Free The Summer of Wine and Scandal: A Novella by Shana Galen

forget the kiss he’d given her first. When she couldn’t remember the feel of his lips on hers, then she’d stop caring about him.
    She heard a twig snap and leaves crunch underfoot and turned with amazement to see Lochley emerging from the woods. She didn’t say a word as he crossed the expanse between them and came to stand before the log. His legs were braced apart as though he was a pirate on a ship in the turbulent sea struggling to maintain his balance. He could have been a gentleman pirate with the scruff on his cheeks, those golden eyes, and that perfectly tied cravat puffed out like a peacock’s feathers below his chin.
    “You came,” he said, breaking the silence. But for the rushing of the stream, there was no sound but her heart beating.
    “I don’t know why I did. I did not think you would want to see me.”
    He looked at the stream. “I didn’t think I would either.” His gaze focused on her. “I was wrong. I must apologize for—”
    She rose. “No, it’s I who should apologize. I played the lady, and I allowed you to believe I am someone respectable. As you saw last night, I am far from respectable. The truth about me is worse than any of the rumors.”
    “The truth about you.” He rubbed a knuckle over his chin. “And what is the truth about you?”
    She lowered her head, shame making her cheeks heat. “You saw last night—”
    “No.” His fingers grazed her chin, lifting her face so he could look into her eyes. “Those men don’t know you. You’re nothing but a bit o’ sport to them. I see you.” His golden eyes searched hers, as intense as she imagined a lion’s might be. “You’re much more than a bit o’ sport.”
    “But last night, when you didn’t speak”—she waved her hand because the words seemed to escape her—“the look in your eyes, and I thought...” She didn’t know how to finish. She had not thought he would come to see her today. Now she didn’t know what to think.
    His finger trailed away from her chin, leaving a frisson of heat in its wake. “I must apologize for last night. I have no excuse.”
    She shook her head, denying his need to make amends.
    “My only explanation,” he continued, ignoring her protests, “is that for a moment I forgot who I am. Who am I to judge you? I’m far from perfect, and I’ve made too many mistakes to count.” He adjusted his cravat. “That is not to say you made a mistake. I don’t want to imply—”
    “No!” She grabbed his wrist and held it. “I mean, yes. Yes, I made a mistake. You’re right to call it that. I made a rather large mistake that snowballed into another and another until it was the most mammoth mistake anyone could ever make.” She released his wrist, aware of the heat under her fingers.
    “Will you tell me about it?” he asked. “Only if you want to. I don’t mean to pry.”
    She sat back on the log, her legs wobbly beneath her.
    “I shouldn’t have asked.”
    “It’s quite all right. I want to tell you. I’m never allowed to talk about it, and there are so many times I’ve wanted to tell someone, anyone . My mother begins to cry if I speak of it, and my father becomes enraged. It’s not something I can speak to my brother about, and I’ve been shunned like a leper since I returned. I have no friends. Even if I did, I couldn’t tell them. The things I’ve seen”—she met his gaze directly—“the things I’ve done would shock most respectable ladies.”
    “They won’t shock me.”
    “No, I daresay they won’t, but once I tell you, you may feel quite vindicated in judging me.”
    “Try me and see. As I said, I’m no saint.”
    She suppressed the urge to smile. The men who’d used and abused her had not been saints either, but that had never stopped them from condemning her. Men and women lived by very different rules.
    Caro twined her fingers together in her lap, watching the sun dapple her skin through the trees. It reminded her of another summer when she’d been