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Her silly heart expanded. He made her feel like the sun shone
    just for her. If she got to see that smile every day, marrying Ewan Macrae might even be worth it.
    “Thank you.” He lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles again. “I appreciate that. But I’m not sure I’m worthy.”
    The kiss had the same unsettling effect as the last one. She struggled to remind herself of all her reasons for resisting this charming man.
    Except that after what she’d read in the papers, she’d expected charm. What she hadn’t expected was this strange affinity, as though Lyle
    understood her better than anyone else in the entire world.
    His kisses were lethal to common sense.
    “I don’t understand why you entered into his nonsensical matchmaking,” she said helplessly. “Is it because I’m an heiress?”
    He dropped her hand and regarded her with displeasure. In a flash, he became the powerful Earl of Lyle, instead of her lighthearted co-conspirator in
    pleasure. “That’s flattering to neither of us, Miss Warren. I hardly think Sir John would fling you at a fortune hunter.”
    Under that disapproving stare, she squirmed. Never would she have imagined that the amused, nonchalant creature who had teased her about playing an ugly
    stepsister could transform into this haughty man. She angled her chin up and strove to match his dismissive tone.
    “Then for heaven’s sake, tell me why he’s flinging me at you.” Her voice chilled. “Not that I consider myself yet
    flung.”
    He shrugged. “Who can say?”
    She frowned. “Is that the best you can do?”
    Lyle gave a brief laugh and turned back into the man she found so unacceptably appealing. “I suppose you deserve more than that. Although I’m
    not sure you’ll feel any more informed once I tell you the story. I met your father at Tattersall’s a fortnight ago. We both went after a gray
    hunter from Camden Rothermere’s stables. Your father came out the victor.”
    “That would put him in charity with you.”
    “It did. He insisted on taking me to dinner to celebrate.”
    “Clearly he was so deep in his cups and so happy about his new horse, he decided to give you his daughter along with dinner. Perhaps to compensate
    for missing out at the auction.”
    To her chagrin, her sarcasm didn’t fool Lord Lyle. “Even to a stranger, it’s apparent that he loves you very much. I know you’re
    hurt that he’s been so highhanded in seeking to arrange a marriage, but never doubt that he wants what’s best for you.”
    Charlotte regarded Lyle without favor. She didn’t want him to understand her feelings. It made her feel even more vulnerable. “And he thinks
    that’s you.”
    He placed one hand on the mattress behind him and leaned back, the picture of complacency. “We got along well. He seemed to feel you and I might,
    too.”
    Charlotte’s cheeks heated, although his tone wasn’t suggestive. Good heavens, nobody walking in on them a few minutes ago could doubt how well
    she and Lyle got on. “It’s a huge step from hoping we might be compatible to writing to me with news of a husband.”
    Lyle looked a little abashed. The expression was disarming. He really was an attractive man. If she’d met him in the normal course of events, she
    might have even liked him.
    Oh, who was she trying to fool? She liked him now, despite her determination to loathe him on sight. When he kissed her, she more than liked him. Excellent
    reason to stop him from kissing her again.
    That sensible resolution settled like misery in her stomach, and to counteract her glum reaction, she continued. “Even if my father had a fit of
    madness, that doesn’t explain your cooperation.”
    He smiled. “Sir John described you in such glowing terms, I found myself a wee bit curious.”
    “So you decided on a jaunt to Hampshire?”
    “I wanted to see you—without your father doing his best to throw us together.”
    “You assumed I’d let you stay?”
    He shrugged again. “I thought I’d see