Free An Unmistakable Rogue by Annette Blair Page A

Chastity thought she might go up in flames.
    * * *
    Grinning, the Vindicator hid in the dumbwaiter and waited while caressing the proof she had found that the St. Yves line had not ended, and she resolved to end it, herself.
    The sins of the father would finally be avenged.
    One of the puppets stood no more than a few short steps away.
    They called him Reed, though his voice was not quite right, but where was the other, and who were the woman and children? The Vindicator hoped they were not St. Yves as well, or things could get messy.
    With rapt attention, like a child at a Punch and Judy show—though lacking the ability to view the performance—the vindicator waited for the perfect time to spring the trap.
    Events should fall into place of their own accord, but a prod now and again could be entertaining. The sport would truly begin, however, when the second puppet arrived, and the two fought to the death for the prize.
    Though fate had never intended Edward to witness this performance, she wished he could know of her due revenge. When all was said and done, events would always go as fate decreed.
    One could, nevertheless, hurry destiny along.
    * * *
    The children slept, finally, and even the old house seemed to breathe a soft sigh of relief. For all that she wanted the care of children, Chastity found herself more tired than she ever remembered. Despite her fatigue, however, she felt a sense of exhilarated accomplishment, as she followed the shaft of light spilling into the hall behind the stairs, compelled to stop and regard the man in the kitchen, unobserved.
    The sight filled her with a, heretofore, unknown contentment. Did it flow from the warmth of the fire in the stove? Or was it this stranger who had invaded their sanctum—who brought such inner peace?
    Candlelight cast a welcoming glow and lent a hazy perfection to everything it touched, even the nicked and lackluster pots hanging from a center beam. The huge black cook-stove stood like an age-old retainer, as if on guard, and the scarred worktable held a silver candle-branch, no less tarnished than the pans above.
    In the way the moon gilds an indigo sea, the light stroked a spill of rich violet brocade heaped atop the table.
    Chastity’s heart expanded. Sunnyledge felt like home—her first and only home—the place she was meant to be, with these children and this man.
    This man? He had rolled up his sleeves to fill a huge copper slipper bath with hot water. The muscles in his arms, thick and taut, corded when he lifted the kettle from the stove, and in the rising steam, a dark spiral of hair had fallen to his brow.
    All that potent masculinity both uplifted and frightened Chastity, yet the wild sensations flowed as much from her as because of him. That Reed Gilbride might be a missing piece of the puzzle of her life, she found daunting. But she supposed she should not be surprised that he caused emotions to churn within her. She had already shared two of the most amazing events of her life with him—yesterday, saving the children, and this morning, her first kiss. Memorable events. Dangerous.
    Chastity reined in her wayward thoughts to keep a blush from climbing her neck, and not until she held herself in check did she step into the room. “What are you about?”
    Reed looked up, an unfathomable expression in his topaz eyes. An awkward, self-conscious grin etched his chin and dimples into deep prominence and made her think that he might once have been a shy boy.
    He bowed, a lad no longer, but a rogue with mischief in mind. “A bath for milady,” said he, “with my compliments.”
    Chastity grinned as well. “I have gone to heaven.”
    “Not yet ... but soon, perhaps.”
    What he meant by that, she dare not ask. Silence reigned for a taut span, and when she did attempt to speak, no sound emerged from her throat.
    As if to help, Reed cleared his. “Since I caused your bath in stable-dust, I thought that a soap-and-water bath was the least I could do.