He couldn’t contain his laughter. “Is that right?”
Her cheeks were fiery now. “You don’t want to marry a flirt.”
“If I’m the only laddie my wife flirts with, I have no objection.”
Her expression was a mixture of defiance and shame. “How do you know I don’t kiss every gentleman the way
I…I kissed you?”
He smiled gently. “Have you ever kissed anyone else like that?”
“No.” Her long eyelashes, darker honey than her hair, flickered down. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t.”
She was bewitching. He’d admitted to being besotted. Every moment in her company only deepened his enchantment. “I’ll take my chances.”
“Surely you want a wife you can trust.”
“Apart from your…waywardness and propensity for impersonating fairytale characters, I believe you’re an admirable creature.”
“Hardly.” The compliment didn’t please her. “I let you take liberties.”
“As your future husband, I’d like to place it on record that I intend to take liberties at every opportunity.” He paused. “Scotland’s a gey chilly place, especially in the winter. I don’t want a cold marriage bed.”
She stiffened. “There remains one insurmountable obstacle.”
“What’s that?”
Her delicate jaw set in an obstinate line. “I don’t want to marry you.”
With a thoughtful expression, he turned away and stoked the fire to release more warmth into the room. The rain flung itself against the windows as if it would never end. Near the closed door, Bill raised his head, then laid it down on his paws again with a whine of doggy disappointment.
“Have you nothing to say to that?” she asked in a challenging tone.
Carefully Lyle placed the poker against the hearth and turned to face her. “Your father said I might need to persuade you.”
“Did he indeed?” she asked in a dangerous voice.
“Aye, but he seemed sure I would prevail in the end.”
“Oh?”
“Aye. He told me you just hadn’t met the right laddie to tempt you from your independence.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I suppose you’ve decided you’re the right laddie?”
She made a fair attempt at imitating his accent. “Modesty forbids me from answering that.”
To his surprise, amusement lit her eyes, and she laughed. “Modesty, is it, Lord Lyle?”
Charlotte bent to collect the pile of damp clothes he’d left on the floor, turning in a blink from grand lady to housemaid. Perhaps she’d make a decent Cinderella after all. “I’ll spread these in front of the fire in the kitchen so they dry.”
Surprise delayed his next question as she headed for the door. Bill leaped up to follow her. “Is that it?”
“Come downstairs when you’re ready.” She reached for the doorknob. “We’ll have supper in the drawing room. It’s just off the hall. I’m sure you’ll find it.”
Lyle couldn’t be any more confused if she’d waved a wand and turned a pumpkin into a carriage. “What about our wedding?”
She raised her eyebrows as if he spoke complete gibberish. “You expressed an interest, my lord. I responded with a refusal. Now there’s no reason you and I can’t spend a pleasant evening together. Are you hungry?”