Under normal circumstances, Mr Rikkard Ambrose was in charge. Of everything. Always. So when, that evening, I took hold of his hand and started pulling him towards the parlour door, slipping another hand over his eyes, he was not very pleased.
'Miss Linton? What are you doing?'
'It's a surprise,' I whispered into his ear, pressing a gentle kiss against his earlobe.
He stiffened.
'Miss Linton, I have just wasted three hours, forty-two minutes and twenty-seven seconds in the company of a village vicar and three old crones, being pelted with questions I did not wish to answer and compliments on my non-existent generosity. After, I might add, you already brought me three dozen surprises, most of which are currently employed by me and are sweeping this house clean and cooking in the kitchens. Do you really think that after all that, I would desire a surprise?'
I considered his question for a moment—then nodded. 'Yes.'
'You,' Mr Ambrose said from behind my hand, still covering his face, 'are delusional.'
'And you love me just the way I am.'
A moment of silence. Then—
'I have stated as much, yes.'
I grinned up at him. Even knowing he couldn't see it, I bet he could feel it. 'So if I'm delusional, and you love me anyway, what does that make you?'
Silence.
A very long, very non-committal silence.
'Careful,' I warned.
'Why? Wh—aaah! Nnf!'
'Because there are steps in front of you,' I helpfully explained.
'Thank you so much for the early warning, Miss Linton.'
'You are most welcome, Sir.'
'Will you remove your hand from my eyes?'
'I don't think so, no.'
'Miss Linton?'
'Yes, Sir?'
'Move your hand! Now!'
'What's the hurry? Would you like it back on your derrière?'
'Miss Linton...!'
'Careful! Another staircase.'
'Where in Mammon's name are you leading me?'
'You'll see.'
'So you plan to graciously remove your hand from my eyes at some point, do you?'
'If you ask nicely.'
'I. Do. Not. Ask.'
You asked for me.
But I didn't say that out loud—because I didn't need to. He knew. I knew. That was all that was necessary.
'It won't be long now...just around one more corner, and...voilà! We're here.'
I stopped, but still didn't remove my hand from his face.
'And where is "here", exactly, Miss Linton?'
There was a soft click.
'What was that?' he demanded.
'Me. I just opened the door.'
'The door to what?'
For a moment, I answered with nothing but silence—just for the fun of it. Then I started to slowly lead him forward. 'The door to your room.'
YOU ARE READING
Storm of Bells
Любовные романыNever do what you're told, never boil your own head in vinegar and, most important of all, never ever marry a man-those have always been Lilly Linton's principles for a happy, carefree life. So, how the heck did she end up engaged to multinational i...