"...a ball."
The two words that announced doomsday.
"W-what?"
"I said," Mr Rikkard Ambrose repeated ruthlessly, "the next challenge you shall face is a ball."
"The kind you kick across a field?" I asked hopefully.
"No. The kind you attend in fancy clothes."
My heart plummeted.
"Err...what if I were sick?"
"Then I will personally feed you chicken broth and castor oil until you recover. Speedily. You are my beloved wife, after all."
Dang it!
Well, you know what they say: If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.
"Um..." I raised a finger. "What if I said I was injured from the bandit attack?"
In a blink, he was in front of me, his face only inches away from mine, his icy eyes sending chills down my spine.
"Then I would attend to your wound. And, once you are bandaged and I have eradicated that vermin who dared to hurt you, we will attend the ball!"
"You...!"
"You look cross. Pray tell, why?" Reaching out, he captured my chin in one hand. "Don't you want to come to the ball."
I felt my face flush, and a tingle shoot down my spine. Dang him!
"That might sound a little more romantic if you weren't planning on having me attend the ball dressed as a man accompanied by your sister!"
Leaning forward, he gazed straight into my eyes. "I can make anything romantic."
And I believed him. Blast him!
"Oy!" came a voice from my left. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Adaira stalk closer, wearing a faux-outraged expression on her face. "Don't flirt with my fiancé-to-be in front of me, you scoundrel!"
"Adaira?"
"Yes, brother dear?"
"Shut up!"
"Ah..." Beaming, she threw an arm around his waist. "My brother telling me to be quiet...that brings back childhood memories. Are you going to put frogs in my shoes next?"
Mr Ambrose's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "That can be arranged."
That threat silenced Adaira rather quickly. I, however, felt a surge of warmth in my heart drive away any irritation. Reaching out, I cupped Mr Ambrose's cheek.
"You used to put frogs in your relatives' shoes as well?"
I was touched. Truly touched. I had no idea we had so much in common.
"No comment."
I grinned. He did. He so totally did.
"And don't change the subject, Mr Linton. Are you injured?"
Dang and blast!
"No."
"Hm. So the vicomte gets to live another day."
"Indeed, Sir?"
"Indeed, Mr Linton. Also, don't think I didn't notice you changing the subject. You are going to that ball."
Double blast! With extra dynamite!
In his icy eyes, I could read the words he was really saying: This is what you get for letting your life be in danger, wife. Next time, don't do it again.
YOU ARE READING
Silence No More
RomanceOrder. Discipline. Silence. Those are the rules billionaire businessman Rikkard Ambrose lives by-at least until his wife Lilly presents him with the bundle of bawling joy that is his newborn son. Together, they embark on a new life of delightfully c...