Free An Unmistakable Rogue by Annette Blair

“would it have gone nineteen and three-quarter years with no heir?” What a fool he was, aye, and a cad, too, for he had made a pact that he expected Chastity to keep, and so must he.
    Damnation! Would he never know?
    Reed gave up his clandestine search and found himself wandering toward the kitchen, seeking out—horror of horrors—the brigands and their warder.
    As he approached the doorway, he saw Chastity place a bowl of soup on the table. Mark and Luke played with a tin regiment of dragoon guards on the floor, while Matt held a forgotten cavalryman in his hand as he stared off into space. Rebekah silently spun a toy top into a kaleidoscopic blur beside them.
    Chastity looked up and saw him lingering in the doorway, and when their eyes met, a frisson of something resembling joy seemed to pass between them. Reed saw it in her eyes, only because he knew it for a reflection of his own amazing reaction to the sight of her. She recognized it as well, he suspected, but with a bit of silent communication, they agreed not to acknowledge it, thank goodness.
    Chastity looked away first, her neck and cheeks the pink of the lady slippers that grew wild on the downs. “Children, put the toys in the bottom drawer while we eat,” she said. “If you do not take care of them, there will be no more.”
    Surprisingly, the brigands did as she bid.
    “I followed the unusual aroma,” Reed said, his voice emerging as a gruff croak. He cleared his throat. “Soup?” he asked as he sat at the table, the children following his example.
    “Of course, soup. You said to make soup.” Chastity bristled then she bowed her head. “Thank you, Lord, for another wonderful meal.” She raised a victorious brow his way and he saluted her with his spoon.
    Chastity grinned. Silly that his approval, however mocking, should warm her, she thought, chiding herself for such foolishness. “I found bed-linens in a cupboard on the second floor,” she said, taking charge of her wayward self. “I made the beds and left the windows open to air the bedchambers. They need a good cleaning, which we will do tomorrow.”
    “How many bedchambers are there?” Reed asked.
    “I prepared three. Bekah and I will share one. The boys will take one, and you shall have a bedchamber all your own. Bekah and I will be quiet as mice. But I thought the boys might be noisy, so I put you and them on opposite sides of us.” An image of Reed in his bed, dressed—or undressed—as she had seen him at dawn, brought more heat to Chastity’s face. To hide the telltale warmth, she looked down at her bowl of soup.
    Reed cleared his throat. Did he sense her confusion? “I never ate soup flavored with—he took another spoonful—spearmint?”
    “What? Oh.” Chastity took a taste. “Is that what it is? I wondered.”
    Reed shook his head. “Different herbs go with different foods, Chastity. Some blend better with certain tastes than with others. Now, beans, peas, parsnips, and mint are perhaps not the best combination. Basil, bay leaf, or even sage might have—”
    Chastity put down her spoon with a vehement thud. “I strongly dislike this tendency in you, Mr. Gilbride, to point out my errors. You said, ‘use some herbs.’ You were not specific as to which I should choose. How should I know one from the other? If you knew which herbs to choose, why did you not—”
    Luke slurped. “Bestest soup I ever ate.”
    “More,” Matt said, raising his bowl, as did Bekah and Mark.
    As Chastity collected their bowls, she kissed each head. “Thank you, you sweet things.”
    “I only said that it was unusual.” Reed took seconds as well. “I’ll help you collect cooking herbs from now on.”
    “I would appreciate that.”
    Luke gazed at Reed with speculation. “If you say her soup is the bestest ever, she might kiss you, too.”
    Reed looked at her with such single-minded speculation, Chastity’s cheeks caught fire. “I think you might be right,” he said, finally, and