Silence Breaking

by Robert Thier

I opened my mouth to reply - but in that very moment, the music ended, and the last candles guttered out. Laughing voices disappeared out of the room, down the corridor, and a moment later we were alone in the darkness, broken only by thin slivers of moonlight.

  The end.

  The end of the ball. The end of the night.

  The end for us as well?

  I cleared my throat.

  ‘I…I should go.’

  Cast in shadows as it was, the chiselled face of Rikkard Ambrose was even more of a mystery. He didn’t display one single emotion.

  ‘Yes. Yes, you should.’

  Neither of us moved.

  ‘Like right now. We should leave right now. The servants may see us if we stay here alone. There will be talk. We should leave, Mr Ambrose.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, we should.’

  Still, neither of us moved. Still, we kept staring at each other.

  ‘Why aren’t you leaving, Mr Ambrose?’ I accused.

  ‘Why aren’t you, Miss Linton?’

  Silence.

  A silence full of words that were dying to be spoken. Some had already died and ascended to heaven on beams of moonlight.

  ‘Miss Linton…I…’

  ‘Yes?’

  Slowly, torturously, he reached up, brushing his hand against my cheek.

  ‘Lillian…’

  My whole body quivered under his gentle touch. Images flashed through my head, silly ideas, crazy ideas, wonderful ideas, all of them completely impossible. I couldn’t! I simply couldn’t! But…

  ‘Lillian,’ he said again, and once more touched my cheek.

  Just a simple little touch.

  And I broke.

  ‘Not here.’ Hidden by the spreading shadows, I swiftly reached up to catch his hand and give it a gentle squeeze that meant so much more than a simple touch. ‘Not here.’

  What the heck? What are you talking about, Lilly? You have to move! If his mother sees you…

  And then I was moving.

  Only…it wasn’t away from him.

  Strong, familiar hands took hold of me, and swept me off the dancefloor, straight into a shadowy alcove. Before I could ask him what we were doing there, he had pulled aside a curtain, revealing a small door leading out of the ballroom.

  ‘How-’

  ‘The advantages of growing up in a place,’ he cut me off. ‘Come.’

  ‘Anywhere!’ I heard a breathless whisper. Was that girlish promise in the dark me speaking? No. I could never be so foolish and reckless!

  Lilly, have you met yourself?

  There was a tidal wave building inside me, one strong enough to sweep away the greatest of rocks and the most monumental icebergs. And my heart danced atop the waves, lost in the storm. All I could do was be pulled along as he drew me down the corridor faster and faster, towards the inevitable end. Halfway to my room we slid around a corner, bumped into a wall and slammed into each other. His arms came up around me to catch me, and suddenly we were kissing, and just for a second, I didn’t care where we were or what we were doing, or who might walk in on us.

  Even his mother?

  All right, maybe I did care.

  ‘We…we can’t do this,’ I whispered against his lips. ‘Not here.’

  ‘Agreed,’ he told me, and kissed me so hard I saw stars.

  ‘We have to stop,’ I told him, and kissed him back so hard he probably saw £ signs.

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘Then why aren’t you stopping?’

  ‘Why aren’t you?’ he asked, and kissed me again. Damn him! And damn me, too, for letting him! For desperately wanting more!

  In dire need, I reached for a special weapon—the magic word.

  ‘Please,’ I whispered.

  I felt his body shudder.

  ‘Miss Linton…!’

  ‘Please. I need more. But…not here.’

  A growl erupted from his chest, and his grip on me tightened. But even that didn’t work. Okay. Time for my last resort. Time for the real magic word.

  ‘Now!’

  He growled, and suddenly, I was moving again. I did my best to control my grin as he swept me through the dark hallways of Battlewood, but I didn’t have much success. The magic word had worked! We moved faster than ever, Mr Ambrose pulling me along, arm in an iron grip around my waist. I was more than eager to keep up, but with his long strides eating up the ground as if it were nothing, it wasn’t easy. Finally, he simply swept me up in his arms and carried me along. I gave a half-yelp, half-sigh of pleasure. I didn’t even think of protesting, that’s how far gone I was.

  ‘Impatient, Sir?’ I murmured against his chest.

  ‘You know what they say.’ Penetrating the darkness, cold, dark, sea-coloured eyes met mine. ‘Knowledge is Power is Time is Money.’

  How was it possible that those words made my insides heat? They were the coldest, most callous, calculating words that had ever been invented in the history of humankind, and yet, and yet…

  It was him. It was Mr Ambrose, and the fact that the words came from his lips. That tidal wave inside me rose up again, ready to swallow me whole.

  Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of dark brown through the shadows - and Mr Ambrose stopped.

  ‘We’re here.’

  Here? Where?

  Oh, right. My room. I had been so captivated by his eyes that for the moment I had completely forgotten where we were going.

  Slowly, he set me down. I reached behind me and felt the smooth wood of the door at my back. The logical part of my brain screamed at me to find the damn doorknob, get inside and lock the door, but I couldn’t. Mr Ambrose stood so close…I could feel his icy energy radiating off him, could feel his arctic gaze burning into me. If only I could see his eyes. If only I could read his expression. But it was far too dark for that.

  Something thudded against the wood to my left, and a second later to my right. I couldn’t see, but I knew: they were Mr Ambrose’s arms, caging me in with his hands on either side of the doorframe. There was nowhere for me to run, no way for me to escape him.

  As if I really wanted to.

  ‘Now…where were we, Miss Linton?’

  He moved closer. I couldn’t really see it in the shadows, but I felt it. Felt him.

  I swallowed, suddenly feeling a bit weak in the knees. ‘Um…well…’

  ‘Ah, I remember.’ His voice was smooth as a freshly polished iceberg, and ten times as dangerous. It was a voice that could make kings quiver in their boots. ‘You were just about to tell me how you feel about me, Miss Linton.’

  ‘Was I?’

  ‘Yes. You were.’

  His tone was hard. Uncompromising. Commanding.

  I swallowed again. My throat was bone dry. Why in heaven’s name was this so hard?

  ‘How about,’ I whispered, standing up on my tiptoes until my eyes were on a level with his, ‘if I just show you?’

  And I kissed him.

  Not with fire.

  Not with passion.

  With love.

  Softly.

  Slowly.

  Silently.

  And Mr Rikkard Ambrose, the arctic iceberg in human form, melted under my touch. He made a sound in the back of his throat I had never heard before - a needy sound.

  Mr Rikkard Ambrose needing something?

  Oh, sure, he wanted lots of things - money, power, the one hundred and seventy-hour work week - but need? He’d never really needed anything before. Yet to judge by the way his arms slid around me, pulling me so close I could hardly breathe, he needed me now. He needed me with a vengeance!

  Breaking away from his mouth, I placed another gentle kiss on his cheek. The words began to tumble out of me, and there was nothing in the world I could have done about it.

  ‘I.’

  One more kiss, on his other cheek.

  ‘Love.’

  And a third that I somehow, stretching up farther than I would have thought possible, managed to press on his forehead.


  ‘You.’

  His arms tightened even more, cutting off my air completely. I didn’t mind in the least. Oh, exquisite, fantabulous suffocation! Wouldn’t it be spiffing to die this way? Why care that my life would be over, as long as I was in his arms?

  ‘Again!’ His voice was more cold and commanding than I had ever heard it - and I loved it! Loved him. ‘Say it again!’

  That was Mr Rikkard Ambrose. Always get two for the price of one.

  ‘I love you.’

  His lips claimed mine for one fiery, fierce, heart-wrenching second. ‘Again!’

  A laugh escaped me, echoing in the dark hallway. It was a laugh that felt lighter and happier than any in my life. ‘Again? How many times until you’ve had enough?’

  His hand captured my chin, turning my face straight towards him. Through the shadows I could just barely make out the dark, sea-coloured pools of his eyes. ‘What makes you think I’ll ever have enough of you? Now…’ Leaning forward until his forehead touched mine and his eyes were burrowing into my soul, he whispered: ‘Say. It. Again.’

  Feeling a wave of need sweep over me, I gazed into those dark eyes - and the words left my mouth before I could catch them.

  ‘Come inside, and I will.’

  The offer hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. Inside. Into my bedroom.

  For a long moment there was nothing but silence. Then…

  ‘Miss Linton!’

  ‘Yes, Mr Ambrose, Sir?’

  ‘You can’t seriously be suggesting that I…!’

  Standing up on my tiptoes, I pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

  ‘Oh yes, I can.’

  His body shuddered under my touch.

  ‘I know what you’re trying to do!’

  ‘Do you?’ Slowly, I let my lips slide from his cheek, down over his lips, onto his throat in a gentle caress. ‘Do you really?’

  Because I didn’t. Someone else had taken control of my body. Someone brave and fearless not just on the outside, but on the inside, too. Someone who wasn’t afraid to grab what she wanted when it was right in front of her.

  Mr Ambrose slammed his fist into the wall. ‘I can’t! I’m a gentleman! A gentleman mustn’t….a gentleman can’t…’

  ‘And I am a lady,’ I heard myself tell him. ‘I know we mustn’t. I know we can’t.’

  ‘I have to leave.’

  ‘I know. Me, too.’

  ‘Then go! Go now, before it’s too la-’

  His words drowned as I reclaimed his lips. Fumbling for the doorknob behind me, I twisted, and kicked the door open. Half-dragging, half falling, I pulled him into the room. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have been able to move him an inch. But right now…

  I had just admitted to loving a man. And he loved me back.

  Circumstances weren’t normal.

  Not at all.

  ‘It’s already too late,’ I told his shadowy form towering above me in the darkness. ‘It’s been too late for a good, long time.’

  ‘I must leave.’ His protest was nothing but a raspy whisper now. ‘Right now! It’s time to say good night.’

  I pressed my forehead to his. ‘Oh, it will be a good night, all right. A very good one.’

  Under my touch, I could feel his entire body harden, his muscles tensing deliciously. Capturing his face in my hands, I leaned forward, until our lips brushed against each other. ‘I love you.’

  All I got in return was silence. Silence and that soul-piercing, dangerous look of his.

  ‘Well?’ I swallowed. I needed to hear him say it again. ‘Do you still love me, too?’

  ‘How about,’ he growled, taking hold of me and pushing me backwards towards the bed that held such a dangerous, delicious promise, ‘if I just show you?’

  Love in the Moonlight

  How about if I just show you?

  My own words, thrown back at me, echoed in my head like the harp of a fallen angel. Did he really mean what I thought he meant?

  This can’t be happening. Those words can’t have come from the lips of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. He never wanted to before! He never…

  But then a sliver of moonlight cut through the darkness, falling upon his stone-hard, serious face - and I knew. I knew I had heard right. I knew that those delicious words wouldn’t be the only incredible thing to come tonight.

  The backs of my legs hit the bed. Suddenly I was falling. The soft down engulfed me and I lay on my back, gazing up at Mr Ambrose towering above me.

  ‘Lillian.’

  My name on his lips was a plea. A command. It was everything and more.

  Reaching up with one trembling hand, I touched his chest and licked my lips, tasting the unfamiliar word before I spoke it.

  ‘Rikkard.’

  He moved. Or did I? It was hard to tell when a moment later we collided with a force too great for any heart to survive. Clutching at each other, we rolled across the king-sized bed, hands tugging at each other’s clothes, lips seeking lips.

  This is crazy! This can’t be happening! Not with Mr Rikkard Stone-Cold Ambrose!

  But if this wasn’t him and me, who then? Some strange doppelganger with a pounding heart alive with love? If so, who was the man above me? The stone-hard, powerful, perfect man whose hands were tearing at my clothes in a frenzy? Surely it couldn’t be the one I truly wanted.

  ‘Lillian!’

  That voice, breathing my name…

  His voice.

  ‘Please!’ And that had sounded like my voice. ‘Please! I need you!’

  Yes, it had really sounded like me. But I would never admit such a thing.

  Then came the broken whisper out of the darkness:

  ‘I need you too, Lilly.’

  All right, that proved it. Whoever this was who was quickly and efficiently tearing off my clothing, it was not Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

  Or at least that was what I thought until his lips brushed my ear and whispered: ‘I love you.’

  I shook under the force of those three words. Such unimportant words, my mind had always told me - until that moment. In that moment, my world shattered and reformed, and suddenly they were more important than anything else. More important than solid chocolate. More important than life. More important than my desire for a raise.

  ‘Love you, too!’

  There was that voice again, that voice sounding just like mine. But why did it sound so breathless? Maybe it had something to do with the mouth leaving a trail of burning kisses down my throat?

  ‘Please, Sir… Please, now.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Strong, familiar fingers found the neckline of my dress, encountering resistance. A ripping sound came out of the darkness. Was he tearing off clothes? Was I? Was it a freak storm?

  I didn’t really care, because the storm of desire rising inside me was strong enough for both of us. The night around us was silent and black as pitch, but inside of me, a fire was burning, and the mingled sounds of our gasps fanned the flames with every breath we took. Cloth tore. Silk brushed my skin as my dress slid away to disappear, torn and discarded, into the shadows. Cool air tickled me and, instinctively, I pressed myself closer against him, feeling…

  Bare skin.

  Bare skin over strong, hard, muscles.

  A heady feeling rushed up inside of me. This was actually happening! This wasn’t just a bit of hanky-panky in the office, or a kiss in the heat of the jungle. We were together, in a bed, on the verge of…

  I couldn’t quite think the word. Not yet. But I could feel it. Feel the need burning inside me. Feel his skin burn into mine with a heat I would never have thought this iceberg capable of.

  ‘Lillian.’

  A thrill raced down my spine. Would I ever get tired of the sound of my name on his lips?

  A moment later, his mouth claimed mine and gave me the answer: yes! There were so much more interesting things for his lips to do than talking. Hot things. Needy things. Things that left me panting and pleading for more.


  ‘Please…!’

  ‘Soon.’

  Breaking the kiss, he reached out with one hand and cupped my face in the gentlest gesture I had ever seen him make, except perhaps the time he’d handled that Ming vase worth over two hundred thousand pounds.

  Bloody hell! Was I feeling jealous of a piece of pottery?

  I was!

  Ha, just you wait, you stupid little vase! I’ll show you! I bet you couldn’t do this, could you?

  My hands flew up into the shadows. Grabbing him by the lapels, I jerked him down towards me. His supporting arm slipped and he toppled onto the bed. We rolled over until I came to rest on top, where I belonged.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded.

  ‘What do you think?’ Pressing a heated kiss to the corner of his mouth, I took a tighter hold on his lapels, and tugged. There was a ripping sound and buttons scattered in all directions.

  ‘Miss Linton!’

  My cheek pressed softly against his, I whispered, ‘You called me Lillian just now.’

  There was a moment of silence. Then, in a voice that was slightly hoarser than usual, he said:

  ‘That will take money to repair!’

  ‘Deduct it from my salary. I don’t care!’ Moisture pricked the corner of my eye, but right now, that didn’t matter to me. Right now, I didn’t need or want to keep my defences up. I let the single tear trickle down my cheek, unashamed. My hands curled into the last layer of cloth that lay between us, and tugged it off. ‘It was worth it. You’re worth it.’

  Silence.

  And not the cold kind.

  The dumbstruck kind.

  As it extended and spread through the darkness like a blanket of snow, enveloping us, I suddenly realised something: that just now had probably been the first time in a very long time that anyone had told Mr Rikkard Ambrose he was worth it - worth anything.

  Oh, I was sure he got more compliments than there were stars in the sky, from sycophants and lickspittles who wanted to ingratiate themselves with the richest man of the British Empire. But a truly heartfelt compliment from someone who knew him and cared?

  When was the last time he had heard one?

  Better question, Lilly: when was the last time that someone who really knows him was crazy enough to care?

  ‘You are!’ The words spilled out of my mouth before I could think twice about them. Grasping his face, I moved closer until even in the darkness, I could see into his eyes. ‘You are worth it! You may be a stubborn, chauvinistic, cold-hearted, ruthless, self-righteous son of a bachelor-’