His Beautiful Wench by Nathalie Dae Page B

the torch flame glinting off his irises.
    Emmett stared at Amelia.
    “Give it back, Emmett,” she whispered, her throat swelling with fear.
    A great whoosh sounded and the stable walls came into stark relief. Amelia looked down and gasped. Bates had tossed the torch to the center of the stable and the flames devoured the hay, streaking toward the bales in the far corner. The horses shrieked, their hooves smacking the ground.
    “Too late,” Bates called and closed the door.
    “Get down the ladder!” Emmett shouted. “Quickly! You have time before the flames come this way.”
    Amelia backed down the ladder, feet stumbling on every rung, her dress catching beneath her shoes. She slipped and braced herself for a hard fall, landing on her side. Pain bloomed in her hip and she struggled upright, the heat of the flames on her back warning her they had little time to escape. Emmett came down the ladder, jumped from halfway up and grabbed Amelia’s elbow. He steered her to the door and yanked the handle. The door wouldn’t budge. Frantic, Amelia glanced behind her.
    Flames crept toward them. Smoke billowed upward, hitting the rafters and forming dense black clouds. The air thickened and goose flesh born of trepidation sprang up on her arms. She covered her nose and mouth with her skirt and coughed, backing against the wall beside the door. Emmett tugged harder and in desperation kicked the slatted wood. One piece gave way and fresh air invited the smoke outside. It gusted at them, acrid, stinging Amelia’s eyes. She whimpered, panic-stricken that they wouldn’t be able to escape in time. He kicked the slats again, harder. His booted foot disappeared through a new hole and stuck in the opening as he tried to pull it back through.
    Please let us get out of here. Please …
    Desperate now, Amelia turned her back to the encroaching flames and kicked at the door herself, freeing Emmett’s foot. Their combined efforts broke two more slats, creating a hole big enough to crawl through.
    “You first,” Emmett said, pushing her down by her shoulders and glancing at the approaching flames.
    She glanced back herself, alarmed at how far the fire had traveled in such a short time. With a brief, soul-searching look into his eyes, she clambered through the opening, her knees jarring on the cobblestoned yard. She flipped over and scooted backward on her ass to give Emmett room. His head and shoulders poked through the hole, the remaining slats tight against his upper arms. Behind him the flames grew higher, the snap and crackle ominous.
    “Oh God. Hurry, Emmett!”
    He stared at her as he struggled to squeeze through, the light going out of his eyes upon the realization he was stuck. Her eyes widened and she scrabbled toward him. Fisting his shirt, she yanked him, her breaths coming hard and sharp. Emmett loosed a primordial scream, his neck veins bulging, his teeth gritted. He lunged forward, his body shoving Amelia backward. Her head struck the cobblestones. Pain jabbed her skull, but she lifted her head to eye the hole in the door. Flames streaked closer, the smoke gusting out much thicker now, and the terrible screams of horses pained her ears.
    “Those animals! Those poor animals!” she sobbed.
    Emmett jumped up and made for the saloon’s back door. “Amelia, hurry!”
    “But the horses!” She clambered to her feet. “We can’t—”
    “People are more important!” he shouted as he opened the door. “We have to warn them before it spreads!”
    A bark of laughter gusted behind her and Amelia spun to face Bates who stood beside an open wooden gate at the rear of the yard, his face an eerie red, lit by yet another torch held up beside him.
    “You’ll let them burn,” he said, eyes narrowed.
    “I won’t!” Emmett grasped the door handle and motioned with his head for Amelia to join him.
    “Oh, you will,” Bates said.
    Standing in the middle of the yard, Amelia looked from Emmett to Bates and back to Emmett. Her