Free The Lie and the Lady by Kate Noble Page A

are all fools.”
    â€œThey are all that is!” she’d cried. “Not even my sister, Fanny, will have me back in her house—at least not until it ‘all blows over,’ she says. How is a woman without funds, friends, or reputation supposed to live?”
    â€œWith me,” he’d said immediately.
    But she’d turned steely, her voice ice in the wind. “Wouldn’t that work out just perfectly for you, then? You pretend to be the Earl of Ashby, pretend to be a man of substance . . . and used me as a pawn in your game with the real earl.”
    â€œI had to—we . . . oh hell, it’s tough to explain, but we made a wager and I needed money to repair my family’s business, and—”
    â€œYes, I’m sure your cause was ever so noble,” she said, waving away his explanation. “You win your wager with him, but meanwhile you kiss me on a dance floor and make love to me—”
    â€œThat was never a lie,” he said harshly, his hand coming up to her arm without thinking.
    â€œWhat does it signify?” she asked, tensing beneath his fingers. “When you lied about everything else?” Her voice was a whisper against the wind now. “You lied. And you still think you can get everything you want.”
    â€œYes, Letty, I lied,” he finally said. “I lied about my name. That was all. But don’t pretend you weren’t lying too. You wanted me to believe you had solid ground beneath your feet, and were not desperate. That you were pursuing me for myself, and not because you thought I was an earl with money.”
    â€œI make no apologies for trying to secure my future. And a countess and an earl are natural together. A countess and a secretary”—she practically spat the word—“are not.”
    â€œWeren’t we?” He stepped forward, his hand loosening on her arm, but not letting go. He let his hand trail down that arm, coming to the elbow, his fingers lightly dancing there, almost as if there were not gloves and cloaks between them. As if there were nothing between them. “The way I remember it, together we were the most natural thing in the world.”
    Suddenly, she was shaking again. He prayed it wasn’t from the cold.
    â€œLetty,” he whispered, letting his warm breath fall against her cheek. She was close enough to taste. “I can’t undo what I did. Nor would I want to. Because you would have never looked twice at me if I was plain Mr. Turner.”
    â€œWe’ll never know the answer to that, will we?” Her voice made his heart crack.
    â€œWe are meant for each other.”
    The last time they had stood this close together—in public—he had used it to stake his claim. To declare to the world that the Countess of Churzy was his. Now he would renew that claim, the only way he knew how.
    â€œCome with me. Put this foolish running to an end. Where can you go that you think I will not follow?”
    â€œI did not run to be chased, you idiot. I run because it is the only choice I have left!” She pulled away from him, but his hand was still on her elbow and he caught her, pulled her back. Her body slammed into his.
    â€œNot the only choice,” he said, and his mouth crushed against hers.
    As cold as it was outside, as cool and reserved as she pretended to be, the warmth of her lips shocked him. Heat volleyed between them with every breath, every shiver. His hand snaked around her back, folding her against him. She gasped for air and burrowed closer. The small moan that escaped from the back of her throat sent a thrill down his spine.
    And he knew he had her.
    All he had to do now was get her to agree.
    â€œTell me to go and I will.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “Tell me now and I’ll go away forever, you’ll never see me again. We’ll be nothing more than a bittersweet memory to each other.”
    Her