Free Sinfully Ever After (Book Club Belles Society) by Jayne Fresina

you?”
    “I don’t suppose I was easy to trace. We left Brighton five years ago, when my father retired from the army.”
    “Ah, but I always collect on a debt. Like I told you.” He looked around to find where she’d gone and then shook a wooden spoon at her. “No obstacle gets in my way when I want something. I suspect you have much to learn about men, young lady.”
    Becky wrinkled her nose and laughed, for the idea of him teaching her anything was patently ridiculous. She knew all about men and their ways, having lived twenty-two years with a couple of the most frustrating, ill-behaved males in captivity.
    “Something amuses you, madam?”
    “That you came all this way just to find me. Had you nothing more important to do?”
    “Nah. Not today. I’d put you off long enough. Couldn’t leave you pining for me, could I?” He treated her to another of those dark, sinister, sideways glances. “Even bothersome, interfering redheads need a kiss now ’n’ then.”
    “I certainly don’t need anything of the sort,” she declared. “I’m only giving it to you because I promised.”
    “Hope you know what you’re getting into, maidy. It won’t be a little kiss like you’re used to from your milksop young suitors.”
    “Full of yourself, aren’t you? I’m sure I can manage.”
    “We’ll soon find out, won’t we?”
    Already too warm, Becky moved away again to fetch bread from the cooler larder.
    But her pulse leaped about like a playful rabbit in spring, and she had to go near him again to put plates in the warmer beside the hearth. How could she help looking over and taking another assessment while he was preoccupied?
    He was too muscular for a gentleman. Too…large. There were a few men she knew whom he could probably lift over his head with one arm. She thought of what Justina had said to her that evening—about something to warm her cold nights.
    Instantly she closed the door on that image. Slammed it, in fact.
    Not that it will help me , she thought. A man his size would simply break the door down if he wanted in. No obstacle, so he said, kept him from what he wanted.
    She almost dropped the plates as a little shiver passed through her body and made her catch her breath.
    “Like me, you enjoy a good drama, and don’t pretend otherwise…” Justina had said to her that evening. “There is a constant twinkle of mischief in your eye, Rebecca Sherringham.”
    Mischief? Her? As if she had time for it while she was so busy saving everyone else from theirs.
    “That’s a hefty sigh, maidy,” Lucky Luke muttered. “Something troubling you?”
    “Nothing troubles me,” she assured him firmly, wondering why he was looking at her that way again. He’d assured her there was nothing else stuck to her face, and as far as she knew, all her buttons and hooks were secure.
    The plates safely stacked in the warmer, she reached for a cabbage leaf and fanned herself.
    “Sure? Nothing ol’ Lucky can’t take care of for you?”
    She swallowed. “Certainly not. I take care of problems for myself.”
    “Uh-huh. So you do. I’d forgotten.”
    Thankfully he looked back at his cooking pot, but Becky was obliged to continue fanning herself with the leaf until it was as wilted as she felt on the inside.
    * * *
    The enticing, rich, succulent fragrance of well-seasoned chicken stew traveled throughout the house, bringing her father to the table that evening without being told. He looked eagerly to see what was in the tureen.
    “How clever of you, m’dear,” he exclaimed.
    “It wasn’t me, Papa. Much as I might like to take the credit, the cooking is due to our guest.” She still didn’t know his last name, she realized. “He came to our rescue this evening.”
    “As you came to mine, Miss Sherringham.” Her handy man was in the open doorway, carrying the bread in his free hand. It appeared as if he’d made some attempt to neaten his appearance before dinner, replacing his uniform jacket, splashing water