The cry of an infant broke through the silence.

Leo flinched at the sound, lifting his head. Having been banished from the bedroom where Catherine was giving birth, he had waited with the rest of the family in the parlor. Amelia had stayed with Catherine and the doctor, occasionally emerging to give a brief report to Win or Beatrix. Cam and Merripen were maddeningly sanguine about the process, both having seen their own wives safely through childbirth.

The Hathaway family was proving remarkably fertile. In March, Win had given birth to a robust boy, Jason Cole, nicknamed Jàdo. Two months later, Poppy had produced a petite red-haired daughter, Elizabeth Grace, upon whom Harry and the entire Rutledge Hotel staff doted.

Now it was Catherine’s turn. And while childbirth was a perfectly ordinary event for other people, it was the most nerve-racking experience Leo had ever gone through. The sight of his wife in pain was intolerable, and yet there was nothing he could do. It didn’t matter how often he was reassured that the birth was going splendidly … endless hours of labor pains did not seem all that splendid to Leo.

For eight hours Leo had waited in the parlor with his head in his hands, brooding and quiet and inconsolable. He was afraid for Catherine, and he could hardly bear to be separated from her. As he had predicted, he loved Catherine like a madman. And as she had once claimed, she was entirely able to manage him. They were different in so many ways, and yet somehow it made them exactly right for each other.

The result had been a remarkably harmonious marriage. They entertained each other with furious, funny bickering and long, thoughtful conversations. When they were alone, they often spoke in a kind of shorthand that no one else would have been able to interpret. They were a physical pair, passionate and affectionate. Playful. But the real surprise of the marriage was the kindness they showed each other … they, who had once fought so bitterly.

Leo had never expected that the woman who had formerly brought out the worst in him would now bring out the best in him. And he had never dreamed that his love for her would deepen to such proportions that there was no hope of controlling or restraining it. In the face of a love this vast, a man could only surrender.

If anything happened to Catherine … if something went wrong during the childbirth …

Leo stood slowly, his fists clenched, as Amelia entered the parlor with a bundled-up newborn. She paused near the doorway as the family gathered around her with soft exclamations. “A perfect little girl,” she said, beaming. “The doctor said her color is excellent and her lungs are strong.” She brought the baby to Leo.

He was too afraid to move. He didn’t take the baby, only stared at Amelia and asked hoarsely, “How is Marks?”

She understood at once. Her tone gentled as she replied. “Absolutely fine. She’s quite well, dear, and you can go up to see her now. But first say hello to your daughter.”

An unsteady sigh escaped Leo, and he took the baby from her gingerly. He looked down in wonder at the miniature pink face, the rosebud mouth. How light the baby was … it was difficult to believe he was holding an entire human being in his arms.

“There’s a great deal of Hathaway in her,” Amelia said with a smile.

“Well, we’ll do what we can to correct that.” Leo bent to kiss his daughter’s tiny forehead, the wisps of dark hair tickling his lips.

“Have you chosen a name?” Amelia asked.

“Emmaline.”

“French. Very pretty.” For some reason, Amelia laughed quietly before asking, “What would you have named a boy?”

“Edward.”

“After Father? How lovely. And I think it suits him.”

“Suits who?” Leo asked, still engrossed in his daughter.

Reaching up to his face, Amelia guided him to look at the doorway, where Win stood with another bundle, displaying it to Merripen, Cam, and Beatrix.

Leo’s eyes widened. “My God. Twins?”

Cam approached him with a broad grin. “He’s a fine-looking boy. You’ve come into fatherhood with a vengeance, phral. ”

“And Leo,” Beatrix added. “You’ve had an heir just in time … with one day to spare!”

“In time for what?” Leo asked dazedly. Handing his daughter back to Amelia, he took his son from Win. Looking down at the infant’s face, he fell in love for the second time in the same day. It was almost too much for his overwhelmed heart to endure.

“The copyhold clause, of course,” he heard Beatrix say. “The Hathaways will keep Ramsay House now.”

“I can’t believe you would even think about that at a time like this,” Leo said.

“Why not?” Merripen asked, his dark eyes twinkling. “Personally speaking, I find it a relief to know that we’ll all be able to stay at Ramsay House.”

“You’re all concerned about a bloody house, when I’ve just endured eight hours of sheer hell.”

“I’m sorry, Leo,” Beatrix said, trying to sound contrite. “I wasn’t thinking about what you’d just been through.”

Leo kissed his son and handed him carefully to Win. “I’m going to see Marks now. It’s probably been difficult for her, too.”

“Give her our congratulations,” Cam said, a tremor of laughter in his voice.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Leo went to the bedroom where Catherine rested. She looked very small beneath the covers, her face exhausted and pale. A weary grin curved her lips as she saw him.

He went to her and pressed his mouth to hers. “What can I do for you, love?”

“Nothing at all. The doctor gave me some laudanum for the pain. He’s coming back in just a moment.”

Continuing to lean over her, Leo smoothed her hair. “Damn you for not letting me stay,” he whispered against her cheek.

He felt her smile.

“You were frightening the doctor,” she said.

“I merely asked if he knew what he was doing.”

“Forcefully,” she pointed out.

Leo turned to rummage through the articles on the bedside table. “That was only because he’d pulled out a case of instruments that looked more suited to a medieval inquisition than childbirth.” He found a little pot of salve and applied a dab of the unguent to Catherine’s dry lips.

“Sit with me,” she said against his fingertips.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” She patted the mattress invitingly.

Leo sat beside her with extreme caution, trying not to jostle her. “I’m not at all surprised that you produced two children at once,” he said, taking her hand and kissing her fingers. “You’re terrifyingly efficient, as usual.”

“What do they look like?” she asked. “I didn’t see them after they were washed.”

“Bowlegged, with large heads.”

Catherine chuckled and winced. “Please, please don’t make me laugh.”

“They’re beautiful, actually. My dearest love…” Leo pressed a kiss into her palm. “I never fully realized what a woman went through during childbirth. You are the bravest, strongest person who’s ever lived. A warrior.”

“Not really.”

“Oh, yes. Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan, Saladin … all milksops, compared to you.” Leo paused, a grin spreading across his face. “It was well done of you to make certain one of the babies was a boy. The family is rejoicing, of course.”

“Because we can keep Ramsay House?”

“Partly. But I suspect what they’re truly ecstatic about is that now I’ll have to contend with twins.” He paused. “You know they’ll be hellions.”

“I should hope so. They wouldn’t be ours otherwise.” Catherine snuggled closer, and he settled her carefully against his shoulder. “Guess what happens at midnight?” she whispered.

“Two hungry infants will wake up screaming simultaneously?”

“Besides that.”

“I have no idea.”

“The Ramsay curse will be broken.”

“You shouldn’t have told me. Now I’ll be terrified for the next…”—Leo paused to glance at the mantel clock—“seven hours and twenty-eight minutes.”

“Stay with me. I’ll keep you safe.” She yawned and let her head drop more heavily against him.

Leo smiled and stroked her hair. “We’ll both be fine, Marks. We’ve just begun our journey … and there’s so much we have yet to do.” He spoke more softly as he heard her breathing turn even and steady. “Rest against my heart. Let me watch over your dreams. And know that tomorrow morning, and every morning after that, you’ll awaken next to someone who loves you.”

“Dodger?” she mumbled against his chest, and he grinned.

“No, your confounded ferret will have to stay in his basket. I was referring to myself.”

“Yes, I know.” Catherine slid her hand up to his cheek. “Only you,” she said. “Always you.”