him.

"I think," he corrected, "I should not finish that sentence. Silence is golden, after all."

"Wise choice, Mr Ambrose. Wise choice."

With a triumphant smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, I linked my arm with my hubby's and snuggled into his side.

Our last few days in the Big Apple flew by in a blink. Then, at long last, the time had come. We packed our things, checked out of the hotel, haggled over our bill for a few hours, and stepped outside. And finally, once we'd taken a last stroll through the city and I had said goodbye to my favourite spots, the four of us made our way to the harbour and climbed up onto our ship.

Four?

Weren't there just three of us, you might wonder? Mr Ambrose, Karim and I?

Well, there was one rather simple explanation for the discrepancy...

"Bleeeeawwwwk!"

Taking a deep breath, Mr Rikkard Ambrose slowly raised his gaze and met the camel's eyes. "Go. Away."

"Now, now, Ambrose Senior," I admonished him, shaking my head. "Is that any way to talk to Ambrose Junior?"

"You are going to change that name."

"Am not."

"You are."

"Am not."

"You. Are."

"Isn't this amazing?" Beaming at him, I pulled him into a hug. "We've only been married a few weeks, and already we can argue like an old married couple. We're really talented at this marriage stuff!"

"If you think that this will manage to distract me from the subject at hand, you are very much mistaken. I will not accept some flea-infested member of the species Camelus being named after me! Is that understood?"

"You're a bit grumpy today, aren't you?" I patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. I know just the thing to cheer you up."

His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "What?"