A Dangerous Liaison With Detective Lewis by Jillian Stone Read Free Book Online

money.” Gordon peered into the carriage and tipped his hat to Fanny. “Ambrose Greyville-Nugent was a fair man who put many a bloke to work, including Jack Gordon.” The wiry foreman gave a wink and stepped away. “I’ll find out what I can, Inspector.”
    FANNY SAT QUIETLY on her side of the coach and let the clip-clop of the team and the gentle rock of the carriage calm her nerves. Gradually, the scene at the mill faded some—everything but that last remark in the loft. Over he goes.
    She thought she might cry, but the tears didn’t come. The very thought of a murder plot against her father bothered her more than she could have possibly imagined. Who on earth would conceive of such a scheme? And for what cause?
    A week ago, she had picked up the paper and read an account of his demise. The gruesome description had cruelly affected her. But today—when that horrible freakish accident turned out to be no accident at all? Something else had welled up inside her—something much closer to nerves of steel. No matter how discomforting Rafe’s presence was, she wanted the brutish monsters who had plotted her father’s murder caught and punished.
    She returned Rafe’s curious stare with a very determined one of her own. “We must find these men who butchered my father, Rafe. They must be put to trial and hanged until their tongues turn purple.”
    “Pity the poor blokes if you find them first.” Rafe wrinkled his brow and sucked in a bit of air—grinning all the while. “I must say that was crack police work, Fan.”
    His grin had always been contagious. Still, she flattened the upturned corners of her mouth. “You think so, Detective Lewis?”
    “I know so.” He checked his timepiece. “We have time for a break. A spot of tea and biscuits, then we’ll push on to University.”
    “I’d rather just push on, if you don’t mind.”
    “You always were a stout little soldier.” Rafe reached into his pocket and pulled out a pistol. “This is a Webley Mk1. Standard issue service revolver.” He emptied the bullets from the chamber and pressed it gently into her hand. “Do you have any experience with handguns?”
    “I’m afraid not.” She raised both brows. “Are we on our way to see Arthur Poole?”
    Beneath thick, lowered lashes his eyes gleamed—andwheels turned. Very likely Rafe was evaluating what to tell her. No doubt he wished to shield her in some way.
    “Mr. Poole complained of unwanted visitors—strangers lurking about. I thought we might have a look around.”
    The pistol felt heavy, solid, and quite unexpectedly soothing in her hands. And like it or not, there was something comforting about this Yard man, sent from London to protect her. In so many ways, Rafe was intimately familiar to her—a handsome, dashing ghost from her past. She studied his chiseled jaw and the firm, wide-set mouth.
    Abruptly, he lifted his gaze to meet hers.
    She lowered her eyes and examined the gun. He was also a rogue and a reprobate.
    The rascal covered her hand with his and showed her how to squeeze the trigger. An index finger slipped over hers and a tingle coursed through her body. Embarrassed slightly, she looked up to see if he knew—if he had felt her quiver at his touch.
    Those dazzling green eyes of his sparkled with mischief. He knew.
    How humiliating. Heat rushed to her cheeks. He opened her hand and kissed the pulse point of her wrist. “You have the same effect on me.”
    She tried to withdraw, but he held on and dropped six bullets into her palm. “Insert them nose first—that’s right.”
    After she loaded the gun, there were lessons in safety as well as how to sight and aim. She raised the gun andheld it with two hands, as instructed. “How is it you came to be married, Rafe?”
    His gaze swiftly turned black. “Never. Ever. Point a gun at someone, unless you intend on using it.”
    “And what if I do mean to use it?” Fanny bit her lip. After a good long stare down the barrel, she lowered