Free Worth Any Price by Lisa Kleypas Page A

paid you to do what. You’re on my estate, and you’ll do nothing without my consent.”
    “You have no legal claim on her,” Gentry said softly. “You can’t keep her here.”
    Westcliff responded with an arrogant snort. Going to the sideboard, he poured a small quantity of amber liquid into a glass. Bringing the liquor to Lottie, he forced her trembling fingers around the vessel. “Drink this,” he said curtly.
    “I don’t—” she began, but he interrupted in a tone of absolute authority.
    “Now. Every drop.”
    Grimacing, she downed the liquid in a few gulps and coughed as her lungs and throat were filled with velvet fire. Her head swam, and she regarded the earl with watering eyes. He extracted a handkerchief from the inside of his coat and gave it to her. The linen was warm from the heat of his body. Blottingher face with it, she sighed shakily. “Thank you,” she said hoarsely. She kept her gaze fastened on him, unable to look at Gentry. She had never dreamed that such devastation was possible…that her ruin had come in the form of a handsome man with cruel eyes and raffish charm…the first man she had ever kissed. The pain of betrayal, the crushing humiliation of it, was too great to bear.
    “Now,” Westcliff said evenly, taking a chair beside Lottie’s, “your reaction to Mr. Gentry’s revelation would seem to confirm that you are indeed Charlotte Howard.” He waited for her brief nod before continuing. “It is also true that you are betrothed to Lord Radnor?”
    Lottie was reassured by the earl’s powerful presence, knowing that he was the only thing that kept her safe from the predator who lurked nearby. Staring into Westcliff’s blunt features, she struggled for the right words to make him understand her situation. As the earl saw her agitation, he surprised her by reaching out and taking her hand in his square one. His grip, so strong and secure, seemed to drive away the incapacitating fear. Lottie was amazed by his kindness. He had never shown her this kind of consideration…had never seemed to take much notice of her, actually.
    “It was never my choice,” she told him. “It was arranged when I was a child. My parents promised Lord Radnor my hand in return for his financial patronage. I have tried very hard to accept the situation, but Radnor is not rational—not sane—in myopinion. He has made no secret of his plans—he regards me as some kind of animal to be trained to his satisfaction. Suffice it to say that I would be better off dead. You must believe me, I would never have resorted to this otherwise—”
    “I believe you.” Still retaining possession of her hand, Westcliff glanced at Nick Gentry. “Having been acquainted with Miss Miller for quite some time, I can only assume that her objections to marrying Radnor are valid.”
    “They are,” came the runner’s flat response. He lounged near the fireplace with deceptive laziness, resting an arm on the marble mantel. Flames cast tongues of red light over his dark face. “Radnor is a swine. But that is beside the point. Her parents have agreed to the match. Money—a great deal of it—has changed hands. And if I don’t retrieve her, Radnor will send a dozen more like me to do the job.”
    “They won’t find me,” Lottie said, finally managing to meet his gaze. “I’ll go abroad. I’ll disappear—”
    “You little fool,” Gentry interrupted in a low voice. “Do you plan to spend the rest of your life running? He’ll send another man after you, and another. You’ll never have a moment’s peace. You can’t go fast enough, or far enough—”
    “That’s enough,” Westcliff said curtly, feeling the shiver that ran through Lottie’s body. “No, Lottie will not go abroad, nor will she continue to run from Lord Radnor. We will find a way to resolve the matter so that she may lead a normal life.”
    “Oh?” One of Gentry’s dark brows lifted in amocking arch. “This should be interesting. What do you