Page 35 of The Imperfect Lyon

The midwife stepped forward and handed the bundle to Oliver. “Your daughter.” She smiled and then raced to the doctor’s side.

Oliver peered down at the tiny, scrunched face, and his heart swelled.

“My beauty,” he whispered just as another wail sounded.

Soon, the midwife emerged with a second bundle.

“It’s a boy!” she said.

Oliver thought he might explode with happiness. “And my wife? How is Lady Knox?”

“Excellent, my lord.” The doctor emerged from behind the canopied bed, wiping his hands on a cloth.

Oliver made his way to his wife with their daughter in his arms. The midwife followed, carrying their son. Kate lay with her head resting against a mass of pillows. Her chestnut hair was matted with sweat and stuck to her forehead. But her smile was radiant, and Oliver had never seen her look more beautiful.

“Your son, my lady.” The midwife handed the baby to Kate. Oliver sat beside her on the bed, still cradling his daughter.

“Two babes—a son and a daughter. Who knew we could be so lucky?” Oliver kissed Kate’s damp forehead.

“I want to call her Olivia,” Kate said, looking at the baby in Oliver’s arms, after her Papa.”

“I think that’s perfect. And this little angel shall be Theo.” Oliver smiled at his son, resting in Kate’s arms.

“Oh, Oliver,” Kate leaned against his shoulder, “I’m so happy.”

“We’re so happy. And we will be.” Oliver gazed at the sweet faces of his newborn babes and saw a lifetime of love, laughter, and happiness before him. “Always.”