Gallant Rogue (Reluctant Heroes Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

use the forceps to assist his wife. “It’s all right, love. Chloe, talk to her, talk her through it as only you can do.”
    “A few moments and it will be over. Your new baby will be here. What name shall he have?” Chloe asked. “An Irish name, like the twins, or a French one?”
    The count nodded to her, grateful for her aid. He stepped forward with his modern birthing device. Chloe felt it the moment the infant was pulled free. Elizabeth’s body sagged and her grip on Chloe’s hand lessened to a minor bruising pain instead of the bone-crushing clamp of moments before. Mrs. MacDougal, the housekeeper, pressed cool, damp cloths over Elizabeth’s face and neck. The older woman whispered to her mistress in her soft Scottish burr.
    The faint sound of coughing beyond them changed into a fretful little cry, followed by a shrill shriek that brought pleased relief to the gathering. Elizabeth sank back on the pillows, spent from the delivery. Chloe continued to hold her hand and stroked it as a mixture of joy and sadness clouded her heart. Listening to the frantic shrieks of the newest Beaumont infant, she remembered the weak cries of Baby John last year. Her mind moved back to the day when she had been the one to sink weak and exhausted on the pillows, her body shivering from loss of blood and from the overwhelming assault of pain as she waited to hold her newborn son.
    One year ago it was Chloe lying weak and exhausted from the effort of giving birth, and Elizabeth had held her hand and washed her sweat-slickened brow. Baby John did not cry at first. The silence of the chamber at Chloe’s delivery had been a foreshadowing of the sorrows to come. And then, by some slight wink from the gods, Baby John’s weak lungs gave up the last of the birthing fluid and he made little mewling cries that instantly branded Chloe’s heart. He came two months too early, and seemed so tiny, for all the pain she suffered.
    John’s birth had been a sign of hope. He was born on the eve of his father’s death, a false hope, as it turned out when she buried him beside his father one month later.
    “Oh, Lizzie !” The count’s deep voice snapped Chloe back from the bittersweet memory as he brought the plump pink newborn to his wife. Chloe stepped back so he could place the swaddled infant into Elizabeth’s arms. “We have another girl.”
    “Another redhead, madame.” Mrs. McDougal beamed with approval.
    The sharp, frantic cries from the little bundle made the gathering smile.
    Chloe’s cheeks were wet with tears.
    No one noticed. They were all admiring the little miracle nestled in her mother’s arms.
    Chloe couldn’t bear the sight of her friend holding another infant in her arms, a healthy child by the sound of those lungs. She could not endure the sight of the count’s arms winding about Elizabeth to comfort her after her ordeal, his smile rivaling the brilliance of the sun.
    With a gasp, Chloe turned about and fled the glaring tableau of domestic bliss.
    *     *     *
    “Katie!” Cherie Beaumont exclaimed, stomping about the nursery in a fine temper the next afternoon. “What kind of name is that?” She glared at her brothers. Shawn and Sebastian were nine, the oldest of the Beaumont brood. “Even Gaston has a nice ring to it, but Katie Beaumont? I don’t like it.”
    “Not your decision, brat,” Sebastian chided, wrinkling his freckled nose. “Mother decides the names. Father says it’s only fitting.” He stacked another block on the tower they were building with care as he sat cross-legged on the floor beside his young brother, Gaston, and their cousin, Bran O’Flaherty. Sebastian was attempting to amuse the three-year-old boys.
    “Katie is short for Katherine. Katherine Beaumont is a name fit for a queen,” Shawn added, moving restlessly about the chamber. He pumped and waved his arms about as he waited to be presented to their mother and their newest sibling. Sebastian was the studious twin while Shawn