Yuletide Treasure (12 page)

“How … ?” Brigitte whispered. “When … ?”

“It wasn't difficult.” Eric closed the gap between them, smiling at the look of stunned disbelief on Brigitte's face. “You and Noelle sleep quite soundly during your afternoon naps. I used that time to receive deliveries and ready my room—permanently.” His ardent gaze delved deep inside his wife. “I no longer have use for separate quarters, do I?”

“No,” Brigitte breathed. “You don't.”

“As for the gowns, I sent your blue day dress to the seamstress, who used it for measurements.” He framed
Brigitte's face between his palms. “No one will ever mock your clothing again.”

“I wouldn't care if they did.”

“I would. Not because I give a damn what anyone thinks, but because what hurts you hurts me. And because I intend to shower you with every luxury life has to offer.”

“I …” She swallowed. “Eric, I don't need all this.”

“To enhance your value or your beauty, no—you don't. But for the new life I have in mind, yes—you do. We're going to be doing a great deal of entertaining; you, Noelle, and I. Today's party is just the beginning. Farrington has been asleep far too long. It's time we awakened it.”

Brigitte twined her arms about his neck, her lashes damp with tears. “1 love you.”

“You're my own priceless miracle,” Eric replied huskily. “And I love you more than you'll ever know.”

With a slow, shaky breath, Brigitte offered her husband the gift she'd been savoring. “Would you mind dreadfully if the new gowns and the entertaining were to wait a bit longer?”

He blinked. “Why? Don't you like the dresses? I can have others made.”

“I think that would be wise.” Brigitte's eyes glowed through her mist of tears. “Much larger ones, I should think. Large and loose-fitting, to accommodate my Christmas present to you.” Capturing Eric's hand, she placed it against her abdomen.

She watched his expression change from puzzlement to speculation to comprehension.

And then to joy.

“Brigitte.” His throat worked convulsively. “Are you saying … ?”

“Merry Christmas, my love.” She reached up to kiss him. “It seems our first joining yielded even more than our hearts. Our child will arrive this summer.”

Wordlessly, he enfolded her against him, his awed fulfillment a tangible entity that spoke for itself.

“Uncle? Why is Brigitte crying?” Noelle asked.

“Because I'm happy,” Brigitte answered, disengaging herself from Eric's embrace and kneeling down to face
Noelle. “Noelle, how would you feel about having a brother or sister?”

Noelle inclined her head. “How could I have a brother or sister? I'd need parents for that.”

“You have parents.” Brigitte cupped her chin. “Us.”

Realization struck. “You mean you and Uncle are getting a baby?”

“Is that all right?”

Worry furrowed Noelle's delicate brow as she considered the possibility.

“Noelle, I've never had a baby before, nor have I been one for many years,” Brigitte confided. “You, on the other hand, were one yourself just a few years ago. You'll remember a lot more than I. I'm counting on you to help me, and the babe.”

“Will it be a boy or a girl?”

“I honestly don't know.”

“When will it arrive?”

“Sometime at the beginning of August. I'm not exactly sure.”

“You really don't know much about babies, do you?” Noelle determined, frowning.

“I'm afraid not.”

“Will I truly be the baby's sister?”

“Indeed you will.”

“Can I call you ‘Mama'?”

A lump formed in Brigitte's throat. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“And Uncle ‘Papa'?” She looked at Eric.

“I'd be honored,” he responded.

Noelle grinned. “Then it's okay.” Abruptly, she glanced down at Fuzzy, a pensive look on her face. “Brigitte—I mean, Mama—” she said at last, “we're a real family now. And families share, 'specially stuff that's special. So I think I'll share Fuzzy with my new sister or brother. After all, Fuzzy knows how hard it is being new to a family. He helped me get used to it. I'll bet he could help the new baby get used to it, too. Would that be all right?”

Brigitte thought her heart would burst. “I love you, Noelle,” she said, hugging her new daughter tightly. “And, yes, it's more than all right. It's wonderful.”

“What's more, your decision couldn't have come at a better time,” Eric put in. “Because Fuzzy's not the only one who's going to be busy with a new charge.”

“What do you mean?” Noelle asked.

With a secret smile, Brigitte rose. “That's right. I almost forgot about your birthday gift.” So saying, she scooted off to a shadowed corner of the outer chamber. An instant later, she reappeared, a small wire crate in her hands. “Happy birthday, Noelle.”

From within the crate, a golden kitten with huge dark eyes stared out.

“A cat! A real cat!” Noelle snatched the crate, yanking open the door and lifting out her new prize. “What's his name?”

“
Her
name,” Eric corrected. “She's your kitten. You choose.”

“She looks just like Fuzzy!”

On the heels of her words, the kitten—realizing she was free—sprang to life, bounding to the floor and tearing off. Toys flew everywhere, boxes tipped over, and the side table wobbled precariously as she slammed into its legs.

“She might look like Fuzzy, but she behaves like you,” Eric observed dryly.

“I know! I'll call her Tempest!”

“An excellent choice, Noelle.” Brigitte was laughing so hard she could scarcely speak.

“Tempest—come here,” Noelle commanded.

In response, Tempest tossed them an insolent look, then sprang onto the side table and shimmied up the tree, knocking down one ornament after another as she climbed. Halfway to the top—and evidently satisfied with her level of destruction—she stopped, curling up on a branch and peering at them through arrogant, half-closed eyes.

“Aren't you going to chest-ize her?” Noelle demanded, turning to her new parents.

“No, Noelle.” Eric gave a resigned sigh, resting his chin atop Brigitte's head. “Experience tells me Tempest is beyond re-damn-sin.”

 

ANDREA KANE is one of the rising stars of women's fiction, garnering an enviable reputation for crafting incomparable romances. Her most recent novel,
Wishes in the Wind,
is sure to appear on numerous bestseller lists, and follows in Andrea's tradition of award-winning bestselling titles:
Emerald Garden, The Last Duke, Samantha, Echoes in the Mist, Masque of Betrayal, Dream Castle,
and
My Heart's Desire.
Andrea's growing list of devout readers applaud her passion for romance and share in her realization that, “As a child, I was an incurable romantic, a believer in fairy tales where happily-ever-after reigned supreme and true love conquered all. Everyone said I would outgrow it. I never did.” Fortunately, Andrea continues to delight us with beautiful and exhilarating stories—her own special brand of fairy tales. She lives in New Jersey—with her husband Brad, daughter Wendi, parakeet Ariel, and Maltese puppy Rascal (the canine hero of
Samantha)—
where she is busy creating her next triumph for Pocket Books,
Legacy of the Diamond.

I love hearing from my readers! Drop me a note (include a legal-size SASE for a copy of my current newsletter) at the following address:

P.O. Box 5104

Parsippany, NJ 07054-6104

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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First Pocket Star Books ebook edition November 2012

Previously published in the anthology,
A Gift of Love
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ISBN: 978-1-4767-0855-3 (eBook)