Page 93 of Ravishing Camille
She fell backward to the pillows. Eyes shut, she threw off the covers and lifted her knees, feet flat to the sheets.
As a crippling pain tore through her, she heard him curse beneath his breath and dash away.
As it was, Lavare was quick to arrive, medical bag in hand, full of concern for his illustrious patient, the author Camille Bereston-Hanniford. But his services needed were few. Indeed, he cut the umbilical cord. Then he turned and declared to his patient’s husband and mother, both of whom had assisted at the very quick birth, that the placenta was intact. Assured that his patient was hale and hearty, he checked the breathing of the baby boy and promised to record in the city hall the birth of Brendan Patrick Hanniford.
The baby’s mother was happy to see the doctor, but hurried him on his way. After all, she’d been in labor for only one hour and ten minutes and she wished to celebrate quietly with her husband, who marveled at her strength and resilience.
On the fourteenth of April, 1900, the Hanniford clan were to once more assemble at the gate to the Champs de Mars for the opening of the Inauguration of the Exposition of 1900. Everyone had great expectations for the show of the world’s achievements during the past eleven years.
The Hannifords themselves had much to celebrate. Killian, the patriarch was sixty-eight years old and still in good health though he had retired to Brighton and left much of his enterprises to Pierce. Training Liam and Dylan during their holidays from their American colleges, Pierce also kept to his word to pay just honor to his private life as the husband of the noted author and women's rights activist, Camille Bereston-Hanniford, and their two children. Brendan would be eleven years old next month and his sister, Justine would turn eight next week.
It occured, too, that they were about to add another child into the fold. So it happened that on the morning of April fourteenth as Camille awoke, nine months pregnant as she was once more in the spring, she pushed up from her bed at nine-fifteen, smiled at the man who always lit up her world and who brought her tea and croissants each morning, and she said, “I regret, my darling, that I will not be attending the family gathering at the gate this morning.”
This time, Pierce did not ask what to do next, he simply went to the pull, summoning help, and returned to her side to take her hand in his.
“How strong are the pains?” he asked as he pushed her hair from her cheeks.
She pressed her lips together, but tried to smile at him, ever patient and dear Pierce. He was quite charming with his good looks and his excellent care of her. At forty-seven, he retained an athletic physique crowned by a full head of silver hair. He’d become an even more striking creature whom she adored more each day. “Very.”
Lavare arrived within the hour. He stayed to do as he always did, proclaim the newest member of the family a healthy babe, and declare the child’s mother a strong creature who birthed her children in record time.
“Now only fifty minutes of labor,” said Pierce with glee lighting his magnetic gaze. The baby, Ruark Damon Hanniford, had nursed and was at peace in his bassinette. “He’s beautiful, my love. I like his red hair.”
She sank further into the comfort of her pillows. “The next child I have will be born as I ask for my morning tea!”
He dropped a kiss to her forehead. “You are a marvel, my darling.”
They spoke of the family and how they would laugh at her speedy delivery. Again.
Camille chuckled. “I have to ask. Are there suggestions that there will be another exhibit in nineteen-ten?”
He paused to consider. “Plan on going to the opening, do you?”
“Of course! But we do need another child to even the numbers. Don’t you agree?”
He kissed her then. “I love you. If you want more, we shall have them. And I will celebrate each day the delight you bring to every moment of my life.”
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