Pregnancy Proposals: The Duke's Baby

Richard was the only man she’d ever slept with and he’d taken his time to get to know her before they’d become intimate.

Troubled by her thoughts that seemed to swirl toward one inescapable vortex, she looked for a fallen tree where she could sit while she waited for a deer or some such thing to appear.

In truth she was tired even though she’d slept well. Since eating part of an omelet earlier, she’d felt a trifle nauseous. These were signs of pregnancy, but that wasn’t possible. Since she’d had these symptoms before coming in contact with Geoff, she didn’t think it was flu.

What could it be except the result of her grief?

As soon as she returned to the States, she would need to find meaningful work and get on with her life. But right now the thought of making any decisions seemed too much for her.

She looked around. A few rabbits and squirrels scurried about, but the bigger animals were nowhere in sight. Maybe they’d ventured out at first light and were resting while they digested breakfast.

A short nap sounded like a good idea to her, too. Maybe she should go back to the château and come here later in the day. Even as the thought entered her head, she happened to notice something moving in the water toward her with the speed of a torpedo. Something long and sleek.

By the time she’d jumped to her feet in alarm, a dark head had risen from a cluster of lily pads in flower.

Her hand went to her throat. Lance!

While treading water he flashed her a white smile. “Good morning,” came that low voice in the heavy French accent she found so seductive.

Surrounded by the heads of pink and white water lilies, he made a picture of impossible male beauty. Appearing like this made him seem part of the enchantment of the place.

“I thought swimming across the lake would be the best way to announce I was coming. After our first meeting, the last thing I wanted to do was startle you again.”

Everything about him pulled the ground out from under her, but that was her problem, not his.

“You move like an animal and swim like a fish. If I see you fly, then I’m going to know Merlin haunts these woods.”

His blue eyes darkened with some emotion she didn’t understand. “Why not join me? I’ll show you one of the château’s secrets no one else knows about. You have to swim to it, but don’t worry. The lake’s not deep.”

Her heart lurched at the thought of being alone with him like this. “I’m afraid I didn’t bring a suit.”

“You have one now. Corinne, my father’s stepdaughter, keeps extras around for her girlfriends.” He tossed her a small plastic bag he’d been holding in his hand. It landed at her feet.

Andrea leaned over and opened it. Inside was a cherry-red bikini. She found it odd Lance hadn’t referred to Corinne as the woman he planned to marry. But since his personal life was none of her business, she kept quiet about it.

“There’s plenty of cover. Hurry and put it on. I’ll wait for you,” he said before vanishing beneath the lily pads.

However much he might not like it, she realized Lance was endeavoring to extend the olive branch. Geoff had wanted to show her around and must have put his son up to this. To refuse would be churlish of her.

If she said no, it would only prove she hadn’t forgiven him. In truth, considering his scathing view of women, he might think she’d read more into that angry kiss than punishment.

Forgetting her lethargy for the moment, she moved behind a pine tree and changed into the two-piece suit. It fit, but just barely.

Lured by the sense of adventure surrounding him despite his brooding air of cynicism, Andrea removed her sneakers and put them in a pile with her things, then walked down to the water’s edge. He waved to her from a short distance away.

With her heart pounding hard, she waded into the cold, still water and pushed off toward him. After a few strokes she recovered from the initial shock and discovered the temperature was invigorating.

His intent gaze beckoned her closer. “Follow me,” was all he said before swimming to the middle of the lake where he did an expert somersault into the depths.

With less grace Andrea imitated him, glad for her ponytail that prevented the hair from getting in her eyes. As soon as she reached him, he pointed to an object lying on the floor of the lake. She looked down.

Partially hidden among the plants lay a knight’s sword and shield. Fingers of sunlight illuminated their metallic outlines. In this underworld, anything seemed possible. Andrea wanted to stay longer and inspect them, but she was too out of shape and breath. She began to feel a little panicky.

Lance must have picked up on her alarm because he put his arms around her and they ascended to the surface together. Their swift rise made her somewhat dizzy. This time she clung to his powerful body in order to drink in air.

Unlike last time he didn’t thrust her away as if she’d been the one to initiate the contact.

“Are you all right?”

She felt his husky tone resonate throughout her body.

“Yes. Just a little winded for some reason.” Their bodies brushed against each other in a tangle of limbs. “Where did that sword and shield come from?”

“Years ago my father planted those to give me and my friends a thrill. We decided to leave them there.”

She smiled. “That sounds like Geoff. You were lucky to have such a wonderful father.”

As she’d spoken, her lips happened to graze the scar at the side of his neck. It ran from his collarbone into the black hair behind his ear. The bronze of his skin made it stand out a pinkish white.

“I hope the man who gave this to you isn’t in a position to hurt anyone again,” she whispered, afraid to touch it with her fingers in case it was sensitive.

His lids veiled his eyes. “What if I told you it was a woman?”

A female soldier?

The picture of Lance in mortal combat with a woman managed to disturb her in a whole slew of new and different ways. Any other thoughts went out of her head.

“It looks like a recent wound. D-does it hurt?” she stammered.

“No.”

“I’m glad.”

“Are you?” came the voice of skepticism.

“That you’re not in pain?” she blurted in exasperation. “Of course!”

Embarrassed by the intimate exchange and proximity of their bodies, she pushed away from him and began treading water on her own.

He moved closer. “After the way I treated you last night, you have every reason to despise me.”

“You’re right, but that was last night, and you said you were sorry. Let’s forget it, shall we? Your father is overjoyed you’ve come home. Some men and women don’t return from war, or if they do, they’ve lost limbs or—”

“Or other unspeakable things?” he mocked. “That’s true.” His shuttered eyes continued to search hers. “Unfortunately war isn’t the only place for losses to occur. How long were you married to your husband?”

“Six years.”

“You’re still so young.”

“Almost twenty-eight. Not quite the child you assumed was ingratiating herself to your father,” she reminded him.

He studied her in the dappled light. “No man would ever mistake you for a child. But I did think you were younger.”

“So I gathered earlier.”

“I guess you know you’ve made a conquest of my father.”

Lance didn’t believe in mincing words. He’d followed her to the lac for a definite reason.

Andrea decided to be blunt, too. “I take it you’re not happy about it.”

“No,” he answered in a morose tone.

One thing she could count on with him was his brutal honesty. “Give me through to tomorrow afternoon, then you’ll have him all to yourself.”

He trod water opposite her. “You know as well as I do he doesn’t want you to leave.”

“Geoff has his son back. That’s all he cares about.”

“Not all,” Lance muttered cryptically.

She shook her head to avoid a bee buzzing around her. “I’m aware he has great plans for you.”

Maybe it was a cloud blotting out the sun that threw his features into shadow.

“Do you know, you have the softest skin I’ve ever felt.”

The unexpected change in conversation had been spoken with such stark candor, white-hot heat spread through her body. She started to swim away from him, but he made a lazy circle around her.

“I’m the first man to kiss you since your husband, aren’t I?”

The heat of anger filled her cheeks. “Don’t worry. I’m not waiting for a repeat performance.”

Of course he didn’t believe her, but the slight hint of mockery etched in his expression was the last straw.

“Not every recent widow is desperate to jump into bed with the next available male. Not even when he’s as attractive as you are. Especially not with the emotional baggage you wear like a dark mantle.”

Without hesitation she struck out for the shore where she’d left her clothes. He matched her strokes though she knew he could have reached the edge long before she did.

Scrambling out of the water, she darted for the pine tree, anxious to cover herself. His eyes and personal remarks left her feeling exposed to the bone. Though he’d done nothing wrong, he’d touched a nerve. She was much too aware of him to be comfortable and he knew it!

Andrea hadn’t ever met a man like Lance. In her experience she’d only associated with her husband and his colleagues—teachers caught up in the pedantic world of legend and prose, far from the killing fields of war.

While her husband spent his life searching for stories of a famous knight’s adventures in times long past, Lance had been living one dangerous adventure after another in the present.

What was it like to fight hand to hand, let alone with someone of the opposite sex? Andrea couldn’t imagine it, yet Lance had returned from the battlefield with scars to prove he’d survived its atrocities by sheer guts and an indomitable will.

A life that could be snuffed out at any second had to change a man. Though she admired the heroic service Lance had rendered his country, Andrea’s instinct for self-preservation told her to keep her distance from him, even if he was Geoff’s son.

Or because of it …

After changing into trousers and a cotton top, she put the wet swimsuit in the bag. Once she’d reached for the camera, she left her hiding place, determined to avoid him until she left for the airport tomorrow afternoon. Geoff had assured her one of the staff would drive her when she was ready.

But she needn’t have been concerned. One glance at the lake and she realized Lance had disappeared. Now that he’d done his good deed by providing her a moment’s excitement where the famed Lancelot was concerned, he had more important things to accomplish.

All the way back to the château she told herself she was glad he’d gone. Besides being tired, it saved her from having to sidestep any more discussions about her vulnerability, never mind personal remarks about her skin. Those subjects were way out of bounds.

What she craved was sleep. During those unconscious hours she would be free of certain thoughts plaguing her since last evening.

CHAPTER THREE

WITH a feeling of déjà vu, Lance knocked on Andrea’s door, but there was no answer. After leaving her at the lake yesterday, he’d gone into Rennes on business and hadn’t returned until late.

This morning his father felt well enough to ask if Andrea could join them for breakfast. But after trying to rouse her for the last few minutes, Lance decided she’d already left for the forest.

Andrea Fallon was one woman independent to a fault. The females of his past had shown a different tendency altogether.

He left the third floor for the kitchen, hoping one of the staff would enlighten him. After several inquiries, it turned out no one had seen her. Henri reminded him she was an early riser.

Frowning, Lance went down to his father’s room and told him he’d bring her back for lunch.

Not particularly hungry, he reached for an apple and left the château under an overcast sky. The elements portended rain. Being summer it wouldn’t last long, yet Andrea would be soaked if she got caught in it.

No telling where she’d wandered to this morning, but it didn’t matter. On horseback he could cover the grounds much faster in his search for her.

After reaching the stable, he climbed on Tonnerre. In case she was still waiting to spot an animal near a watering hole, he set out for the lake first.

In no time at all he’d circled it without seeing any sign of her. Perhaps she’d tried to find the fountain of youth his father had told her about, and she’d gotten lost.

Lance urged his horse on toward it.

Not finding her there, he rode swiftly to the top of a nearby hill overlooking the Val Sans Retour where his voice would carry.

It was just the place Andrea probably would have come to take pictures. Lance called to her. Again no response.

Maybe she hadn’t come to the forest at all. It was possible she’d walked to the village of Lyseaux, taking the main road.

As he rode his horse down the other side of the grassy slope, one raindrop then another began to spatter him. Intent on returning to the château for his car, he didn’t see a woman’s body curved on its side near the base until he was almost upon her.

Turning Tonnerre aside abruptly to avoid trampling her, Lance jumped down from his gelding and rushed over to her. One of the hooves had smashed her camera. He shuddered to think what damage might have been done if it had come six inches closer.

“Andrea—” he cried in alarm, getting down on his haunches. If she’d fallen and had hurt her neck or spine, he didn’t dare move her yet.

He heard moaning sounds. To his relief she turned on her back seemingly without a struggle, but she exhibited a pallor that told him she was ill.

“Lance—” she said his name on a shaky whisper. After the way they’d parted yesterday, she wouldn’t have responded like this unless she was in trouble.

His body helped shield her face from the rain, which had started to come down hard. “What happened to you?”

“During my walk I felt sick so I lay down, but it hasn’t passed yet. I think I must have the flu after all.”

“Then you’ve been ill before today?”

“Yes,” she admitted in a faint voice.

When he saw the beads of perspiration beading her hairline and brows, he swallowed hard. “You must have caught father’s bug. It’s a nasty one.”

Without hesitation he lifted her in his arms and carried her over to his horse. “I’m taking you to the doctor in Lyseaux. If you’re too ill to sit up against me, I’ll lay you across Tonnerre.”

She shook her head. “I—I can sit—I think—”

He knew she felt like death, but she hung in there long enough for him to climb on behind her.

“Just rest against me and let me do the work.” With one hand around her waist, he used the other to guide the horse.

The rhythm of the gallop molded their bodies together. After yesterday’s experience when he’d felt her rich curves, he’d longed to repeat the experience.

At the moment she lay helpless against him. Though he was worried for the reason that had put her in this state, he had to confess he enjoyed her needing him like this. After the way she’d lit up for him at the lake, he hadn’t expected to get this close to her again.

Once they reached the canopy of trees, they escaped the worst of the rain. Lance knew a shortcut that would bring them around the rear of the château where his car was parked.

“Am I going too fast for you?” he murmured into her fragrant hair. It smelled of apricots. She’d pulled it back like the day before.

“No,” came the half-moaned word.

That was good. He wanted her examined as soon as it was humanly possible.

Before long they came out of the woods onto the gravel. He led the horse to the passenger side of the car. Luckily the downpour had turned into drizzle.

In a quick movement Lance slid off Tonnerre. Carrying Andrea in his arms, he opened the door and put her inside. After lowering her seat so she could lie back, he shut the door.

With a pat to the horse’s rump, knowing it would return to the stable, Lance jumped in the driver’s seat and started up the engine.

Lyseaux was only four miles away. Andrea didn’t try to talk. Lance’s gut clenched at the thought of her lying out there in the rain all alone.

If he hadn’t been home, his father would have sent someone from the château to look for her. But under the circumstances Lance was glad he was the one who’d discovered her body lying there inert. The idea that someone unscrupulous might have come upon her didn’t bear thinking about.

He pressed on the accelerator, heading straight for the clinic. If the doctor said she needed to be in a hospital, he would drive her to Rennes.

The next few minutes became a blur of activity. As soon as the surprised receptionist saw him carrying Andrea through the main doors, she jumped up and showed him into one of the rooms down the hall. “I’ll get Dr. Semplis.”

“I don’t want anyone but Dr. Foucher looking at Andrea.”

“I’m sorry, monsieur, but today is Dr. Foucher’s day off.”

Lance muttered an imprecation. He didn’t know Dr. Semplis and hated the idea of a stranger taking care of her, but it couldn’t be helped. She needed immediate attention. “She’s very ill.”

“Dr. Semplis will be right in.”

At the sound of the woman’s voice, Andrea’s eyes opened. Lance looked into them as he lowered her onto the examining table. “Help is coming, chérie.“ The endearment came out unsolicited from someplace deep inside, surprising the hell out of him. “We’re at the doctor’s office.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

It sounded heartfelt, which meant she was even sicker than he realized, otherwise she wouldn’t be speaking to him.

Soon after the receptionist left, a nurse entered the room. “If you’d please step out, monsieur.“

The last thing Lance wanted to do was leave, but he had no choice. “If you need me, I’ll be right outside the door, Andrea.”

She gave a barely perceptible nod before her eyes closed again.

The last time he’d left a wounded buddy at the field hospital in a near unconscious condition, the poor devil had never recovered. It was the stuff that had made up part of Lance’s nightmares for the last ten years.

He drew in a ragged breath and exited the room. While he waited in the hall, he drew the cell phone out of his jeans’ pocket and phoned the stable.

After learning that Tonnerre had returned safely, Lance phoned his father and told him he and Andrea had decided to drive to Lyseaux before coming back to the château. They’d all have lunch together another day.

His father seemed fine with it, particularly since a good friend of his had dropped by.

Lance told him he’d see him at dinner and hung up, relieved his parent was still in the dark about Andrea. Now that he was rallying from his bout with pneumonia, Lance didn’t want any setbacks.

His main concern was to find out what was wrong with Andrea and make certain she recovered. For some inexplicable reason he felt responsible for her. He grimaced to think about anything that could have put her life in jeopardy.

“Monsieur?” Lance wheeled around to see a younger doctor coming down the hall. “I’m Dr. Semplis.”

“Grâce à Dieu someone’s on duty! Andrea became ill in the forest. She couldn’t sit up, let alone walk out on her own. I had to carry her in; I think it could be flu.”

The other man eyed him curiously. “I won’t have any idea until I examine her, but don’t worry. We’ll know soon enough. Why don’t you take a seat out in reception.”

“I’m staying here,” he declared.

“Suit yourself, but it could be a long wait.”

His jaw hardened. “So be it.”

Andrea drifted in and out of sleep, haunted by dreams of Lancelot braving the elements to carry her to safety on his marvelous steed.

In her waking moments the doctor told her she was dehydrated. He’d ordered an IV. Soon a lab technician drew her blood.

She fell asleep again. Later she became aware of Lance’s presence. He’d pulled up a chair next to the examining table.

Other than asking her if he could do anything for her, he didn’t force her to talk. By his brooding silence however, she could tell something serious was on his mind.

Even if Geoff had prevailed on Lance to stay with her, she found it rather touching that such a fierce, dominant male who probably hated confinement like this more than most people, was keeping a constant vigil at her side.

It made her feel guilty that instead of being with his father who needed him, Lance had to worry about her.

She felt a little stronger and turned her head to look at him. “I should have gone home yesterday.”

He leaned forward, eyeing her narrowly. “To what? An empty house full of memories?”

“A condo,” she corrected him, wondering at his savage tone.

“Who would take care of you?”

“I have a friend, who’s the wife of one of my husband’s colleagues.”

“No family?”

“When my parents were killed, my mother’s sister Aunt Kathy and her husband Rob raised me along with their two daughters. They still live in New Haven, but they’re very busy. I wouldn’t want to bother them, not after everything they’ve done for me.”

Lines darkened his handsome face. “Then let’s be thankful you remained here. You could have collapsed on the flight over.”

Since the possibility was patently true, Andrea couldn’t deny it. “I’m sorry to take you away from your father.”

“He’s on the mend. You’re the one I’m worried about.” She saw that his hands had formed fists. “I can’t figure out what’s taking the doctor so damn long to give you a diagnosis. Dr. Foucher should have been here.”

“I think you’ve been on the battlefield too long where everything happens fast, and decisions have to be made in a split second. Things go more slowly back in civilization.”

He rubbed the back of his bronzed neck. “You’re right.” His probing gaze roved over her features. “There’s more color in your cheeks.”

“I’m feeling a little better. Must be the IV.”

“Dieu merci.”

“I’d like to tell you something,” she whispered.

A stillness seemed to envelop him. “Go ahead.”

“You redeemed yourself today.”

“I thought there was no redemption,” his voice grated.

“I was wrong. You rescued a damsel in distress. That’s what heroes do, even if their crown has slipped.”

“I never had one,” he bit out in what sounded like self-abnegation. “You’re imagining things.”

“No. I’m awake, and I was with you when it happened. No one, and I mean no one else could have pulled off what you did unless his name was Lancelot Du Lac. I must confess I’m in awe of you.”

“All right, Andrea—” The doctor swept in the room, bringing Lance to his feet. “I finally have confirmation of what’s wrong with both of you.”

“Both?” Andrea’s anxious gaze flew to Lance’s. “Are you ill and you didn’t tell me?”

Dr. Semplis laughed. “You’re going to have a baby, maman.” He turned to Lance. “Congratulations, papa.”

“A baby?”

“But that’s impossible!” Andrea cried, trying to sit up. “I mean I can’t be pregnant!”

“I’m afraid you are,” the doctor interjected before she could say anything else. “Twelve weeks along in fact.”

“Twelve—” Her cry resounded in the tiny room.

The doctor eyed both of them with amusement. “I’m surprised neither of you recognized the symptoms. Under the circumstances I’ll leave you two alone for a minute, then I’ll be back in to talk to you.”

“Wait—”

“Thank you, Dr. Semplis,” Lance said, taking charge as if he was used to dealing with her. He put his strong hands on her shoulders to ease her back. “We do need some private time.”