Louisa’s fists moved again, and Fellows grabbed her flailing hands.

“Louisa. Stop.” He frowned down at her, his hazel eyes holding something she didn’t understand.

“Why?” Louisa tried and failed to jerk away. “Why shouldn’t I shout at you? You deserve to be shouted at!”

“Louisa.” Fellows shook her once, hard. “You have to . . . stop.”

Louisa looked up at him, startled out of her frenzy. Fellows studied her a few heartbeats more, then he dragged her against him.

“You have to stop, sweetheart,” Fellows said. “Because I love you so much, it’s killing me.”

Chapter Sixteen

Fellows couldn’t believe he’d said the words, but he didn’t want to take them back. Not with Louisa gaping up at him, a fleck of cream still on the corner of her mouth.

When he’d peeked into the tea tent and seen her closing her mouth around the profiterole, the cream smearing across her lips, he’d had to turn away before he rushed in and hauled her out. Not only out of the tea tent, but out of Newmarket and back to London and his flat where he could have her all night. He’d smothered a groan, hoping no one noticed his sudden hard-on, and walked away with difficulty.

Fellows had wanted to catch her attention, because he needed to warn her off Mr. Franklin before it was too late. Betrothals could be as binding as marriage, especially if the marriage settlements had already been put in motion. Even if Louisa hated Fellows for the information, he refused to stand by and let Mr. Franklin lie to her and ruin her.

He’d gotten Louisa to follow him here so they wouldn’t be seen together. But now, alone with her, in the dim coolness of the stall, Fellows knew his mistake.

Louisa was tight against him, her eyes full of fire, her lips brushed with cream. He could no longer resist her—he only had so much strength. He leaned down and licked the side of her mouth.

The sparks he’d seen inside her ignited. Louisa twined her arms around Fellows and pulled him down to her for a full, hard, and desperate kiss.

They were not leaving. Fellows scraped her to him, his hand in her hair. Her hat came away and fell to the hay, and he was pulling her up into him, his arm solidly around her.

Louisa kissed him with urgency. Her hands scrabbled on his back, his neck, his shoulders. She wasn’t an experienced kisser, not seductive and sultry like a courtesan, and Fellows didn’t care.

She was his. A few steps had her against the wall. Fellows lifted her, hooking his arm around her hips. Her skirts came up as her leg twined around his. Fellows pushed the petticoats out of the way to find her warm thigh, bare under the lawn of her loose drawers.

He broke the kiss to touch his lips to her face, her hair. “Louisa,” he said, the whisper hoarse. “Marry me.”

Her intake of breath was sharp. “What?”

“Marry me. I can promise you damn all, but I need you in my life. I’ll take care of you better than that bastard Franklin ever could.”

“I know.” Louisa touched his face. “I know.”

“Then say yes. You are so high above me it makes my head spin to look at you, but I can’t let you go. Those bloody aristos will use you and make you miserable. I promise I will never do that.” He touched his forehead to hers, brushed a hard thumb across her cheek. “Please, Louisa.”

“Yes.” Louisa let out a breathless laugh. “Yes, I will. I’ll marry you. Dearest Lloyd.”

“Thank God.” Fellows’ prayer was heartfelt. “Thank God.”

He sank to his knees and pulled her down with him, cradling her in his arms as he laid her down on the soft hay. His fervent hands unlaced her drawers and pulled them off, moving her skirts to cushion her. This was not what Fellows wanted for her, no elegance here, but he couldn’t stop. His was a crude and fierce need, animal-like—fitting that they were in a stable.

Louisa didn’t stop him or push him away. She slid her hand through his hair, the desire in her eyes reflecting his.

Fellows got his buttons open, his trousers loosened. He moved his hand to her bare thigh again, then higher, his fingers sinking into her breathtaking heat. Louisa started, and he softened his touch, knowing she’d not felt this before.

He gently stroked her opening, feeling the wetness increase. She was excited for him, needy. His cock pulsing with the rapid beating of his heart was just as needy.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, or thought he said. “I promise.”

She nodded, her eyes growing heavy with pleasure. Fellows’ fingers continued their dance, and Louisa’s body became more and more pliant. She murmured something in bliss, her smile widening and warming.

Fellows laced his arm behind her hips and lifted her to him; at the same time he fitted himself to her and slowly, slowly pushed inside.

His world changed. A mix of wild excitement and incredible tenderness spiraled through him, in addition to the wonder of being tightly inside her. Her head went back, eyes closing.

Her small gasp as he broke through her barrier made him stop. Fellows caressed her, soothed her, his hands shaking. He knew he’d hurt her; he hadn’t wanted it to.

“Are you all right?” he asked her softly.

“Yes, I’m . . .” Louisa rose to him, her body knowing what to do. “I’m all right. I love you.”

Whatever Fellows tried to say in reply was incoherent. He slid on inside her, a crazed feeling flooding him as they connected.

He lost all sense of time, of place. He was with Louisa, bodies together. Her fingers, still hugged by leather gloves, brushed his face. The cool of them lent a sharp contrast to the heat of her. Erotic, joyful.

Fellows kissed her, their lips seeking each other’s, bruising. He thrust inside her, growing stronger as she opened more for him. This beautiful woman with her soft scent, her sweet body, was his.

“Louisa,” he said. “Louisa. Bloody hell.”

Too soon, too soon . . . His climax hit him. He kept thrusting into her, Louisa crying out with it and her own pleasure, her gloved fingers gripping his shoulders.

Fellows went on, hips rocking. He needed her, needed all of her. He couldn’t form the words, but the thoughts were there.

You are the beauty I’ve been seeking all my life. My existence was dark, grim, full of struggle, until you. You are the light that pushes the darkness away. When I’m with you, I can see my way, and I can breathe again.

All that came out was, “I love you.”

Louisa smiled, her eyes soft with the passion of what they did. “I love you too. My dearest Lloyd.”

And that was enough.

* * *

They were sitting up together against the wall, she on his lap. Louisa felt stretched and different. The world looked different to her too, as though colors she’d never seen before had suddenly become clear to her.

She leaned against Lloyd’s shoulder, he with his arm around her. They’d kissed quietly for a long time on the hay, then he’d withdrawn, lifted Louisa to his lap, and held her close.

Louisa didn’t want to leave for the harsh light of the afternoon, not yet. They sat on the giving hay, not speaking. Basking.

Lloyd took her left hand in his, slid off her glove, and pressed a kiss to her third finger. “I will give you a ring. It won’t have nearly the diamond Franklin would have given you, but it will be something.”

Louisa wanted to laugh. “I’d rather have a band of tin from you than the Kohinoor diamond from Gil. What you give me will be true.”

He continued to caress her finger. “If I hadn’t told you what I told you about Franklin, would you have accepted him?”

“No.” Louisa could say it honestly and decidedly. “I would have turned him down. I thought at one time he’d be the perfect husband for me. But perfection . . . It’s cloying, dull sameness.”

Fellows laughed his dry laugh. “Well, I am nothing like perfection.”

“You’re better. You’re you.” Louisa squeezed his arm. She belonged to him now, and she liked that feeling. “Gil is apparently a liar, a cheat, and a manipulator. Hargate was even worse.” She lifted her head. “You don’t think Gil killed Hargate for knowing his secret, do you? I’ll not forgive Gil for deceiving me so dreadfully, but I’m not sure he’d go so far as murder.”

“You would be surprised who would go so far as murder.” Fellows gave her a soft kiss. “Would you consider beginning your life as a policeman’s wife by helping me catch a killer? I don’t have the evidence to apply for an arrest warrant yet, and I have to be careful about it. I won’t push you to help me, because there is some danger involved. I won’t lie about that.”

“Of course I’ll help,” Louisa said. “I’ll gladly assist you proving I didn’t do it. I’d gladly assist you even if I hadn’t been suspected. I didn’t much like Hargate, but I watched him die—I wouldn’t wish such a terrifying death on anyone.”

“Before you agree, wait until I tell you what I have in mind,” Fellows said. “I had planned to ask Eleanor to help, because she’s resilient, though Hart would throttle me when he found out what I asked her to do.”

“I’m resilient.” Louisa sat up and took his hands. “Please, I want to help you. You’ve done so much for me.”

“Thank you.” A grim light entered Fellows’ eyes then, as the police detective returned, and he outlined his plan to her.

* * *

Louisa entered the family’s box a different woman than when she’d left it. She’d spent a while in the horse stall putting herself to rights, Lloyd having to pick bits of hay out of every piece of Louisa’s clothing and her hair. He’d laughed as he’d done it—she loved his laugh, the deep, warm one that held none of his self-deprecation or bitterness.