Silence Breaking

19. Prop Without the Osal

The first thing I noticed on waking up was that I wanted to die. Probably because of the intense pain that was burning in every inch of my body.

'Nnnnraaaarg,' I said.

Or at least something like that. You know, one of those lovely death-groans that murder victims utter just before they're given the gentle shove into the hereafter?

'Are you awake?'

That cool, distant voice... It sounded familiar. With all my might I tried to open my eyelids, but the stupid things wouldn't budge an inch! Who did that voice belong to? For some reason I had a feeling it was important to remember. Who? Who?

'Yes, you are awake.' A hand grabbed mine, pressing gently, almost lovingly. 'If you think that, because of the stupid stunt you pulled, I will give you paid sick leave, you are very much mistaken, Mr Linton. You will get better right now. That is an order. Open your eyes!'

Ah, yes. Mr Ambrose. Mr Rikkard Ambrose, the only person in the world who could phrase get well wishes as a command. How could I have forgotten?

'Eyes, Mr Linton. Now.'

Was that worry in his voice?

Surely not.

Still, just in case...

With another monumental effort, I heaved. Slowly, incredibly slowly, my eyelids began to lift. Spears of searing hot light stabbed into me.

'L-light!' I croaked.

His hand was torn from mine. A second later, I heard the rustle of curtains, and blessed darkness spread across the room. I parted my parched lips to thank him – but then I closed them again. The silence and dark was just so nice, so comfortable, so...very...

'Mr Linton? Mr Linton, stay awake!'

'Hmmm?'

'Stay awake. That is an order!"

Oh. An order from Rikkard Ambrose. Well of course that had to be obeyed. A painful smile tugging at one corner of my mouth, I lifted one eyelid a bit higher, squinting up at his tall, dark form.

'Hello, Sir.'

'Mr Linton.'

So much lay in those two little words. So much hidden meaning. So much not-so-hidden wrath.

'Where are we?' I croaked.

'In the town house formerly inhabited by the late Mr Gibbons. You are occupying one of the guest bedrooms. Karim and I are sharing the other.'

'How charming. How are you two lovebirds getting along?'

'Mr Linton?'

'Yes, Sir?'

'I will make allowances for the severe head trauma you most likely suffered and pretend not to have heard that remark.'

'What a shame. I was so looking forward to your cold glare.'

Kind as he was, he promptly gave it to me. Wasn't Mr Ambrose a wonderful man? No wonder I had fallen in love with him.

Hm...with thoughts like that running through your mind, Lilly, maybe you really did get knocked on the head too hard.

'So,' I rasped, thinking it was time to change the subject, 'what happened after I, well, um...'

'...made yourself into the target at the Newcastle rock-throwing contest?'

'Well, that's one way to put it.'

'I grabbed you and shoved you back inside. And then...' His voice trailed off. Glancing up at him, I saw him staring at his hands. Both of them were covered in scratches and stains of dried blood. Straightening, he met my gaze with one of his own that made a shiver run down my back. 'Suffice it to say that I held them off from the door until reinforcements arrived. My men dispersed the strike, established a secure perimeter around the mine, and allowed a team of specialists to start working on putting out the fire.'