Mr Rikkard Ambrose's hands moved up my leg, sending a tingle through me. His fingers began to caress my skin and, before I could stop it, a moan escaped my mouth as his long, dextrous digits slipped under my petticoat and started to...massage me?

What the heck?! Here I was, hot and sweaty in my underwear, right smack in the middle of a steamy jungle, practically unable to move, and his big idea was to massage me? Platonically?

I opened my mouth to give that son of a bachelor a piece of my mind, and—

"Ooooh!"

Dammit, that felt good! What was I going to say again?

"Lie back." I heard a low, distant rumble of a voice, like the murmur of the deep, arctic see. "Relax."

"Dts easy for you t' say," I slurred. "You—oooooh...!"

"I what?" came his voice again. Cool, calculating and composed, as if he weren't affected in the least. Bastard! "Did you say something, Mrs Ambrose?"

"I said—ooooh! Aaaah!"

Those massaging skills should be illegal! Where on earth did he learn that?

More importantly: on whom did he practice?

I opened my mouth. "Dicky darling...be a good husband and tell me w—bloody frigging hell!"

The moan that escaped me as he hit the knot in my muscles just right was probably audible three miles away. If a gorilla came in search of the female that had sounded the mating call, Mr Rikkard Ambrose would only have himself to blame.

"Does that feel good?" the son of a bachelor enquired. As if he didn't know! "Are your legs better now?"

"I...oh...hmm...yep, just like that, you..."

It was really impressive how eloquent I was becoming. I should start writing speeches someday.

Parting my lips, I tried desperately to squeeze out some more comprehensible words. Not that I was having much luck with it. I ended up lying in Mr Ambrose's arms like a limp noodle, all my muscles relaxed as if I'd been whacked over the head with Morpheus' personal parasol. Slowly, I drifted off. In some distant corner of my mind I noticed that, even now that I was unable to resist and was presenting myself to him practically on a silver platter, not once did his hands stray from the massage to more...interesting places. A moment earlier, I would have been pissed off about that, but now...

Now I just felt safe. Warm. Wonderful.

I was with a man in whose arms I could fall asleep without hesitation. A man who loved me. And right then, right there, I knew he would take care of me no matter what.

Maybe this little trip through the jungle wouldn't be so bad after all.

***

"Bluuurgh!"

I retract everything I said yesterday! Everything!

"You know," a cool voice came from behind me, "right now is not the best time to be regurgitating fluids."

Lifting my head, I glared back at him over my shoulder. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Next time I have to vomit from morning sickness, I'll swallow it right back down again!"

"Adequate."

"You—" But, unfortunately, I didn't get the chance to tell him what I thought of his amazing skills at understanding sarcasm. "Bleeeargh!"

"Come here."

His arm slid around me from behind, gently holding me, while, with the other hand, he tugged my hair out of my face.

Dammit! Why did he have to be so caring and thoughtful? That made it almost impossible to be pissed off at him!

Without a word of complaint, he held me until my stomach stopped rebelling. When it finally did, he pulled me back against his chest, holding me close.

"Better?"

"Y-yes." Taking a deep breath, I sank against him.

"Adequate. Then we can proceed." Reaching behind him, he held out something towards me. "Breakfast?"

"Bleeeargh!"

All right, scratch what I said about him being thoughtful.

It took a while before my stomach once more decided to settle. In the end, my mouth tasted of dried donkey droppings and felt as raw as sandpaper. The water rationing was already showing its effects.

"Here."

Looking up, I saw Mr Rikkard Ambrose holding out a coconut to me. Greedily, I grabbed it and began to drink. Only after I had finished the second one did a realization sink in.

"B-but that's your ration, too!" I managed.

"I am aware."

Scowling, I punched his shoulder. Bloody chauvinist! "You can't just do stuff like that! We two are equals! We should get exactly the same, no more, no less!"

He shook his head. "Not two." His hand came to rest on her stomach. "Three."

I felt something tug on my heart strings, hard. What was I supposed to say against something like that?

You can't. That's probably why he said it.

That goddamn infuriating, stubborn, block-headed, loveable idiot!

"Come." Sliding his hand up to my shoulder, he gave it a squeeze. "We have to move."

I swallowed. "All right." He wasn't wrong. We did have to go. But...

I raised a finger, nearly stabbing it into his nose. "Next time, we both drink, understood?"

You want to guess what I received in answer to that?

Yep, that's right. Silence.

Somehow, that icy silence warmed my heart.

As we rose and prepared to depart, tropical birds began to sing in the trees, and other animals started chattering all around. The half-shadows of the morning were pierced by beams of golden sunlight as the dark faded and the day began. Today, Mr Rikkard Ambrose took point, striding straight into the jungle. Hurrying to catch up, I asked something that only just occurred to me.

"Say...where are we going, exactly? It's not as if we have a map of this place. How do we know we're not just going in circles?"

"Simple." He lifted his arm.

I blinked, trying to see where he was pointing. But there was nothing there except green and some colourful petals.

"What...?"

Then I suddenly realized: he wasn't pointing at anything. He was simply extending his arm at an angle. The same angle as, I only now noticed, the ground beneath our feet.

"We're heading uphill! Why?"

"Two reasons." He held up one finger. "First, water runs down from uphill, and the tops of hills encompass far smaller areas than the valleys around them. So if we go up a mountain, we will have more chances of encountering running water, within a much smaller search area." Another finger rose. "Second, even if we do not find water, if we find a high enough mountain, we might be able to survey the surroundings and discover a water source that way."

That sounded...quite logical.

Which was a bloody pain in the butt! Because that meant I had no argument against having to march uphill all day!

Well, one thing was for sure: today, I would not be removing my clothes for my dear husband!

***

I was going to repeatedly eat my words today, wasn't I?

"Pant...pant...!"

Rivulets of sweat were running down my back and forehead. Right now, I wanted nothing more than to take off my petticoat. No, not just my petticoat, my bloomers and shoes and any other scraps of clothing I could find on my body

But I wasn't going to! I was a strong-willed woman! I would not go back on my word! I would...

I would have to eat my words again, wouldn't I?

Crap!

"Pant...pant...!"

Scratch that. I couldn't eat anything right now. My mouth was far too busy gasping for breath.

"How much...farther?" I panted.

"Unknown. I can't see far enough ahead to make a judgement."

That wasn't really surprising. For the last two days, we had seen nothing but green and green and more poisonous green everywhere around us. The supply of coconut milk was already running dangerously low. More than half of them had already been discarded, empty. Fortunately, that meant that the burden on Mr Rikkard Ambrose lessened and lessened the farther we went. Unfortunately, that meant that the burden on Rikkard Bloody Ambrose lessened with every single step!

"Come on!" a familiar, commanding voice came from far ahead. "What are you dawdling for, Mrs Ambrose?"

"Unlike you, Dicky Darling...huff, puff...my weight doesn't decrease with every step I take!"

Quite the contrary, in fact. I swear I could feel the little bugger growing!

"Irrelevant. I'm sure we will find water soon enough."

"Y-you are, are you? Pant, pant...that's so reassuring!"

Time passed. Roughly two days of it, in fact. Two days of ceaseless marching, sweating and cursing. Twenty-four hours of this later...

"When did you say we'll find water again, Mr Ambrose?"

"Soon, Mrs Ambrose. Very soon."

"Is that so?" Breathing hard, I wiped the sweat from my face and lowered the coconut I'd just been drinking from. Turning it on its head, I tried to coax one last drop from it—without success. "Well, that's good. Because I don't think we'll get much more out of this."

"Indeed, Mrs Ambrose."

Throwing the empty coconut aside, I peered up at the endless canopy of green,

"So, how many more days till we reach the top of this mountain? One? Two?"

Silence.

"Mr Ambrose? It's...it's not going to be more than three, is it?"

Silence. A very long, very heavy silence.

"People die after three days without water!"

In front of me, I saw his back stiffen. Then, slowly, he turned around and gave me a long, terrifyingly intense look. That look said more than a thousand words.

"I know, Mrs Ambrose. I know."

Without another word, we set out once more. Without pause, we headed farther and farther inland. By now, I was convinced that the bloody mountain we were climbing was Mt Everest's big, mean, older brother. Except for the snow. Oh God, if only we had some snow! As in stuff-soon-to-be-melted-into-water. I even would have taken my previous jungle experience over this green hellhole! At least there, it had been raining all day. Here, the only water was the moisture spread in the air, always there, always unreachable.

One hour passed. Then another. With every passing second, I felt more sweat pour down my body, and the thirst increasingly felt as if it were a beast gnawing at my throat.

Another hour passed. Yet another. Something stirred in my belly, shifting and fidgeting.

"Don't worry, little fellow," I whispered, patting my bump. "We'll find water soon, I'm sure."

Guess what?

We didn't. We walked uphill the entire day and didn't find anything. Then another day. Still, we didn't find a single drop. Except me, because I was ready to. Drop, that is.

"Mrs Ambrose?"

I blinked. How had Mr Ambrose suddenly appeared beside me? Hadn't he been in front of me just a moment ago? And why was the world suddenly spinning?

"Mrs Ambrose!"

Abruptly, I felt something around me. Arms? Where did the kraken come from?

"Mrs Ambrose! Answer me!"

Hm...no. Those arms felt just a little bit nicer than a kraken's. And familiar. Almost as if...

"Lillian!"

Shaking my head, I grabbed the tree beside me and pushed myself upright. "It's...it's nothing. I'm all right. We can go on."

His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "And my name is Kickhard Slamnose!"

"It is?" I blinked up at him owlishly. "I'll 'ave to remember that."

Was my speech a little slurred?

Nah. Surely, that was just my imagination.

"This is not the time for levity, Mrs Ambrose."

"You're right." Once again, my hand came to rest on my belly. "It really isn't. It's time to move." Pushing my way out of his arms, I started up the incline once again. "We have...to go on. We have...to..."

I stumbled. Grabbing a nearby branch, I tried to force myself to remain upward. I had to go on! I had to find water, or my baby would—

"Stop!"

"I...can't stop. Water, I—"

"That is what I'm talking about, Mrs Ambrose! Stop! I found water!"

"What?" I whirled around, frantically searching the surroundings with my eyes. But there was no water anywhere to be seen. Not even a puddle. "Where? Where is it?"

I was hardly able to stand upright, let alone see very clearly in the half-light underneath the trees, but one thing was pretty clear: there was no water around us as far as the eye could see.

"There's no water here! What are you going on about?"

"Water? Not as such. But there is this!"

My eyes flicked to where he stood. Only when my gaze landed on him, I noticed him holding a small reddish-green fruit in his hand. I opened my mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about when I noticed him squeezing the fruit, hard.

Hard enough so it's juice dripped down.

Sweet, wonderful, succulent juice.

I swallowed. Or at least I tried to. There was no saliva left in my mouth whatsoever.

"But..." I had to fight my instincts to not reach out and chow down on the delicious-looking fruit. Just the thought of the sweet juice within... "But we might poison ourselves! How are we supposed to know if it's edible?"

"I know." Giving me a triumphant look, he picked another fruit without hesitation. "I've seen this fruit before on my travels! I'm certain it's edible!"

"R-really?" My breath speeding up, I stumbled forward. "Do you mean it?"

"I'll prove it to you," he told me. And, lifting the fruit to his mouth, he bit down. For a moment, he chewed, then swallowed. Then he took another bite.

"How is it?" I demanded.

"Hmm...quite adequate. Quite adequate indeed."

"Great!" Rushing forward, I reached out to pull a fruit for myself down from the tree—when a grip around my wrist abruptly stopped me. Mr Rikkard Ambrose's grip.

"Don't!"

I froze. That tone of voice of his...

My eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why not?"

"Well, because..." He started to chew faster and swallowed again, then fell silent. Apparently, he decided it was bad manners to talk with his mouth full.

Yeah, right!

I stared straight at him, trying to force him to meet my eyes. He wouldn't.

"Why won't you let me eat one?"

Silence.

"Mr Ambrose? Give that fruit to me, now!"

More silence. The only answer was his hand tightening around my wrist. I stared at him. What the heck was going on? Why would he—

My eyes widened.

Oh heck no! He wouldn't, would he?

Yes, a little voice at the back of my mind replied. Yes, he absolutely would.

The little voice's suspicions were confirmed a moment later when Mr Rikkard Ambrose started to sway. The colour of his face changed ever so slightly, and he stumbled backwards.

"Mr Ambrose? Mr Ambrose!"

I lunged forward—but not in time. He hit the mossy forest floor with a muffled thud. Instantly, he tried to fight against it, to push himself upwards—only to collapse once more, his fingers twitching spasmodically.

"You son of a...!" Kneeling down next to him, I grabbed hold of his wrist, trying to feel his pulse. "You said you knew it was edible!"

He met my eyes and, for once, his were not cold. They were deep as ever, yes. As dark as ever. But at the very bottom of that bottomless pool, I saw it. Love. Self-bloody-sacrifice.

"I...lied," he croaked.

And his skull hit the ground, his eyes rolling up into his head.

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

My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

Ah, the art of the cliffhanger... ;) I love to indulge in it.

Just for your edification, there are not actually any gorillas in the Caribbean. Apparently, they only live in Africa, but I doubt that Lilly would have enough knowledge of tropical fauna to be aware of this fact.

Yours Truly

Sir Rob