Page 64 of Ravishing Camille
And she had never had any reason to hope of having him. This, she’d pushed off that thought.
But if or when she married, she would welcome children.
And now…she allowed herself to jump ahead for a glimpse of a future with Pierce and a baby or two.
Then she caught her rampaging mind back.
She would not throw over the chance to write the types of novelsMonsieurDaumier requested. She had no idea how that might work if Pierce and she found they wished to go on together as more than lovers. But certainly she could not write the kinds of novelsMonsieurwished of her if she had not the opportunity to absorb themilieuhe wished.
The carriage idled, and the groom pulled open the door.
“Merci beaucoup,” she said to him and walked up into the grand marble foyer ofPalais de Remy. Two footmen were carrying up the grand staircase a largebombetrunk and another footman held a man’s black leather valise.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle.” The majordomo of the house took her gloves and parasol.
“IsMadameavailable?”
“She awaits you in the grand salon,” he said in French. “MonsieurHanniford has arrived.”
* * *
Why was it that each time he gazed at Camille now, she appeared even more luscious than the last?
She lit up Marianne’s finely appointed gilded grand salon with a verve that took his breath. He had missed her. And damn his soul, he had to appear not to, didn’t he?
He stood to greet her and it took all his discipline not to grab her, but to hug her in a brotherly embrace. “Good afternoon, Camille. You left London unexpectedly. Out to your publisher, Marianne tells me.”
Of course, he knew she was going to see the man, but he had not expected she’d leave London so soon.
“I was.” She smiled, all too briefly at him, and tore her gaze toward Marianne, then took a seat in the lemon and lime Chinoiserie wing chair. “I thought it best to see him right away.”
The contrast of the cheerful appointments with her eye-popping fuchsia afternoon gown made her resemble a fondant he should eat. He sat down himself, happy to cover his erotic physical reaction to her in front of Marianne.
“And you?” Camille inquired, all business, the tease.
He’d act as cool, one leg over the other. “I’ve come early, yes.”
Marianne looked to each in turn. He’d arrived as she was in her studio so she was dressed in her painter’s smock, daubed and smeared with paints of all colors of the rainbow. A spot of vermeil dotted her cheek. A bit of lapis lazuli decorated the back of her hand. “He telegraphed this morning that he wished to arrive in Paris early. So I invited him here straight away. It’s what we hoped you’d agree to do, Pierce.”
“Is that so?” he asked. “Why is that?”
“Rand and Corinne have wrestled Camille into doing their bidding at entertainments. We thought we’d put all the children together here and give your mother and father and Lily and Julian a holiday. It would be great fun for the children, plus I hoped you might give me a chance to go help Remy with the placing of the sculptures.”
“Happy to,” he said and caught Camille’s eye. “You’re good with children.”
“Hmmm,” she said and smoothed her skirts. “As you always said.”
He gave a laugh. “Did I?”
She locked her gorgeous chocolate eyes on his. “Because—you said—I was one.”
“Ah. Well. That was long ago!”
“Two years ago,” she corrected him.
“You two,” Marianne said as a footman entered with a tea tray, “must stop your rivalry.”
He raised his brows at that. “Is that what it is?”
