The Counterfeit Count by Jo Ann Ferguson Read Free Book Online

he said, “This is, I believe, silk, which would bring a fair prize in the lowest shops.”
    She did not move as he tugged on the fabric. She gripped the sash and said, “Release me, my lord.”
    â€œOr?”
    She faltered. With another laugh, he wound the sash around his hand as he edged closer to her. She reached up to push him away, then drew back her hands before she could touch him.
    â€œOr what, Natalya?” he whispered. “What will you do?”
    â€œDo not ask of what you do not wish to know.”
    â€œSuch as why I still breathe this morning?” He smiled icily. “Imagine my shock at waking this morning when I had half expected you to set your man upon me while I slept.”
    â€œYou were able to sleep while that was in your mind?” She frowned, unable to imagine letting slumber overcome her while she awaited an attack.
    His eyes glittered a warning, but she could not look away before he murmured, “You should heed your own advice and not ask of what you do not wish to know. Or do you truly wish to know of what was in my mind while I slept, Natalya?” He grinned. “Or who?”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œBut, if I wish to tell you—” He cursed as she pulled her knife.
    Sharply, she cut through the sash, then slid the knife back in its sheath. “But, my lord, I do not wish to hear of it.” Without a pause, she added, “I trust I did not overstep myself by having a horse brought about to the front. You said it was available to me at all times during my visit.”
    â€œI do not renege on offers of hospitality.” He threw the piece of sash onto the banister.
    â€œI am pleased to hear that you hold that pledge dear, my lord.”
    â€œI hold all my pledges dear, my dear count.” His frigid words failed to cover the fury sparking his eyes to dusky fire. With his hands clasped behind his back and his chin jutted in her direction, she guessed he was about ready to explode. She girded herself for the detonation.
    When he added only, “Good morning, Captain,” she was left to stare after him as he strode down the hall toward the breakfast-parlor. He did not look back, dismissing her as completely as she had him the night before.
    Baffled by his bizarre ways, but glad to have the encounter at an end, Natalya hurried out to where the horse was waiting. She swung easily into the saddle. Mounted, she was ready for any battle, but the feel of the leather against her legs offered sparse comfort. She had defeated stronger enemies than Lord Ashcroft, although, she had to own, none stranger. He should be her ally, but she could not trust him. Even though he had tried to hide the fact from the outset, she knew he wanted nothing to do with a Russian houseguest. To him, that she was a woman was just another bothersome detail. He wanted her gone as much as she wished to be elsewhere.
    She set the horse to a gallop around the square. The odd sound of cobbles beneath its hoofs made her yearn for the noise of frozen earth or fresh mud. The scents of the chimney pots were stifling on the morning breeze, and she longed to smell the aromas of campfires and the fats the men used to clean their weapons. She had hated London from the moment she saw it. She liked no city, not even beautiful St. Petersburg or Kiev. All of her life, save for the past months, had been spent in the country.
    Wishing she now could ride across the fields of her father’s estate was futile. Soon she would be back there. Then she would not have to think about Lord Ashcroft and the dangerous power his touch had over her. She must be gone from his house before his bewitchment claimed every ounce of sense in her head.
    General Miloradovich put down a crumpled newspaper as Natalya was ushered into his grand bedchamber, which appeared twice the size of her generous room at Lord Ashcroft’s house. He dismissed the servant with a flick of his hand and motioned for Natalya to