Oh crap.

"Well?" the icy voice at my ear demanded, his breath tickling my neck. "Would you mind telling me what you were up to?"

"Um...yes?"

"What?"

"Yes, I would mind." I explained helpfully. "By the way, nice weather we're having today, isn't it?"

"Mrs Ambrose..."

"I don't think it's going to rain anytime soon. Isn't sunshine a wonderful thing?"

"Mrs. Lillian. Ambrose."

"And not a hint of clouds in the sky. How splendid!"

"Mrs! Ambrose!"

I tried to resist mightily. But in the end, I succumbed to Mr Ambrose's mesmerizing eyes and spine-chilling voice of doom. I spilled everything about my plans, the details of which I might have previously hidden from him.

"A gunfight."

"Mr Ambrose?"

"You. Charged. Into. A. Gunfight."

"Well, I wouldn't say 'charged' exactly..."

It happened before I could even blink. A strong hand grabbed the back of my neck and, pulling me over towards him, held me in place inches away from his chiselled face. His dark, sea-coloured eyes were deep pools, urging me to drown myself in bliss.

"You," Mr Rikkard Ambrose ordered, his voice chilly as the heart of an ice giant, "are under house arrest."

I would have vehemently protested—if not for one rather obvious fact. "There are no houses anywhere for around a hundred miles."

His free hand fastening around my wrist, he prevented me from escaping. "Husband arrest, then."

"That isn't even a thing!"

"It is now." And without another instant of hesitation, his fingers entangled in my hair and pulled me into an explosive, earth-shattering kiss.

Who needs dynamite, when you have Mr Rikkard Ambrose?

No! Bad Lilly, bad! You can't just fold to his crazy demands because he's a good kisser.

Not even if, right now, it seemed like a really, really, really good idea?

Especially not then!

What I didn't get, though, was why he was going off the deep end like this. For years, my presence had slowly chipped away at his chauvinism until, finally, he seemed to admit the possibility that women, in fact, might be in possession of a brain. In very recent times, he might even be convinced to concede that females could do the same jobs as men. In a pinch. For half the wages.

All right, progress was slow! But there was still progress!

Or at least there had been.

Until we had left on our honeymoon, and Mr Rikkard Ambrose had suddenly turned into a caveman.

Though that might not be such a bad thing if he dressed like one. Hm...Mr Ambrose in a furry loincloth...

No! Bad Lilly, bad!

I had to get a hold of myself! I had to get to the bottom of why the heck he was suddenly behaving like this. And I definitely would, as soon as he was finished kissing me.

Any moment now.

Any moment now...

"Bllaaawwwrck?"

Shut up, Ambrose Junior! I'm busy!

***

It took quite a long time before I fully returned from blissland to reality. About three and a half days, to be exact.

Hey, don't look at me like that! You try getting kissed by Mr Rikkard Ambrose in front of a blazing desert sunset and dealing with the aftereffects!

By the time my brain started working normally again, most of the head start I had managed to gain on our pursuers had gone up in smoke. Once again, they were hot on our heels.

Crap! What are we gonna do now? What—

"There!" Mr Ambrose's voice abruptly pulled me from my thoughts. "Ahead!"

I glanced up, and I saw it. Light. Not just the dim, murky light that pervaded the canyon, but bright, brilliant sunlight.

"We've done it. We're out of the canyon."

"Good." I glanced back at the rapidly approaching dust cloud rising from the gorge. "Because I'm out of ideas as well. What the heck are we gonna do?" I looked forward again, and saw nothing but endless desert stretching out in front of us. "What are we going to do?"

"Ride," came Mr Ambrose's monosyllabic reply. "Fast. Now."

And, slapping my camel's rear, he urged his own to a gallop.

What followed was a hair-curling race through the desert. If this had been any other time, it would have been amazing fun—especially taking into account the groans of the dozen or so men trying to keep their meals in on galloping camels. But it wasn't any other time. It was here and now, and the shit was about to hit the fan.

Bam!

"Crap!"

This time, it wasn't me shooting. Turning around, I squinted my eyes, and in the distance was just able to catch the figures of several riders rushing out from the entrance of the gorge. Metal blinked in the harsh, blinding sunlight.

"Double crap with a cherry on top!"

Bam! Bam!

Leaning down low in the saddle, I squeezed my mount's flanks, driving him forward hard. Doing my best to ignore the way the world was violently jerking up and down, I glanced over at my darling husband and gave him my best hopeful little wifey look. "Do you have any more, ehem...presents for me?"

"Do you have any idea how much dynamite costs, Mrs Ambrose?"

"Obviously not. You're the one who pays for it."

Turning towards me, he speared me with an icy stare. "No. I do not have any more dynamite."

I gave him my best attempt at a smile. "Well, at least now you know what to get me for my birthday."

"Mrs Ambrose?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Be. Quiet. And. Ride."

I opened my mouth to retort—until he caught my gaze, and I saw the look in his eyes. It was a look unlike any I had seen before. I had seen Mr Rikkard Ambrose calm as a glacier, filled with icy anger, even, on occasion, thawed by love. But this?

I had never seen this before.

His eyes were on fire. Not the cold fire I was used to, either. No, the searing, burning determination to guard and protect!

BAM!

I had just an instant to realize that, this time, the gunfire was much, much closer, before something hard and heavy came crashing down onto me, slamming me flat on my mount's back. I heard the sharp hiss of two bullets cutting through the air just above me.

I swallowed.

"Mrs Ambrose?" his oh-so-familiar cool voice entered my ear.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Don't die. This is an order. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

Before I could say another word, he let go of me and slapped my mount's posterior, hard.

"Ride! Ride faster!" he barked, and deciding not to argue for once, I did as ordered—until I realized he wasn't following.

"Hey, what do you think you're up to? What about you?"

"Don't worry about me," he commanded, falling behind some more, and...placing himself directly between me and our pursuers.

Oh, hell no!

"Stop that! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"My job as your husband. Now go faster!"

"I can't just let you—"

Before I could finish my words, I felt a finger on my lips, silencing me. His deep, dark, sea-coloured eyes seared into me with unshakable determination. "Yes. Yes, you can!"

I felt a lump in my throat. "But—"

"No buts! Go faster, now!" His face hardened. And with Mr Rikkard Ambrose, that was saying something. "Go, or I will slow down!"

I stared into his eyes. They were implacable. He was completely serious about this, the chauvinistic son of a bachelor! I felt a tug at my heart.

"By all means, slow down, pendejo!" an unwelcome voice intruded on us from the inside of the prisoners' carriage. "It will not make a difference eiser way! Se two of you will be gunned down soon enough. Mwhahaha!"

In answer, Mr Rikkard Ambrose pulled a stick of dynamite out of his pocket, lit it, and threw it through the window of the coach.

"Yaaaaaaargh!"

A terrified squeal rose from the coach, then abruptly cut off. A moment later, we heard a heavy thump—like, for example, from two fainting men hitting the floor.

I lifted an eyebrow at Mr Rikkard Ambrose. "I thought you didn't have any more dynamite left."

"I don't. That was a dud for display purposes."

"And you carry that around with you why exactly?"

He cocked his head at the coach. "Naturally, in case I need to make a display. Now stop talking and ride!"

Blast, blast, blast! What could I do to—

Bam!

There was no choice, was there? I had to. The faster I rode, the faster he'd catch up! Cursing, I squeezed my mount's flanks, eliciting a protesting bleat from Ambrose Junior.

"Shut up and run, you flea-infested doormat!"

And he did. Giving a long, low bleat, Ambrose Junior sped up. The world, which so far had been jolting up and down, turned into an incomprehensible blur as the landscape raced past faster and faster. My jaw was nearly shattered every time the camel's hooves hit the ground. But no matter how fast we went, it was no use. Turns out, no matter how well suited for desert travel they might be, camels are not as fast as horses. Who would have guessed?

Deep inside, I cursed the niggardly cheapskate that was Mr Rikkard Ambrose. Even deeper inside, I prayed for the safety of the man who was shielding me with his body this very moment.

Behind us, the desperados were catching up quickly. I kept myself pressed tightly to the camel's back, trying desperately to peek past its massive, furry neck in search of something, anything that could help us. Suddenly, I caught sight of a twinkle in the distance.

What...?

But Mr Rikkard Ambrose was already far ahead of me. Figuratively speaking, at least. From behind me, I heard the familiar sound of his telescope unfolding. Yet even without the visual aid, I could already make out the vague outline of a river in the distance, and beyond it, a steep, cliff-like bank rising into the sky.

"Adequate." Mr Ambrose's firm voice came from behind me. "There."

"There? What do you mean, there?"

"They're catching up. We have to make a stand sooner or later. We're going to make it there, at the top of that cliff." I glanced back at him. Eyes sparkling icily, he sent a challenging look my way. "Tell me...how many bullets do you still have left?"

A vicious grin spread over my face. "Lots!"

***

Mr Ambrose was as swift as he was efficient in setting up defences. Knapsacks and other pieces of baggage were dumped between rocks at the top of the cliff, creating an almost continuous bulwark. The steel-reinforced carriage was placed right at the top of the path leading up the cliff, blocking anyone from moving past it.

Seeing that, I cast a glance at Mr Rikkard Ambrose. "Um...you did remove the prisoners from the coach before using it as a barricade against gunmen, didn't you?"

All Mr Rikkard Ambrose did in answer was to send a look back at me. One that clearly said, Now, whyever would I do such a thing?

I made a mental note to never ever leave any house guests in the loving care of my husband.

Bam! Bam!

I swallowed.

That's if you're ever gonna get the chance to have house guests, Lilly.

Cocking my revolver, I pressed myself tightly against the large rock that served as my cover and tried to steady my breathing.

"Get ready!" Mr Ambrose commanded. "They're coming!"

And they came. They came with a vengeance. Water splashed in every direction as they galloped through the river. Not even stopping to dismount, they leapt from their saddles and dashed towards the path up the cliff.

Not so fast!

Cocking my revolver, I took aim.

Bam!

The man seemed to move instinctively, just as my finger hit the trigger. I'd been aiming straight for his heart, I was sure of it! And yet, somehow the darn desperado was still running, with nothing but a small graze on his shoulder.

Damn they're good!

Muttering French curses under my breath, I took aim again and—

Bang!

Crap! Missed again! And now, the frigging man was already ducking behind a rock, taking aim over the top. With another curse, I threw myself to the ground and rolled, just as—

Bam!

A bullet whistled right above the place where I had just been sitting, chipping some bits off the rock. But by that time, I was already three yards to the left and coming up from behind my new cover, taking aim.

Bang!

My answering bullet blew the hat off the desperado's head, but otherwise left him unharmed. Damn it! Again! Roll, come up, aim, and...

Bam! Bam!

"Aaargh!"

Yes! Finally!

Again, I moved, aimed, fired. And again. And again. After five minutes of continuous fire that seemed to stretch into hours, I had already injured three desperados. Duck. Roll. Come up and aim. Fire. It was an excellent tactic, and worked splendidly so far.

For me at least.

As for others...

I glanced sideways at the huge form of Karim trying to take cover behind a boulder half his size.

"Um...do you think you can crouch a little lower?"

He glowered at me from where he had his nose almost pressed to the ground. "No!"

"Err...how about you at least take that off?" Cautiously, I pointed to the turban that towered nearly three feet above the top of the rock.

The death glare he sent me was answer enough.

"The enemies are down there, remember?" I pointed over the rock in front of me—then quickly drew back my finger when a bullet whizzed by. Grumbling, he nodded and reloaded his rifle. As for myself, I quickly shifted places again, and took aim once more.

Bam!

Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one using tactics and common sense. Down below, the desperados were working in perfect tandem. Between the broken-off rocks scattered below the cliff, they moved swiftly and effectively, one firing relentlessly up at us, while another moved from cover to cover, closing in on the cliff.

"Crap, crap, crap! They're good at this! Too bloody good!"

"They have a combined bounty of half a million dollars on their heads and are still alive," Mr Ambrose reminded me. "Of course they are good at this."

"You sound almost admiring," I squeezed out between gritted teeth.

He sent me a "duh" kind of look. "Of course! It's half a million dollars."

"Could you stop thinking about money and focus a little more on survival?"

Lifting his revolver, Mr Ambrose took aim. "I, Mrs Ambrose, am fully capable—" Bam! Bam! "—of multitasking."

And that he was. Face set in icy determination, he fired nearly as fast as a Gatling gun, and most certainly as deadly. Already several dead or injured desperados lay strewn across the ground down below. But those were just hired thugs. The real threats, the real killers, were weaving between the bullets with ease, moving closer with every second. It wasn't long before the outlaws were pressed against the bottom of the cliff, out of sight and, more importantly, out of shooting range.

"Chitara!" Karim cursed in his native tongue.

"I have no idea what that means," I squeezed out, "but I agree completely!"

With a metallic shhhink, Mr Ambrose slid another round of bullets home. "Any suggestions?"

"Sadly, no, Sahib."

"Mrs Ambrose?"

"Well...." A wicked grin spread across my face. "I might have one."

And, grabbing the rock that rested in front of me atop the cliff with both hands, I pushed. Tumbling down the precipice, the rock whistled through the air, until...

"Aagh!"

Crunch!

I raised an eyebrow as the two men stared at me. "What? It's not like we need cover anymore, now that they're almost in front of our noses."

Mr Rikkard Ambrose considered this for about a quarter of a second—then grabbed his own rock and pitched it over the edge of the cliff.

"Gaah!"

Thud!

"Move! Move, men!" a voice bellowed from below. "Up the path, right now!"

Crap!

"Well, what do you always say?" Grinning grimly at Mr Rikkard Ambrose, I grabbed the next rock in reach. "Knowledge is Power is Time is money." I pushed. "So let's not waste any of the above."

Wham!

"Aagh!"

More shouts and curses echoed from below. My grin widened. And yet...while I put on a brave front, I was all too aware that we were in deep doo-doo. Heavy footsteps were fast approaching up the path. We were out of ideas. Out of places to run to. Out of anything.

Now we had only one thing left: a last stand.

I swallowed hard.

"To the carriage!" Mr Ambrose commanded. "We have to defend the way up the cliff at all costs!"

One corner of my mouth quirked up, despite the situation. "Even for more than a million dollars?"

"Be quiet and move, Mrs Ambrose!"

Considering the fact that footsteps were now pounding up the path, I decided not to argue. With my freshly reloaded revolver in hand, I rushed over to the carriage, pressing myself to the smooth, steel-covered door. Heart pounding, I glanced over one carriage wheel, just in time to see several shadowy figures dart up the path.

There was a flash.

Bam!

Ping!

I ducked further behind the metal carriage as the bullet rebounded off the coach right next to me.

Crap, crap, crap!

"This isn't really how I planned for my honeymoon to go," I squeezed out between clenched teeth.

"A sentiment we share, Mrs Ambrose."

I glanced at Mr Ambrose kneeling in the dirt beside me. For once, he didn't even seem to care about his vintage ten-year-old trousers. I had no idea why, but for some strange reason I felt a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

"I...I'm glad you're here with me."

Mr Ambrose's eyes met mine and held them. "I concur, Mrs Ambrose."

Bam! Bam!

"Give up!" one of the outlaws roared from down the path. "We've got you cornered!"

I met my husband's eyes again. "We're going to die here, aren't we?"

"That is what it appears like, Mrs Ambrose."

A pause.

"Well..." He narrowed his eyes infinitesimally. "I suppose it is time for plan B then."

"Plan B?" I stared at him. "Wait...you mean you still have a plan?"

"To keep you safe?" He turned to me for just a second, sending me the most intense gaze ever. A gaze so incredibly powerful it shook me to my very soul. "Always."

Just then, the leader of the bandits slowly emerged from behind the boulder he was using as cover, revolver cocked and aimed.

"Give up," he shouted again, "before we decide to blow you up! You've got no way out!"

"Indeed?" Mr Rikkard Ambrose cocked his head—then reached into the coach, pulled out a Spanish noble and put his gun to the side of the man's head. "I disagree."

--------------------------------

My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

Just to let you know,  in case you didn't catch my notification on Twitter: here in Germany, where I live, we have now switched to normal time from summer time (a thing we do in the summer where we change the time by 1 hour for some reason). This might mean that, in the future, chapters come an hour late if I don't wake up early enough.

In more positive news, I have gotten my aching wisdom tooth removed and can now eat solid food again. Yay!

Yours Truly

Sir Rob