Mr Rikkard Ambrose stepped from the shadows of the trees like a wraith from the bowels of the underworld – only that wraiths from the underworld probably were a lot more warm and friendly. The way he was looking at me...

I was in trouble.

Big trouble.

'Interrupting?' I smiled a smile so bright it nearly hurt my face. 'Good heavens, no! Why would you be interrupting anything? There's nothing here to interrupt. I'm totally uninterruptable.'

'Pleased to hear it, Miss Linton. Captain.' He gave the captain a nod so sharp I was surprised it didn't cut the poor man's head off. 'Miss Linton, do you perchance know where your brother is?' His cold eyes pierced me. 'I need to talk to him about a certain business matter.'

I swallowed. 'I'll help you find him. You don't mind that I leave you to yourself, Captain, do you?'

'No, by all means go look for your brother.' He gave me a nod, his eyes darting back and forth between Mr Rikkard Ambrose and me. 'We'll talk later.'

I felt his cold gaze burning into me.

Don't be too sure about that. First, I have to survive the next half hour.

'Yes. We'll talk later.'

And Captain Carter – the bloody brave, foolish man – reached out and gave my hand a gentle squeeze goodbye. I could practically feel the air freeze around me. The good captain, however, noticed nothing whatsoever, and with a last 'Au revoir, Miss Linton,' strode off towards the house.

There were a few long, long moments of silence.

'Au revoir?' enquired an icy voice from beside me. I didn't dare to look at him. What if he –

Before I could finish the thoughts, hard hands grabbed me and whirled me through the air. In a flash, we were among the trees, hidden from view. My back slammed up against the trunk of the tree, my front against him. I was caged in, unable to escape. Breathing hard, I gazed up into his deep, dark, dangerous eyes.

'Now, Mr Ambrose, Sir...don't go jumping to any conclusions.' I cleared my throat. 'I don't know how long you were watching us. You might have seen us, um...standing rather close–'

'I did.'

Oh crap.

'–and holding hands–'

'I did.'

Double crap.

'–but that doesn't mean that he and I...you know...'

He cocked his head like snow leopard contemplating the best way to tear out a throat. He was so close to me. So terribly close. 'Pretend for moment I am very ignorant and do not know, Miss Linton. Why don't you explain it to me?'

Bloody son of a bachelor!

Heat rose to my cheeks. Why, dammit? I had done nothing wrong!

'He...Captain Carter had something to ask me. Something private.'

'Indeed?'

'It's not what you think! I didn't say yes! I couldn't, I–'

'I know.'

I blinked up at him, thrown off track. 'You...you do?'

'Certainly.' Leaning closer, he nailed me to the tree with his stare. 'I heard every word.'

'You did?'

'Of course.'

'Then...why are you so...' I looked at him. The word 'angry' was on the tip of my tongue. But it wasn't the right word. For the look in his eyes, I needed a different word. A word that was a thousand times more terrible. A word that made me shiver inside, that caused my heart to melt and my bones to freeze. '...displeased?'

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

'He put his hands on you.'

'That's all? You can't be serious! You–'

His lips came crashing down on mine, silencing me. It was a hard kiss. A kiss of ice and fire that made my brain freeze and my blood boil. I felt the cold, hard bark of the tree digging into my back. I felt snow trickling down from above, decorating my hair with a coating of powdered sugar. And I didn't care, because I was in his arms, and he was kissing me.

'I,' he breathed against my lips, his hot, misty breath tickling my skin in the winter air, 'am always serious, Miss Linton.'

'But–'

'No buts!' Breaking the kiss, he stared down at me with arctic ferocity. 'He put his hands on you. He put his hands on what is mine.'

Whoa there! Hold your horses. What did he just say?

'I'll have you know that I am an independent woman!' I told him, tapping on his chest. 'I belong to nobody but myself, and you can't treat me as if I'm a piece of luggage to be guarded and carted around, because–'

He pounced. His lips covered mine once more, and suddenly, I couldn't remember exactly why he couldn't cart me around like a piece of luggage. It must have been a pretty important reason, but...oh...his lips...

Maybe life as a suitcase would be rather interesting. Or maybe I could be a hatbox?

Bad Lilly! Bad! Remember why you did this! Remember who you are.

It wasn't easy. With the way he was devouring my mouth, my soul, my heart, it was difficult to remember I existed at all and hadn't yet died and gone to heaven. But heaven wouldn't be this cold. And St Peter could never make me this angry. Only one man could do that.

Wrenching away from his kiss, I pushed against his chest – to no avail. He was as rock-solid as Mount Ararat, and probably just as difficult to move. Where was a divine flood when you needed one?

'You can't do this,' I told him, my eyes blazing.

'I can do anything I want.'

'Not this. You can order me around during working hours, you can send me to fetch files and paperclips and pens – but you cannot put me under guard and build a wall between me and the rest of the world. I'm free! I go where I wish, when I wish, with whomever I wish!'

His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. 'So you want to spend time with him?'

'That's not the point!'

'Then, pray, explain the point to me, Miss Linton. I confess, I fail to see it so far.'

'The point is,' I told him, my voice suddenly gentle for some reason, 'that if I want to spend time with Captain Carter, I can. If I want to spend time with any other man or woman, I can. If I want to leave and never see you again, I can do that, too.'

I had never seen Mr Rikkard Ambrose flinch before. But he did so now. His whole body jerked as if he had been electrocuted. On either side of my head, his hands, pressed against the thick trunk of the tree, curled into fists.

'No!'

'Yes,' I told him, softly. 'I can leave any time I wish. That's the only way.'

'The only way?'

Raising one hand, I gently cupped his cheek. The muscles underneath were tense as cords of iron, yet the moment my fingers touched him, he began to relax. 'The only way for me to be with you. Let me have freedom. The freedom to choose you.'

He stared into my eyes for one immeasurable second of time. I could see his throat move as he swallowed once, hard. There was a moment of silence. A very long moment of silence. Then...

'Very well.'

I had to work hard to keep my mouth from dropping open. 'You...agree?'

'Yes.'

'You will stop Karim from following me around everywhere?'

'Yes.'

'And you won't mind if I have a chat with Captain Carter now and again?'

'Oh, I will most certainly mind.' His eyes glittered darkly. 'But I shall not stand in your way.'

I narrowed my eyes. 'You promise?'

'I swear. Whenever the two of you cross paths, I shall not interfere.'

I tried to read his face to see if he was being honest with me – and it did me absolutely no good. I might as well have tried to read coded mathematical formulas written in Chinese with invisible ink. Still...he was a gentleman. He would keep his word.

Standing up on my tiptoes, I brushed a gentle kiss against his lips.

'Thank you.'

Maybe, just maybe, we were moving forward. Maybe, Mr Ambrose could be reasonable and understanding. Suddenly, the future looked hopeful.

I guess I should have known better.

*~*~**~*~*

We had hardly re-entered the house when I noticed him. Grim and mountainous as ever, Karim stood tall, arms crossed and a look on his face that had to be illegal in at least twenty-one countries. Rouge was smeared over his cheek, and part of a lady's fan had gotten entangled in his turban.

Oh dear.

I tried to take cover behind Mr Ambrose, but too late. He had already spotted me. Murder and mayhem in his eyes, the Mohammedan strode towards me. Cautiously, I peeked out from behind Mr Ambrose's shoulder. Hey, I might be a strong, independent female, but it's common sense to duck behind a rock when a bomb is in the vicinity, about to go off.

Karim's gaze burrowed into me.

'Prince Utairah Jafri fi al Qurram Qumrah III, heir to the principality of Bakavāsa?' The words wore a tiger's growl.

Mr Ambrose coughed. 'Pardon, Karim?'

'That, Sahib, is the name she invented to introduce me to a few of the female guests at the house, so she could slip away in the mayhem that followed.'

Mr Ambrose stared into space. 'Oh. I see.'

Silence.

A quite long bit of silence.

I tried to appear nonchalant. Tried.

'What does it mean, anyway?' I enquired.

Karim's eyes flared with hellfire. 'You. Don't. Know?'

'Not really, no.'

Silence.

An even longer one.

'It is a rather peculiar mix of oriental languages,' Mr Ambrose offered in a tone he somehow managed to keep cool and unaffected, 'But, roughly translated, it means something like Prince Fragrant Yellow Flower in the Happy Moonlight, heir to the Principality of Rubbish.'

'Oh.'

Privately, I had to applaud Adaira's ingenuity. I hadn't thought she had it in her. The two of us really should get to know each other better.

Karim, however, did not seem to share my appreciation for creative name-giving. He started cursing in his native tongue.

'Sahib, may I remove that dissembling female's tongue with hot irons?'

Thoughtful silence. Mr Ambrose stroked his chin, apparently contemplating the merits of the idea.

'Hey!' I jabbed a finger into his ribs, and nearly broke my finger. Damn! Why did every inch of him have to be so hard? 'Answer! A simple "no" will do!'

'I am simply doing what you requested, Mr Linton – not being overprotective, leaving you the freedom to deal with things on your own.'

'You're allowed to be protective when your own bodyguard threatens to remove my tongue!'

'May I? How fortunate.' Turning to Karim, he gave a small shake of the head. 'Not today, Karim.'

The bodyguard uttered an oath and, turning, marched outside – probably to vent his wrath on some poor, unsuspecting apple tree. I, for my part, stepped close to Mr Ambrose and, rising to my tiptoes, whispered into his ear: 'That was not exactly the indignant refusal I was hoping for.'

'Indeed, Miss Linton?'

'Yes indeed, Sir!'

'Well...' Whirling, he caught my shoulders in his hands. Before I could resist he had pushed me back into an alcove, behind the statue of a Greek god who looked almost handsome enough to be Mr Ambrose's ugly little brother. 'Maybe I'll rephrase my order, then.' His cold gaze speared, making a shiver run down my spine. 'If you prove generous in keeping our deal today.'

Breathless, I swallowed. 'Our...our deal?'

'Yes.' Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against mine, and the shiver became a slow burn of need. 'Our deal.'

Oh. That deal.

'Well, Sir,' I breathed, taking in the delicious scent of him – the scent of man, money and power. 'I shall be most happy to fulfil my side of the bargain.'

'Adequate.'

He pushed me deeper into the shadows, and began taking his payment for the day. And it was so very, very adequate.

*~*~**~*~*

The days that followed were probably some of the happiest of my life. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Captain Carter was still breathing. Even more astonishing, Mr Ambrose had shown he was capable of bending, allowing the aforementioned activity of the captain to continue, and thereby giving me true hope for the future. And – best of all – Karim was still being ambushed by females at regular intervals, who were so eager to meet Prince Utairah Jafri fi al Qurram Qumrah III. And if you think I should have listed my blossoming romance with Rikkard Ambrose under 'best of all', you have never seen Karim trying to defend himself against a pack of husband-hunting young ladies. Ah, the joys of love...

Plus, in addition the immense entertainment value, the continuing rumours about the noble heir to the mighty and ancient Principality of Rubbish had the added benefit of redirecting the hyenas' attention away from Mr Ambrose. Lady Caroline and her cohorts were a lot less persistent in their pursuit now that a 'prince' was available. I had no doubt that eventually they would figure out the truth. In the meantime, however, it was highly amusing to watch them make complete fools of themselves.

Mr Ambrose, however, was less pleased by Karim's sudden popularity with the ladies. A bodyguard could not do very effective bodyguarding while he was being chased across the grounds by a pack of young females. I decided to neglect mentioning to my dear employer that his little sister had been the one who originally come up with the idea. The poor girl had enough to deal with as it was. Besides, the more Karim was occupied, the more time Mr Ambrose and I could spend alone to...discuss business.

Personal business.

As I said, those days were some of the happiest of my life.

Up until that day when all went wrong.

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

My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

JUST IN TIME FOR CHRISTMAS, THERE'S SOMETHING SPECIAL! :) In case you soon have a little money to spend, in the latest chapter on the Radish Fiction App a little word that starts with "L" has just been mentioned... ;)

Ready for confession-time?

Yours Truly

Sir Rob