Her day had begun bright and early with sweet cuddles and sloppy kisses from her children. Doc had been correct. Those two little ones were the best prescription, but she'd known her promises of their papa returning home soon had been wearing thin. Henri had never been away for more than a night, and he had already been in New Orleans for four days.
Kitty sighed as she sat on the porch with her daughter in her lap. She'd spent the last several minutes kissing every scratch and scrape from Vivienne's latest spell of stubbornness. The toddler had insisted on wearing her mother's shoes while carrying two kittens in her arms to go outside for a tea party under the small canopy Doc had set up for her. She had scraped her knees, received a dozen scratches from tiny claws, and suffered a bruised ego from her tumble.
"Maman, I try again," Vivienne stated, leaning forward, reaching for a kitten. "Venez à moi, Biscuit," she beckoned to the orange tabby, grimacing from bumping her knee.
"No."
"S'il vous plaît," she sweetly whispered, coyly eyeing her mother as she pulled the kitten into her lap.
"No, Vivienne," Kitty repeated matter-of-factly.
Doc wandered onto the porch, fidgeting with the top of his ear while surveying his granddaughter's injuries. "I heard somebody needs a couple of bandages."
"Pépère," Vivienne crooned while pointing to her knee. "I can do it."
"Vivi," Kitty warned.
Doc interrupted, "Like the man said, 'doesn't do any good to argue with a mule.' That's a fine idea, Vivi." He eased down onto the wooden porch, opening his medical bag and instructing Vivienne on how to bandage her scraped knees. The old man chuckled as the tot's mouth creased into a line, tongue poking out onto her lip in absolute concentration. He'd seen Matt do that plenty of times during games of checkers. "Where's your brother?"
"Grange," Vivi mumbled, holding her hand on the gauze while her grandfather secured it, "le maréchal."
"At the barn with Matt," Kitty translated, examining the finished dressing. "Baby, you did a wonderful job."
"Yes, she did. We might have to steal one of those cookies that Sadie finished bakin'," Doc suggested. "C'mon." He took her hand, heading into the house for freshly baked lemon sugar cookies.
Kitty brushed her fringe out of her eyes, sighing heavily, trying not to worry about her husband. She rested her hand over the swell of her abdomen. "Come home, Henri," she murmured to herself. Matt had promised her that if Henri hadn't returned in a week he would go to New Orleans. Kitty plastered a bright smile on her face once her daughter returned. "You brought me one? Thank you, Sweetheart."
"De rien, Maman," Vivi replied, climbing into her mother's lap.
"What in thunder?" Doc's bushy eyebrows wrinkled at the sound of Matt's baritone hollering at Alexandre. He turned his head in time to see his stark-naked grandson rounding the corner with Matt not far behind. "Well, that's something you don't see every day." Doc scrubbed his hand over his mouth, failing to contain his laughter. He noticed his grandson was soaking wet and assumed the boy had decided to cool off.
"Hold it, Son!" Matt bellowed, stopping to pick up the boy's scattered clothing. He swore it would be easier to hunt down outlaws than chase an energetic toddler. "Hold it!"
The command that could stop a wrongdoer in his tracks had no effect on his son. Alexandre glanced behind him, riotously giggling while he bolted up the front steps. He squealed as Delia opened the screen door. "No, Delia! No! I'm running!" he wailed as she skillfully scooped him into her arms.
"Alexandre Matthieu Broussard," Delia rumbled, wrapping him in a towel. She had seen the whole incident from the upstairs window while she'd been cleaning. "How many times have I told you the horses' trough ain't for swimming?"
"But Delia," Alexandre protested, pushing his dripping curls out of his eyes.
"No, sir," she snapped, setting her eyes on the panting big man leaning against the column of the porch. The maid approached him and held out her hand for the boy's clothes. "And I told you to watch him good. Both of you know better."
Matt sheepishly dipped his head. He felt his cheeks flush from the Creole's reprimand. He handed over the clothing, wincing at the sound of the screen door's slam. He caught Kitty's eyes. "I turned around for a second. He'd stripped down and jumped into the trough," he explained, plopping onto the top step. "He ran off when I told him to get out."
"And that's being a parent, Matt," she quirked a brow as Vivienne slipped off her lap.
Vivienne toddled over, dropping down next to Matt on the step. "It's okay," she whispered, kindheartedly offering him her half-eaten cookie.
"Thank you," Matt replied while accepting the cookie. He kissed her temple, wrapping his arm around her, grinning at how she nestled into his side. "I like lemon," he whispered, snapping the baked good in half, sharing it with her.
The moppet took the half and ate a small bite. "Me too," she responded, smirking at her fully dressed brother sitting down on the other side of the big man.
"Well, I need a cup of coffee," Doc announced, picking up his medical bag.
"Alright, Doc," Kitty said, looking up from picking at her fingernails. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of a buggy coming up the oak lined drive. She immediately recognized the horse and whispered her husband's name, rising to her feet. The redhead gathered her skirt in her fingers as she carefully descended the steps, brushing past Matt and her children. She broke into a run, cradling her rounded belly with her hand.
Matt let out a breath, watching Kitty run to her husband. Alexandre and Vivienne's happy shouts pierced his ears. He gently held them back. "Give your Maman and Papa a few minutes. You'll get your turn," he assured.
Kitty ran faster as the buggy stopped, and her husband climbed out. "Mon beau," she murmured, leaping into his open arms. She buried her face into the crook of his neck as his arms wrapped around her. She cried into him, relieved he was safely home.
Henri held her tightly against him, ignoring the pain and pulling of the sutures in his shoulder. "Mon amour," he whispered, feeling her tears against his skin. He'd learned that Eliza Jane had sent a telegram to his wife days ago.
"Don't you ever make me worry like that again. Promise me you won't make me worry like that ever again."
"Je vous promets," Henri whispered, gently setting her down. He placed his hands on either side of her lovely face, holding onto her eyes with his. He stroked his thumb against her cheekbone before tenderly setting his lips on hers.
Kitty was consumed by the softness of the caress. Her mouth opened to him, his tongue brushing against hers. She felt his palm on the small of her back, gasping as he deepened the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, winding her fingers into his soft dark hair, moaning softly at the glorious pressure of his lips on hers. She whimpered as his lips broke from hers. Breathlessly, she rested her forehead against his chest.
"Je t'aime, Kathleen," Henri whispered, smoothing his hand up and down her back.
She smiled warmly and kissed his jaw. "Je t'aime aussi," she whispered.
"I want to see our babies." Henri slipped his arm around his wife. His other hand drifted to her belly. "Our son has grown," he stated, grinning proudly.
"Mmhmm, he has," Kitty replied, putting her hand over his. "Alexandre and Vivi have missed you so much." The grateful redhead was surprised the twins hadn't come running out to their father. She glanced toward the house, noticing the porch was empty. Kitty arched a brow at her husband's groan. "Henri, what's wrong?" she asked, worriedly staring at him.
"It's nothing, Chérie," he assured, gingerly rolling his shoulder as he walked with her. He knew the Thoroughbred stallion would lead the buggy to Silas.
"Henri," Kitty hissed, "you're bleeding. What happened?"
"Manon stabbed me with a letter opener." He heard his wife's gasp and squeezed her to him. "Kathleen, I may need to see Galen first," he admitted, feeling blood trickle down his arm.
"Oh, you think so?" she softly grumbled, clucking her tongue. Kitty didn't know why she had the inclination to choose men that believed themselves to be invincible. "You're gonna tell me everything while Doc stitches you back together."
"Of course, Chérie."
In the comfortably furnished den, Henri sank deeper into the cushions of the plush sofa, sipping his second glass of cognac. He listened to the gentle drum of the rain hitting the tin shingled roof and his wife's peaceful breathing as she slept with her head in his lap. The Frenchman leisurely drank from the crystal glass, hoping the liquor would dull his mind. He kept thinking about what could have happened if his family hadn't been at The Oaks, and he kept seeing Manon's face when he closed his eyes. Footsteps hit his ears, and he tensed until he recognized the individual.
The big man shuffled into the room, standing on the threshold. "You can't sleep either?" he asked. Matt was certain his reasons for sleeplessness were vastly different from the Frenchman's reasons.
Henri shook his head. "No," he mumbled, tapping his finger on the rim of the tumbler. He decided to take his opportunity to speak privately with the U.S. Marshal. His time had been spent telling his wife all that happened, receiving a heavy-duty lecture from the physician about taking care of his wounded shoulder, and spending time with his children. "Have a drink with me."
Matt stepped into the room, settling into the leather armchair. His eyes widened at the sight of Kitty on the sofa. He'd expected her to be upstairs in bed.
The Frenchman glanced down at his sleeping spouse. "Oh, we can speak freely. Kathleen won't wake."
The lawman poured himself a decent measure of cognac and refilled Henri's tumbler. He put the replenished glass in the man's hand, skeptically looking at Kitty.
"She sleeps deeply…well, if I'm with her, she sleeps soundly, especially when she's with child," Henri amended, gently combing his fingers through her fiery tresses. "I've tried to never be away from her for more than a night."
Matt nodded his head. He realized Henri hadn't made the statement with the intention of rubbing salt into an old wound, but he had. The lawman acknowledged that he'd regrettably never allowed Kitty the chance to get used to him being in her brass bed every night. He seemed to have spent more time away from her than with her. The redhead's contented sigh made his heart ache. He slipped farther back into the chair and balanced the glass on his thigh.
"I knew it was Manon as soon as I read the article of Helena's murder. I apologize for not telling you more on Sunday, but I didn't want to disgrace Kathleen more than I had already. Now, I know you know about my history with Manon."
"I know enough. Henri, what happened?" Matt asked, sensing he needed to let it out. He knew Henri had discussed it all with Kitty since the couple had been holed up in the privacy of their den for over an hour. The lawman knew firsthand the balm she could be to a troubled soul after difficult days, but he also understood the importance of speaking with a fellow man.
All the elements and particulars of the last days poured out of Henri. He finished, swallowing the last gulp of cognac in his tumbler. He breathed in deeply, exhaling the breath slowly as he gazed at his lovely wife. "Manon wanted to kill Kathleen. I couldn't let that happen. You understand that, Matthew."
Matt had been surprised at the Frenchman's resourcefulness and how well the plan had been executed, except for the misfire of Hennessy's weapon. He stared at the redhead, bowing his head in agreement. "I do. Believe me, I do."
"I worry that I didn't make the right choice…that I should have…" Henri trailed off.
The marshal studied the man sitting across from him. "Killed her?"
He nodded. "For a second, I aimed the gun at her head, but I couldn't pull the trigger. I've never taken a person's life."
"It stays with you. I've never enjoyed killing. I don't understand the ones that do," he proclaimed in a low pitch, clearing his throat, unwilling to dwell on the burden of his job. "Will you have to be at the trial?"
"No." Henri pulled the blanket onto Kitty as it slid off from her movements. "Philippe wrote a statement before he committed suicide. Plus, I asked a favor of David. I didn't want to be in the official reports. I don't want to put myself or Kathleen through that, and he granted that favor since I saved him from Manon."
"I've heard good things about Hennessy," Matt remarked. "Seems like a good man."
"He is a good man. I've known him for nearly twenty years," he said, looking at Matt, lowering his voice. "I thank God that Kathleen and the babies were here with you."
Matt dropped his eyes to his half empty cognac. The Frenchman wouldn't be appreciative if he'd known what had happened between him and Kitty.
"I'm forever in your debt, Matthew. I knew Kathleen was safe with you. I wasn't worried about her safety. You allowed me to focus on what had to be done."
"Henri, the way I look at it…we're even. I learned what you've done for her and for me. You'll always have Kitty's best interests at heart. That means more to me than you'll ever know."
The pair sat in silence as the rain pelted the roof harder, losing track of the passing minutes as they polished off the bottle of high-priced cognac. Matt looked up from his glass as he heard the soft noises of Kitty rousing. He watched her sit up, nuzzle her face into the Frenchman's neck, and whisper into his ear without noticing he was in the room. He tilted his head, silently accepting Henri's mouthed words of gratitude.
Matt chewed the inside of his cheek while the couple left the den. He shifted in the oversized armchair, grasping all that he had in common with the Frenchman. They both loved the same woman and would lay down their lives for her, but the marshal couldn't deny that his eyes had been opened during his third visit to The Oaks. Matt downed his drink, realizing the significant difference between him and Henri. Henri was all that he couldn't be for Kitty, and at that moment, he realized what he had to do.