wide-eyed, at Emmett, who raised a finger to his lips and eased her off him, quickly doing up his breeches. Kneeling beside him, Amelia adjusted her skirt, heart thudding. Emmett carefully moved himself into a crouch, hands between his legs, and Amelia maneuvered to face the loft ladder.
A shuffle of hay from below reached them. The horses? Whoever had entered the stables? Her lungs burned from holding her breath. Pulse thrumming in her neck, Amelia released air slowly through her mouth then inhaled. Flames and shadows pranced on the rafters and the uppermost half of the wall opposite. She glanced at Emmett, who indicated with his eyes that she should move behind him. Jaw clenched, she tried to shift silently, but hay crackled beneath her knees.
“I know you’re up there, Emmett Dray.”
That voice… The man from the saloon! Oh God! What does he want? How does he know Emmett?
“It isn’t surprising what a serving wench will tell a man when faced with a frightening occurrence if she doesn’t comply.” He chuckled, dark and menacing.
Amelia’s stomach clenched and she bit down on her knuckles to stop herself crying out. Emmett placed his finger to his lips again and stood, his outstretched palm conveying his desire that she remain where she was. Fear pervaded her body, leaving her legs and arms weak, her head light.
“What do you want, Bates?” Emmett peered over the loft rails.
“You know what I want, Dray. You’ve known what I’ve wanted ever since you stole what’s mine.”
Bates’ voice held a warning and Emmett tensed, placing his hands on the rail and gripping tightly.
Dread pooled in Amelia’s gut. Emmett stole something? She inched forward on her hands and knees and peeked through the rails. The man stared up at Emmett, a torch held aloft, the flames dancing, lighting one half of his face orange, the other in semi-shadow. He sneered, those ugly, fleshy lips of his wide and wet. He planted his other hand on his hip, the overhang of his protruding belly hiding his fingers.
“I see you have your wench with you. The wench who refused to serve me ale.” His eyes narrowed at Amelia. “It would be of benefit to you to give me what I want, Dray. I’d wager that young bitch there would feel good on my cock.”
She sensed Emmett’s anger but didn’t look at him, willing herself not to show that disgusting man her fear.
“Leave my woman alone,” Emmett said. “She has nothing to do with this. Besides, I didn’t steal anything. I bought it.”
Bates laughed and lowered the torch, the flames perilously close to the hay-strewn floor. “Bought it? No, you stole it. How else would it be in your possession? It was safe on my ship…until you came aboard.”
Emmett huffed out a derisive breath. “I left your ship that night empty-handed and bought the sculpture the next day.”
Bates widened his eyes. “Ha! And I’m meant to believe it wasn’t planned? You admired that sculpture. Said it reminded you of your bitch there.” He nodded in Amelia’s direction. “I’ll wager you got someone else to steal it for you.” He swung the torch beside him in wide arcs. “However you got it, I want it back.”
“And if I don’t return it?” Emmett sidestepped to the ladder, crooking his finger for Amelia to follow.
“I’ll drop this torch and leave you to burn,” Bates rasped.
Amelia stood and rushed to Emmett’s side, bile surging up her windpipe. The thought of Bates pawing her rippled through her mind. Please, God, no … Terror enveloped her and she gripped her lover’s hand, prepared to help fend off this obnoxious man—or die with Emmett.
“Then you still won’t have your sculpture,” Emmett said. “With us dead, you’ll have no idea where it is.”
“I’ll find it. People’s tongues loosen at the prospect of money in their palms.” Bates moved to the door and opened it. “Last chance, Dray.” He glared up at them, lips a fat, straight line, eyes slits, the light from
A shuffle of hay from below reached them. The horses? Whoever had entered the stables? Her lungs burned from holding her breath. Pulse thrumming in her neck, Amelia released air slowly through her mouth then inhaled. Flames and shadows pranced on the rafters and the uppermost half of the wall opposite. She glanced at Emmett, who indicated with his eyes that she should move behind him. Jaw clenched, she tried to shift silently, but hay crackled beneath her knees.
“I know you’re up there, Emmett Dray.”
That voice… The man from the saloon! Oh God! What does he want? How does he know Emmett?
“It isn’t surprising what a serving wench will tell a man when faced with a frightening occurrence if she doesn’t comply.” He chuckled, dark and menacing.
Amelia’s stomach clenched and she bit down on her knuckles to stop herself crying out. Emmett placed his finger to his lips again and stood, his outstretched palm conveying his desire that she remain where she was. Fear pervaded her body, leaving her legs and arms weak, her head light.
“What do you want, Bates?” Emmett peered over the loft rails.
“You know what I want, Dray. You’ve known what I’ve wanted ever since you stole what’s mine.”
Bates’ voice held a warning and Emmett tensed, placing his hands on the rail and gripping tightly.
Dread pooled in Amelia’s gut. Emmett stole something? She inched forward on her hands and knees and peeked through the rails. The man stared up at Emmett, a torch held aloft, the flames dancing, lighting one half of his face orange, the other in semi-shadow. He sneered, those ugly, fleshy lips of his wide and wet. He planted his other hand on his hip, the overhang of his protruding belly hiding his fingers.
“I see you have your wench with you. The wench who refused to serve me ale.” His eyes narrowed at Amelia. “It would be of benefit to you to give me what I want, Dray. I’d wager that young bitch there would feel good on my cock.”
She sensed Emmett’s anger but didn’t look at him, willing herself not to show that disgusting man her fear.
“Leave my woman alone,” Emmett said. “She has nothing to do with this. Besides, I didn’t steal anything. I bought it.”
Bates laughed and lowered the torch, the flames perilously close to the hay-strewn floor. “Bought it? No, you stole it. How else would it be in your possession? It was safe on my ship…until you came aboard.”
Emmett huffed out a derisive breath. “I left your ship that night empty-handed and bought the sculpture the next day.”
Bates widened his eyes. “Ha! And I’m meant to believe it wasn’t planned? You admired that sculpture. Said it reminded you of your bitch there.” He nodded in Amelia’s direction. “I’ll wager you got someone else to steal it for you.” He swung the torch beside him in wide arcs. “However you got it, I want it back.”
“And if I don’t return it?” Emmett sidestepped to the ladder, crooking his finger for Amelia to follow.
“I’ll drop this torch and leave you to burn,” Bates rasped.
Amelia stood and rushed to Emmett’s side, bile surging up her windpipe. The thought of Bates pawing her rippled through her mind. Please, God, no … Terror enveloped her and she gripped her lover’s hand, prepared to help fend off this obnoxious man—or die with Emmett.
“Then you still won’t have your sculpture,” Emmett said. “With us dead, you’ll have no idea where it is.”
“I’ll find it. People’s tongues loosen at the prospect of money in their palms.” Bates moved to the door and opened it. “Last chance, Dray.” He glared up at them, lips a fat, straight line, eyes slits, the light from
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