Kitty's auburn tresses were in an elegant twist. Her face was painted in the most subtle and natural way. She rose from her dressing table, glancing at the ivory silk jacket lavishly decorated by laces and pearl buttons, debating if she could finish dressing. For the last half hour, she'd remained half-dressed in her corset and the corresponding silk skirt of handcrafted laces, beads, and flowers. She'd had to feed Alexandre and help Henri find his cufflinks while a restless Vivienne had only wanted her mother. She bit her lip, gave the jacket a last fleeting glance, and drifted over to the mahogany cradle, looking in on her sleeping baby girl. Vivienne's long-sleeved ivory christening gown was a work of art. The soft embroidered ivory floral lace with cording was enhanced by beautiful silk underneath, and the heirloom length skirt fell well past Vivienne's tiny toes. Kitty was pleased with herself for suggesting the addition of gorgeous scalloped lace at the hem. She ran her fingers over the silk covered buttons on the bodice and appreciated her beautiful girl.
"Madame, go on and finish dressin'," the maid urged as she came to stand next to the redhead, handing her the lace chemisette. "She's sleepin' sound," she assured, assisting her with the garment, relaying to her how Monsieur Broussard had misplaced the quilted bonnet to Alexandre's christening gown.
"Delia, please tell me he found it."
"Doc found it in his medicine bag."
"How the hell did it get in there?" she muttered, taking her jacket off the hanger.
Delia cringed at the sudden sharp cries from the cradle. "Goodness gracious! Miss Vivi," she uttered with a cluck of her tongue, picking her up. "You gotta let your Maman get dressed."
Her mother recognized the pitch of her cries. She snickered at her daughter's impeccable timing. Kitty discarded the jacket, walking over and holding out her arms. "Delia, it's her world. We're livin' in it," she teased with a wink of her blue eye. Kitty sat down with her, reclining into the settee cushions while pulling down the flap of her corset. She stared at her angelic face and stroked her back as she held her, listening to the greedy suckling noises. "Vivi, I know you're going through a growth spurt and want to eat all the time, but you do have to let me get dressed." Kitty smirked at her daughter's diminutive grunt and kick of her foot. "Oh, stop it. You're too young to sass me."
The door snicked open, revealing Henri with Alexandre in his arms. He'd taken his son throughout the house, proudly showing him off to the staff. He furrowed his brow at the state of his spouse. "Kathleen, you're not dressed."
"Well, I considered going like this to the church," she countered.
"You'd be the talk of New Orleans, Chérie."
She laughed, wiping Vivienne's chin as she unlatched. Kitty secured her nursing corset. "Delia, take her, please," she requested, kissing the back of her girl's head once she was in the maid's arms. "Is that my sweet, handsome boy?" she cooed to Alexandre, smoothing her hand down the ivory sleeve of his christening gown, smacking her lips to his chubby cheek. His gown was made of fine linen, collared, with three intricate pintucks at the bottom of the skirt. She lifted the hem, checking to see if Henri had placed the lace-embellished booties on the correct way.
"Chérie, I dressed my son properly," he said, feigning offense at her inspection. He wouldn't let her know that he'd knocked on the physician's door for help. Both men had spent too many minutes considering which slip-on shoe was right or left. "You need to finish dressing," Henri insisted. "Would you like my help?"
Kitty glanced up from tickling her son's tummy and demurely inched towards her husband, pressing her bosom against his arm. "No. You're much better at undressing me, mon beau," she whispered, trailing her fingers up the buttons of his vest, planting a kiss on his clean-shaven cheek. "I miss you that way," she proclaimed.
He stammered, mind flourishing with impure thoughts. Henri swallowed hard as she sauntered away from him, mesmerized by the way her hips swayed. He needed to have to a serious discussion with Galen about how he could end the night of his wife's birthday. Henri placed Alexandre in the crib beside his sister and plopped onto the settee, attentively watching his wife slip into the jacket. "Tu es magnifique, mon amour," he murmured as she turned towards him.
The big man grumbled under his breath, squinting in the sunlight to see the numbers on the idyllic mansions sporting Greek Revival and Italianate details. He'd taken the streetcar, missing his original stop, preoccupied with what he'd say to her, not to mention the thrill of meeting his children. He'd finally hopped off the streetcar, roaming a mile or two along the oak-canopied sidewalks. Matt removed his Stetson to wipe his brow. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a blue jay springing off a branch. His eyes tracked the bird's flight, mouth agape at the sight of Doc Adams in a brand-new three-piece suit pacing the length of a porch. The man continually checked the time on his pocket watch. Matt resumed his mission, doubling his long stride. He had choice words for the physician.
Matt stopped in his tracks.
There she was.
His heart hastened, squeezing in his chest. She was radiant, smiling a smile that reached her sapphire eyes. She'd always been stunning to him, but there was a distinct difference he couldn't accurately describe. He wondered if motherhood had caused the distinction to her loveliness. Matt swallowed his rising emotions and chewed the inside of his cheek, captivated by the petite girl he'd finally noticed in Kitty's arms, facing outward in her mother's supportive hold. Doc tied the loose silk ribbon of the lace bootie in a perfect bow, and Matt realized that the flowing dress was a christening gown. He saw her coppery tresses peeking out of the delicate lace bonnet and how her eyes were precisely the shape and shade of her mother's striking orbs. Without a second thought, Matt walked further down the pathway, closer to the wrought iron gate, as the baby's discontented wails drifted to his ears. He stalled, grateful for the overgrown hedge concealing him. He was amazed at how quickly Kitty cured their daughter's displeasure.
A carriage pulled into the drive. Matt heard Kitty call for the man he'd pushed her to marry. He hadn't heard a bad word about Henri Broussard come out of Dr. Chapman's mouth, but Matt felt a distinct dislike for the man – the man that was living the life he'd carelessly thrown away. Henri didn't deserve his woman or his children. Matt caught a fleeting glimpse of his son. He cursed under his breath, witnessing the enthusiastic kiss that Kitty initiated with her husband. He balled his fists, angry with himself for so many reasons. He ducked behind an oak tree as the carriage maneuvered onto the street.
The ceremony had been perfect. Henri had hired a photographer for the occasion. A small gathering of friends had come to the house afterward. Thankfully, the twins hadn't been too fussy from all the attention. They'd saved all their wailing for the evening. Kitty and Henri had decided an early bedtime was in order, and he'd tackled most of the nighttime routine.
Kitty yawned softly, sinking into the comfort of the tufted cushions. The chaise lounge had become her preferred spot to nurse the twins. Her husband had moved a table over, allowing her to have all she needed within reach. She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the pillows, savoring the waning moments of the day.
She heard the grunt and felt the wriggling against her forearm. A hefty sigh escaped from her lungs as she wearily raised her head, peering down at her offspring. "Vivienne Serena," she hummed, catching her daughter's arm before it bumped into her contented brother's face. Kitty stroked the back of her neck with her thumb, speaking softly, "You're so sleepy, Baby. Stop fightin' it, please."
Henri walked over, setting a hot cup of tea down. "Is she restless?" he asked as she unlatched with a whimper.
Kitty dolefully bowed her head. "She's so tired. I don't think she can stand herself. I believe she's finished for now. Maybe you can settle her."
"Ma chère fille," her father caringly uttered, lifting her from the pillow, cradling her against his chest. "We'll walk the floor all night if you wish, Vivi."
"Thank you, mon beau." Kitty melted every single time Henri was patient and tender with Vivienne. She watched him swaddle her and wander out onto the balcony, hearing him begin to sing her a lullaby. Kitty gazed down at her son, still contentedly nursing. "Just me and you now," she said, smiling at him. She couldn't help but think of Matt every time she surveyed Alexandre's features. He had his father's crystal blue eyes, nose, and lips. Kitty fixed the top of her sleeveless nightgown after he turned away from her nipple. "Are you gonna sleep through the night again, Sweetheart?" she asked, gingerly raising him to kiss his face. "Doc told me it was a stroke of good luck that you did the other night, but I think he's wrong." Kitty could have sworn the newborn blessed her with a smile. He'd inherited that same crooked curve of the lips that used to make her heart flutter.
Henri drifted through the bedroom with a sleeping Vivienne against his chest. He was surprised his wife didn't stop him from putting Vivienne to bed in the nursery. Minutes later, he returned to the bedroom and joined her on the chaise lounge, noticing their son was asleep. "Chérie, want me to put him down?"
"What?" she responded, not taking her eyes off Alexandre.
"Want me to put him down?"
"Oh. Go ahead."
Henri took him and put the baby down for the night. He rejoined his wife on the oversized chair. He could tell she was still deeply buried in the depths of her mind. Henri tucked her hair behind her ear, pressing his lips to her temple.
She glanced at him, tucking her legs under her body.
"Do you love me?"
Her brows curved upward. "You know I do. Why are you askin' such a thing?"
"I know when you think of him. I can tell. He hasn't crossed your mind in a while, but I've noticed it has happened more since the babies came."
Kitty drew in a breath, releasing it slowly while staring into his brown eyes. "Henri, I can't help but think of Matt when I look at Alexandre," she confessed. "He looks so much like him."
He nodded his head in understanding, taking her hand, weaving his fingers into hers. "Do you feel guilty about not telling him?"
"No, I don't feel guilty," she answered, feeling acute pangs of remorse resurfacing in her heart. Kitty quickly decided to lock them away, just as she had months ago. "I can't help but wonder if in time people will question who Alexandre resembles…"
"They may, Chérie. I'll defend ma famille if anyone is bold enough to question," he assured, slipping his arm around her, pulling her with him while he settled back. He kissed her head as she nestled into him. "No regrets?"
"I believe I'll always have a few regrets," she declared pensively, fighting against her conscience as she rubbed his chest. "I had a dream the night before I had the babies. Matt and I were married. We had the twins. A boy and a girl. We were shoppin' in the general store and goin' to lunch at Delmonico's when," she hesitated, closing her eyes, shuddering at the memory. Kitty bit into her lower lip, her teeth making small half-moons.
"Kathleen, go on."
"A man called him out. Matt did what he's always done. He went to face him. Expected me to accept that it was his job. He didn't care he was gonna take our son fishin' or buy our little girl a Stetson just like his. He didn't care he was gonna make me a widow. He made his choice. It wasn't me or our babies," she finished as her voice cracked, looking up at her husband with tears glistening in her eyes.
"Oh, Chérie," he murmured, wiping away her tears with the pad of his thumb.
Kitty shifted against his chest, sliding onto his thighs. "I don't regret choosing you, Henri," she huskily whispered and cupped his face. "I won't ever regret choosing you," she told him, feverishly capturing his lips with hers. She made a low sound in her throat as his arms came up around her, pressing her against him. She slowed the kiss, caressing his lips decadently, treasuring the fervor and intensity of drawing apart and coming together. Heat spread through her like wildfire.
"Mon amour," he rumbled against her mouth and drew back, taking her in. Her auburn locks cascaded, spilling over her bare freckled shoulders. He pressed his lips against hers, nipping and sucking on her bottom lip, groaning as her slender legs wrapped tightly around him. He stood and securely held her, walking to the bed. He quaked at the sensation of her nipping the place where his shoulder curved into his neck. Henri smoothly dropped her onto the bed. He was on top of her, careful of his weight, balancing on his elbows as she adjusted herself underneath him. He felt lightheaded, giddy at the thought of claiming her, on the verge of being in seventh heaven.
"Henri, my cœur is yours," she whispered, tugging his striped nightshirt up around his hips. His warm lips were on hers. His hands drifted, tangling with hers to pull her gown upward. She arched into the feel of his kisses against her throat, pressing her soft breasts into his chest. "Je t'aime, mon beau," she gasped the words as he thrusted into her cautiously, gently.
He was surrounded by her – her scent, her declared love, her trust. He focused on giving her pleasure to mirror his own. He closed his eyes, struggling for control, not wanting the connection he'd missed with her to be over. He heard the short gasp of his name pass through her lips as she tightened around him. Henri lost his loose hold on control, crying out, burying his face against her neck.