The Untamed MacKenzie

“She might have,” Louisa said darkly. “Isabella was always headstrong.”

“She is headstrong.” Daniel gave Louisa another assessing look. “Let me guess—Isabella was the bold one, while you were always the good girl. The one who stayed home, behaved herself, never did anything to upset people. Am I right?”

“Yes.” Louisa thumped her hands to the seat. “You are absolutely right. I never did anything. I stayed quiet and obedient and did what was expected of me. And what was my reward? People pitying me, whispering about my scandalous family. So I decided to look for a respectable husband to make them stop pitying me. Now I’m accused of murder, and I’m letting the detective in charge of the investigation kiss me senseless.”

“Ah ha, is that what went on upstairs when my back was turned?”

“Yes.” Louisa’s face heated. “If you must know, yes.”

Daniel grinned. “You didn’t really have to tell me, you know. The stars in your eyes, your hair coming down, the pretty flush on your cheek, all betrayed you.”

“And you mustn’t tell anyone.” Louisa pinned him with a severe look. “Promise me, Daniel.”

Daniel raised his hands. “Never worry. I always keep the confidences of my great friends. Now, what you have to decide is what you’re going to do about this falling-in-love business. Ignore it and pursue your respectable marriage? With Gil Franklin, I’m thinking? You won’t have to push hard for a proposal there, I’d wager. Or wait and see if Fellows tries to kiss you again? Or asks more of you?”

“He won’t,” Louisa said glumly.

“Which he? Won’t do what?”

“Mr. Fellows won’t ask anything of me. He barely speaks to me. I have no idea why he kisses me, except for the fact that I’ve thrown myself at him several times now. He must think me depraved. I’m not certain he’s wrong.”

Daniel watched her. “This is all fascinating. I had no idea it had gone this far.”

“Nothing has gone far at all,” Louisa said in exasperation. “I’m behaving like a flighty, ridiculous woman who’s been sitting on the shelf so long she’s starting to go mad. It’s the only explanation for my insanity. You’re right—I should tell Gil I welcome his attentions, marry him, and have done.”

Louisa turned abruptly to the window so Daniel wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. If she married Gil, she could never let herself be alone with Fellows again. She couldn’t trust her own body not to react to him or trust herself to remain sensible and not succumb to desire. Even now she couldn’t banish the sensation of Fellows’ burning kisses, the feeling of his mouth on her skin, and the knowledge of how much she wanted him.

“Yes, live in misery the rest of your life,” Daniel said. “That will show everyone.”

Louisa turned back. Let him see the tears. What did she care? “It won’t be in misery. Gil is a gentleman. He’s courteous and kind, never rude, generous, good-hearted . . .”

“And dull. I hear it in your voice. You’re trying to be fair to him because he is a good chap. But dull. You’d do the same thing every day, he’d never do anything unexpected, never make you wonder what was going on in his head. Gil is transparent. Makes him a fine bloke to play cards with, because I win every hand, but probably very tedious to live with.”

Louisa wanted to hotly defend Gil, who’d been a friend to her tonight when no one else had, but the words died on her lips.

Daniel wasn’t wrong. Louisa liked Gil immensely, she always had, but she didn’t love him. She’d never be interested in him in the way she wanted to understand what was inside Lloyd Fellows. When she saw Lloyd, she wanted to follow him, be with him, listen to him, touch him, make him understand that he wasn’t alone. Louisa was fascinated by Fellows’ job, wanted him to talk to her about it and confide in her, and she wanted to confide in him.

She leaned her head back on the seat. “It’s hopeless. Inspector Fellows is very conscious of his position in life, and mine.”

“That is true. He’s a snob. I’ve found that working-class chaps generally are. Any hint of getting above yourself is ruthlessly quashed. The posh should stay posh; the honest workers should stay honest workers. And Fellows has always seen himself as an honest worker. More so once he realized his dad was never going to acknowledge him. The working classes, now, they tolerate me because I’m such an honest bloke, and I don’t try to change them.”

Louisa had to laugh. “And you’re not conceited at all.”

“I’m all sorts of conceited, I know that. I’m very clever and see no reason to hide it. On the other hand, being clever is no assurance of being great or finding success. Success takes bloody hard work too. I know that. But we’re not talking about me, Auntie Louisa. We’re talking about you and Uncle Fellows. And what we’re going to do about it.”

“We will do nothing about it. I will marry Gil or remain a spinster, and Inspector Fellows will go on being a policeman. Perhaps he’ll find a cheerful working-class woman to marry him, and his life will become simple and pleasant.”

“Listen to yourself. Poor martyred Louisa. I predict that Fellows will solve this murder and then sweep you off your feet.” Daniel shrugged. “Well, the sweeping-you-off-your-feet part might take a little nudge. But he wants to do it. It’s a beautiful thing to watch the way he looks at you. Fellows glared at Gil tonight as though he wanted to find a claymore, learn how to use it, and finish him off. Or just pull out a pistol and shoot him.”