An Unmistakable Rogue by Annette Blair

and again that she could do anything she set her mind to.
    Reed knelt to help.
    Warmth raced through Chastity as Reed hunched down behind her and took her hands in his. “I know you can do it, but let me help,” he said, his faith almost her undoing. His face beside hers became an unwanted distraction, yet she could not move away. He shaped his hands over hers and around the cow’s udders, and time seemed to stop.
    Chastity forgot what she was doing, until Reed manipulated, with sure touch and a surer knowledge, her hands on the cow’s udders. By some miracle, milk began to fill the pail.
    She thought Reed would let go once the milk started to flow, but he did not, and Chastity closed her eyes to savor the moment. The rhythm, almost harsh, went on, mesmerizing in its slow endless drone. Steam rose to warm their clasped hands. The earth smelled new, mixed with hay, animals, man.
    Reed leaned closer, his arm abrading the side of her breast with each pull. Chastity bit her lip to stifle the moan rising in her throat. His hands, moist from warm steam, caressed hers. He turned his head, to regard her, and she saw every facet—in every shade of gold God created—in eyes that would make an artist weep to capture.
    His breath stroked the side of her face; she shifted to feel it along her neck.
    Had he noticed? Had he moved just a bit closer, himself?
    Milk filling the pail became a soothing pulse, no longer harsh, but calming. Chastity’s heart trebled its cadence. She had never been more aware of herself as a woman, of her body, her heart, than right now. She turned a fraction to examine Reed’s face. Devil’s eyes. Bold brows. Rugged features, extraordinary, handsome, dark. The dimple in his chin drew her regard. She was glad her hands were occupied, or she might dip a finger in to see how deep it went.
    Was he, too, affected by their proximity? Did she read ... awareness, admiration, in his eyes? Good Lord, could he read it in hers?
    She looked away, focused on the milk bucket. Nearly full. When had that happened?
    Matt and Luke gave each other a knowing grin, which brought Chastity up short. These young innocents were more knowledgeable in the ways of men and women than she. Of course, they had grown up with parents who loved each other, so they did have some of the experience she lacked.
    Was this part of their matchmaking scheme?
    Was she succumbing, even now, to the machinations of children? Or was Reed the true schemer? Lord, she was confused. Distance, she needed between them. Now. “Let me try,” she said, unable to disguise the quiver in her voice.
    Reed seemed to have trouble looking away, moving away. But before she was ready, he stood.
    Mourning the loss of contact, she continued milking on her own, her pride in the accomplishment growing, overcoming her earlier confusion. The boys cheered her success, earning her forgiveness for any and all matchmaking ploys.
    Chastity looked to Reed, hoping for his praise, but he scowled, instead. “Let Matt try,” he said, any wonder over their experience, gone.
    Matt took her place. Chastity chewed her lip, waiting for him to struggle, hoping he would not. He would be embarrassed if he did. It wasn’t as easy as it seemed.
    Squirt, squirt, squirt. The rhythmic sound began and continued uninterrupted, and shame filled Chastity. Matthew milked Leonardo as if he had been doing it his whole life.
    “Matt can do it,” Luke said. “Kitty’s just a girl.”
    Reed clapped Luke on the shoulder. “That’s right, Luke. There are some things men do better than women. Isn’t that so, Matt?”
    Chastity straightened and raised her chin. “You men can do it, then.” She shuddered at the feel of those udders in her hands, and headed for the house, until Rebekah’s keening began. Chastity stopped, extended her hand, and waited for the girl to catch up, before they continued on, heads high.
    “That’s right, Chastity,” Reed called after her. “You and Bekah can cook