Free A Dangerous Liaison With Detective Lewis by Jillian Stone Page A

years later, hard as a stone. Rafe resisted the urge to adjust his trousers. When she met his gaze for a quick glance, he sucked in a breath and swallowed. “Bad bit of gash?”
    “Hand me your pocket square.” She placed the folded handkerchief against the wound on his side and pressed.
    “Fanny—” He sucked a great deal of air through his teeth. “Careful.”
    She bit back a grin and angled his hand over the folded handkerchief. “Keep a bit of pressure on.” She covered his knuckles with hers and pressed. “That’s it.”
    He grimaced. “Just keep me wheezing in agony—as long as you find it amusing.” The combination of pain and pleasure from this woman was almost inspired. She picked up her skirt and rummaged though several petticoats. “Love watching a woman disrobe on account of me.”
    Taking up a handful of ruffle, she picked at a bit of loose stitching. “Don’t set your hopes too high, Detective Lewis.” She gave the edge a good rip and unraveled a strip of ruffle. “There. A nice length, wouldn’t you say?” She removed a few errant strings and shook out the cloth. “And a good bit of width as well.”
    How he longed for her to experience a good bit of length and width.
    “You need stitches.” She met his gaze.
    “It’s just a scrape, not to worry, Fan.”
    She hesitated before slipping her hand around his waist. The light touch of her fingers caused his stomach muscles to ripple. He straightened enough for her hand to slip around his back and wrap the makeshift bandage over the wound. She was so close to him, he could feel the heat of her breath on his neck. If she leaned in just a few more inches . . . His gaze moved to her lips. Shetied a knot and tucked the tails into the swath of fabric.
    “Quite serviceable and neatly done.” Rafe rolled down his undershirt. A large red stain marred the otherwise pristine white garment.
    She looked up from her handiwork. “We’ll need to find a doctor.” Rafe eased back in his seat and she buttoned his shirt. “Any moment now, we should reach Broxburn. Small town. Oil shale mostly.”
    “I need to get to a telegraph office.”
    She nodded. “After Broxburn, next stop is Bathgate. Coal mines. Lime and ironstone quarries. Some years ago, Father discovered cannel coal in the Boghead area and opened the Bathgate Chemical Works—paraffin oil and wax.” She smoothed the placard of his shirt. “Then of course there’s the Glenmavis Distillery.”
    Rafe rubbed a bruised cheek. “I could use a glass of Glenmavis Dew.”
    Fanny sat upright and pulled his waistcoat closed. “They’ll have an infirmary there. Or—there’s Coatbridge farther down the line. Father’s hot-blast process greatly increased the efficiency of their smelting ironworks.”
    As always, smart as a whip, with a memory for detail. He smiled at her. “I see you’ve boned up on the Greyville-Nugent industrial empire.”
    “I made a few trips with Father this past year. Believe me, a visit to the Gartsherrie Ironworks is one of the sights of a lifetime.” She patted his waistcoat and rose to take the seat opposite. The train braked unexpectedly and she tumbled back onto his lap.
    Before she could utter a gasp, he wrapped an armaround her waist and kissed her. “Remind me to thank our engineer.”
    She squirmed a bit and pushed away, but without conviction. Those wide, dewy eyes appeared slightly tempted. Her gaze lowered and her lips parted. A gentle exhale of air wafted over his mouth as he brushed soft kisses over that plump pout. He pressed for more, tasting and teasing as he took possession of her mouth.
    He tugged up her skirt and ran a hand up silky French stockings. She broke off the kiss and pushed his hand away. “Are you completely mad?”
    “I would guess I am. Well, not mad as a hatter.” He dragged in a deep breath and exhaled. “Do you see what lust does to a man?”
    “It makes him wicked and foolish. Don’t do it again.”
    He held fast to her.