Page 61 of Ravishing Camille
“Not me,TanteCamille.” Corinne piped up. “But he did.”
“I didn’t complain,” the boy put in, hitching up one corner of his mouth as he scowled at his young sister. “Only you.”
Corinne, who was the tiny blonde image of her mother, squinted her large grass green eyes at her brother. “Non, non, non, Rand. I am grown up,Tante. You see that?” She stretched herself taller in her chair, her brows shooting high to help her grow taller.
“I do, indeed, Corinne. Then we will try those stories after dinner, eh?”
The two clapped.
“A ghost!” Rand demanded.
“A dragon!” Corinne put up her hand and curled her fingers like a claw.
“Both,” Camille confirmed. “I think we shall have both.”
Marianne sat to Camille’s left. “I wonder, Camille, if you might stay here, instead of going to Rue Haussmann? What with Lily and Julian coming along, as well as Pierce, that house will be full. Remy and I hoped you might stay with us.”
“I would be happy to stay here.” Away from the constant presence of Pierce. Away from the possibility she might slip her role as his friend.
“Oui!!” Corinne rejoiced. “We could have dragons every night!”
“Ghosts,” Rand corrected his sister with a frown.
“Both!” Staying in the Rue de Rivoli would keep her from Pierce and it would be practical since Marianne’s baby was due within weeks. “I think it sounds like a very good idea.”
The children giggled at her agreement.
“Day after tomorrow, we can take a picnic basket to the Tuileries,” she said.
“And go on the carousel,” added Corinne with a clap of her hands.
“Oh, that’s for babies,” Rand grumbled. “Why not go tomorrow, though?”
“I must go see my publisher. After that, I am yours!” she told them.
“Good,” Rand said. “I’d like to go to the battlements of Parc de Chaumont!”
Corinne slumped in a heap of dramatic childish despair. “I don’t like it. Cannons. That’s what he wants.”
Rand sighed. “And you want the fish at the exhibit in the Bois de Boulogne! Fish, ugh!”
Camille brightened and took up her wine glass. “I wonder…” She tapped a fingertip on her chin. “Might you like to go see skulls. What do you think?”
“Real ones?” Corinne was a quivering ball of joy.
“Yes.” Camille killed the urge to chuckle at Corinne’s macabre delights. “Thousands of them.”
“Where?” Rand was skeptical.
“The left bank,” Marianne said and smiled at Camille. They’d both discussed this on the way from the station as a possible amusement for the children.
“It’s true?” Rand was still not believing his good fortune.
His father gave him a grave look of approval. “Indeed. They are victims of the plague from hundreds of years ago.”
“And—” said his mother, “from the Revolution.”
Rand looked horrified. “So our Bourbon cousins could be in there!”
