His Beautiful Wench (21 page)

Anxious to find Emmett, she asked, “Can we go now? Please?”

John nodded and took the lead, guiding his horse close to the tree line to their left at a fast pace. Helena went next, cape flying behind her, and Amelia cantered after them, grateful they couldn’t see how awkward she was on horseback. She dug her heels into the steed’s flanks and clucked her tongue, urging her beast faster. She prayed she’d be able to stay on its back as it sped forward, jostling her up and down. The wind whipped at her face, blowing her hood from her head. Her hair flew in all directions, locks streaking across her eyes. She shook her head to free them and peered ahead. John and Helena had slowed to a trot and as she approached, Amelia did the same until they all came to a halt.

John turned his horse around and faced them. “This is the dangerous part,” he whispered. “On the other side of these trees is the road.” He paused and took a deep breath. “And on the other side of the road behind more trees are Graham’s men—Lock the overseer of this venture, I’d imagine. Now,” he lowered his voice further, “we need to walk the horses to the end of this field. And pray they don’t snicker.”

Stomach lurching—God, how it had churned tonight—Amelia imagined the red-haired Lock issuing orders and getting the job done. Just as he had with her parents. John maneuvered his horse around and set it on a slow trot. Helena and Amelia followed. Blowing out through pursed lips, Amelia lifted her hood and concentrated on their task.

Please, please just let us get to the end of this field without incident. Don’t let the horses make a noise…

An owl hooted and Amelia jumped, on the verge of shrieking. Her horse sidestepped and snorted then proceeded as before, head bobbing. As her heart rate slowed, she focused ahead.
Only a little way now.
She shuddered.
That owl. Please don’t say it was an omen of bad things to come.
She smiled despite her fear. Things had already been bad, had grown progressively worse as the days went by. Could they get any worse?
Yes, they could. Emmett might… Those men may have already killed him.

Shaking with fright, she released a haggard breath as they passed between the trees separating the fields. On the other side, they continued to walk the horses until reaching a large oak among smaller, shorter trees. Then John whacked his horse’s rump and took off at a faster pace, Helena close behind. Wind again slapping at Amelia, she nudged her horse to pick up speed and the beast lurched forward. At the end of the next field, John and Helena stopped and dismounted. Reaching them, Amelia did the same and patted her horse in thanks for getting her to this point.

“Now,” John said, “we wait.”

None of them spoke for a long time.

Feeling useless and unable to take the silence any longer, Amelia tied the reins to a low tree branch. “Shall I check to see if he’s coming?”

“You could do,” said John, “but stay in the tree line. You should be able to see well enough.”

Amelia nodded and headed for the road. Farther toward town the trees thinned, but here they edged the private thoroughfare leading to the castle, an ideal place for them to lie in wait. She leaned against a tree trunk and peered around it, seeing nothing but tree shapes and darkness. With no idea of the time, she had no clue when—or if—Emmett would appear. She tried hard to see a shape or a flicker of a lantern, but only infinite blackness greeted her. Straining her ears, she focused on the sounds around her. Wind rustling the tree leaves. A horse hoofing the ground. John and Helena whispering. Night critters chirping. Footsteps slapping the road. Footsteps?

Heart drumming a quick beat, Amelia hid most of her face behind the trunk, only showing enough that she could see with one eye.
Dear God, let that be Emmett and not one of Graham’s men coming back from…
She gulped, unable to entertain the rest of the thought, and stared ahead. The footsteps grew louder and heavy breaths filled the air around her. A shape emerged from the darkness, that of a human, its face the only bright part, still too far away to see clearly. The person coughed—male, she was sure—and upped his pace. Had he seen her?

Pulse thumping in her ears, Amelia held her breath until the beats quieted. The figure got larger, almost abreast of her now, and she clutched the trunk while exhaling slowly. A twig snapped beneath her shoe and the man halted, fumbled in his waistband. Was he bringing out a
pistol
? Holding back a cry of alarm, Amelia looked at him, wondering if he could see her in the gloom.

“Who’s there?” he called quietly.

“Emmett!” she whispered loudly, her heart soaring, emotions sweeping over her in a tumultuous wave. Her knees jolted and she stumbled toward the road, wanting to hold him close, smell his scent, feel his hair.

“Amelia?” he said, heading in her direction.

“I’m in here. Shh. Please be quiet.”

He came to her, arms enveloping her in a beautiful embrace. A sob tore from her throat and tears spilled. She rested her head against his chest, breathing in the outdoor smell of him, the salt from being at the docks. Squeezing him to her, hands splayed on his back, she lifted her head and glanced up at him. His dear eyes stared back, wide and uncomprehending, and he opened his mouth to speak.

“Amelia?” John called quietly. “Is it him?”

She turned her head to look behind her. “Yes!”
God, yes, it’s him.

“We’ll be going then,” he said.

“What’s going on?” Emmett whispered.

Amelia faced Emmett. “Come with me for a moment. I have to say goodbye to John and Helena.”

“Who are they?” he asked.

She took his hand and led him toward her friends. “I’ll explain once they’ve gone.”

“But I have to take the sculpture to Graham.”

“You can’t!”

In the field now, the full impact of what they had done—what they were about to do—came together inside Amelia as a heavy ball in her gut. She swallowed the lump in her throat and said to John, “I can’t thank you enough. Get back safely. I’ll pray everything goes well.” He bobbed his head and she turned to Helena. She’d only known her such a short time, but their bond and her friend’s help would remain with Amelia forever. “Thank you,” she whispered, unable to say anything more.

Helena placed her hand on Amelia’s shoulder and squeezed. “Go. It will be fine, I promise.”

Tears blurred Amelia’s vision. She wanted to express how sorry she was that Helena endured Graham’s attentions under threat, and how she would continue to do so for Amelia’s benefit. She had so much to say but no time or voice to say it, so she nodded and let go of Emmett’s hand to untie the horse.

“I had a thought,” said John. “When you’re close enough to town that you can walk the rest of the way, let the horse go. She’ll find her way home. That way Graham can’t report you for theft, and if I wait up for her, I can stable her before the lord wakes.” He looked at Helena, who nodded, eyes closed. “Helena will make sure he stays in bed a little longer in the morning.”

Amelia found her voice. “Oh God. I’m so very sorry—”

“Shh.” Helena cupped Amelia’s cheek. “Go now.”

Emmett climbed atop the horse and pulled Amelia up to sit in front of him. With a last look at John and Helena, Amelia turned to face forward and laid her palms on either side of the mare’s neck. Emmett slipped his hand around her waist, securing her to him, and snapping the reins. The horse took off in the direction of town, mane flowing, breaths hard and sharp, muscles gliding beneath Amelia’s hands. Relief had her sagging and hot tears fell, snatched away by the breeze before they reached the swell of her cheekbones.

On the journey they couldn’t speak—time enough later to explain to Emmett—and she prayed that John and Helena would make it back without being caught. That they could find a way to leave Graham’s employ and live in peace. She wondered if her friend knew the lord watched their trysts and whether she should have told her.

What good would it have done?

After traversing two more fields shrouded by the trees, they approached the open-sided road. Amelia lowered her head, unable to watch the rest of their journey for fear of being discovered and only lifted it when the mare slowed to a stop. She gazed at the thicket of trees a little way ahead—the copse that led to the clifftop. Relief and apprehension sparked inside her. Once she explained to Emmett, he could determine whether they should hide out in her attic or find somewhere safer to bed for the night, though where that would be at this late hour she had no idea. Emmett climbed from the horse and held out his arms to help her down. Her buttocks ached and her thigh muscles protested from gripping to stay on top of the horse. Emmett guided the mare around and slapped her rump, sending her speeding for home.

Amelia stared after it. “God, Emmett, I thought…I thought I’d never see you again.”

His arms encircled her and he pressed her face to his chest. His low laugh rumbled in her ear. “Why? Bates’ men didn’t stand in my way. In fact, they just handed it over once I said it now belonged to Lord Graham.” He stroked her hair. “I’d regained it in no time and would have collected you sooner, but one of Graham’s men approached me at the docks and told me I must bring the jewels to his castle at midnight.”

“I know.” Amelia raised her head. “Helena told me. His men are waiting for you closer to the castle. Helena and John helped me leave so I could warn you.”

She gazed into his eyes, so grateful they sparkled back at her. Cupping his face, his stubble rough on her palms, she kissed him, soft and sweet. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, twining with hers and inciting a rush of desire to streak from her core to her breasts. She pressed closer, wishing they could become one person, never to be parted again.
God, I love you so much, Emmett Dray.

Emmett broke the connection, smiled then frowned. “Warn me of what?”

She took a deep breath. “That they are waiting back there to kill you. Quickly! We must go. I’ll explain as we walk.”

Entering the forest, the details spilled from Amelia’s lips, though she omitted Graham’s intentions for her, wanting to save them until later when she could also admit how she had felt outside the gardener’s home. It wasn’t right to tell him yet—not outside where she couldn’t see his face to properly gauge his reaction. Emmett received the information with a clamped jaw. Ensconced in the forest now, she clutched Emmett’s hand and stared back the way they had come. No one had followed, but it wouldn’t be long before Graham sent someone. A snippet of her last conversation with him wafted through her mind, his voice ghostly.
“I’m prepared to wait. Though not for long.”
She shivered at the memory of his smile, the way his lips had spread, fleshy and unsightly.

“Are you all right?” Emmett asked, leading her up the steep incline.

The concern in his eyes chased away her bad thoughts and she nodded. “Yes, but there are other things you should know. We can’t stay here for long. Graham is bound to send someone.”

“I know,” Emmett said, squeezing her hand. “I’d planned to send the jewels to him in the morning via a town boy, but it’s obvious he intends to kill me anyway now.”

She winced at having to smash his world to pieces with the news that he was right and the lord never intended to let her go. Glancing around, she held herself rigid, prepared for flight should Graham’s men emerge from behind the trunks. The moon struggled to penetrate the treetops, and the darkness in the forest seemed to breathe like a living thing, smothering her with its proximity.

“Will we go elsewhere tomorrow?” She peered up the slope.
Still such a long way to go before we reach Matilda’s cottage.
Her legs ached and she wanted nothing more than to fall to the ground and sleep in Emmett’s arms.

“Yes. We can’t expect Matilda to deal with whoever may come calling and risk her life for us again. Graham may have worked out her involvement in Crowe’s disappearance, so she too may be in danger.” He sighed and gripped her hand tighter. “And I am due back at sea.” A dry laugh escaped him. “Though it won’t be to purchase more jewels for the lord. No, I’ll be trading as usual, and it will take longer for us to save the money we need.”

A thought struck her, one so at odds with her honest nature that she hesitated to voice it. Before she could change her mind, she said, “Do you feel you
have
to give the jewels to Graham?”

Emmett stopped walking. Amelia stood beside him. His shock was evident in his wide eyes and gaping mouth. Shadows played across his face and once again the sense of the darkness being alive gave her shivers.

“Normally I would say if I want to stay alive, I must.” He took both her hands in his and kissed her knuckles. “That if Graham doesn’t get them back by tomorrow, he will send someone for them. For me.”

Was he saying what she thought he was? Though ashamed at herself for pushing the issue, Amelia plowed on. “But what if he can’t find you?”

“I see.” He smiled and looked up, as though he’d processed what she’d said and now worked out their options. As though he had come to the conclusion himself that keeping the jewels was a better option. If they were leaving Turner’s Point anyway, what did it matter whether he gave the jewels back or not? He released her hands and lifted his jacket front, revealing a linen sack resting against his side, the strap a slash across his chest. “In here could be all we need for the rest of our lives.” He patted the sack and lowered his jacket. “I don’t think there is any question of what we should do.” Emmett took her hand and tugged her along.