The Final Storm

10. Hello There, Widow Wagoner!

I froze.

Swallowing, I looked into his deep, dark, sea-coloured eyes as his words echoed in my ears.

"When were you going to tell me that my sister is on board this ship?"

He knew. He knew everything. Deathly silence descended over the room. Even the sound of Adaira's cutlery in the background had ceased completely.

"H-how?"

Mr Ambrose's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. Raising one hand, he pointed in the direction of the dear Widow Wagoner.

"I have spent years living with my little sister, sleeping under the same roof, eating at the same table. She always cuts the crust off her bread. She prefers apple juice over any other drink. She has a sweet tooth like no one else." He pointed at various dishes full of biscuits and chocolates that, I only now realised, were not only present on our table, but on Adaira's as well. Then his finger moved to the next plate, which was left almost untouched. "And she absolutely hates lobster. So, apparently, does our new governess. What a coincidence."

Rising to his feet, he strode over to where the "grieving widow" was seated, reached out, and with one smooth move tore off her veil. When Adaira's face came into view, she looked as if she had been caught with her hands in a dozen different cookie jars.

"Um...hello there, big brother. Fancy meeting you here. I—"

One long finger stabbed at her nose, silencing her instantly.

"Not one more word out of you, young lady. I shall deal with you later. Now, as for you..."

Slowly, he turned back towards me, his icy eyes piercing my very soul.

"Come along, my dear wife. I would like to have a little talk with you."

I swallowed. "Are you sure you mean 'talk', not 'interrogation'?"

"Is there any difference?"

And with those cheerful words, he grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and dragged me into the captain's cabin. In retrospect, I could only say: romantic dinners are overrated!

Wham!

The door of the captain's cabin slammed shut behind us with a thunderous sound. Nervously, I glanced up at the tall figure towering above me. Why did I suddenly feel like a hapless virgin about to be despoiled by the pirate captain?

This is Mr Rikkard Ambrose, remember? He was a pirate just a few months ago. He'll probably despoil you, steal all your money and sell you for ransom.

"So," Mr Ambrose finally broke the silence in the room, pinning me to the spot with that arctic gaze of his. "An explanation. Now."

I opened my mouth, searching for the right words—then closed it again as I realised it was really hard to find some of those right now. Blast!

"I am waiting, Mrs Ambrose." His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "You should know, I am not a patient man."

Once again, I opened my mouth. But, in the end, what came out was not an explanation. Instead, it was a whispered question.

"For...for how long have you known?"

"I suspected from the very beginning." Cocking his head, he sent me a deep look. "This is my sister we are talking about. Did you really think I wouldn't recognize her? I've had my suspicions since the first moment I saw 'Mrs Wagoner'."

Bloody stinking hell! And you didn't say anything?

I had to hold myself back from facepalming. Of course he didn't say anything. That was Mr Rikkard Ambrose.