The Duke s Baby

by Rebecca Winters

  “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 unscrupulo
us 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.