Unmistakable Rogue

by Annette Blair

Fortunately, or unfortunately, his reaction warned him away from his foolish thoughts.

  Peace. He needed it badly. “I need to go hunting,” he said, “to bag some bigger game, something that will last while we search.”

  Chastity frowned at the reminder of his purpose.

  “I might be gone for a couple of days,” he added, the thought alone bringing a semblance of longed-for peace, except that Matt’s attention had become riveted, his eyes wide. And Reed sighed as a notion took root. “Matt, I’m gonna need help. Think I could persuade you to come along?”

  The boy nearly fell from his chair in his eagerness, his breakfast forgotten. “I’ll get my things. Overnight did you say?” He bolted before he heard Reed’s answer.

  “Mark, you’re the man in charge while I’m gone.”

  Mark nodded once and returned to his breakfast, and Reed hoped the boy’s lack of enthusiasm was due to a concealed pleasure. Reed regarded Chastity to see if she was insulted, because he had not left her in charge, but she gave him a warm, dreamy smile, as if he had given her the world.

  Blast. The rush her smile gave him settled into all the wrong places, even his heart, before he could erect a barrier. Bad, bad, bad. Except that it felt good. Quite good. He could live on Chastity’s smiles, if he did not want so badly to exist on a more physical plane with her.

  After the three months were up, and one of them was forced to leave, would he be able to exist without her smiles? If he tasted her, if they soared together, could peace ever be his without her? Which wrong-headed emotion would dog him the more in the end; remorse over having her, or regret over not having her?

  With that burning question gnawing at his gut, Reed rose the second Matt returned. “Mark, take care of Chastity and your brother and sister. Chastity, don’t forget to milk Leonardo.” He headed for the door, and peace, and sanity, and ... regret? Because he was leaving her? Damnation.

  As Chastity followed him out, he did not want to look at her, but he did, and was lost. Before she could speak, he kissed her quick and stepped away. Then he went back for more. The second kiss was hard but fast. He pulled back for good this time, examined her face, her amazing violet eyes, and kissed her hard and long.

  “The children,” she whispered when he came up for air.

  The children, he thought, looking around, were enjoying the show, judging by their grins. Reed left, pretending to ignore Matt’s chuckle.

  * * *

  When Edward died, she had assumed her revenge complete. His twin sons, she thought, as did he, died with their mother. But because her brother hated Edward, Clive had played God.

  When he confessed, on his deathbed, that Edward’s sons lived, she had been shocked. Elated. They should have been her sons, hers and Edward’s, so she had written those notes and called the boys’ home.

  Only one had arrived so far. Reed. But that was alright. Enjoyment could be found in anticipation. Each boy would have his moment, and each would be sweet.

  Thea pulled the rope, lowered the dumbwaiter to the basement, and took the tunnel to the Vicarage, her mind full of plans. She would write a letter to Mr. Sennett first then she would set off on a hunt for big game.

  * * *

  On the second morning of their hunting trip, Matt walked beside Reed, grain sack in hand, hiding his excitement, pretending not to enjoy himself, so nothing would end his pleasure. Reed understood, because Matt and Mark were like him in that way.

  He hoped Matt might learn to trust. He wanted to help with the problem bothering the boy, but so far, Matt was giving only single-word answers to Reed’s questions. Perhaps if he told Matt about his life, the child would share his own. “I was the oldest too,” Reed said.

  Matt shifted the gunny sack but made no comment.

  “It wasn’t easy taking care of twelve children, keeping them safe. Sometimes I’d get so mad. Imagine four each of Luke, Mark and Bekah.”

  Matt’s horror said it all. “Did your parents leave you behind with all of them?”

  Reed thought his childhood had been bad, but Matt’s was worse. “The people who raised me were not my real parents,” he said. “Their children were not really my sisters and brothers, but I was still the oldest, though, unlike you, I did not get left with them.”

  Matt stopped. “Where did your real parents go?”

  “I never knew. I do not even know who they were. The people who raised me got me the day I was born.”

  “Did you cry sometimes, when you were small?” Matt examined his face closely as he waited for Reed’s answer.

  Reed needed to be honest for the boy’s sake, he knew, but when the anguish he had kept inside took hold, he nearly gasped. That Matt experienced the same stopped Reed in his tracks. He sat on his haunches to look the boy square in the eye. “Yes, Matt. I cried sometimes.”

  Matt nodded his understanding, uprooted a blade of grass and chewed it as they walked. “We were with Mum most of the time, until she left us with Aunt Anna.”

  “Then you were luckier than me, because I never lived with my real parents. How did your mother know your father was sick?”

  “She got a letter then she went to get him.”

  “Do you have the letter, or know where it is?”

  Matt considered his answer carefully. “I never saw the letter, and I really don’t remember where she went.”

  “Did she tell you?”

  Matt’s eyes filled. “I don’t remember,” he said. “And it makes me mad at myself, and at Mum for going, and I’m worried about Bekah. She used to jabber and say silly things, words I thought would be real, someday, but I’d tell her to be quiet.” He looked up, pain in his big blue eyes. “Now she is.”

  Matt would not want the same kind of comfort from him that Chastity would give, so Reed squeezed a small but heavily-burdened shoulder. “Bekah’s silence is not your fault.”

  Matt forced a half-smile and turned away. “Did you feel bad if something terrible happened to your sisters and brothers after you wished they were never borned?”

  “More often than I’d like to remember.”

  “Are we gonna bag some rabbit like we ate yesterday?”

  “You knew?”

  Matt’s smile was real this time. “Kitty thought it was chicken. She’s nothin’ but a silly girl.”

  Reed did not agree. Chastity was a warm, vibrant woman, though not his, he should attempt to remember. Never his.

  Judging from her reaction to his kisses yesterday, she needed to remember as well. “Hungry?” Reed sat on a rock and pulled some oatcakes from his bag, because they had not as yet broken their fast. Matt grimaced and Reed grinned. “They’re not supposed to be this brown and hard are they?”

  “Nah, but I wasn’t tellin’ Kitty.”

  “How do you think she did milking this morning?”

  “Mark probably helped. He knows how.”

  Reed held an oat-cake half-way to his mouth. “If he knows how, then you did, too.”

  The boy chuckled. “Yeah, but it was fun watchin’ Kitty get mad ‘cause I learned faster.”

  “If she finds out, she’ll give you what for.”

  They sat grinning, crunching oat-cakes, beside a mossy bank where fern fronds reached for the sun. A cuckoo sang boldly while two hares frolicked in the brush. Chastity was right; they were cuddly. Everything here seemed too beautiful to disturb with a gun. He did need to feed the children, but Chastity would be happier cooking something ugly.

  That woman sat under his skin like a cocklebur, a burr who had taken vows. Damn.

  Matt stretched out in the grass and closed his eyes.

  Reed did the same and pictured Chastity, ready for her bath. He had prepared one for her nightly, which she appreciated and enjoyed, while, upstairs in his bed, his imagination kept him awake. Except last night when he dreamed he made love to her.

  He had lifted her from the tub and sat her on his lap to dry her, inch by glorious inch, stroking each dusky nipple to erection. He took one into his
mouth and she throbbed against his seeking hand, whimpering when he found her. He taught his innocent passion, entered her slowly, watched as she reached her first fulfillment, his own release imminent, so much so—

  Reed opened his eyes on a curse and rose to walk off his frustration. He had never endured such a pervading need before, so fierce that it almost surpassed the physical. Not even as a raw lad had he felt as stimulated as when he was sparring with sweet Chastity Somers. None of the women who chased him, not even the ones he caught, had driven him this mad with lust.

  His fascination with a nun was beginning to frighten the hell out of him. If his imagination made taking her that good, what would the reality be? Could he bear it?

  Devil take it, he wanted to find out.

  Except that she was not free, and he did not want to be tied to a family. With or without a veil, Chastity spelled family, which spelled noise, chaos, the opposite of peace. She was not one to accept release and go her merry way. She probably thought she would go to hell if she did. He, too, had been warned about hell, and with lusting after a nun, he guessed it was now a fairly certain destination.

  One thing for certain; he’d had enough of standing around here thinking about it. He touched Matt’s shoulder to wake him. “Let’s do us some hard hunting.”

  The boy’s smile brought his own. He taught Matt to sight down a barrel, and while he gave step-by-step directions, the boy shot ... a tree limb, dead.

  Half an hour later, Matt pointed toward the underbrush. “Look, Reed.”

  “It’s a fallow deer,” Reed whispered. “Want to give it a try?”

  Matt shook his head. “I’d feel awful if I missed.”

  Reed nodded and took aim, the buck foraging far away, blissfully unaware of his possible doom, when a loud thwack came from nowhere. Something whizzed by Reed and passed a hair’s breadth by Matt, before it came to a thrumming stop in a tree trunk. An arrow! Reed knocked Matt down, and covered him with his body, shouting for the archer to stop. A second arrow hit the same tree. In a vague and rusty litany, Reed prayed for Matt’s safety, while trying to keep him safe. He raised his head, gauged distances, and thought perhaps—

  Pain stabbed into his side, caught fire. A whirring filled his head. Matt screamed from afar. Reed tried to rise, but the earth below him and the trees above him dipped and tilted. His side flamed and bile rose in his throat.

  He’d set off a hunter, and ended the hunted.

  Had he? Ended? Had his time finally run out?

  The notion that he would never see Chastity again, stung more than his possible demise. “Chastity,” Reed whispered as the world turned to blue smoke and he wished darkness would hurry. “Matt? You crying?” Reed tried to focus.

  Matt wept. “There’s blood all over you.”

  Reed touched Matt’s face. “You all right?”

  The boy threw himself at Reed, the pain of his landing damned near dragging Reed under. The best he could manage was to stroke the lad’s hair. Greening branches shifted in the wind above him. When had he hit the ground? The day grew bright then dark; light swirled near and away. “Get ... Chastity.”

  “I love you ... love you.”

  Reed heard Matt but couldn’t see him anymore. A thumping invaded his brain. Running feet. Matt was leaving. “Be ... safe.” Reed closed his eyes.

  * * *

  Laughter—a loud, coarse, cackle, inhuman, almost on top of him, woke Reed some time, later. He found a narrow-eyed crone looking down on him. Gray hair, kohl-lined eyes, bright red cheeks, a wild caricature, she raised a hand like a zealot on a pulpit. “The sins of the father shall be visited upon the sons!”

  She stroked his cheek, ran her fingers through his hair, caressed him ... boldly. “Do you remember, Edward?”

  Reed tried to escape her vile touch, but he could not move for the pain, the dizziness.

  She touched her lips to his, and he turned his head as his stomach heaved.

  “Dearest Edward,” she said. Then her eyes narrowed, and all semblance of sanity slipped away, leaving her eyes empty and terrifying. “Sleep, my puppet,” she said on a laugh, and Reed welcomed oblivion.

  * * *

  Rebekah stood on a chair, while Chastity adjusted the child’s new blue muslin pinafore. “Stand still, while I take a stitch to raise the straps. You’re tinier than I thought.”

  Bekah wound her arms around Chastity’s neck and kissed her cheek, and Chastity closed her arms around the child, aware that she might have lived her entire life without such heart-swelling affection. Had she known it existed, she might have felt she was dying without it.

  When Bekah pulled from the embrace, Chastity marveled at her pink cheeks and shiny gold ringlets. “You look like a princess.”

  Bekah spread the skirt and curtseyed while Chastity took a last stitch and broke the thread. “All done.”

  Bekah leapt to the bed to jump up and down, humming.

  If only she would smile.

  Chastity heard the boys on the stairs before she saw them. “Butter’s ready, Kitty.”

  “I said I’d tell her; I’m in charge.” Mark, for once, acting like a child. Good.

  “You milked,” Luke said. “Making butter is my job.”

  “Well, you aren’t as strong as—”

  “That’ll be enough. What a mess. Not an hour after your baths and— How did you get hay in your hair?”

  “We found a loft.”

  “With a lot of hay.”

  The kitchen door slammed. “Kitty? Kitty, where are you?”

  “Matt?” Chastity ran down the stairs in reaction to the panic in Matt’s voice. They met in the foyer, and when she saw his tear-stained face, the blood on his hands, her heartbeat trebled, and she began to examine him for wounds.

  He swiped at his eyes. “No. This is Reed’s blood. Not mine.”

  “What?”

  “Kitty, Reed’s dying.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Chastity regarded the blood on Matt’s hands and sat on the bottom stair, willing her head and stomach to calm. She’d worked as William’s nurse. She was not fainthearted, but Reed’s blood? All the training, the rules, meant nothing in the face of Reed Gilbride’s life.

  “He called your name, Kitty. He said to come and get you.” Matt began to cry.

  He’d called her name? Chastity rose to embrace Matt, wipe his tears, and take his hands in hers. “Calm down and tell me what happened.” The blood from Matt’s hands now covered hers—Reed’s blood.

  Matt pulled on her arm. “C’mon. We gotta go.”

  Chastity raised her head, anguish discarded. “Tell me how you left him.”

  “With an arrow in his side.”

  Chastity gathered her wits and straightened. “Mark, stay with Luke and Bekah. We’ll need you when we return. Matt, get Stealth.” She would need to keep Reed warm. “Mark run upstairs, fetch blankets, and bring them to the stable.”

  “Wait,” Matt grabbed her hand as she made to leave the house.

  “What is it?”

  “Shouldn’t we bring bandages?”

  Good Lord. She was losing her mind. She kissed Matt’s head. “Remind me to thank you later.”

  “I’ll get the horse.” He ran.

  “Mark,” Chastity yelled up the stairs. “Bring a length of bleached muslin from the fabric chest.” She fetched William’s medical bag, a jar of water, and some spirits, and continued to the stable. There, she stood before Stealth at a loss. “Do you know how to put those strap things on him?”

  Matt nodded. “Reed showed me.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  “Matt repeated his lesson as he saddled Reed’s horse. “There,” he said when he finished. “He’s a right one, is old Stealth.” He spoke and even patted the horse in an imitation of Reed, and Chastity’s eyes filled.

  “Here’s everything,” Mark said, winded, pushing blankets and muslin her way.

  Matt led the horse from the stable, and Chastity turned to the waiting chi
ldren. “Stay in the kitchen. No matter how long we’re gone, do not leave that room. Mark, you’re still in charge. Luke, Rebekah, do as your brother says.”

  When all three nodded, she sighed. “Good. We’ll be back soon. I promise. Take good care of them, Mark.”

  They had walked a goodly distance when Chastity stopped. “Do you remember where you left him?”

  Matt regarded her as if she were daft. “I wouldn’t forget where I left him, Kitty.”

  “I thought you might have trouble finding your way back, but I should know better. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

  “You’re worried. So am I. But he’ll be fine.”

  “Poor Matt—ten years old going on forty. I hope someday you’ll have time to be a child.”

  “Aw, Kitty.” Matt pulled from her hold, embarrassed by her praise, and by the tears in his eyes. His responsibilities must often be difficult to bear yet he did so with such strength of character. Now with Reed’s accident sharp in his mind, Chastity could see that Matt’s strength was wavering.

  For his sake, she put her own trepidation aside. “Tell me exactly how it happened, every detail.”

  “I don’t know.” Matt wiped his eyes with a quick, angry hand. “An arrow missed us, and when Reed pushed me down to protect me, he got hit. He was hurting, Kitty.”

  Chastity could do nothing but will herself to take one step after another. “Tell me about the blood.”

  “There was lots.”

  Prickles assaulted her, fanning inward from her arms and legs, tightening her chest, weakening her, forcing her to face the truth. Like it or not, Reed Gilbride owned a piece of her heart, a place no one had ever breached, not even William. If anything happened to Reed, she would remain empty forever. Reed Gilbride, her destiny; what a frightening thought. “Where was the blood coming from?”

  “His side. Didn’t I tell you? The arrow’s sticking out of his side.”

  Oh yes. One foot in front of the other. Please keep him safe.

  Chastity felt as if she had been walking forever, but when she saw, from a distance, Reed lying there, unmoving, her energy returned tenfold, and she ran. Kneeling beside him, blood soaking his shirt, she wanted to rage at heaven, but she wouldn’t let Matt see her fury or her crippling fear. “Reed, can you hear me?”