Free The Taste of Innocence by Stephanie Laurens

the ball, Toby, another of the older lads, threw it to Charlie. The throw went rather wild. Leaping high, Charlie plucked the ball from the air. He tossed it in his palm. He fixed Maggs with a fierce look—but he was grinning. He called something to Maggs, then bowled again.
    Katy said something and with a laugh headed downstairs. One of the babies stirred and Quince went to tend it. Sarah remained by the window looking down. The nursery was high under the eaves, the lead-paned windows shaded by the overhang. No one in the forecourt could see her as she stood and watched. And wondered.
    What she was seeing wasn’t something she’d thought to assess as part of her decision whether or not to marry Charlie. Yet she wanted children—yes, definitely—and a husband who could give himself over to a simple boys’ game as Charlie was…that was certainly a point she should consider.
    Indeed, not only was he patently immersed in the game, sharing the moment with the boys and with Joseph, too—the other man was smiling more widely than Sarah had thought possible—but he’d sacrificed his elegance, it seemed, without a qualm.
    He’d removed his hacking jacket. His shirttails were hanging out; he’d rolled his sleeves halfway up his forearms and his neatly tied cravat was nowhere in sight. Nor was his waistcoat.
    It was a severely rumpled Charlie who bowled the next ball—who leapt into the air and cheered as Maggs hit it straight to Toby and was caught out. Sarah watched as the boys crowded around, as Charlie tousled Toby’s hair and called some compliment to Maggs, who glowed even while he handed the bat to Toby.
    Sarah watched for ten minutes more. When she eventually retreated to finish folding the linens, she was pensive.
     
    They left the orphanage half an hour later. The game had been over by the time Sarah had gone downstairs. She’d found Charlie talking with Joseph while they watched the boys finish their chores in the kitchen garden.
    Joseph had still been rumpled but Charlie had made an effort to regain his customary style. While his cravat, redonned, would never pass muster in any ton drawing room, it was neat enough for country fields. From the darkened curls about his face, Sarah had concluded that he’d washed; he’d certainly made some effort to smooth his ruffled hair.
    Her fingers had itched to run through the heavy locks and disarrange them again.
    Instead, she’d smiled, bid Joseph and the boys good-bye, then led the way around the house to where their horses waited.
    Before she could lead Blacktail to the mounting block, Charlie took the reins from her gloved grasp, then closed his hands about her waist and lifted her up to her saddle.
    Her breathing suspended. She looked down and busied herself settling her boot in the stirrup. That done, she looked up, managed a weak smile, and accepted the reins from him.
    By the time he’d untied his gray and swung up to the wide back, she had herself in hand again. She pointed due south to the stream. “I usually ride home across the fields—it’s faster.”
    Eyes narrowing, Charlie followed the faint line of a bridle path that led to the stream.
    “There’s a place where the stream’s easy to jump.” Setting Blacktail’s nose homeward, she tapped her heel to his side. “Come on.”
    She went and Charlie followed. When they came within sight of the place to jump the stream, he ranged alongside her.
    They jumped together, both horses fluidly covering the distance from one bank to the other. She laughed, gripped by unexpected delight, then veered to the west into the lee of the Brendons, following the bridle path as it skirted the backs of various farmers’ fields, cutting along the lower levels of the slope rising to their right.
    She kept Blacktail to a steady, ground-eating pace. The gray thundered beside her, equally surefooted. She glanced briefly at Charlie. “The path’s clear—no holes or roots.”
    He nodded.
    The afternoon was waning, the