The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie Read Online Free Page A

damn well why Mortimer didn’t want to leave—the ruffian waited outside for him. Mortimer wouldn’t make it back home tonight without trouble.
    Mortimer met Daniel’s gaze with rage and fear mixing in his dark eyes. Why the idiot wouldn’t take Daniel’s offer of paying off the bone-breaker, Daniel didn’t know. Daniel had been sympathetic at first, but watching how Mortimer treated Mademoiselle Violette had wiped away any sympathy. Mortimer would be the loser tonight.
    Mortimer went on. “If Mackenzie is too prissy to watch Mademoiselle Violette go into her trance, then let us bring out the talking board.”
    The other gentlemen eagerly agreed. Before Daniel could voice an objection, Ellingham had sprung from his chair with the energy of his twenty-two years. He seemed to know his way around Mademoiselle Bastien’s dining room, because he made for the sideboard, opened one of its lower drawers, and brought out a wooden board and planchette, which he set in the middle of the table.
    The wooden board was rectangular, burned with the letters of the English alphabet—
A
through
R
on the first row,
S
through
Z
on the second. Below the letters were the numbers 1 through 9 with a 0 at the end. In the top-left corner was the word
Yes
, in the right,
No
. On the bottom in the middle were the words
Thank You
and
Good-Bye
. A very polite piece of oak.
    Daniel hadn’t seen a talking board before, but he’d heard about them. The idea was for the medium and her guests to put their fingers on the planchette—a more or less oval piece of polished wood—and ask a question of the spirit. The planchette would then obligingly drag itself to the letters to spell out an answer—which supposed that the spirit was fluent in the language of the questioner and a reasonably good speller.
    Daniel had his own idea about how the planchette moved—the questioners moved it themselves, he believed, even if they didn’t realize they were doing it. Thoughts fixed in the head stimulated muscles in the arms and fingers, making the person pull the planchette to spell out what they wanted the spirit to say. Amazing what the human brain could convince the body to do.
    As soon as Ellingham resumed his seat, eager hands shot to the planchette. Mademoiselle Bastien waited for Daniel to place his fingers on it, before she put hers next to his.
    The warmth of her hand touched Daniel through his glove. He liked her fingers, not too delicate, but long and strong. He had a swift image of those fingers unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it from his body, running across his exposed skin . . .
    Daniel shifted in his seat, hot and suddenly hard.
    “Are you ready, Mr. Mackenzie?” Mademoiselle Bastien asked him. God help him, Daniel hoped he wasn’t blushing. “This can be quite daunting for the novice,” she went on. Her dark blue eyes held a light that said she was ready for his challenge.
    And I’m damned good and ready for hers.
“Carry on, lass.”
    Mademoiselle Violette took another of those bodice-lifting breaths that left him dizzy and said, “Very well. Spirit, do you have a message for anyone here?”
    Candlelight brushed the polished wood of the board, the gloved hands of the gentlemen present, and Mademoiselle Violette’s bare fingers, so feminine and beautiful amidst the sea of masculinity.
    The planchette was only so large, so several of the men, including Mortimer, got left out. Mortimer didn’t seem to mind. He sat back and watched, his dark gaze planted on Violette’s body, his ratlike face not hiding his lecherous thoughts.
    Beneath Daniel’s fingers, the planchette wobbled then started to move. Ellingham drew an excited breath.
    The planchette stopped, rocked again, and moved in the opposite direction. After a few seconds it changed once more.
Every hand trying to drag it where the gentleman wants it t
o go
.
    Daniel relaxed his fingers, waiting to see what Mademoiselle Violette would do.
    She called softly into the darkness,