The Untamed Mackenzie by Jennifer Ashley Read Free Book Online Page B

didn’t.”
    “Louisa.” Fellows lifted the small bottle in front of her face. “I need you to explain this to me.”
    “I didn’t put it there,” Louisa repeated in desperation. “I cannot help it if you don’t believe me. I don’t even know what it is.”
    “It’s a perfume bottle,” Fellows said. “But this is not perfume.”
    “I can see that it’s a perfume bottle. How do you know it’s not perfume inside it?”
    “Wrong consistency.”
    Hysterical laughter tried to bubble up again. “And you’re an expert at what ladies carry in their perfume bottles?”
    “I am an expert in the many ways people kill other people and try to cover it up.”
    Louisa’s eyes widened. “I’ve
told
you. I didn’t kill him.”
    “Someone is going to a lot of trouble to make it look as though you did. Why?”
    “Well, I don’t know,” Louisa nearly shouted. “Perhaps someone did not want Hargate to marry me. Perhaps the poison was meant for me, or it was in the teapot, for us both. Only I didn’t drink it.”
    Fellows’ eyes flickered, but he went on remorselessly. “Bit of a gamble, wasn’t it, to pour the poison into the correct cup of tea then put the bottle into your pocket? Who did you see when you went into the tea tent?”
    “
No one.
It was empty. Hargate was already inside by the time I arrived, but no one else. I noticed no one leave—the rest of the guests were outside waiting for the croquet match.”
    Fellows shoved the perfume bottle into his pocket. He gazed down at Louisa a moment longer, his brows coming together, then he turned abruptly and walked away from her. He made his way to the window and looked out, every line of his body tight.
    His broad back, covered in black, showed his strength. If life had been different, if Fellows’ father had married his mother and the birth had been legitimate, this man would now be a duke.
    Fellows turned back. When he spoke, his voice was stern and solid, worthy of any duke’s. “You entered the tea tent and saw someone crawling out the other side.”
    Louisa shook her head. “No. I told you. The tent was empty, except for the bishop.”
    Fellows walked to her again. “You saw someone—maybe only a glimpse of them—ducking out under the back of the tent. They must have pulled up a stake to loosen the canvas.”
    “I . . . ” Louisa trailed off, her mouth drying.
    Fellows wanted her to say this, was handing her the script. All she had to do was repeat the words, and he’d write them down.
    “I can’t lie,” Louisa said weakly.
    “Better to say it to me now than to a judge and jury, after you take the oath. Tell me what you saw, Louisa.”
    Louisa bit back a cough. “I thought . . . Yes, I thought I saw someone scrambling out under the other side of the tent.”
    “Man or woman?”
    “It was too quick. I couldn’t see.”
    “Color of their clothing?”
    “Dark, I think. But as I say, I couldn’t see.”
    Louisa closed her mouth, not wanting to embellish.
Keep a lie very simple,
her brother-in-law Mac had once told her.
The more you invent, the more you have to remember. It’s tricky, lying. That’s why I never do it, myself.
    “I couldn’t see,” Louisa finished.
    Fellows’ hazel eyes glinted in the room’s dim light. Then he nodded, picked up his notebook from the table, moved back to her, and wrote down the words while she stood a foot away from him.
    His fingers were inches from her, his eyes quietly fixed on the paper. His sleeve moved to show the cuff of his shirt, enclosing a strong wrist and forearm. His hands were tanned from the sunshine, the liquid color going back under the linen of the shirt, as though he had the habit of rolling up his sleeves outdoors. His knuckles were scratched, from whatever fight had given his face its cuts and bruises.
    Louisa felt his stare. She looked up from her study of his hand to find his gaze on her. Never taking his eyes from Louisa, Fellows closed the notebook and slid it and