The Untamed MacKenzie

A look into the games room showed her Hart Mackenzie lounging at a card table like a king among his subjects, in no hurry to depart. Cheroot smoke layered the air like fog.

Ian had likely decided to scoot Beth out a back door to avoid the crowd. Louisa made her way again to the little hall that led to the office, turning a corner beyond it to seek a rear door.

Inspector Fellows was there, his broad back to her as he opened the door, letting in a draft of cool spring air.

Louisa sped her steps, her anger returning. She raced forward and grabbed the sleeve of his coat, just as Fellows stepped out into the night.

Fellows swung around, eyes blazing, his hand going automatically to Louisa’s throat, and the other balled into a hard fist, pulled back to punch.

In the next instant, he blinked. “Louisa. Bloody hell.” He moved his hand so swiftly from her that she felt a warm breeze on her skin. “Don’t do that.”

Louisa stared at him. “Did you think I was a robber? In Mayfair assembly rooms?”

Fellows had taken a step back, but his hands were still clenched, his face flushed. “You’d be surprised where thieves lurk. Why aren’t you in the ballroom, dancing with all your beaux?”

“I don’t have any beaux, and I was looking for you.”

“Why?”

The door was still half open, the two of them on the doorstep. Neither in nor out, neither forward nor back. Like their friendship, Louisa thought.

“You walked away,” she said. “I was defending you. You snapped at me as though I’d insulted you, and then you turned your back and walked away.”

Fellows gave her an impatient look. “I know I’m rude. I wasn’t raised to this life.”

“A poor excuse. You can be perfectly civil—I’ve seen you be. What did I do to earn your wrath this evening?”

Fellows reached behind her and pulled the door closed. They were alone in the night, in a dim passage steps away from the busy street. “Understand, Louisa, I can’t discuss what I investigate with everyone in the ballroom. You and Mac are one thing, but Mr. Franklin himself was at the garden party. He is a suspect.”

“Gil?” Louisa’s eyes widened. “Surely not. Gil wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Hargate wasn’t a fly. He was a pompous git from what I hear, and he proposed to you. From the way Mr. Franklin looked at you, he’s happy the bishop is no longer around to be his rival.”

“That is ridiculous . . . ” But Gil had made it clear tonight he wanted to speak to Louisa about more than friendship. Perhaps not so ridiculous, but Gil? “I still don’t think Gil capable of murdering anyone,” she said, certain. “And in any case, we weren’t asking for a summation of the case in minute detail. We only wanted to know if you’d discovered anything important.”

Fellows looked down at her in angry silence, resembling a Highland warrior even more out here in the dark. Louisa’s imagination made the tailored coat and ivory waistcoat become a linen shirt and great kilt wrapped around his shoulders; the glint of his watch chain blurred into the hilt of a dirk. He was powerful, strong, nothing tame about him. At any moment, he’d snatch her up and carry her off, a Highlander stealing himself a bride.

Louisa jumped when he reached out and seized her wrist. Reality and fantasy melded, and her heart pounded.

“Come with me,” he said, voice hard. “If you want to understand why I can’t give you the simple answers you want, come with me, and I’ll show you.”

He didn’t wait for her to debate. Fellows pulled Louisa out of the passage and to the street, April wind rushing at them as they emerged into the wider avenue. Louisa could have protested, jerked away, run back to the safety of the assembly rooms. But she didn’t. She let Fellows hold her, Louisa following her Highlander into the dark.

Fellows gave a sharp whistle through his teeth. A hansom cab a little way away jerked forward, the horse’s hooves clopping as the carriage came toward them. Fellows had obviously already planned his escape.

He opened the door and all but shoved Louisa into the cab. She didn’t have her wrap, but she had no desire to rush back inside to fetch it. The night was warm enough, Fellows might change his mind if he had to wait, and Louisa wanted very much to run off with him, wherever he was taking her.

Fellows gave the driver a direction she didn’t hear then climbed in beside her.

Louisa knew she had to be mad, leaving with him without a word, but with Lloyd warm beside her, his animation exciting her, she wanted to go. Whatever damage Louisa did by her flight, she’d repair it in the morning. No looking back.

Fellows took hold of her wrist again, as though he feared she might climb out the other side of the hansom and run if he didn’t. As the horse started, Fellows slid his clasp down to her hand, and their fingers twined. The pulse of it raced from hands to Louisa’s heart.

The cab listed abruptly. Louisa let out a squeak in alarm as another man wrenched open the carriage door and heaved himself in, landing next to Louisa in the one-seated cab. He was another Highland warrior, this one exuberant and young. He settled himself in the small space, forcing Louisa closer to Fellows, and told the startled driver to keep going.

“Saw you leave,” Daniel said, flashing his grin at both of them. “Couldn’t let you rush off without a chaperone, now could I?”

Chapter Eleven

The offices of Scotland Yard were quiet and echoing at night, though not deserted. Constables went in and out from the ground floor on their duties. Detectives used the calm of night to work on cases or for writing up the paperwork that went with them. Talk had been ongoing about moving the cramped police offices to a larger building to be erected near the Victoria Embankment, where a new opera house had been started then abandoned years ago. Fellows had been hearing about this theoretical move for a long time—he wondered if he’d still be alive when it happened.