An Unmistakable Rogue by Annette Blair Page B

lowered her eyes, though her chin remained stubbornly firm. “I should.”
    “But do you want to?”
    She shook her head, sighed and lowered it. “No.”
    “Pitch it, then.”
    Her eyes lit, though she tried to remain sober. “I will leave it off ... for now.”
    “Good.” Reed wiped her brow and cheeks with the corner of his homespun shirt, trailed a finger down her nose, tapped the end twice, remembered her mouth against his, and stepped away. “That really was stupid—slamming the gate, I mean.” With sudden inspiration, he grinned and impaled her veil on a rusty nail. “What do you suppose is in the next shed?” He walked away, telling himself that it mattered little whether she followed or not, but when she did, he began to whistle.
    “The storage shed,” he said as they entered. “No better than the rest.” He swatted the air before him as she followed. “Cobwebs.”
    “You could have warned me sooner.” Chastity pulled a web off her face and tried to shake the sticky substance from her fingers. “Besides tormenting me, what did you hope to gain with this trek?”
    “Food for the children.”
    Chastity released her breath. “Thank you. I do not mean to be cross.” She scrubbed her face with her hands. “I did not think I could feel grimier than I did this morning, but I do.”
    Reed lifted a hand to her hair. “Spider,” he said. “Now let me get the other—”
    “Spiders!” Chastity slapped his hand away. “Did you have to tell me?” She combed panicked fingers through her hair tumbling her topknot into a splash of cinnamon waves. “Are they gone?”
    “What?”
    “The spiders.”
    “Oh.” Reed had lost track of the conversation in light of the burnished copper shimmering all the way down to her— “There was only one and I got it. Sorry I teased you.”
    Chastity rolled her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair a few more times before she began re-pinning it.
    “Leave it down. You look more comfortable.” And seductive as all hell.
    “I am more comfortable, but it gets in my way.”
    “Turn around. I’ll show you what my sister does.”
    “Nothing helps but pinning it up.”
    “Be patient.” Reed lifted the fiery strands to plait them, enjoying the silk in his hands.
    “How fortunate you are to have a sister,” she said.
    “Fortunate? With five sisters and seven brothers? But Peg is special.” The blasted braid would fall past Chastity’s waist. Reed wiped his brow with his sleeve. The day grew warmer, the air thinner. He cleared his throat. “They’re not my real family. Peg is the only one I care about.”
    Chastity turned to regard him, tugging her hair from his hands in the process. “What do you mean?”
    “Stand still. Now I have to start over.” He feigned exasperation, because, heaven help him, he liked what he was doing ... to a nun.
    “Reed? What do you mean?”
    “When I was five, my drunk old man—well, I thought he was mine—said that they had been stuck with me since the day I was born.”
    “Oh, Reed.”
    There was a world of caring in those two words, words that nudged a heart Reed thought stone-hard. He should fear the power in that nudge. He should run, and fast. But, God help him, he could not. Not yet. “For a while, after I found out, I thought my real parents would come for me. By the time I was ten, I knew better.”
    He brushed his cheek with a hank of Chastity’s hair, as if by accident, to see if it felt as good against his face as it did in his hands. It felt better, like corn silk, but softer, better than newborn kittens, better than anything Reed could remember.
    Something so deep stirred in him, he dropped the braid as if it burst into flames. “It’s impossible. Put it back up.”
    Chastity pulled the hank forward and examined the half- braid. “This is perfect. Finish it, Reed. Please?”
    Against his better judgment, Reed complied. When he was done—and his body had risen gloriously to the occasion—Chastity took