Kitabı oku: «Pregnancy Proposals: The Duke's Baby»
Pregnancy Proposals
The Duke’s Baby
Rebecca Winters
The Boss’s Pregnancy Proposal
Raye Morgan
The Marriage Solution
Brenda Harlen
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
The Duke’s Baby
About the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
The Boss’s Pregnancy Proposal
About the Author
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
The Marriage Solution
About the Author
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Copyright
The Duke’s Baby
REBECCA WINTERS, whose family of four children has now swelled to include five beautiful grandchildren, lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the land of the Rocky Mountains. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wildflowers nearby, she never runs out of places to explore. These spaces, plus her favourite vacation spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her romance novels. Writing is her passion, along with her family and church. Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to email her, please visit her website, www.cleanromances.com.
CHAPTER ONE
… LANCELOT possesses all he wants, when the queen voluntarily seeks his company and love, and when he holds her in his arms, and she holds him in hers. Their sport is so agreeable and sweet, as they kiss and fondle each other, that in truth such a marvelous joy comes over them as was never heard or known.
With an aching groan, Andrea Fallon closed the book she was reading, unable to see any more words in the fading light. It was just as well since she couldn’t bear to go on reading the hauntingly beautiful story.
Maybe never again.
Though the French poet Chrétien de Troyes might have written the story of Lancelot in 1171, his description of the famous knight’s love for Guinevere was as stirring now as then.
What woman wasn’t envious of the queen who inspired such love in the first Knight of the Round Table?
Wouldn’t any woman wish to be loved with a love so all-consuming and powerful.
Cross at herself over her preoccupation with the greatest Knight in Christendom, Andrea’s thoughts returned to Richard, the husband she’d buried three months ago.
“Would you have loved me more if I’d been able to give you a child?” her heart cried.
Since the funeral she’d gone over and over their troubled marriage in her mind, wondering if her unexpected barren condition had been so painful for him, some of his feelings for her had simply turned off.
Only twenty-one to his thirty-one when they’d exchanged vows, who would have dreamed she would develop a childbearing problem so early in their married life?
Her aunt’s cousin hadn’t been able to have children, but that didn’t seem to have affected the love between her and her husband. They went on to adopt two children. But Richard refused to talk about adoption. He wanted a child from his own body, not someone else’s.
Knowing he felt that way, Andrea hadn’t pressed him about it. But from then on their relationship underwent subtle changes. He grew more distant and threw himself into his work, either unaware of Andrea’s pain, or unwilling to deal with it because his own was too great.
Their lovemaking seemed to have become an afterthought for him. In the last year he’d behaved more like a friend than a lover with only an occasional coming together she’d been forced to initiate.
She’d hoped they would get past their sorrow, that it was temporary. Surely in time he would ache for a child and be willing to consider adoption.
Andrea was convinced that if they’d taken the steps to start adoption proceedings right away, the anticipation of becoming parents would have brought joy and helped the physical side of their marriage get back on track. But that time never came. Now it was too late.
Oh, Richard …
Hot tears formed rivulets down her cheeks.
Her aunt had promised her this period of mourning would pass. “One day you’ll meet that special someone who will want to marry you and adopt children.”
Andrea didn’t believe it, not when she remembered the other things in their marriage that hadn’t happened. With ten years difference between them, she suffered over the possibility that she simply hadn’t measured up.
Richard’s academic world had been filled with brilliant men and women. What had she been able to offer if she couldn’t give him a child they both wanted?
Why had he even married her?
The second she asked the question she realized grief was causing her to lose her perspective. She’d lost her appetite weeks ago.
Thirty-seven years of age was too young for him to die. Devastated by his early passing, which cut off all hope of their making a family, Andrea got up wearily from her resting place against a tree trunk.
A good night’s sleep was what she needed to restore her long enough to finish her husband’s latest project on Arthurian legend. Another couple of days to capture a stag or a wild boar on film—the kind you saw woven in tapestries—and her collection of pictures would be complete. Unfortunately she would have to return to New Haven without any sightings of the damsel of the lake.
Andrea had been in Brittany close to a week. Already she’d discovered that the Forêt de Broceliande became an enchanted world after the sun went down. In awe of the forest’s almost seven-hundred-foot high canopy, she found the place secretive and quiet except for the forest creatures ambling among birch and chestnut trees.
Any minute now she expected the characters from Camelot to steal from their hiding places in this magical setting and whisper their stories.
As Andrea put the strap of her camera case over her shoulder, she thought she heard the rustle of underbrush caused by the breeze. Or possibly it was a forest creature, but her imagination had been playing overtime for the last few hours.
A little spooked she looked around, causing her hair to swish around her face.
“Oh—” she cried out.
From behind the fir trees at the end of the pear-shaped lake, simply called Le Lac, a lean, solitary figure in military camouflage emerged. He almost startled her out of her skin with his raw male, twenty-first century presence.
Every inch of this modern man’s rip cord strong body radiated an animal-like energy. It wouldn’t surprise her if he carried a knife and a gun, but she sensed his tall body was a lethal weapon. No doubt when he slept, one eye remained open.
If he’d been tracking her, he moved with a built-in radar. Andrea shivered. His enemy wouldn’t be aware of him until it was too late.
The skin stretched over his hard-boned aquiline features had been burnished to teak by an equatorial sun you didn’t feel in France. In the twilight she made out burning-blue eyes. They were scrutinizing her beneath black brows and a head of short-cropped black hair.
She’d never met a more fiercely handsome man.
For an insane moment she could visualize him in shining armor as he knelt before Guinevere with the heavens shining down on him. Then he spoke in a deep, grating voice, shattering the illusion into a thousand pieces.
“You’re trespassing,” he said, first in French then in heavily accented English.
His underlying note of hostility caught Andrea off guard. This was no young disguised prince who’d mastered the art of chivalry. There was no “Bonsoir,” or “Je m’excuse,” or “Je regrette,” that he’d frightened her.
This dangerous man, probably in his mid-thirties and aggressively male, glared at her as if he had something personal against her.
Unless he’d been able to make out the title on the front of her book, she couldn’t understand how he knew to speak English to her. She gripped it tighter. “Actually I have permission to be here,” she explained in a low tone.
His eyes narrowed to slits before he relieved her of her camera case. The action had been too lightning quick for her to prevent it. He wound the strap around one masculine wrist with its sprinkling of dark hair, making it impossible for her to take it from him. Not that she would have tried. Instinct told her he knew moves she’d never dreamed of.
“No one has permission to be here. Whoever you are, I suggest you be on your way.”
“The groundskeeper told me where I could take pictures of the wildlife.”
His jaw hardened. “You can redeem your camera from the security guard at the gate in the morning. If you’re lying, then I wouldn’t come around here again if I were you.”
He raked a brazen gaze over the mold of her face and body one more time, reminding her she was a woman, with feminine curves. But unlike other men, he seemed to find no pleasure in the fact. Indeed, quite the opposite.
“Remember you’ve been warned,” he added before moving with stealthlike grace until he’d disappeared in the foliage.
Still trembling from the combination of his chilling tone and intimate appraisal that missed nothing, it took a minute for her to find her legs before heading back to the Château Du Lac. She shouldn’t have stayed out here so long. Night was fast closing in, making it difficult to see her way through the dense undergrowth.
The groundskeeper of the château who’d provided her with a quickly drawn layout of the vast Du Lac estate, hadn’t indicated he’d hired another man to patrol the area at night. In fairness to him, he probably wouldn’t have imagined her staying out after sunset to take photographs.
But of course that wasn’t what she’d been doing just now. There was something about reading Lancelot’s story in the very forest where he’d grown up that had appealed to the fanciful side of her nature. That is until the poet’s words had struck a chord, disturbing her at her deepest level where she hated to admit her marriage wasn’t all it should have been.
Adrenaline from her unexpected encounter with the forbidding stranger kept her heart rate accelerated. By the time she reached the gravel driveway leading up to the front entrance of the early thirteenth century château, weakness had attacked her. She’d been forced to stop to catch her breath.
After running through the thick forest in her haste to return, the imposing three-story structure with its rounded towers came as an enchanting surprise. The lights from inside brought out the deep red of the garnets embedded in the schist rock from which it had been constructed. It was like stumbling upon a rare treasure glowing in the heart of a dark wood.
A large, well-trained staff kept the château and gardens immaculate, yet she saw no cars. If it weren’t for the gleam radiating from the windows you wouldn’t know anyone was about.
Tonight nothing seemed real. Maybe her head was too full of Lancelot and broken dreams. It was possible she’d only imagined her confrontation with the audacious man whose unforgettable looks had managed to jolt her body to react.
His unexpected presence had jerked her senses awake from their frozen prison where a plethora of emotions had lain dormant these past few months. Andrea didn’t appreciate being forced to deal with her feelings yet. In fact she resented him for intruding on her already precarious state of mind.
Before this incident she’d been able to remain in her temporary comfort zone, carried along by the plan that had brought her back to this mystical province. Taking pictures didn’t require thinking, only doing.
After letting herself inside the ornate entrance hall, she hurried up the grand staircase to her apartment on the third floor. Henri, the head of the house staff, had told her the front door would remain unlocked until 10:00 p.m. every night. Till then she could come and go as she pleased by orders of Geoffroi Malbois, the Duc Du Lac, who’d been born and raised in this château.
At present the trim, distinguished looking owner was battling pneumonia. He’d come down with it following a nasty case of the flu, yet he’d been kind enough to insist she stay on.
Through his housekeeper Brigitte, Andrea learned he’d instructed his guest be put in the rarely used green room. The second the older woman unlocked the door, its special significance became apparent.
Against the light green background of the ceiling and walls, the life-size figures of Lancelot and Guinevere had been immortalized. A fourteenth century artist had depicted their secret trysts for each month of the year. The glorious colors were still vibrant, as if he’d just painted them.
The first night Andrea lay down on the massive round bed, she kept moving in different positions to study the two beautiful lovers. She remembered thinking no living man could match Lancelot’s splendor.
But as she walked in the bedroom tonight, she carried the image of the intrusive stranger with her. It was an image she couldn’t seem to get out of her head despite the epitome of manhood staring her in the face everywhere she looked.
First she would change, then go downstairs for a roll or something. The thought of a meal didn’t appeal. If the Duc’s condition hadn’t worsened, she’d check in on him to say good-night. He’d urged her to visit him in the evenings, but she’d have done it anyway.
Andrea had never met a kinder, more accommodating person. Miserable as he felt, he exuded exceptional warmth. To an extent that particular quality had been missing from her marriage, but she hadn’t realized it so much until she’d spent a little time in the presence of her host.
He didn’t stand on ceremony and had insisted Andrea call him Geoff. Having taken particular interest in her husband’s project at Easter, he’d wanted to help her any way he could. Even though the Duc was ill right now, he’d told her to make herself at home for as long as she wanted.
From their talks she’d learned he led a busy social life and was active in civic and ecological affairs. He had a son from his first marriage who lived away. The stepdaughter from his second marriage, which had failed, lived with him when she wasn’t traveling. Evidently he didn’t suffer from lack of company. According to Henri there were always visitors coming and going, proof of how well he was regarded by his friends.
In return for his generosity of spirit, not to mention everything else, Andrea couldn’t help but gravitate to him and was worried about his physical condition. Since her arrival at the château he’d been forced to remain in bed. The last three days his symptoms had grown worse. There’d been nurses around the clock and the doctor had come by twice.
If there was anything she could do to help, she would. After losing her husband to a blood clot in his prime, she would always take another person’s illness seriously.
It felt good to get out of the clothes she’d been wearing all day, especially her jeans, which felt tight. While reading earlier, she’d undone the metal button to make herself more comfortable. Since she’d only worn them once before packing them for this trip, she decided they must have shrunk a little bit too much in the wash.
Once she’d picked out a cream colored blouse and brown wraparound skirt to wear, she grabbed fresh underwear and hurried into the modernized en-suite bathroom to shower and wash the pine needles out of her hair.
Later, on her way down to the Duc’s suite on the second floor, she would find Henri and tell him what happened in the forest. He would take care of the problem and arrange for the return of her camera.
For the next few days she would confine her picture taking to the mornings in order to avoid another confrontation with the rough, unfeeling man who’d warned her off.
Lance Malbois gave his father’s dog Percy a good scratch behind the ears before approaching the bed. “Papa? Are you awake?”
His father’s eyelids opened, revealing dull gray eyes. This illness had drained them of their normal sparkle. As he stared at his son in disbelief, they took on life. “Mon fils—”
Lance’s heart lurched. His father’s voice was weak. Without the oxygen helping him breathe—
He fought not to show his concern in front of him. The father he loved was too young a man to be this sick. His pallor alarmed Lance.
“When did you arrive?” the older man asked with effort.
“A little while ago. You were asleep. I didn’t want to disturb you, so I took a walk.”
After suffering one shock that his father’s flu had turned into something worse, he hadn’t been prepared for another one—that of coming across anyone on their private property.
“Father?” he squeezed his hand. “Why didn’t you let me know your illness was this serious? How come I had to hear it from Henri? You know I would have flown home sooner.”
“The pneumonia barely came on. It took me by surprise, but I’m better than I was last night.” After a coughing spell he asked, “How long will you be here this time?”
Lance sucked in his breath. “I’m home for good.”
At that unexpected news, joy illuminated his father’s face. “You mean it?” He tried to raise his head off the pillow, but Lance restrained him gently.
“I’ve left the service. It’s over.”
“I’ve hoped for this day, Lance.” He struggled through another coughing spasm. “I’ve prayed you would return healthy in mind and body. Le bon Dieu heard me.”
What his parent saw was a shell of the man he once was. Lance wouldn’t want him to know what lay beneath.
“Now that I’m back, we’re going to work on your getting well. Anything you’re worrying about, I’ll take care of.”
His father smiled through his tears. “Am I dreaming?”
Lance had trouble clearing the lump in his throat. “Non, mon père.”
It was long past time he started helping his remarkable father who needed Lance to shoulder more of the responsibilities. His parent had not only raised him from birth, ten years ago he’d been wise enough to give Lance his freedom without making him feel guilty. In the end, that freedom had brought Lance back home of his own free will.
The reason that had driven him away in the first place no longer mattered. Since that time life had delivered him a blow from which he would never recover whether he lived at the far ends of the earth or at home. At least here he could be of use to his father.
“The nurse is making signs you need to rest. She says you’ve had too many friends come by and they’ve worn you out, so I’m going to let you sleep now.”
“Don’t go.”
“I just want to have a word with the staff, but I promise I’ll be back to stay in here with you tonight. Percy will stand guard, won’t you.”
The dog moaned in response.
“Do you know he won’t leave me? Henri has to force him to go out when it’s necessary.”
Percy’s love for his master was touching. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
A couple of years before Lance had joined the military, his father had found a stray puppy of mixed breed near to death in the forest. Some cruel person must have dropped it off to die, but his father brought him back to the château to nurse him. They’d been inseparable ever since.
“Are you settled in your suite down the hall?”
“Oui.”
“We—” He stopped long enough to cough again. “We have a visitor.”
A frown marred Lance’s features. “Someone’s staying at the château?”
“Yes.” He would have said more, but another coughing spell took over.
As far as Lance was concerned, whoever it was needed to leave. His gracious father didn’t know how to say no to anyone. His second marriage was proof in point. Right now he was too ill to realize what was good for him. Lance hadn’t come home any too soon to take charge.
Kissing his father on either cheek, he nodded to the nurse then left his father’s suite to go in search of Henri who was devoted to his parent. He found him in the foyer closing up the château for the night.
Lance approached him from the right since the head of the staff couldn’t hear out of his left ear. Years earlier Henri had been a young groomsman at the stable when a hunting accident had occurred. After being released from the hospital, Lance’s father had brought him into the château to take care of him. He’d been in his household employ ever since.
“I understand there’s a guest staying at the château, Henri.”
The older man turned and nodded. ”Oui. A Madame Fallon.”
His shuttered gaze searched Henri’s. “Someone ‘special’?”
“Your father insisted I put her in la chambre verte.“
Lance was stunned. The green room had always been offlimits to guests in order to preserve its treasures. This meant his sixty-seven-year-old father could have become romantically involved.
Even if this woman was worthy of him, which Lance knew wasn’t possible, his father had gone too far. Lance had to admit to being surprised his parent hadn’t mentioned her before now. But after the disaster of his second marriage, maybe he was too worried over his son’s reaction to tell him anything on that score.
“Has he known her long?”
“He met her at Easter, but she’s only been at the château a week.”
Lance had come home for that holiday on a chance twelve-hour leave, but there’d been no mention of her then.
A week was long enough for his parent to have become infatuated. He ground his teeth. What hold did this woman have over his father? He’d buried his heart with Lance’s mother and had waited until his mid-forties before marrying a second time.
That travesty of a union had lasted less than a year. Long enough to scar his father, or so Lance had thought …
A blackness swept through him. “What’s your opinion of her, Henri?”
“She’s been good for your father.”
Such praise coming from Henri, the soul of discretion, was unprecedented. Evidently she’d deceived Henri, too.
“When was the last time Corinne was home?”
“Last month. She’s on holiday in Australia right now.”
That meant she wasn’t privy to this latest information about his father’s interest in another woman. He could only imagine her reaction when she found out. As for her knowing Lance had returned …
He patted Henri’s shoulder. “Thanks for all your care of him. Now that I’m home on a permanent basis, bring any concerns to me.”
The other man smiled. “It’s good to have you back. Your father has been living for the day.”
If Brigitte hadn’t already gone to bed, she’d volunteer certain details about his father’s relationship with this latest predator. Unlike her husband, Henri, the housekeeper had no qualms when it came to expressing her opinions.
Any feelings of guilt Lance suffered for having been away this long were overshadowed by anger that another toxic female was already sleeping under their roof, counting the seconds until his father made her his third wife.
In need of a drink, he went to the kitchen for coffee first. Much as he’d like something stronger, he would opt for painkillers in lieu of alcohol to tamp down the pain of a recent injury. However there was no medicine, no drink to wipe out the agony of shattered dreams.
From the first day of her arrival, Andrea had been told she could help herself to anything from the modernized kitchen no matter the hour. Brigitte insisted the cook wouldn’t mind.
Taking her at her word, Andrea found some fresh brioche under a glass cover and ate one over the sink so she wouldn’t spill crumbs on the stone floor. Since neither coffee nor fruit juice sounded good, she ended up drinking potable water from the faucet.
As she was standing on tiptoe to put the glass back on the baker’s rack, someone pushed open the kitchen door and came in. She assumed it was Brigitte about to make hot tea with honey for the Duc.
“I hope Geoff’s better tonight,” she called over her shoulder.
“We’re all hoping for that miracle.”
Andrea stilled for a moment.
That deep voice with the heavy French accent—she’d heard it before. Just a little while ago in fact.
Her heart began to thud before she spun around to face the man she’d met in the forest. The quick motion caused her golden-brown hair to float about her shoulders before settling.
His searching gaze watched her, taking in every inch of her curves before it looked into the dark velvety-brown of her eyes. Like scorching blue flames, his flared in recognition.
He needed a shave and was still dressed in fatigues. The collar couldn’t hide a thin white scar that ran up the side of his bronzed neck. She hadn’t noticed it in the semidark of the forest. At the mere thought of how he came by it, a shudder ran through her body.
If her instincts didn’t deceive her, he was not pleased to discover that the trespasser he’d confronted earlier was inside this château, helping herself to the food.
“Who are you?” he asked in a grating voice that managed to disturb her already sensitized nerves.
“Andrea Fallon. It appears the groundskeeper neglected to let you know Geoff had a guest.”
He poured himself a cup of coffee from the cafetière and drank part of it, studying her over the rim. His gaze was insolent as well as bold. He had no shame.
She averted her eyes. A man who lived a life-and-death existence as he must have done, had dispensed with civilized pretense a long time ago.
“Did you give my camera to the guard at the gate?”
“No,” came the unequivocal answer. “I’ll return it to you later.” He swallowed the rest of his coffee and put the cup in the sink.
“Morning will be fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to look in on Geoff.”
“Not yet,” he muttered. The next thing she knew he’d placed his body between her and the door. His hand grasped her wrist so she couldn’t leave.
“What on earth is wrong with you?” she cried, trying to pull away from him. But his grip was far too strong. At five foot six and only a hundred and twenty pounds, she was no match for his steel-like strength.
“My question to you exactly,” he bit out, drawing her nearer until she felt the warmth from his rock-hard body. The male scent of him was as erotic as it was unexpected. “What are you? All of twenty-two compared to his almost seventy years?”
When Andrea figured out what he was implying, she couldn’t prevent the incredulous laugh that escaped. “Not that it’s any business of the hired help, but Geoff and I are friends!”
“No doubt you’d like it to be more.” He pulled her against him until she was crushed against every line and sinew of his body, sending fire through hers. She moaned in disbelief this was happening.
“Who made you his personal watchdog?” she cried, far too aware of their breath mingling, let alone his long, sooty lashes and the lines of experience bracketing his sensual mouth. No man had a right to be this attractive, yet so utterly offensive at the same time.
“Since his second marriage never took.” She thought she saw pain interspersed with anger flashing from his eyes. “If you think I’m about to let him enter into a third with someone young enough to be his granddaughter, you’re deluding yourself.”
He’d pushed her too far. She couldn’t refrain from baiting him. “Sometimes age isn’t as important as kindness and love.”
His lips twisted unpleasantly. “Especially when you’re looking at a fortune after he’s dead.”
“Is that why you stay in his employ?” She flashed him a mocking smile. “Are you hoping there’ll be something in it for you?”
The minute the question was out, she regretted her lapse of control and tried to jerk away from him without success.
“Why not … if you’re offering,” he drawled.
A thrill of fear raced through her body. Too late for escape, she couldn’t avoid the hard mouth that descended on hers.
Caught off guard, her gasp of surprise enabled him to drive deeper in a kiss so intimate and all-consuming, she was shaken to the foundations. For a dizzying moment the sensations he aroused caused her legs to lose their strength.
At the very second she found herself clinging to him so she wouldn’t fall, he gripped her upper arms and propelled her away from him.
It infuriated her that while she was out of breath and disheveled, he stood there mocking her with a devilish smile, seemingly unfazed by the encounter.
When she tore herself from his grasp, the force of it almost caused her to trip on her flight from the kitchen. She dashed through the hall and up the stairs of the château, needing to reach the safety of Geoff’s suite.
CHAPTER TWO
A NEW nurse had come on duty. She smiled and nodded to Andrea, indicating her patient was up to a nocturnal visitor.
Approaching his bed, Andrea could see he was doing better. His oxygen tube had been taken away. Since last night he had more color and the slight wheeze in his chest didn’t seem as noticeable.
Still trembling from her experience in the kitchen, she pulled up a chair next to him and put a hand on his arm, willing her heart to stop slamming against her ribs.
Whether in the Duc’s employ or not, the stranger had crossed a line tonight with his primitive behavior. To manhandle a woman the way he’d just done was grounds for dismissal and a lot worse if Andrea had anything to say about it.
Without upsetting Geoff, she would learn what she could about the other man from Henri. He would know what should be done and would be discreet in handling the situation so she wasn’t bothered further.
“Geoff? It’s Andrea.”
His eyes opened. They had more life than before. He really was improving. Nothing could have pleased her more.
“You sound out of breath, ma chérie.“
Under the circumstances a little white lie wouldn’t hurt. “I just returned to the château and wanted to see you first.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” He patted her hand. “I have the most wonderful news.”
“The doctor must have told you you’re on the mend at last!” she interjected.
“It’s a fact I’m feeling better, but this is something else. My son has come home for good. I couldn’t speak about him or his work before tonight because it was classified. But now I can tell you. For the last ten years he’s been serving in various regions of the world as part of our military’s elite force.”
A slight gasp escaped her throat. With those words Andrea realized she’d already met his only offspring. No wonder he’d appeared in the kitchen as if he owned the place. It explained his presence on the grounds.
Wasn’t France’s elite force even more deadly than its special forces?
The moment he’d emerged so noiselessly from the pines, she’d sensed the difference about him. She had living proof he was even better trained and more dangerous than she’d first supposed.
His uncivilized behavior downstairs appeared to be the result of too much time spent doing unspeakable things for far too long.
“Earlier tonight while I was wondering when I would see him again, and hopefully in one piece, he appeared in my room and told me he’d performed his final service for the country. It’s over. Grâce à Dieu. Now he and Corinne can be married.”
“Corinne?”
“The daughter of my second wife.”
Andrea blinked. She supposed some stepbrothers and sisters did marry, but she couldn’t imagine it.
“Corinne’s had her eye on my son from the beginning. Now that he’s retired from the service, I’m going to get the grandchildren I’ve been waiting for. She’ll be home from her latest trip any day now.”
Would marriage be able to tame a man as out of control as his son? Andrea doubted it.
“I’m so happy for you,” she said before getting to her feet, unable to sit there calmly while she digested all the revelations of this night. If Geoff could have seen her being thoroughly kissed against her will by his only offspring, he’d be horrified.
“I want the two of you to meet.”
“We already have, Papa,” sounded an irascible voice that could only have come from one man. He’d just entered the bedroom. Andrea tried to smother her cry of surprise. “I discovered her by the lac.“
“Then you probably know how much this poor child has suffered, Lance.”
Lance was his real name?
Lancelot Du Lac?
“I’m afraid we didn’t do much talking,” Andrea broke in, not wanting to think about what had gone on during both private confrontations. Worse, she didn’t want Geoff hurt. Like any father, he had great hopes for his son’s future. Andrea had no desire to do anything that could bring him sadness.
“It’s obvious he’s anxious to spend time with you. Since you both have so much catching up to do, I’ll say good-night and visit you tomorrow.”
“Do you promise?”
“Of course. Keep getting better now.”
She squeezed his arm, then darted away feeling a pair of accusing blue eyes leveled on her back. As she raced to the door they seemed to say, “You can keep running from me, but I know what you’re up to. Be warned I’ll drive you out.”
By the time Andrea reached the safety of her bedroom, she’d made up her mind that tonight would be the last time she slept in this château.
Not because of Lance Du Lac’s treatment of her, which was unconscionable. Not even because of his faulty assumption that she had designs on his father. An extraordinary man like the Duc probably drew the interest of many women. One or two unscrupulous types might even be after his money and title. Naturally his son would be protective of him. But that wasn’t it.
Her need to leave stemmed from guilt.
She pulled the suitcase from the wardrobe and started to pack. In the morning she would slip down to Geoff’s room to thank him for everything and say goodbye. It was for the best.
To have become physically aware of his world-weary son—a cynical man scarred in both a physical and figurative sense from experiences she didn’t want to know about, a man who’d chosen to live life on the edge on purpose, and had probably left a trail of willing women around the globe before coming home to marry, seemed a total betrayal of Richard’s memory.
He’d barely been gone three months, yet twice this evening she’d found herself unwillingly attracted to a stranger who’d shown her nothing but primitive behavior.
She could still feel his hands on her body, could still feel his mouth devouring hers. All of it a violation, though she couldn’t say he’d hurt her. It was the brazen unexpectedness of his action that had surprised her.
And of course her involuntary response to his male appeal … That was the part that was so unforgivable.
When she’d first met her dark blond husband, she’d been working at a photography studio. She’d found it flattering that a university professor would be interested in her artwork suggestions for the current book he was writing.
He’d allowed her to see into his world. She’d been a good listener, eager to assist him any way she could. Not having had a college education herself, Andrea had put him on a pedestal, admiring the poet within. Their association had led to marriage. He’d been a gentle lover.
To fill the emptiness left by his death, she’d come back to France to finish up the artwork for his latest book. Work was all she knew. So what could explain her reaction to a forbidding ex-military man, the antithesis of Richard?
Maybe it was a case of the hormone therapy regimen she was on being out of whack.
What if all the clichés about a widow’s needs were true? If so, how embarrassing. How appalling!
The tip of Lance’s boot caught the foot of the chair Andrea Fallon had just vacated in her haste to avoid him. Guilt at being found out had been written in every move and expression of her body.
A beautiful body and face to match he acknowledged to himself with grudging honesty.
There was nothing wrong with his father’s eyesight, only with his lack of good judgment where she or any woman was concerned. They couldn’t be trusted.
He nudged the chair closer to the bed before sitting down next to his parent.
“Tell me about your guest’s suffering, Papa,” he asked without preamble.
His father looked at him with loving eyes. “When you came home on that quick trip at Easter, did you happen to meet the American professor who was working in my library?”
Lance’s thoughts flew back to those few hours when he’d stolen home to check on his father without anyone else knowing about it. “Henri mentioned you had a visitor. I recall getting a glimpse of him, but I admit I didn’t pay much attention.”
After another bout of coughing, his father continued. “Dr. Fallon taught medieval literature at Yale University in Connecticut, and came to La Bretagne over the Easter break to do research. He and his wife Andrea were staying at the Hotel Excalibur.”
The woman whose luscious mouth he could still taste on his lips was someone’s wife? Lance hadn’t seen her wearing any rings.
“Maurice rang me and asked if I wouldn’t allow his hotel guests to examine some of the manuscripts in our family’s collection. Dr. Fallon was already published and a reputed expert on Arthurian legend.”
“So of course you said yes,” Lance interjected with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. The news that his father was involved with a married woman caused his stomach to clench for a variety of unpalatable reasons.
“How could I refuse when I learned he was writing a book entitled The Definitive Lancelot Du Lac?“
Lance had heard it all before. Every would-be writer was attempting to pen a definitive book on the subject of the famous knight.
“About a month after they returned to the States, Andrea sent me a note telling me that following their flight home from Paris, her husband had died suddenly of a blood clot to the brain.”
What?
“She thanked me for letting them come to the château to see the library. Her husband had said it was the highlight of his trip. Naturally I was grieved for her sake and sent flowers. I told her that if she ever wanted to come for a visit, she was welcome.
“To my delight she wrote back two weeks ago and asked if she could come and take pictures of the forest. She wants to include some extra photographs in the book her husband had written.
“I have to tell you, Lance, if I could have had a daughter, I would have wanted one exactly like Andrea.”
A daughter—
Lance’s mind had to do a complete thought reversal. Suddenly certain things seemed clear, like his father allowing her to stay in the green room. He’d never offered it to anyone else, not even Corinne.
“She has your mother’s kindness,” his father continued, unaware of Lance’s shock. “It’s a very rare trait.”
So rare in fact that Lance hadn’t seen any evidence of it during their fiery exchange in the kitchen before his baser instincts had taken over to punish her for something she hadn’t done.
In any case he’d had no right in behaving like a brute.
“As soon as she flies back, she’s going to have it published as a special tribute to him. Now that you’re home, maybe you would show her some significant spots only you and I know about? Since her arrival, I’ve been too sick to accompany her.”
Lance lowered his head, massaging the knotted muscles at the back of his neck. Considering the reprehensible way he’d treated his father’s guest up to this point, he doubted she’d speak to him again, let alone be amenable to spending any time with him.
What in the hell had caused him to react so violently to Andrea Fallon? He’d met plenty of women in his life more beautiful and exotic. Bile rose in his throat when he remembered one in particular …
Mrs. Fallon had said she’d been given permission to be on the property. When she’d first looked at him with that haunted expression as if she were miles away, why hadn’t he recognized it as grief and believed her?
How in the devil could he explain his behavior in the kitchen when he didn’t understand it himself?
He didn’t really think his father would get involved with a woman that young, so what was the underlying emotion driving Lance’s cruelty toward an innocent guest? It seemed he’d completely misread Henri’s comment.
Obviously he’d become so hardened with life, he was more out of touch with civilized society than he realized. Apparently he was no longer fit to rejoin the world his father inhabited.
He got up from the chair. “Papa? I’ve got some things to do, but I’ll be back.”
Lance needed to speak to Andrea before she went to bed. It was time to pick up the pieces if it wasn’t already too late. Something told him if he didn’t, she might well be gone from the premises before morning. That was one thing he didn’t want on his conscience.
“Go ahead, mon fils. I’ll wait for you.”
“Try to sleep.”
“I think I can now that I know you’re going to be a permanent fixture around here. Corinne will be overjoyed when she returns from her trip and realizes you’re home for good.”
Lance looked down at his father who was too ill to deal with anything unpleasant. But the moment he improved, the truth would have to come out.
Percy followed Lance as far as the door but no further. The dog didn’t appear to have much use for him. Lance didn’t blame him for preferring his father’s company to Lance whose nature seemed to have been inexplicably vile in the face of innocent provocation.
After going to his suite for the camera, he took the steps two at a time to the third floor and listened outside Andrea’s room for signs of life. Even if she were in bed, he couldn’t let any more time go by without attempting to repair some of the damage.
He rapped on the heavy door with the back of his knuckles. “Andrea? It’s Lance. I have to talk to you. If you need to get dressed first, I’ll wait.”
In a minute he heard, “Should I decide not to open it, will you take a battering ram to the door?”
No one deserved that remark more than he did.
“You’re someone my father cares for very much. I’ve come to apologize.”
After a long silence, “Apology accepted.”
That was too easy. “Enough to open the door?”
“Surely it isn’t necessary.”
He folded his arms. “I presume you don’t want me to see the suitcase you’re packing. If your departure is too precipitous, my father will never forgive me. Since I’m already in the doghouse, as you Americans say, you wouldn’t wish to add to my punishment, would you?”
“The doghouse would be too good for you.”
His lips twitched. Kind as his father made her out to be, she had spirit. “You’re right. I don’t suppose you’d believe I’m suffering from posttraumatic shock syndrome—”
“I believe it, but you’ve taken it to new depths. You’re more like your alter ego than I’d realized.”
“You mean one day I’ll join Lancelot in Hell?”
“If the armor fits.”
“How do you know I haven’t already been there?”
“I surmised as much. Only someone who’s been in hell would treat me the way you have.”
Her arrow found its mark dead center. His amusement vanished. “Is there no redemption?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”
He drew in a ragged breath. “I’m leaving your camera outside this door. If you choose to stay a little longer, I swear on my mother’s grave no harm will come to you from me.”
After a short silence, “Since I know how much your father loved her, I’ll take that into consideration.”
She knew how to deliver the coup de grâce. There were many sides to Andrea Fallon. She was the most dangerous kind of female.
“I’m sorry about your husband. I didn’t know.”
“I thought Lancelot was given special powers.”
He closed his eyes tightly for a moment. “I’ve done too many dark deeds and have forfeited most of them.”
“How sad.”
She sounded as if she meant it. It was then he realized he’d given too much away, a position he loathed to be in.
“I’m leaving now to spend the night with Papa. Don’t let my uncourteous behavior prevent you from making him happy. Should you disappear without explanation, I can’t promise he won’t go downhill.”
Much as he was hoping she’d relent enough to open the door so they could talk face-to-face, he had a gut feeling it wasn’t going to happen. He’d behaved like a bastard and was reaping the consequences.
“Dors bien, Andrea,” his voice rasped before he turned away and made a swift return to the second floor.
Disturbed by the memory of the way she’d felt in his arms when he’d kissed her, he realized it was going to be a long night …
Delighted by the morning sun that pierced the clouds and filtered down through the cathedral of trees, Andrea made her way to the opposite end of the lake from where she’d been reading the previous evening.
Maybe she would get lucky and one of the forest animals following an ancient game trail to the water’s edge would enter the site where she planned to take pictures.
After a good night’s sleep, which came as a surprise considering her tormented state of mind last evening, she realized the worst thing she could do was run away. Geoff wouldn’t understand. Since she couldn’t explain it herself, she’d decided to put yesterday’s experience behind her and behave like an adult.
Lance had proved to be a man with a scarred soul. Using the most elemental of ways, he’d set out to expose her for the loose, conniving female he believed her to be.
Where his father was concerned, his protective instincts were over the top. Combined with his innate distrust of women, he must have choked on that apology for his rough treatment of her. It was probably a first for him.
But coming from a family with a title and great wealth, he no doubt had reasons for his suspicions. Which he’d carried to the extreme.
Still, he’d returned her camera and had promised she would have nothing more to fear from him. She believed him.
As for her reaction to his virility, that wasn’t his fault. It was her own unchecked response to him Andrea feared.
She should have known there’d come a day of awakening when she’d realize she was alone again and vulnerable. Somehow she hadn’t expected it to happen here, or that it would be Geoff’s son who made her aware of her womanhood in a way no man had ever done.
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.”
The door clicked shut.
Overwhelmed by emotions bombarding her, Andrea broke down sobbing. Once she got started, she couldn’t stop.
Lance said her name in alarm several times and handed her a box of tissues. “Andrea … tell me what’s going on,” her urged.
“You wouldn’t understand.” The words came out in another gush of tears. How could he when she could hardly comprehend it herself.
“You said it was impossible. Does that mean your husband isn’t the father?”
Her breath caught. “No—Yes—I mean I’ve never been with another man, so it has to be my husband’s. But I was told it would take a miracle.”
“Why?” he demanded softly. His hands were kneading her upper arms, but he didn’t seem to be aware of it.
She raised drenched brown eyes to him. “Because I went through premature menopause several years ago, ruling out pregnancy. It happens in a certain small percentage of women. My specialist told me that in my case, the chances of ovulating were so astronomical, I should never count on conceiving a child.”
Andrea wondered if a trick of light was the reason his eyes suddenly darkened.
“She’s been helping me experiment with herbs and hormone therapy to keep my heart healthy. I assumed the physical changes to my body were a result of the hormones. My hands have been so swollen, I left my rings at home.”
“So that’s the explanation,” Lance murmured.
She nodded. “Since Richard’s death I’ve been more tired than usual, and have experienced quite a bit of nausea. But I thought the symptoms had to be the fault of depression and the hormones.
“To think I’m almost through my first trimester of pregnancy and didn’t know it! I—I’m in shock.”
She looked at him through blurry eyes. “Oh, Lance—Richard wanted a baby so badly. Now he’s gone, and he’ll never know our child or be able to help me raise it.”
He remained silent while another explosion of tears poured out of her, more profuse than before. When they finally subsided she said, “In the beginning we had such plans for a family. He was an only child. We wanted two or three so they could be friends. It’s wonderful when siblings have each other.
“Then we found out I couldn’t have any. We were both devastated. I—I wanted to have his baby. Once we heard the awful news, he was so crushed,” she said on another sob.
“When I buried him, I thought it was the end of everything. I came to France so empty, and now—”
“Now everything’s different,” he murmured in a thick-toned voice. She felt him rub the arm that didn’t have the drip in it.
Andrea wiped her eyes. “Except that my baby will grow up without its father. I was deprived of both my parents. I—I can hardly bear to think of history repeating itself. Every child needs a daddy.
“Why did Richard have to die—” Her sorrowful wail rang in the room.
Wordlessly Lance put his arm around her back. She found herself sobbing against his broad shoulder. After a time she realized she was getting him all wet and pulled away embarrassed.
She reached for some tissues and sniffed. “I’m sorry for breaking down like this. You must think I’m insane.”
“I think Richard was a damn lucky man. With you as his child’s mother, his legacy will be carried on. Maybe there’s a future professor growing inside you. Do those motherly instincts tell you if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“What instincts?” she challenged, clearing her throat. “I didn’t even know a baby was living inside me until a few minutes ago. I still can’t believe I’m pregnant!”
“Thank God the diagnosis is one of joy,” Lance exclaimed. “When you were lying there in the grass so ill, too many negative thoughts ran through my mind.”
“I was frightened, too.” Her eyes glazed over with fresh tears. “Thank you again for helping me. I–I’m sorry the doctor assumed you were the father. When he comes back in I’ll explain.”
A half smile broke the corner of Lance’s sensual mouth. “Hearing the news with you made me feel like I’m the father. It’s an experience I wouldn’t have missed. Do you know my heart leaped when he told us?”
She bit her lip. “So did mine.”
His expression sobered. “If I’d realized you were pregnant, I wouldn’t have asked you to follow me to my underwater treasure yesterday.”
Andrea recalled the experience, particularly the moment when he’d clasped her body against his to take her to the surface. The baby had been pressed against his hard muscled physique.
“It was a unique experience,” she admitted softly. “Someday when my child is old enough to swim on his own, I’ll have to bring him to France so he can dive in the lake and discover its secrets for himself.”
“So you’re thinking a boy.” Lance flashed her another rare half smile that transformed his features and made her heart kick.
“I guess I am.”
“Wait another month and we’ll find out if you’re right about the gender,” the doctor inserted.
Andrea hadn’t heard him come in the room.
“I knocked, but you two didn’t hear me. Would you like to listen to the heartbeat?”
He put on his stethoscope and found the spot on Andrea’s stomach, then let her listen. It sounded like horse’s hooves galloping across the prairie.
“I don’t believe it.” All this time her child had been growing inside her and she hadn’t been aware of it.
“Your baby’s approximately three and half inches long, and is developing nicely.”
Lance reached for the stethoscope so he could listen. A slow smile broke the corner of his mouth, once again accentuating his striking features. When he relinquished the instrument, his gaze still clung to hers.
“After not knowing what was wrong with her earlier, Doctor, your news has made me a very happy man.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Heat crept into Andrea’s face. She looked over at the doctor. “There’s something you need to know. You’ve misunderstood the situation. I’m a guest at the Château Du Lac. Monsieur Du Lac isn’t my husband.”
He wrapped her arm to take her blood pressure. “What’s stopping you two from getting married?”
“You don’t understand. The baby isn’t his.”
The doctor did a double-take. “Then the birth father should be told.”
“I can’t tell him.” Her voice trembled. “On the morning I must have conceived this baby, my husband left for work. By evening he’d died of a brain aneurysm. That was three months ago.”
“Andrea …”
The compassion in Lance’s tone caused her eyes to close.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” the doctor said, “however he’s left you with a marvelous legacy.”
Lance’s exact words.
“I know, but I can hardly take it in.”
“Miracles tend to affect a person that way. I’m pleased to announce you’re a healthy woman. If you’ll start the nausea medicine I’ve prescribed, you should be feeling much better before long. Take them three times a day before meals. Pick it up at the front desk.
“I’ve also written an order for vitamins, which you need to start taking. I want to see you in a week to make certain all is going well. We’ll do another blood test in case you’re still a little low on iron.”
“I’ll be returning to the United States in the next few days, so let me thank you now for all your help.”
“In that case, be certain to get in touch with your doctor immediately.”
“I will.”
He paused at the door. “You can leave as soon as the nurse takes out your IV. Remember to stay hydrated, eat whatever appeals and get plenty of rest over the next couple of days.”
“She’ll do it,” Lance proclaimed. Andrea tried to hide her smile. He couldn’t help who he was, but she didn’t mind.
Once the doctor had left the room the nurse came in, preventing Andrea from talking to Lance until the other woman had removed the needle and had gone.
Without being told anything, Lance opened the cupboard and pulled out the sack containing her clothes. He turned to her. “Do you need help getting dressed? I can ask her to come in again.”
“No. I’m able to manage, but thank you anyway.”
His gaze played over her with concern. “Then I’ll see you at the front desk.”
After Lance closed the door, she removed the clinic gown and felt her stomach, which had filled out and was hard. Why hadn’t she realized a baby was growing inside her?
When her jeans were too tight, she should have guessed at the reason, even if the specialist had told her getting pregnant would require a near miracle.
Over the last few years Andrea had given up all hope of having a child from her own body. The news that she was pregnant was fantastic!
At the moment she felt suspended between two worlds where nothing seemed real, yet the proof was there she was carrying Richard’s baby. To her consternation however it was Lance Malbois who’d first heard the news with her. If it weren’t for him, she could still be lying there in the forest too sick to move.
How would she ever forget it was his eyes that had flickered at the incredible news, almost as if he’d been the one to father her baby and was pleased about it. Even the doctor had thought they were a couple.
Andrea couldn’t understand Lance’s reaction. She meant nothing to him beyond being his father’s guest. Yet that was probably the reason why. He felt responsible for her. Under the circumstances she’d be wise to leave France as soon as she felt well enough for the flight home.
Knowing she would be a mother in six short months changed the way she felt about returning to New Haven. Maybe she could work part-time for her old boss at the photography studio. If not, maybe the literature department at the university could use her services. The rest of the time she would start getting a nursery ready for her baby.
So many things needed to be bought. A crib, a playpen, one of those adorable little swings, a stroller … All the items available for modern day mothers. Now she would be a mom, too!
Whether it was a boy or girl didn’t matter. She loved her baby already. The knowledge she was carrying a life inside her filled that empty place in her heart.
Though she would always be grateful for her aunt and uncle who’d raised her with their children after her parents died, she’d never really belonged to them. To think she would have a child of her own to love and cherish.
After the baby came, she would make the small amount of insurance money left to her stretch so she could be a stay-at-home mom. Through her various university contacts, maybe she could arrange to do word processing at the condo to bring in some income.
A fatal car accident had deprived her of her parents, and now a blood clot had taken the life of her baby’s father. Andrea was determined to be there for her child and not miss a minute of its upbringing if she could help it.
If the nausea medicine worked the way it was supposed to, she’d be feeling well enough again in a few days to fly home and get busy. With a new sense of purpose in her life, she felt able to cope with her physical state.
Once she’d finished dressing, she made a stop to the rest room, then hurried out to the reception area. Lance stood in the crowded waiting room near the door. His hard-boned face and physique drew the eye of every woman including the medical staff. In thigh molding jeans and a black pullover, he was the most spectacular looking male Andrea had ever seen.
She could feel their envy as she approached him. “Do you have the prescriptions?”
His concerned eyes intently took in her features with an intimacy that made her heart race. “Yes. Shall we go?” He opened the door for her and escorted her outside to his car.
Without saying anything, he helped her in the passenger seat, then walked around to the driver’s side and took off for the pharmacy in the center of the village.
“Stay where you are,” he ordered. “I’ll be right back.”
Long before he’d gone into the military, Andrea was in no doubt Lance Malbois had been a man meant to be in charge. His service there had only refined those instincts, protective and otherwise. Right now she wasn’t complaining.
He’d come across her in the forest and—in his unorthodox way—had seen to her needs faster than she’d been able to breathe. If she had to choose one person in this world to help her survive a difficult situation, she’d choose Lance, no questions asked.
This Frenchman more than lived up to his legendary name, which had to be unique among men. In fact Andrea had a feeling the military couldn’t have been happy to learn he was retiring. Not so for the woman planning to marry him.
Andrea could understand a stepdaughter who was no blood relation being infatuated by Geoff’s son. As Andrea was coming to find out, there was no man to compare to him.
In a few minutes he’d rejoined her. “Here.” He undid the cap and handed her a pill. “You’re to take this now with water.” He produced a bottle of mineral water. “The vitamins you can start tonight so they won’t upset your stomach.”
“Yes, Doctor,” she teased before swallowing the medicine. “That water tastes good. Thank you.” She put the pill vials in her purse.
His darkly lashed eyes met her gaze. Their faces were only inches apart. “Let’s hope your appetite improves by tomorrow. Before we drive home, is there anything you need to buy?”
Andrea averted her eyes. “I can’t think of anything.”
“I can. A new camera. Tonnerre’s hoof smashed yours. After I get you settled, I’ll take a trip into town and purchase a new one. I’m afraid the film was ruined.”
“Don’t worry about it, Lance. I put in a new cartridge this morning, so no pictures are lost. As for the camera, I don’t need another one right now. I’ll wait till I get home and arrange to buy one through my old boss. He’ll get me something wholesale.”
Lance started the car and they took off for the château. Since the downpour earlier, the greenery bordering the road looked wet and fresh. He drove with an economy of movement.
“Where did you work?”
“At a photography studio.”
“Did you like it?”
“As jobs go, it was fine. I started working there part-time during my high school days. After graduation I increased my hours to full-time to save money for college.”
“Did you attend Yale like your husband?”
It appeared Geoff and Lance had been talking.
“Oh, no,” she scoffed. “I was a mediocre student and couldn’t have afforded it. I took a few night classes at a local college before meeting Richard. After that I sort of became his unofficial assistant.”
“And wife,” Lance interjected.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“No more school?”
“No. One day I’ll go for a degree in something, but now that a baby is on the way, that will have to wait until my child is in school full-time.”
“In other words, you don’t plan to let someone else raise it.”
“There are jobs I can do at home. I’ll try anything in order to be there for my son or daughter,” she vowed.
“That sounds final.”
“It’s the way I feel.”
She heard him take a deep breath. “Then your child will be lucky. Until the day she died my mother was always there for me.”
“Geoff told me she passed away while you were at the university.”
He slowed down to negotiate the turn into the Du Lac estate. “That’s right. Looking back I had an idyllic upbringing.” His head suddenly turned toward her. “How early did you lose your parents?”
“At four years of age. Pictures are the only things I have to remember them. Knowing I’m going to be a mother makes that my first priority, no matter what it takes.”
“At the moment it requires bed rest.” He brought the car to a halt and levered his long legs from the front seat to help her.
She could have managed on her own, but he cupped her elbow to assist her inside. The minute they reached the foyer, she found herself in his arms once more. Her ponytail swung back and forth.
“You don’t have to do this,” she protested, but he ignored her cry and carried her up the two flights of stairs as if she were light as air.
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