“Play it by ear,” Charlie said. “Imagine what she’ll be like after the men depart and she has to get back into a gown.”

“You’re right,” Daisy said with a sigh. “I won’t get my hopes up.”

“You always get your hopes up.”

“I can’t help it. She’s my stepsister.”

“And that’s very kind of you. How did your stepmother take the change in her appearance?”

“Mona merely sneered. Which means she doesn’t care one way or the other. She’s too preoccupied attempting to win over Mr. Woo.”

“Mr. Woo?”

“Yes, she fancies him.”

“Poor fellow.”

“She’s heard he’s the richest of the lot. And free to marry.”

“Is he?”

“I’ve no idea. I made it up.”

“You minx!”

“I needed to distract her from Perdy’s situation. And it certainly worked.”

“You don’t feel guilty about subjecting Mr. Woo to your stepmother’s increased attentions?”

“Not in the least. He can hold his own.”

Charlie circled her waist with his hands. “I’m not even sure you went to sleep last night. How miserable for us both that the secret corridor makes it extremely easy for me to get to your room unseen. I might have to join you in bed again tonight and every night until the whole damned Highland experience is over.”

She pushed his hands off her waist. “Oh, and one other thing. Perdita certainly can’t have Mr. King.”

“So you’ve nothing to say about our bedding down together?”

“Yes.” Her cheeks reddened, and she looked at him with serious eyes. “I’m sorry. But we can’t do what we did last night every night.”

“You said that once before and changed your mind.”

“You and I both know we can’t keep playing with fire.” Her tone was more pert than stern. “Because Cassandra and my stepmother can never find out.”

“They won’t. Did you hear all the snoring going on last night? It’s not just Perdita.”

“I know. All three of them do. But as you’ve already said, what we did could lead to other things.”

“And as I’ve told you before, I would never, ever take such liberties, even with your permission, which”—he whispered into her ear—“I’d be able to get in less than thirty seconds, if you’d only let me try. I’m good, darling. Very good.”

“Listen closely.” She glowered at him. “Tonight, we’re not touching each other. Is that clear? Last night was an accident. I was so exhausted I wasn’t prepared to resist your, um, dubious charms.”

“Dubious? Are you sure you didn’t mean to say countless?”

She bit her lip and glanced away from him, refusing to answer.

“I know I wasn’t prepared to resist your charms, either,” he said, “which aren’t dubious in the least. Especially now.” He took a secret peek down her bodice.

“Somehow I wonder if you’re taking me seriously.”

“Oh, I am.”

She stared at him a few seconds longer.

He stared fixedly back.

“I saw that,” she said.

“What?”

“You looking down my bodice.” Whenever her honey-bee voice grew thicker, he knew exactly what she was thinking of, and it delighted him no end. “Now what were we talking about before?”

She was adept at switching subjects.

“Perdita.” He’d play along. Flirting with Daisy and not being able to follow through was taking a toll on him. “I hate to say this, but her chances of winning Mr. King’s admiration are even lower now than they were before she donned the kilt. And her chances then were zero, so …”

“Oh,” Daisy replied, as if she had a very big secret to reveal, “I meant that she can’t have him because—even if she were the most beautiful woman in the world—”

She hesitated.

He’d play along again. “What?”

“I’m saving him for Cassandra.”

“You’re saving him? For Cassandra?”

She sighed. “Can’t you see? They’re perfect together. Both vain. Both of them good-looking and selfish.”

So that’s why she’d been so attentive to Mr. King! The little jealous part of Charlie that he’d been ignoring came roaring to the surface, like a quail beat out of the bush, and he was glad to shoot it down. “Are you sure you want him for Cassandra?”

Daisy made an astonished face. “Why, it’s obvious they’re an ideal match.”

“Good. Did you know the braggart and I get along very well? I’ve even forgiven him his unduly high shirt points and the intricate way he ties his cravats, as if he’s a mummy bound to escape unless he’s restrained.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “I hope you do, Charlie, because I can’t afford for him to be upset about anything.”

Mr. King himself strolled up then, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. “Are you ready for our competition, Lord Lumley? We’re to pick out our sheep and sharpen the shears. Your shepherd said that’ll get our nerves properly frayed.”

“What competition?” Daisy asked him.

“Sheep shearing, of course, in front of all the company,” said Mr. King. “Joe explained to me in great detail how to go about it.”

“Of course, he also reminded us that one learns best by doing,” Charlie said, “and that no amount of instruction can prepare us for shearing an actual sheep. Which should keep the match interesting. And perhaps comical.”

“I think that might be Joe’s intention,” Mr. King said dryly. “He’s a simple man, isn’t he? But I think he has a serious bent when it comes to his flock.”

“Sheep shearing is serious business,” Daisy said. “Neither of you will be laughing. Cursing is more like it.”

“The winner is the man who shears his sheep the fastest—and properly, I might add,” said Charlie.

“That’s right,” said Mr. King, “a sloppily shorn sheep won’t count toward our total.”

“Are you sure you’re both ready for this?” Daisy eyed them both warily.

Mr. King laughed. “Sheep aren’t dangerous creatures, Miss Montgomery. We’ll be fine. Aren’t you coming with me, the two of you? I’ve got my eye on a docile ewe for the contest. I want to claim her before Lord Lumley gets to her.”

“Of course,” said Charlie. “She’d best not be the same one I wanted.”

“We might have to fight each other for her, eh?” Mr. King grinned.

“I’m game,” Charlie said.

“Enough, you two, with your silly threats.” Daisy bestowed a polite smile upon Mr. King. “I have to speak to Lord Lumley a moment—about dinner. We’ll catch up with you in a trice.”

“Very well.” He went off whistling.

As soon as he left, she turned to Charlie. “You must let him win.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m certain that if he loses, he’ll be unhappy the rest of his visit. What if he cuts it short?”

Charlie blew out a breath. “Then I’m canceling the match. I won’t lose to anyone intentionally, Daisy. Don’t you know it defeats the whole purpose of the competition and is an insult to the other party?”

“Yes, but—”

“You saw him. This is all in fun. We’re joking about it.” He rubbed her upper arms. “Please don’t worry.”

“I know you’re right, but—”

“I won’t let him win. It will be a fair competition or none at all.”

“Even if it means we’ll be assured of a happy guest?”

“He wouldn’t be happy. No man would be happy to win under false pretenses.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he put a finger over her lips. “I promise that if he beats me fair and square, I won’t pout. Because I know you’ll be happy he won.”

“No I won’t.” Daisy sighed. “The truth is, I’ll be rooting for you, Charlie. I won’t be able to help myself.”

He leaned his forehead against hers and groaned. And then he chuckled. “You’re killing me, Daisy. You can’t have everything.”

“I’m sorry.” She bit her lip, but he saw a grin lurking there. “It’s just that I’m so worried about getting the money. And so confused … about you.”

He pulled back. “About me?”

She nodded. “I told you I like you—and I do, at least at the moment and against all my better judgment. I’m sure I’ll feel differently soon, but—”

“But for now, you can’t resist me.” He arched a brow. “It’s easily understandable.”

She slapped his arm. “See? Already I don’t like you again.”

“Good. The sooner you learn you can’t control everything, the more you’ll be able to let go and enjoy yourself. Don’t you know if you try too hard with anything in life, it usually goes to pieces?”

“Yes, but I don’t have trunkfuls of money to fall back on if that happens. You do.”

Money doesn’t protect you from falling for someone and then having your heart broken, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t. Mainly because he didn’t want to contemplate that he might be falling for her.

“Remember, I’m broke at the moment. But even if I gain access to my family’s coffers again, having trunkfuls of money won’t protect me from everything,” he told her instead.

“I’m sure you’re right.” She sounded a bit blue. “I’ve seen my share of unhappy rich people. But doesn’t money at least lessen the sting when things go wrong?”

“It makes it easier to hide from your problems. And it makes it a damned sight easier not to have to grow up. So is that a good thing?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re a clever man, Lord Lumley. I’m dying to be rich, and you’re practically begging to be poor.”

“I am at the moment, don’t forget. Poor as a church mouse.” He grabbed her wrist. “You know I want you to call me Charlie when we’re alone.”

“Charlie,” she whispered.

He pulled her close, his lips a mere inch from hers.

He wanted Daisy’s high regard. He wanted it badly. It was stupid of him, and he knew that sheer male pride was involved.