Free Trouble With Harry by Katie MacAlister

resuming the activities that had twice been so grievously interrupted. He didn’t even give Plum time to say anything other than a startled, “Harry!” before he was engaged in a tactile exploration of her wonderfully warm, wet mouth.
    â€œIndia says you’re getting the gray mare for her. You said you’d get me a horse as soon as we were settled! I’m an earl, she’s just a lady. I should have the next horse.”
    Harry pulled back until his lips just brushed Plum’s as he spoke. “That’s my oldest son, Digger, Lord Marston. Ignore him and he’ll go away.”
    He tried to possess her lips again, but she slipped out of his arms. “Digger?”
    â€œIt’s short for Diggory. You’re Plum. India said you were scrawny and you touched her hair. She doesn’t like to be touched. She’s a girl,” Digger said, as if that explained it all.
    Harry fought back the desire to throttle his son and heir—he had other sons, as he had pointed out to Digger on many occasions—and prepared to explain the situation to his wife.
    She was looking at Digger with pursed lips, a look she transferred to him. “Another son. Exactly how many children do you have, my lord?”
    He winced at the “my lord.” Her tone had gone from warm and arousing, to cold and suspicious in the matter of a few seconds.
    â€œEr…at last count I had—”
    The door to the hallway was slammed open, Anne and Andrew rolling through the doorway in an angry assortment of elbows, knees, and feet.
    â€œIt’s mine! It has the blue top, that’s mine! Yours is the one with the yellow top!” Andrew jerked a small wooden boat out of Anne’s hands.
    She got to her knees and punched her twin in his belly. “Stupid! Mine is the blue one, yours is yellow!”
    â€œâ€”five children.”
    â€œFive?”
    â€œMINE!” Andrew kicked out with both of his legs, one of which clipped Anne on the jaw. She yelped and dived onto him, her fists and feet flying.
    â€œThat’s Anne and Andrew. They’re twins,” Digger said helpfully.
    â€œYes, that’s correct, just the five children,” Harry said with a weak smile at Plum.
    The twins barreled into the dressing table, knocking over various bottles and pots of feminine unguents and scents that Temple had purchased upon Harry’s order. A box of powder exploded as the table went flying, filling the air with a rose-scented cloud while twin sapphire blue bottles holding extremely expensive scents crashed onto the floor, spilling their contents onto the rose and damask rug. Various small pots scattered, disgorging their contents as well. Anne and Andrew began to cough, having gulped in rose powder-laden air. Andrew pulled Anne’s hair. She bit his hand. Digger sauntered over to Plum and told her he didn’t think she was scrawny at all, she just needed a bit of fattening up.
    Harry closed his eyes for a second, praying that when he opened them again, he would be alone with his wife. That failing, he prayed he’d come up with a good enough explanation to keep her from walking out on him.
    The sound of glass breaking stirred him into action. “Out!” he bellowed, grabbing the back of Andrew’s nightgown in one hand, the back of Anne’s with another, pulling them apart, and sending them with none too gentle pushes toward the door.
    â€œOut!” he roared again, pointing at the door as he glared at Digger. “And take the twins with you.”
    â€œI still want a horse,” Digger said, but at least he managed to get the twins, still fighting, out the door so Harry could slam it shut. He also locked it. Without glancing at Plum, he hauled the fainting couch over to the door, just to be sure they couldn’t get in.
    â€œFive,” Plum said when he finally turned to face her.
    All his words of explanation, all his entreaties for her understanding