Page 77 of New Storm Rising
Mr Ambrose snorted. “After a few days? Please! This is America! Land of the free and home of the greedy lawyers who put the free in jail for money. Any decent lawsuit around here will drag out for at least six months. Years, probably.”
“Ah.” I nodded. “Let me guess: you despise solicitors.”
“Indeed.”
“Hm. I guess that explains why we left New York so quickly.” I sent him a wifely glare. “Withouta sightseeing trip.”
Wisely, Mr Ambrose decided to remain silent.
“But itdoesn’texplain,” I continued, jabbing my thumb at the window, in the direction of the miners’ barracks, “what those people are doing here. Or the Spanish nobs, for that matter. If the trial isn’t over yet, why are all those men already running around your mining compound?”
He shrugged. “Technically, our dark-skinned friends are the accusers, not the accused. Why would they be held, if slavery is illegal in the state they landed in? Why would they have to be there, if they have solicitors to represent them?”
I blinked. True. Why would they? They would just saunter off. Problem solved.
Only…
A little cynical voice in the back of my mind whispered to me that things were never really that easy. Not if the guilty party was powerful and the innocent had only just taken off their slave collars. Unless…
Unless there was someone equally powerful on their side.
I glanced at Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
He gazed straight back at me. “My solicitors can beveryconvincing. There will be no problem with the former slaves staying here—not even if someone were to find out about their presence in the first place. And as for the Spaniards…” His eyes sparkled like ice. “They were released on bail.”
No, scratch that. I looked more closely at his eyes. They didn’t sparkle like ice. They sparkled like gold coins.
“Just out of curiosity…how much bail did they have to pay?”
The golden sparkle intensified.
“A…suitable amount.”
“That will at some point, somehow, flow into your pocket?”
“I don’t quite understand what you mean, Mrs Ambrose.”
“Of course you don’t.”
An instant later, Mr Rikkard Ambrose found himself grabbed and dragged down to the mattress once again.
“What, pray, do you think you are doing, Mrs Ambrose?”
“Going for another round. Do you have any idea how hot you are when you are being stingy and manipulative?”
“No. Do elaborate.”
Tightening my grip on him, I moved closer. “Oh, I plan to, Sir. I plan to.”
Then I made my move.
In a tangle of arms and legs, we tumbled across the mattress, Or, to be precise, arms, legs and lust. My lips were glued to his and my legs were wrapped around his waist, pressing him down, deep into the soft down below us.
“Look at that,” I breathed, breaking our lip lock. “You’re beneath me! Who’s in charge now? How do you plan on challenging me?”
A rumble rose from deep within his chest. The intensity of his stare alone was enough to make my bones feel mushy.
And then came his voice.
