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“No, you can’t,” Julia admitted, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I know it’s the prerogative of aunts and godmothers and grandparents to spoil children. But we don’t have to spoil her.”

“Of course I want to teach her what true beauty is, and I say this looking at the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, both inside and out.”

Julia flushed at his compliment.

He took a step closer and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Why can’t I buy my little princess nice clothes? She will only be a baby a short while. Next thing we know she’ll be slamming doors, listening to appalling music, and ripping holes in her jeans.”

“I hope not.” Julia kissed the side of his hand. “Barneys is too extravagant for children, and I don’t want her to grow up like some of the people I have to deal with at Harvard.”

Gabriel thought of Cecilia. Then he thought of the snobbish scions of wealthy families he’d encountered during his undergraduate years at Princeton, and later, at Oxford and Harvard.

He placed a hand on Clare’s head and she reached her arms out to him. He took her and instantly, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I don’t want that, either. And I say that knowing that I, myself, have an attachment to luxury.”

“An attachment?” Julia teased.

“You’re the kindest person I know.” Gabriel’s eyes were solemn. “You are everything that is loving and gentle. With you as a role model, she won’t be lacking in kindness, despite the faults of her father.”

“Your faults are greatly exaggerated. From you she will learn bravery and strength and hard work. My kindness grew out of cruelty. I saw how my mother acted and determined to do the opposite.”

“But that’s why I want to spoil you. I wanted to bring you home a new pair of shoes today, but I thought that would be insensitive, given the state of your ankle.” Gabriel pointed to a box. “So I bought you slippers, instead. Very warm. Very soft. And they should fit over your ankle brace.”

“You bought me a present?”

“Yes, and I picked it out myself. Without any help.” Gabriel preened.

Julia crossed over to open the box. She retrieved a pair of cranberry-colored shearling slippers, with a skidproof leather sole. She sat down and tried them on.

“They fit perfectly. Thank you.” Her dark eyes shone as she looked up at her husband. “But I meant what I said; we can’t spoil Clare. I don’t want her to think she has to look or dress a certain way in order to be valued.”

Gabriel gazed over the baby clothes with a look of consternation. “You want me to take them back?”

“No.” Julia stood in her new slippers and walked over to him. She hooked her hand around his neck and drew him down for a kiss. “I’m talking about your next outing.”

“I sat on a couch and they brought everything to me,” he confessed, swaying with Clare against his shoulder. “Does Target do that?”

“No.” She lifted her injured ankle. “As soon as I’m better, I’ll introduce you to the magic of Target. We can browse the aisles with a large red cart, sip a Starbucks coffee, and do everything ourselves.”

“You and I have different understandings of the term magic,” said Gabriel imperiously. His expression grew concerned. “How is your other leg?”

She averted her eyes. “Today the numbness was a little worse. But it’s fine.”

“We can consult another doctor.”

Julia sat in a chair next to the fire. “I’ve already seen two neurologists. Neither of them has a treatment other than time.”

Gabriel didn’t look convinced.

He changed the subject by lifting Clare’s foot. “You can hardly object to her footwear. The ballet slippers were essential.”

Julia took a moment to admire the sight of Gabriel, bursting with pride about his little princess, and the baby herself, who was resting comfortably against his shoulder, sucking her fist. “Yes, I’ll concede that the ballet slippers were essential.”

“By the way, the BBC producer I met in Edinburgh contacted me.”

“What did she say?”

“She asked me to come to London to be interviewed for a documentary about the Renaissance.”

“Congratulations. When would you go?”


Tags: Sylvain Reynard Gabriel's Inferno Romance