Free Trouble With Harry by Katie MacAlister Page A

melted before the one cocked eyebrow and the arms crossed over her delicious chest. His hopes of a wondrous, erotic night spent exploring the ways of marital harmony withered into dust and blew out the window on a faint waft of rose powder.
    He rallied a feeble smile and tried very hard not to cry. “Yes, well, five always has been my lucky number.”

Five
    Plum awoke to the uncomfortable feeling that she was being watched. She opened her eyes. She was being watched. Circled around the bottom of her bed, five pairs of eyes stared steadily at her as she pushed her heavy hair out of her eyes and propped herself up on her elbow. The youngest of Harry’s sons, the boy oddly named McTavish, squirmed out from under India’s restraining hand and jumped onto the bed next to Plum.
    â€œYou’re awake now, aren’t you? India said I wasn’t to wake you up, but your eyes are open now so you’re awake. I want a kitten. I have a dead rat. Would you like to see it?”
    â€œNo, thank you, McTavish. I try to maintain a strict policy of entertaining no dead rats before breakfast. It’s not easy, but life is nothing if not a challenge. What are you all doing in here?”
    â€œWaiting for you to wake up,” Digger said.
    â€œWhy aren’t you sleeping with Papa?” India asked, her lips tight with suspicion. “Gertie said the reason Papa wanted to get married was so he wouldn’t get lonely in bed. You’re supposed to keep him from being lonely. Gertie said so. Why aren’t you?”
    Plum closed her eyes for a few seconds before sitting up and facing the bright faces watching her so carefully. “To be honest, I don’t feel up to a detailed explanation of my intimate relationship with your father, but as you are obviously concerned about his happiness, I can reassure you that although the situation last night was not one conducive to…er…keeping him from being lonely, I have every intention of seeing to that task tonight. Will that suffice?”
    â€œI want a kitten. You said I could have one this morning.”
    â€œOur real mother slept in the same bed as Papa,” India said accusingly.
    â€œI don’t want a new mama,” Anne said, then disappeared as she dropped to the floor. Peering over the side of the bed, Plum could see Anne’s legs where they stuck out from under the bed.
    â€œI want a mama, I want a mama,” McTavish chanted, bouncing up and down on the bed in time with his words. “I want a kitten, I want a kitten.”
    â€œThat’s mine!” Andrew said and immediately jumped his twin as she emerged with a pretty blue and pink chamber pot. “I saw it first!”
    â€œOur real mother took care of Papa. She wouldn’t let him be lonely.”
    â€œA kitten, a kitten! I want a kitten!”
    â€œIt is not, I saw it first! It’s mine. You have to find your own.”
    â€œOur real mother made sure Papa was dressed warmly when he went out in the cold, and took a draught whenever he was sick.”
    â€œMine, Annie!”
    â€œPapa never was sick,” Digger told his sister. She glared at him, her arms tight across her chest, her nostrils flaring in that particularly effective way young women of three and ten had of expressing their contempt.
    â€œHe would have taken a draught if he was sick. Mama would have made him.”
    Digger gave way before such reasoning. He nodded. “Yes, he would have.”
    â€œKitten, kitten, kitten, kitten.”
    Plum, starting to get a headache from all of McTavish’s bouncing, clutched him to her chest. “I appreciate the fact that none of you wish to have a new mother—”
    â€œI want a new mama,” McTavish told her shoulder, squirming to get free. Plum loosened her grip just enough so he could sit next to her and play with the long, inky tendrils of hair that curled around him.
    â€œThank you, McTavish, I appreciate