Free Firelight by Kristen Callihan Page A

out and missing. His heart taken.”
    The fire snapped in the grate, and Miranda jumped. Dear God, was she married to a madman? Please don’t let it be so . She’d gotten her first glimpse of hope. She did not want to recede back into a world where shame and darkness dwelled.
    Archer’s fingers curled round the back of a chair. “I am sorry for it,” he said again, softer this time.
    “My lord, that is not all.”
    “It never is.”
    Something stirred within her, a churning that came upon a person just before danger caught hold and dragged a soul down.
    “A scullery maid, Miss Jennifer Child, reports seeing a man in a black mask running through the stable yard moments later.”
    Miranda pressed her knees against her chest as if the action would still her pounding heart. For a moment, she considered leaping up and running to Winston. He would take her from here. No one would fault her for seeking an annulment. The thought filled her with a wild sense of freedom. She could do this. She could get away.
    Yet she stayed in place. Her heart would not let her move. It could not be Archer. Not the man she had dinner with this very night. He had shown her respect and caring, been protective of her feelings. But what did she really know of him?
    “All very damning testimony,” Archer said, stopping her running thoughts.
    “It appears that way, my lord.”
    Poor Winston was on dicey ground. One did not question a peer, yet here he was. One certainly did not accuse a peer of murder. Miranda could almost feel Winston’s tension. He would not ask Archer for an alibi. But he desperately wanted to hear one. The churning in Miranda’s belly grew.
    “Inspector Lane, you may question my servants at your leisure. You will find that upon showing my bride her new home, I disappeared from the hours of twelve o’clock noon to shortly before nine in the evening. There will be no one but myself to account for my whereabouts.”
    Miranda’s head fell forward. She had hoped for Archer’s reassurance. But the man wouldn’t even proclaim his innocence. Surely an innocent man would? Her fingers twitched, digging into the silk weave of her gown. She should go. It was madness to stay. Perhaps he would murder her as well. Slice her throat in the dark of night. Why then could she not move? Silently, she cursed herself for being a fool.
    “That is most unfortunate, my lord.”
    “Yes.”
    “Yet you can account for your whereabouts.” Winston was careful not to phrase it as a question.
    “Of course. But I will not. Only that I was alone. I am often alone.”
    Stubborn man! Her nails sank into the flesh of her knees.
    “Do you have a theory as to who might have done this thing, my lord?”
    “A coward who likes to play games.”
    “Murderers generally are cowards,” Winston said. “I have one more question, my lord.”
    “Only one? I cannot believe that. Surely you have dozens to pepper upon me.”
    Miranda smiled against her knees. Stubborn, charming man. Beguiled by a possible killer. She belonged in Bedlam.
    “Questions tend to build upon themselves.” Winston moved to pull something from his pocket, the action sending him out of her direct line of sight.
    “Do you know what this is, my lord?”
    Everything in her screamed to peek between the screens but Archer would surely notice the movement. Her fingers tightened over her knees to keep her in place.
    “It is a coin,” Archer said plainly.
    His deflection was not so easily gained. There was a smile in Winston’s voice when he replied. “Do you recognize it?”
    Miranda willed her breath to steady. A coin? Her heart skittered to a stop and then picked a frantic pace.
    “I believe you expect me to.”
    “It was found over Sir Percival’s eye socket.”
    “Ritualistic, perhaps.” Archer did not move from his position by the chair. Only the line of his arm was visible and might have been made of basalt for all its stillness. “Payment for Charon in order to cross the