It was official: I had completely underestimated Mr Rikkard Ambrose's ability to keep his mouth shut. I spent the rest of the day trying to pry information about his past adventures out of him, and as a result got absolutely nothing whatsoever. Which made me realize an interesting and, in hindsight, glaringly obvious fact: I knew nothing whatsoever about the man I had married.

Zilch.

Nada.

What did he get up to all those years after he ran away from home? Did he have any more friends, fiends and minions I didn't know of? And, most importantly of all, how the heck did he get from homeless runaway to bloody richest business mogul of the entire world?

I decided it was about time I had a lengthy talk with my darling husband. And what was the best kind of talk to have with your husband?

You guessed it. Pillow talk.

"So..."

It was late at night. We had withdrawn to our hotel room, and the lights were turned down to a low, romantic glow, so Mr Ambrose wouldn't have to pay for the extra gas. Sometimes, it was really amazing to have a stingy husband. Slowly, I approached him from behind, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I've noticed you never really told me about your past adventures, dear."

"Indeed?"

"Oh yes indeed, Sir."

"Hm...well, if that's the case..."

"Yes?"

"...why do you think I would suddenly give in now?"

Dammit! Blasted son of a bachelor!

"Come on! Just a little hint?"

He didn't move an inch. "For what reason would I possibly spill secrets to you that are better left unspoken?"

"Well..." I smiled, sliding my arms around him from behind. "Why don't you turn around and let me show you?"

I felt his shoulders tense. "And what could you possibly show me that could convince me to—"

That was when he turned around.

Just in time to see me slip my blouse from my shoulders.

"Ng!" Mr Ambrose said.

"You know..." Smiling, I stepped forward, trailing a single finger down his chest until it caught on the first button of his shirt. So inconvenient. That would have to go. "I really love how you can express yourself so well without words."

A low rumble issued from Mr Rikkard Ambrose's chest. His eyes were fixed on me with a fierce intensity, as if he wanted nothing more than to devour me alive. No...there was no "as if" about it. The instant his eyes landed on me, he was a predator on the prowl.

A predator that could be lured into my honey trap.

Turning around, I moved towards the bed, taking care to sway my hips with every step. "Now...why don't you tell me some of your past adventures? I do so love hearing about the deeds of a big, strong, man. And if you impress me, who knows..."

"Mrs Ambrose!" The growl that came from behind me sent a delicious shiver down my back. "I am your husband!"

"Indeed you are," I agreed, slipping under the covers and throwing him a seductive glance. "Which means you have to do anything I say, and nobody can do anything about it."

The towering figure wreathed in shadows took a step towards the bed, icy eyes sparkling in the darkness. "I am fairly certain that, by law, it is the husband who is in charge, not the wife."

"Oh?" Putting on a confused face, I scratched my chin. "Then why have I always been in charge around here?"

"You. In. Charge?"

The words were so chilly, so bone-freezingly cold... It made another wide grin spread across my face.

"Why, of course," I told him innocently. "After all, I have been wearing the pants in this relationship from the very beginning?"

Mr Rikkard Ambrose's eyes zeroed in on the offending legwear. "Indeed? Then let's do something about that, shall we?"

In an instant, he was on me. One hard tug, and my trousers sailed across the room, leaving me in only an undershirt that went just past my derrière.

"Now..." He was suddenly right above me, his breath tickling my neck. "Let's see who wears the pants in this relationship, shall we?"

"I don't know," I commented, letting my hand slip downwards over his shirt and tailcoat, until it reached his nether regions. "I'd prefer if neither of us did."

"You...!"

His voice abruptly cut off when I pulled open his belt.

"Now," I whispered, "why don't we return to our earlier subject? Share some of your...exploits with me. Maybe then I'd return the favour and explore you a little further."

My fingers raked across the soft cotton of his trousers, and the not-at-all-soft goodies underneath. A strangled groan was torn from the throat of Mr Rikkard Ambrose—but nothing else. Not a single word came from his lips.

"Not telling?" I smirked. "Well, let's see if I can't elicit some sounds from you." And my hand began to move again. Stroking. Caressing.

"Aaah! Nnnn...!"

"Oh yes. That's not a bad start. Now, all you have to do is learn how to string syllables together into words..."

With another growl, he grabbed hold of my hand and slammed it to the mattress, his cold eyes glinting in the gloom.

"You. Are. Going. To. Pay. For. This."

"Yep, just like that." I nodded happily, petting his head with my free hand. "Seven words in a row. Good work! Soon you'll be able to say entire sentence—"

That was the last thing I managed to get out before his mouth came crushing down on mine, silencing me. Apparently, he didn't really want to talk much. Instead, he snatched my hand from his head and, capturing both wrists in one grip, pinned me to the bed. With his hands. His gaze. His everything.

"How about these words then?" he whispered, his lips ghosting against my cheek. "I." His mouth caressed my lips, sending shivers down my spine. "Love." It moved on, further down, across my cheek, towards my collarbone. My back arched under his attentions. "You."

You had to hand it to him. He was a fast learner.

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. "L-let's get back to the subject, shall we? You were supposed to tell me all a-about your past and—"

"You want to hear stories from my past?" Narrowing his eyes infinitesimally, he cupped my cheek. If this weren't Mr Rikkard Ambrose, I could have sworn I saw a smirk in the shadows. "Then let me tell you about the time I saw a stallion mating on a meadow..."

Let me tell you: Mr Rikkard Ambrose is an amazing storyteller.

***

Pigeons were curring. Curs were cursing. The merry sounds of a waking New York City were drifting in through the bedroom window. Yawning, I slowly opened my eyes and blinked in the morning sunlight. After a moment or two, a beautiful vista met my eyes.

The skyline of New York?

Ha! To heck with the skyline of New York! I was talking about the abline of Mr Rikkard Ambrose! Unable to resist, I reached out, caressing my dear husband's anatomy. It didn't take long, though, for my eyes to travel upward and land on his face, instead.

His beautiful, perfect, peaceful face.

I felt my heart soften.

I had never really seen him like this before. Open. At peace. Vulnerable. Whenever he was awake, he still was the same old stiff, stone-hard, immovable statue that I had first met on that fateful election day. But right now...

Leaning forward, I pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

So what if he hadn't told me much about his past yet? So what if he still held secrets? Whoever and whatever he was, he was my husband. The man I loved. And we had the rest of our lives to discover each other.

Life was good.

***

"Bluuuurgh!"

I really, really, really, really had to stop putting my foot in my mouth.

"Where's my camel?" I groaned, gripping the rim of the bucket I was hunched over. "A kingdom for my camel!"

"We're on the third floor, Mrs Ambrose."

"And there's an elevator in this place!"

Mr Rikkard Ambrose, unsurprisingly, did not deign to give an answer to that. He didn't really need to. His silence spoke volumes.

Not that I was in any condition to read them. At the moment, I was far too fascinated with my darling bucket.

"Bleeeargh! Gargh!"

From behind, I felt two strong hands settle on my shoulders. Moments later, an arm slid around me, gently holding me in place.

I felt a small smile tug at my mouth. Maybe, just maybe, I wasn't so wrong after all about life being good.

"Bluurgh!"

Then again, everything is debatable.

It took roughly another quarter of an hour before my stomach settled down. When it finally did, I came up for air and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe my mouth.

"Are you feeling better?"

I nodded. "I think so."

Nodding curtly, Mr Ambrose let go and rose to his feet. "Adequate. Then we can order breakfast now."

I clutched my stomach as I felt it jerk and twitch. "You cruel, cruel man!"

"What could you possibly mean, Mrs Ambrose?"

"Blluurgh!"

My relapse lasted for several minutes but, eventually, I was able to stagger to the elevator and make my way downstairs. I was just about to make my way to the hotel's dining room, when Mr Ambrose's arm linked with mine, stopping me in my tracks.

"Where do you think you are going, Mrs Ambrose?"

"Err...to breakfast?"

"Don't you remember? We have an appointment with the marshal to discuss what is going to happen next."

"We do? Oh, well..." I couldn't keep a smile from tugging at the corners of my mouth. "You might have mentioned it. But somehow, I had other matters on my mind last night. You remember?"

Keeping his face distinctly devoid of emotion, Mr Ambrose tightened his grip on my arm and started steering me out of the hotel and away from any curious passers-by before I could start talking about last night in greater detail.

I grinned. My oh my. Was my dear husband shy?

It didn't take long before we reached a comfy little café with a view of the harbour. Dozens of tall masts and fluttering sails provided an amazing vista, even without the background of the deep blue ocean and the towering statue raising its torch into the sky.

"Mr and Mrs Ambrose! What a pleasure to see you." Turning my head, I spotted Marshal Angus Angleton—a surprisingly happy Angus Angleton, considering the last time I had seen him he'd just discovered my hubby and I were colluding with a ruthless desperado.

"Please, sit down," the marshal offered with a broad smile, pulling back a chair. "Today's breakfast is on me."

Definitely surprisingly happy. And friendly on top of that! What was going on?

But before I could get a chance to ask, my dear husband sat down and grabbed the menu. "Adequate. Waiter? Bring three full breakfasts." He turned to Angleton and myself. "What will the two of you have?"

I covered my eyes with one hand. Sometimes, being married to Mr Ambrose was really an...experience. Oh well, if my husband went all out, there was no reason for me to hold back, was there?

"Well, there is something I'd like..." Lowering my hand, I smiled sweetly. "I wonder whether this café has ice cream..."

Soon, the two men were eating their breakfast while I was bemusedly watching the antics of the waiter, who was trying to convince a disgruntled chef to put ice cream on toast. I didn't mind waiting for a while, though. Not now that our chase through the desert was finally over and I had some time to relax.

Leaning back, I was just about to close my eyes and take a little nap when I heard something that caught my attention.

"I must really compliment your sense of humour, Mr Ambrose."

I blinked. Slowly, I turned my head to stare at the marshal. Was he talking about the same Mr Ambrose I knew? Mr My-Face-Is-Made-From-Granite Ambrose? Was this why Angleton had been so happy to see them? Because he'd lost his marbles?

"To think that for a moment, I actually believed a reputable businessman like you cooperated with a desperado. Hahahaha! You actually managed to convince me for just an instant. What a good joke!"

I nearly snorted my drink out through my nose. Coughing, I couldn't keep a grin from spreading over my face. "Ehem...yes, joke. My hubby is a regular jokester."

Well, at least now I knew why the fellow was in such a good mood. I suppose it's right what they say, after all: ignorance is bliss.

"I," Mr Ambrose stated, his face unmoving, "love making jokes. I make many jokes all the time."

I nearly choked on my drink again.

"So," my husband the joke-lover enquired, setting his fork down, his eyes turning chilly. "How are things with our Spanish friends?"

"Very well, I would say." Brimming with satisfaction, the marshal leaned back in his chair. "The only problem was that the prosecutor nearly fainted at the height of the pile of documents that formed the collective accusations against Señores De Ravera and De La Fuente. But after he got a chance to actually read them, he took on the job with relish. I do not believe we'll have to worry about them again."

"Adequate." Mr Ambrose nodded. "Any idea how long the trial will take?"

"About six months, I believe. According to what the prosecutor said—"

And thus the discussion continued. I mostly tuned it out, partly because I wasn't very interested in the subject matter, and partly because my toast had just arrived. Yummy! For a while, I simply concentrated on my breakfast. The men seemed to conclude their discussion just about when I finished with my second toast.

"Ah, I'm glad this is taken care of." Stretching, the marshal reached for his glass and took a last swig of whiskey. "Now I'll have to excuse myself. I should go to the telegraph office and send a report to my superiors. Unless there's anything else...?"

"Well, there's one thing," I piped up, curious about something I'd been wanting to ask for a while. "You've been gallivanting around as a travelling salesman all this time, right? What exactly would you have done if anyone had actually bought any of those concoctions of yours? Wouldn't have looked very good on your curriculum vitae if a US marshal had been arrested for poisoning, would it?"

"Ah, that?" He grinned. "All of those 'concoctions' as you call them, Ma'am, are actually real medicine. All I did was stick new labels on the stuff that made it seem more ridiculous."

"Huh." I blinked. "That's...pretty smart, actually."

"Thank you very much, Ma'am." The marshal bowed. "As long as we are on the subject of my providing medicine to the masses, can I interest you in some Fizzlewizz Fantastic Fertility Water? It would be great for your pregnancy."

In the ensuing silence, you could have heard an atom-sized pin drop.

Wait...what?

Angleton cleared his throat. "Um...did I say something wrong?"

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

Mwahahahaha! I must admit, my dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen, I've been looking forward to this cliffhanger ever since I started this book! Did you all enjoy it? ;)

Hands up anyone who is looking forward to the little conversation that Lilly is about to have with Mr Rikkard Ambrose!

Yours Truly

Sir Rob