Storm over the Caribbean

49. A Cup of Water, Please!

"Come to me!"

My voice was nothing but a whisper. Yet for him, it apparently was like a flame to a pyromaniacal moth. In a split second, he was on the bed, only inches away from me. His hands were clutching my face, his dark, sea-coloured eyes staring straight into mine, filled with fathomless anguish.

"He...he's right there," he rasped, his voice more vulnerable than I had ever heard it before. Likely more vulnerable than it had ever been. His chiselled face didn't seem nearly as invulnerable as usual. "He is right there with mother and...and Adaira. And my bastard of a...!" For just a moment, his fingers clenched instinctively, clutching me like a lifeline. "My bastard of a father is planning to practically sell her to him!"

"Why didn't you do anything before now?"

He snorted.

"...you did, didn't you?"

"Of course I did! I sent a man north to keep an eye on the situation the moment I received the letter. But I told him not to interfere. I told him it was just some nouveau riche my father was trying to rope in. I told him my sister could handle herself!"

One of his hands disappeared from my face and slammed into the bed's headboard with a crack, making the whole thing quake beneath me. Yet I didn't twitch, didn't even blink. No matter what, while I was with him, I was completely safe.

Judging by the look in his eyes, the same didn't apply to other people, though.

"I swear..." That look in his eyes seared a brand straight into my soul. I wished so much I could do something, anything to help him, but it was beyond me. "I swear, if he gets his hands on my family, I'll...I'll..."

He trembled again, as if about to explode any second.

Maybe you can help him after all, Lilly. Maybe you're the only one who can.

"Shh..." Gently, I reached out to caress his cheek. To soothe him in a way I alone could. "I know. I know."

His only answer was to lean forward and kiss the life out of me. I didn't push him away. Instead, I slid my arms around his neck and pulled him closer and closer and closer, until not so much as a single hair would have fit between us. Under my touch, I could feel his wrathful tremors slowly subside.

"Everything is going to be all right," I whispered. "Your mother and Adaira...they're both going to be all right."

"How can you know?" Dragging in a ragged breath, he stared at me. If it had been anyone but Mr Rikkard Ambrose, I might have thought I saw a flash of desperation in his eyes. But, of course, with him that couldn't be true, could it? "How?"

"Simple." I tightened my grip on him. "You'll make sure of it. We'll make sure of it."

That was when the dam broke. A growl erupted from the back of his throat and he hurled himself at me, kissing my cheeks, my mouth, my everything. At any other time, it might have been wonderful, romantic and warm—but not now. Now, I could feel the searing hot need behind his every touch. And, from deep inside me, an answering need sprang to life. Frenziedly, I started tearing at his shirt. Only moments later it sailed away and we came together, fiery skin on skin. It didn't matter that I was heavy with child. It didn't matter that I had to twist like a pretzel to kiss him. All that mattered was him and me, together.

"My little ifrit," he rasped as he pressed his forehead to mine. "What would I do without you?"

One corner of my mouth quirked up "Tut-tut. It is a waste of time to ask superfluous questions, Sir. Because..." Grabbing hold of his perfect sculpture of a face with both hands, I kissed him like my life depended on it—then broke away to look straight into his eyes. "...you'll never have to find out."