Fanning the Flame Read Free Page B

free. Blackwood's hold was implacable.
    He shook her, not gently. "Calm down or you'll hurt yourself. Tell me what happened."
    Jillian's eyes filled with tears she couldn't hold back any longer.
    "It's L-lord Fenwick. I heard a loud clap of noise and when I ran . . . ran into the study, I found him lying on the floor. He was covered in b-blood, staring up at the ceiling, and I-I knew he was dead." She swallowed, tried to force the words past the lump in her throat.
    "Go on," Blackwood commanded.
    "One of the servants rushed in and started . . . started shouting. He said that I had killed him. He said that I-I had murdered the earl. I tried to tell him I wasn't the one who shot him, that I would never do anything to hurt him, but the man wouldn't listen." She looked up into those fathomless dark eyes. "They'll put me in prison. Oh, God, please . . . please just let me go."
    His hard mouth tightened. His features looked cold and forbidding. "I can't just let you go and even if I could, what would you do? Do you have friends in the city, someone to take you in?"
    Jillian bit down on her trembling lip. "I'll find someplace to hide until they find the person who k-killed him. Please, I didn't do it. You must believe me."
    Several seconds passed and the beating of her heart grew more fierce. Something flickered in those dark brooding eyes and his hold grew tighter on her arm. "Come with me."
    Perhaps she should have run. If her mind hadn't been so muddled, perhaps she would have. Instead, she obeyed the command in his voice and his unrelenting grip on her arm and let him haul her down the alley.
    The first passage seemed endless, winding through the darkness behind a row of houses. It led into another that was darker yet and stank of rotten leaves and horse manure. They headed into another corridor, took several more turns, weaving in and out between buildings, ran down more darkened paths, then he dragged her into a stable constructed of fine red brick.
    For a moment they paused and she fought to catch her breath. As they hurried from the rear of the building to the opposite side, the magnificent black stallion the earl had been riding in the park poked its head above the top of its stall and nickered at him softly.
    Blackwood glanced at the horse and for an in instant, his hard features softened. Then he clamped his scarred, hard jaw, and kept walking, tugging her along in his wake. He led her through a manicured garden with a fountain in the center and they entered what appeared to be his town house, a two story brick building with white-painted shutters and little iron-enclosed balconies opening off rooms or the second floor.
    He closed the door behind them but even the warmth of the house couldn't keep her from shivering. Blackwood tugged her down the hall to his study, hauled her in, and slammed the door.
    Her head was spinning. She took a moment to collect herself, to assess her surroundings: a wood-paneled room with a fire in the marble-mantled hearth, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves overflowing with books, and French doors leading out to a manicured garden. A fine, masculine room, she thought in some obscure part of her mind.
    For several moments Blackwood said nothing. just stood there staring down at her with those hard, nearly black eyes. He was standing so close she could feel the heat of his lean, powerful body.
    "I must be insane," were the first words out of his mouth, and Jillian thought that perhaps they had both gone mad.
    She couldn’t really be a fugitive, running through dirty back alleys like a rat in a maze, trusting her life to a man she knew nothing about.
    "This can't be happening," she whispered, beginning to tremble again. "Tell me this is all some incredibly horrible dream."
    Blackwood eyed her a moment, then crossed the room to the sideboard and poured liberal shots of brandy into twin crystal snifters. "You can be certain this is real. Believe me, I know the difference."
    She had no idea what he meant,