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She swallowed. The word clogged her throat. The two syllables felt as hard and immovable as huge, jagged rocks.
He waited. They both knew that speaking his name was an irrevocable step toward surrender. To think, only moments ago she’d counted his patience a positive quality.
Oh, this was stupid. It was a word. Nothing to get so worked up about. She licked her lips and angled her chin up.
Defiance faded when she met Lyle’s intent gaze. A strange, sizzling power surged between them. It should terrify her. Instead it filled her with sudden purpose.
She found herself smiling. “Thank you for all your help today…Ewan.”
His visible delight warmed her right to her toes. “My pleasure, Charlotte.”
She’d felt flustered before. Nothing to compare to now, when he watched her as if he thought her the most glorious creature in the world. She sought refuge in practical matters. “Do you want the fruitcake?”
“Aye, it’s gey hungry work, rescuing the Warren livestock.”
She squared her shoulders, feeling strong and powerful, and all the wonderful things Lord Lyle had called her. Instead of like the callous witch who had broken Ronald Dudley’s heart and created a rift in the neighborhood that had taken years to knit. “So shall we go and find some sheep?”
“Is Ronald outside?”
She giggled at the silly joke, then stopped, frowning in confusion. “I’ve never been able to laugh at what happened. Believe me, it wasn’t funny at the time.”
“I can imagine.”
“You helped with that, too.”
That tender smile reappeared to set her heart dancing. “Och, I’m quite the useful laddie. I can save a sinking calf from the mire, or cook a braw piece of toast, or fix a broken heart.”
She considered his words. “You know, I’m not sure I ever had a broken heart.”
“No, bonny lassie, I don’t think you did.” He brushed his lips across hers in a kiss like a whisper. Even so, Charlotte felt every atom of the contact. And admitted that she’d waited for it all day.
When he pulled back after a mere second, she released an involuntary sigh of protest. Her shaking hand rose to cover her mouth, before she said something that really got her into trouble.
“Don’t get your hopes up.” When she’d regained her balance, she lowered her hand. “Just because I’ve come to terms with my engagement doesn’t mean I want to marry you.”
She’d intended the words to be a reprimand, but instead she sounded cursed unsure.
He kissed her lightly again. With just the same devastating effect. “Whisht, lassie. It’s time to catch some sheep, not make decisions about the rest of your life.”
Lyle lifted the fruitcake, broke it in two, and offered her the larger piece. She shook her head. “You have it.”
Charlotte knew he meant his words to reassure, but the threat of a life-changing conversation in the near future spoiled her appetite.
Chapter Nine
* * *
“She’s stuck,” Charlotte said, staring through the rain at the ewe struggling in a dip in the field that the weather had turned into a deadly quagmire.
Lyle turned from where he’d pushed the sheep’s three companions to higher ground. He was covered in stinking mud. After hours saving wet sheep from the consequences of their stupidity, he wanted to consign the entire breed to eternal damnation. He was wet, tired, and sore with the strain of carrying the brainless beasts. Flailing hooves hadn't been kind either.
Charlotte wasn’t in much better case. Her hair was a tangle. Her filthy clothes would make any self-respecting debutante shriek in horror. Dirt streaked her piquant face. And still he thought she was utterly irresistible. He was in a bad way indeed.
Several times, he’d suggested that she return to the house, but she’d insisted on staying. Hers was a gallant soul.
He looked past his bedraggled beloved to where the last sheep sank deeper as she fought to free herself. “Damn ewe,” he muttered.
“No need to be rude,” Charlotte said, and he caught a glimmer of amusement in her tired face.
