Read The Untamed Mackenzie for Free Online Page B

skepticism.
    This man, this half-Mackenzie, always unnerved her. He was as tall and strong as his brothers, and possessed their air of confidence so acute it was almost arrogance. His hair, a dark shade of auburn, had been cut short, now rumpled as though the wind had caught it. Unshaved whiskers were dark on his bruised and battered face, and his eyes were red-rimmed.
    But the hazel eyes that looked out at her showed anything but exhaustion. Fellows watched her with the keenness of a hawk, one waiting for the right moment to strike its prey.
    The abrasions on his face had stunned Louisa almost as much as seeing him again. She wanted to touch him, ask in concern what had happened to him, try to make his hurts better, as though she had a right to.
    The wild streak in the rest of the Mackenzies had been honed in Fellows into a ruthless need to pursue whatever criminals he believed needed to be pursued. He was just as single-minded as the rest of the family, but not as scandalous, because he kept a very tight rein on his emotions.
    Fellows waited, not saying a word. The hawk would let his prey come to him.
    Louisa drew another breath, or tried to, silently cursing her tight corset. “And yes, he did propose.”
    “And you said . . . ?”
    “I never had the chance to answer. As I tried to think of a way to let him down politely, he took ill.”
    Fellows’ expression didn’t change. “You were going to refuse him?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why?”
    I thought of you, and I couldn’t.
“Why?” She wanted to laugh again. “Because I did not want to marry him. I knew we wouldn’t suit.”
    Fellows’ expression didn’t change. “Because your father defrauded him?”
    Louisa flinched but had to nod. “I was surprised Hargate wanted to propose to me, in light of that.”
    “Curious.”
    “Yes, it was.” Humiliating too. Something she did not want to discuss with Mr. Fellows.
    Fellows looked her up and down, and when he spoke again, his voice was mild and even. “I’ve spent years listening to people lie to me, Louisa. I’ve learned what exactly it sounds like. Up until this moment, you’ve been telling me the truth. Now you are lying. Why?”
    With any other man, Louisa might hold her head up and demand him to cease badgering her, but with Fellows, she couldn’t. He knew too much about her. He knew she liked kissing him, liked the smoothness of his lips, the taste of his tongue.
    Her face burned. “You are presumptuous.”
    “It isn’t presumption,” Fellows said, keeping the mildness. “Or assumption. Why did you refuse the Bishop of Hargate? He’s rich, has plenty of titles in his family, and a lofty position. He should have been a good match for you.”
    His indifferent tone made Louisa’s heart sting. “I should have married him for his wealth and position?” She gave him a mirthless smile. “Is that what you’re asking?”
    “It is why people of your class marry, isn’t it? A business arrangement. Marriage is for connections and money; love is sought with mistresses.”
    In spite of the uncaring words, the look in Fellows’ eyes was bitter. Louisa knew his history—the now-deceased Duke of Kilmorgan had dallied with a tavern maid, got her with child, then deserted her. When Fellows’ mother sought the duke to tell him about the baby and ask him for help, he’d denied Fellows was his.
    Fellows’ Mackenzie blood was obvious, however. At one time he’d worn a thick moustache to hide some of his features, but now that he went about clean-shaven, the resemblance to the old duke and to Hart Mackenzie was clear. Fellows had never spoken of his parentage to Louisa, but she knew the duke’s denial of him had hurt him deeply and driven him most of his life.
    “My reasons for refusing the bishop have nothing to do with this,” Louisa said. “I promise you. I didn’t poison him, and I’d like to go home now.”
    Fellows took a step toward her, his carelessness gone, menace returning. “
I
will