The Untamed Mackenzie Read Online Free PDF

assign another detective to the case.
    Another detective who might find evidence that Louisa had committed murder. Fellows’ heart beat sickeningly fast. If he backed away, Louisa might be convicted for the crime by people too impatient to prove she could be nothing but innocent. That she
was
innocent, he had no doubt.
    Now was the time to speak. To say good day to Mrs. Leigh-Waters and explain that Sergeant Pierce would take over the questioning of Isabella and Louisa.
    Fellows opened his stiff lips. “It shouldn’t be too much to clear up, ma’am. I’ll need to speak to Lady Louisa alone.”
    “Are you certain?” Mrs. Leigh-Waters fluttered. “Perhaps she should wait for her family’s solicitor . . .”
    No solicitors. No witnesses. Fellows needed to hear what Louisa had to say without any other person present.
    “A preliminary questioning is all, Mrs. Leigh-Waters,” he said firmly.
    “Then her sister at least should stay with her.”
    Mrs. Leigh-Waters was perfectly right to try to protect Louisa from an unscrupulous policeman, not to mention being alone in a room with a man at all. But Fellows couldn’t question Louisa in front of anyone, not even Isabella, not even Sergeant Pierce. He had to be alone with her, to get her to tell him what had happened, so he could keep her safe.
    “Please,” Fellows said, gesturing to the door. “Lady Isabella, you too.”
    Isabella gave her sister a look of concern. Louisa shook her head, the movement wooden. “I’ll be all right, Izzy.”
    Isabella studied Fellows a good long time before she agreed. “Please send for me if I’m needed. Never worry, Mrs. Leigh-Waters. Mr. Fellows is a perfect gentleman.” Isabella’s look told Fellows he’d better
be
a perfect gentleman or face her and explain why not.
    Fellows returned the look neutrally. He’d fenced with Lady Isabella before.
    Isabella took Mrs. Leigh-Waters’ arm and led the reluctant woman from the room. He heard the door close, their footsteps in the hall.
    When it seeped through Fellows that he and Louisa were alone, his awareness narrowed to her. How her body was a perfect upright, how the curve of her waist and bend of her arms softened her posture. Her striped gown made her look taller, her bosom a soft swell under all the buttons.
    Lovely, lovely femininity. Fellows was no saint, but he hadn’t been with a woman in a good long while, not long enough to be able to look upon Louisa Scranton without wanting her.
    No, it wouldn’t matter if Fellows came to her sated and exhausted from weeks of passion—he would still want her.
    He gestured with a gloved hand to the sofa. “Please, sit.”
    Throughout the exchanges, Louisa had remained rigidly still, as though turned to the biblical pillar of salt. Now she moved to the sofa, her movements jerky. Her face was paper white, her red hair making it whiter still. From this stunned face, her eyes burned.
    Fellows knew he should not sit on the sofa next to her. He should pull a hard chair from the other side of the room and angle it away from her so he wouldn’t risk his legs touching her skirt.
    But then he thought again about how they’d stood in the doorway of the empty room last Christmas, the revelry far away down the hall. How Louisa had flowed into him, her lips seeking his, her body soft against his. She’d instigated the kiss, and Fellows hadn’t been able to stop himself turning it into a taste of passion.
    He did not seek the other chair. He sat on the sofa with Louisa, putting at least two feet of space between them. Then he stripped off his gloves, took a small notebook and pencil from his pocket, flipped to a clean page, and wrote:
Interview with Lady Louisa Scranton, witness.
    “Take me through it, Lady Louisa,” Fellows said, not letting himself look up from the notebook.
    “Take you through what?” Her voice was brittle. “How I watched the Bishop of Hargate die?”
    Fellows kept his eyes on the page. “I need to know exactly what