Free When We Touch by Heather Graham Page A

desperation, and naturally, you have burglary, violence, rape . . . murder. Of course, today, Father Vickers was speaking about something entirely different. Something truly horrible beyond conception. Surely, of course, such a madman will be apprehended. Though he was telling me more about it when you were speaking, Maggie. They’re not sure if this recent murder is associated with two others that occurred not long ago. Nothing, however, has been this horrid, this . . . this insane! And he’s right, of course. Should anyone of wealth ever be killed with such savagery, such butchery . . .”
    He broke off suddenly, realizing that he wasn’t helping Maggie’s position at all.
    â€œDid you do this while your husband was alive?” Jamie asked her pointedly.
    â€œNo,” she admitted stiffly.
    â€œUm,” he murmured.
    â€œAnd what does that mean?” she demanded.
    â€œIt means that he’d have kept you from coming here.”
    â€œWhy on earth would he do so? He was a great champion of the poor!” Maggie said indignantly.
    â€œAnd a policeman, one who knew that the wandering around of a lady such as yourself could well stir resentments and anger, and bring about catastrophe,” Jamie said.
    â€œI know what I’m doing,” she informed him.
    â€œIt’s really none of my affair,” Jamie said.
    â€œThere, that’s right!” Mireau burst in, well aware that both of their voices were growing more tense. “Every man and woman, noble and common, must draw their own paths, look at the world around them, choose courses and forks in the road! Maggie has chosen to take a few risks. Of course, this is just the half of it! She’s really quite remarkable, you know.”
    â€œJacques!” Maggie said quietly.
    â€œOh, yes, quite remarkable,” Jamie agreed.
    She looked out the window again. Mireau remained uncomfortably silent. “Ah!” he said at last. “The house is coming up!”
    They stopped. Mireau jumped out of the cab before Darby could come around. “Thank you, old chap. The carriage was a far better ride than trying to flag down a cabbie in the East End. Why, the one earlier was quite a bad bargain, the grisly old fellow asking way more than he should have for such a ride, and the poor horse appearing as if it hadn’t had a drink in quite some time.”
    Maggie started to move toward the door.
    â€œI think we should take a ride alone, don’t you?” Jamie said.
    She froze in a rather uncomfortable position, sliding over to exit the carriage. She stared at him. “Should we?” she managed at last, straightening and looking at him. “Why on earth should we do so?”
    â€œTo clear the air?” he suggested politely.
    â€œI don’t think the air can be cleared,” she told him flatly.
    He reached over, swinging the carriage door closed, and the smile he gave her was grim. “Let’s try.”
    He tapped on the carriage roof with his knuckles, but then leaned out. “Back in a bit, Mireau,” he said pleasantly. Apparently, Darby had already retaken his seat; the carriage rolled into action with the smallest of jolts.
    Maggie sat back irritably. “And just where are we going?”
    â€œNot far. Let’s speak honestly and quickly.”
    â€œPlease, go right ahead.”
    â€œYou’re marrying Charles for his money.”
    â€œWhat an insult to a man to whom you claim such fidelity!”
    He sat back. “Apparently, it’s going to be a long ride.”
    â€œWhat in God’s name do you want from me?” she demanded.
    â€œLet’s see; you were hesitant, but Charles came to your house, you took one look at him and fell madly in love, as reportedly you did with your first husband.”
    â€œOnly husband thus far,” she reminded him icily.
    â€œAh, so are you saying that you did meet Charles and suddenly fell into a passionate fit of