The Untamed Mackenzie

hugging his hips, smooth against his thighs, showing his strong legs below its hem. He wore a coat as finely tailored as any man’s here, though it looked better on him because he had the body to fill it out.

The bruises from whatever brawl he’d been in were obvious on his face, though he was clean-shaven tonight. He looked like a warrior who’d taken time off fighting to look in on civilization.

No, Fellows didn’t fit among these soft-faced people. There was still too much of the brute Highlander about him for civilized company. He fought battles out in the world so the ladies and gentlemen in this ballroom could walk about in peace.

“Louisa?” Gil was looking at her. She’d missed what he’d just said.

“I do beg your pardon. I believe my ankle hurts more than I thought it did.” She lied, but Louisa needed a reason to cover for her distracted state.

Gil looked concerned. “Shall I fetch Isabella? Call for your coach?”

“No, no. I only wrenched it a bit. I’ll sit here quietly and watch the dancing.”

“Then I will sit with you.”

Gil handed the empty ice bowl to a passing waiter, fetched another lemonade for Louisa and champagne for himself and sat down with her again. Not too close—no one in the ballroom seeing them seated on the far sides of a divan would think anything inappropriate was afoot. Then again, the two of them even occupying the same piece of furniture might start people talking. Anything for gossip.

“Really, there is no need for you to miss enjoying yourself,” Louisa said. “I will be well.”

Gil leaned closer. “Louisa, you weren’t well when I first spied you here. That idiot Samuel talks more than his brains should let him, and his sister and Adele were being vicious. I’d rather not leave you alone to their knives again. Besides, I can enjoy myself quite well sitting with you.”

Louisa’s face heated at the same time something inside her warmed. “You’re very flattering tonight.”

“Not at all. I was unbelievably distressed about what happened at the garden party. I wanted to comfort you there, but I was shunted away home. I came here tonight hoping to see you again. And I have.”

Louisa smiled at the same time she let her gaze rove the ballroom. She couldn’t see Fellows anywhere. Had he made for the card rooms? Or left the ball altogether? “You’ve always been a friend, Gil,” she said, more to keep up her end of the conversation than anything else. “So kind to the hanger-on of your sister.”

“Oh, I think you know I’ve always viewed you as far more than a hanger-on, Louisa. Or a friend.”

Louisa, with difficulty, pulled her attention back to Gil. His expression was serious, no teasing. She tried to laugh. “I’m not sure I’m in the proper mood for flirting, Gil, dear.”

“And you know it is not flirting.”

Gil’s affable blue eyes held something quiet and heartfelt. Oh, dear.

But, then again, why not? the sensible side of Louisa asked. Gil was the obvious answer to Louisa’s current troubles as well as her quest for matrimony. Louisa still wanted to marry—she wanted a home of her own, respect, children.

An unmarried miss had little say in the world. She lived with her married sister or brother or childhood friend, and was a helper, a companion, an appendage. A married woman, on the other hand, was viewed with respect and even admiration if her marriage was a good one. She could become a great hostess, a leader of her set, a powerful force in her world.

The Honorable Gil was one of the most respected gentlemen in England. He would one day be an earl. Louisa had known him all her life, and they rubbed along well together. His friends were her friends. Gil and Louisa would, in fact, make the perfect couple.

So why did her heart beat too quickly as she caught a glimpse of Inspector Fellows again, her hands grow moist, and her feet long to thump to the floor and carry her away from both of them?

Louisa drew a sharp breath. “Gil—my dearest friend—I’m not sure I am strong enough to hear declarations tonight.”

Instantly Gil went solicitous. “Then I won’t make any. Not tonight. Don’t worry. I’m not the pestering sort. But I will sit here and make sure no one else pesters you.”

“Thank you. It’s good of you.”

“If you’d like to think so.”

Gil sat for a moment with her in silence, giving her time to master herself, then he started up with a conversation that had nothing to do with the two of them, Louisa’s predicament, or the poisoning.

He was nice, really. Kind. Generous. Warmhearted. Completely different from the man who came around the dancers in his kilt, a tailored coat stretched over his strong shoulders. He held a champagne glass in one hand, looking as though he didn’t know what to do with it, and walked beside Mac Mackenzie, paying half attention to whatever Mac was jabbering about.

Fellows saw Louisa and sent her a sharp look, then one to Gil. The look stabbed Louisa all the way through, and then the blow doubled as Fellows started to turn away again.

Mac, with seeming nonchalance, blocked Fellows’ escape. Fellows would either have to turn back to the divan or push Mac bodily aside to get around him. The look on Fellows’ face told Louisa he preferred to shove his way out, but at the last minute he let Mac chivvy him toward the divan and the two sitting there.

Gil rose to meet them. “Mac, how are you? Well met, Chief Inspector. Can you tell us how the case is going? If you’ve found the man responsible yet? Or are you allowed to say?”

Gil asked with sincere curiosity, and also with obvious concern for Louisa’s part in it. Mac’s expression said he showed the same concern. Only Fellows looked furious. He did not want to discuss the case at all, and Mac and Gil pushing him into it made him angry.

“It is all right, Chief Inspector,” Louisa said quickly. “You do not have to tell us. I understand that more gossip about it would not be good.”

If anything, Fellows looked even more angry. “There is very little to say. The investigation is ongoing. We are pursuing several leads.”

“Have you had any luck tracing the chap Louisa saw rolling out from under the tent?” Gil asked in all innocence.

“Not yet.”

“He’s the guilty one, must be.” Gil emphasized his words with little jerks of the hand that held his champagne glass.

“No doubt,” Fellows said, his tone dry.

“It might have been a woman,” Louisa broke in. “I couldn’t be certain, as I said.” She directed the words at Fellows, but he was watching Gil, assessing him. Possibly wondering how he’d look in handcuffs.

“No, a man,” Mac said, shaking his head. “I’ll wager it was a man in the tent. Stands to reason. A woman would be hampered by skirts and bustles and all the paraphernalia women seem to wear.”

Gil smiled. “I find the paraphernalia charming.”

“Entrancing,” Mac said, winking at Louisa. “I call it utterly entrancing.”

“An even better word,” Gil agreed.

Fellows looked annoyed. Louisa could see that at this moment, he didn’t find women or their paraphernalia charming or entrancing, or even remotely interesting. He was again stuck in a society party where he didn’t feel comfortable, coerced by his brothers and sisters-in-law to do what he didn’t want to do. A fish out of water, was the saying.

“It is good of you to help, Mr. Fellows,” Louisa said, to try to fill the break in conversation. “I am grateful.”

Fellows scowled at her. “It’s a murder, and it’s my job.” He clicked the champagne glass onto the tray of a passing waiter and made a little bow. “If you’ll excuse me, Lady Louisa.”

He walked away without further word, and this time, Mac didn’t try to stop him.

Chapter Ten

The pain in Louisa’s ankle became nothing to the pain in her heart as she watched Inspector Fellows fade back into the crowd, finished with her. Ladies and gentlemen parted for his broad frame, looking after him with