The Duke s Baby

by Rebecca Winters

She nodded. “I would, too. I’ve never met anyone as warm and kind. He said your mother was the same way.”

  He put his empty cup on the tray. Lines darkened his face. “At this point you’re wondering how they could have produced a defect like me.”

  Her breath caught. “Defect?”

  “You don’t need to pretend. I saw the shock on your face when you discovered I was his son.”

  She sat up in the bed. “If I registered that emotion, it was because I realized your experiences in the military had to account for your treating me like I was the enemy.”

  “I’m afraid certain experiences in my life have caused me to distrust women. In that regard Papa and I are at opposite ends of the spectrum.”

  “I have proof of that.” Andrea studied him for a moment. “What did you think I was doing in the forest the other night?”

  His eyes flickered. “To be honest, I forgot I wasn’t on a mission. My automatic response was to render you helpless and either kill you or send you on your way depending on my gut feeling.”

  She shivered. “What did your instincts tell you?”

  A frown marred his features. “When you stood your ground, I realized I’d turned into some kind of monster.”

  “Ten years in the elite force would change anyone, especially since you suspected me of ulterior motives where your father was concerned.”

  After a strange silence, “Are you afraid of me, Andrea?” he drawled silkily.

  Wishing she hadn’t spoken her mind, she reached for the roll and took a bite. “How could you ask me that when you were the one who rescued me today?

  “If I didn’t make myself clear, let me do it now. I’m very grateful for your help, but you won’t have to worry about me much longer. After tomorrow I should be feeling well enough to fly home.”

  His expression remained inscrutable. “Even if that’s true, my father wouldn’t hear of it. He’s been sick the whole time you’ve been at the château. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay on for a while.

  “As soon as he’s well enough to walk around again, Papa plans to delight you with a special tour of the grounds. The experience will give you the opportunity to take more pictures to add to your husband’s book. That is why you came, n’est-ce pas?”

  She lowered her eyes. “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. The matter’s settled. While you recover your appetite, the doctor told you to get plenty of bed rest and drink fluids. I’m here to see that you do.”

  In one lithe movement he got to his feet. “If you need anything, all you have to do is pick up the phone and press two. I’ll answer.” He continued looking at her. “Let’s hope the little you’ve eaten makes you feel better. I’ll be in later to say good-night.”

  She sensed his disinclination to leave. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for everything.”

  He pursed his lips. “I don’t want to come back and find you lying on the floor.”

  “If I feel that weak, I promise to let you know.”

  “See that you do,” came the grim rejoinder before he left.

  Feeling oddly bereft after his departure, she reached for one of the magazines to keep her mind occupied. It was full of articles on European architecture. Though printed in French, she didn’t require a translation to digest the fabulous photographs.

  However nothing she saw equaled the magnificence of the Château Du Lac. Or Lance himself…

  Her thoughts wandered back to his comments at the clinic. Hearing the news with you made me feel like I’m the father. It’s an experience I wouldn’t have missed.

  He’d sounded like he’d really meant it. What an incredible man…

  After putting the magazine back on the table, her gaze traveled to the wall paintings. Guinevere seemed exactly the same as before. But this time when she studied Lancelot, it was Lance Malbois’s face and body she saw everywhere she looked. The way his eyes adored the queen filled Andrea with a strange envy.

  For the first time she found herself curious about Lance’s stepsister. Did she elicit that same kind of worship from him?

  The Galerie Bouffard in Rennes stayed open until nine-thirty on Thursday nights. Lance made his way through the crowded store from the book section to the camera department.

  After explaining what he needed to the employee, the man showed him several upgrades of the camera Andrea had been using. It didn’t take Lance long to choose something state-of-the-art to replace the one his horse had smashed to pieces.

  He included a pack of film with his purchase, then asked for directions to the infant department. He’d never shopped for baby clothes in his life, but learning Andrea was expecting made him want to do something to help her celebrate. Since he didn’t know if she was carrying a boy or girl, he decided to stick with white and yellow, both safe colors, the assistant had assured him.

  By the time the young female employee had shown him everything, he left the store with half a dozen little outfits and two baby blankets in those colors, a baby book and a Fifi the poodle-in-the-box that played a French tune, all gift wrapped. Among the ribbons the clerk tied three rattles he’d picked out.

  As she handed him the bag of packages, she winked at him. “Your new baby’s lucky to have a father like you.”

  She’d made a wrong assumption, but he liked the sound of it. “I’m the one who’s lucky.”

  “Don’t be a stranger now. Babies grow.”

  They did indeed. Lance found himself looking forward to watching Andrea blossom. During that moment in the lake when he’d helped her to the surface, he’d felt a quickening as the rich contours of her body pressed against him. Her imprint still lingered, causing him to think thoughts he hadn’t entertained for a long time.

  “Merci, mademoiselle.”

  After emerging from the ascenseur, he made his way to the main doors of the store.

  “Eh bien, if it isn’t Lance Malbois, you handsome devil. Geoff didn’t tell anyone you were home on leave.”

  He looked back over his shoulder to discover Helene Dupuis, the wife of his father’s best friend. She was a good person, but a gossip. Lance had hoped to keep his homecoming a secret for a while, but bumping into her had dashed that idea.

  “Bonsoir, Helene. Comment ça va?”

  “I’m very well, and I have to tell you I’m thrilled to see you are, too. Geoff worries about you. It’s no wonder he’s been so sick even Yves and I have been barred from dropping in,” she chided.

  Henri knew what he was doing. Though she meant well, a visit from Helene would have been too exhausting. “He’s getting better now. By next week he’ll want to see both of you.”

  “Yves will be delighted to hear it. How long can we expect you to remain this time?”

  Lance decided to tell the truth since it would come out anyway. “I’ve retired from the service.”

  “You’re home for good?”

  “Oui.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Oh—I must give a party!”

  He shook his head. “That’s very nice of you, but no parties. I have too much work ahead. Now if you’ll excuse me. Papa’s waiting.”

  “But of course. You go to him, and we’ll see you soon.”

  “À bientôt, Helene.”

  “I know someone else who’s going to be ecstatic at the news you’re home,” she called after him. But he pretended not to hear as he strode around the corner to his car. Corinne was like all unpleasant things one had to deal with on occasion.

  As he was putting his packages on the passenger seat, the streetlight reflected in one of the baby rattles. It drew his thoughts back to Andrea who might or might not be asleep when he returned. He hoped she was still awake since he was eager to see her reaction when she opened her presents.

  He couldn’t get back to the château soon enough, and raced up the stairs to the third floor two at a time.

  When the housekeeper came in at eight to take away the dinner tray, she brought a small, battery operated radio for Andrea.

  “Lanc
e said you were tired. Since this room hasn’t been wired for television, he thought you might like to listen to some music from his transistor,” she explained before setting it on the bedside table.

  Lance thought of everything. Had he told the staff she was pregnant? If so, Brigitte was being discreet. She was also amazing. Andrea would give anything to speak French the way the older woman spoke English.

  “That was very thoughtful of both of you. By the way, how is Geoff tonight?”

  “Doing better than yesterday.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it.”

  “If you need me, call me on four.”

  “I will. Merci.” It was one of the basic words Andrea had picked up so far.

  After a few minutes of playing around with the radio, she found a music station and lay back against the pillow to listen. It was fun to hear songs sung in French, even if she didn’t understand the words.

  While she studied the paintings on the walls, she smiled to herself, remembering Lance’s tenderness at the doctor’s.

  Deep in thought over the revelations of this day, she lost track of time. When she heard a knock on the door, she was surprised to see that her watch said nine forty-five. The idea that it might be Lance on the other side caused her pulse to speed up.

  “Come in.”

  Her breath caught the second their eyes met for an intense moment.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Good.”

  “The truth,” he commanded.

  “I honestly feel better. If you want proof, ask Brigitte. She came for my tray and will tell you I ate all my roll and drank half the juice. So far I’ve kept it down.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  After shutting the door, he walked toward her carrying several shopping bags and handed her the smaller one.

  “Go ahead and look inside. If it isn’t what you want, I’ll return it.”

  Intrigued, Andrea sat up against the carved headboard and reached inside to discover a new camera and film. He’d already been to town for one! She couldn’t believe it.

  “You didn’t need to do this,” she said, pulling it out of its box. There were instructions in four languages including English. She examined all the features. “This is perfect, but it’s much more expensive than mine.”

  “As long as it works for you, that’s all Tonnerre cares about.”

  She laughed gently. “That was very generous of him. Please thank your horse for me, Lance.”

  His compelling mouth lifted at one corner. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

  “What does his name mean in English? I’m curious.”

  “Thunder.”

  She smiled. “How apropos.”

  He sat down in the chair he’d pulled up earlier and handed her the bigger bag. “This is from me.”

  Andrea shook her head. “I can’t accept any more gifts.”

  “These aren’t for you. Not exactly.”

  Just as he spoke, she saw a rattle entwined in ribbon peeking at her. Letting out a small cry of delight she lifted her head. “What have you done?”

  “What any excited father-to-be would do upon hearing the news he’d made his wife pregnant.”

  Lance’s words shouldn’t have caused her to tremble, but they did…

  To cover her emotions, she reached inside and pulled out box after box wrapped in white paper dotted with adorable little baby faces. Before long she’d opened everything and sat half buried in cuddly newborn outfits and soft blankets.

  Beads of tears glistened on her lashes while she looked through the baby book. He’d brought several books in English about becoming a parent. She was so overcome by the gifts, tears spilled from her eyes. Within seconds she was convulsed.

  “What’s the matter, Andrea?” his voice rasped. “Have I done something to upset you?”

  “Oh, no, Lance—” She lifted her moisture-drenched face to see the deep concern in his eyes. “Anything but. It just hurts to realize Richard won’t be here to do these kinds of things for the baby. He’ll have missed the whole experience, and our child will never know him.

  “I can’t believe the timing of everything—” she cried out. “He should be here to help me! It doesn’t seem possible he’s not going to be around to be a father to our baby. How unfair that he was taken before he could experience the joy of even knowing he was going to be a dad.

  “I know how I felt when I realized my parents had died and I would grow up never knowing them. It’s so cruel to an innocent child. I don’t want my son or daughter to grow up without their father.”

  The tears kept coming. She felt like a bottomless geyser. “Forgive me, Lance. I didn’t mean to fall apart like this in front of you. You’ve been so good to me and have made this day so special.

  “Look at all these darling clothes you took the time to purchase. And yet how sad it is that Richard couldn’t have been the one to do it. It’s what he would have wanted to do.” She shook her head. “Why is life so hard?”

  Andrea tried to undo the other package he’d put on the bed, but she was having trouble. Lance must have become impatient because he reached over and finished opening the toy he’d bought for her. Out of the box bounced a French poodle. It played a tune but she couldn’t hear it for the radio, so she leaned over to shut it off.

  He pushed the button again and the cute white dog jumped out, accompanied by the tune “Alouette.”

  She smiled sadly as tears dripped off her chin. “I know that song. It’s probably the only thing I can sing in French.”

  “Prove it,” he challenged her in that deep voice of his. She knew he’d said it to try to cheer her up. After all the trouble he’d gone to, she didn’t want to disappoint him.

  Andrea shut the lid, then pushed the button once more and sang along. “My accent’s horrible,” she said when she’d finished.

  His gaze had narrowed on her mouth. “I found it charming.”

  Her heart was pounding too fast. “Lance—You’ve overwhelmed me with these gifts.”

  “That was my intention.” He got to his feet. “Now do my father a favor and stay at the château for as long as you like. I understand you want to honor Richard’s memory with this book. I’d like to do all I can to help in order to atone for my sins.”

  “You’ve already done that,” she whispered.

  His body stiffened. “I’m aware how much you loved your husband. No matter how you deny it, I said and did things to hurt you, unaware of your grief. Let me try to make it up to you.”

  For Lance to plead had to be a rare occurrence. Yet the longer she stayed here, the more she would be around Geoff’s arresting son. She didn’t need that complication in her life, especially when she was expecting Richard’s baby.

  “Have you told your father I’m pregnant?”

  “That’s not my place.” After a tension filled moment he said, “The doctor said you needed rest. Be honest. Nothing pressing requires you to get back to Connecticut right away.”

  “No,” she murmured.

  “Then the matter’s settled.” Before she could take her next breath he put the gifts he’d bought back in the bags and set them at the end of the bed. Then he handed her the pills and glass of water left on the table.

  After she’d taken one he said, “What else can I get for you?”

  “Nothing. You’ve done far too much already. I need to thank you for the radio. It has kept me company.”

  He nodded. “When I need a distraction, I prefer it to television even now that I’m out of the service. However I could have you moved to the second floor if you’re missing TV.”

  “Oh, no. I wouldn’t understand it anyway. I much prefer being in this room where I can study all the paintings.”

  He flashed her a glance she couldn’t decipher. “Can you guess which of them is my favorite?”

  She knew which one she loved the most. It was the painting of Lancelot leaning over the queen in the bedchamber, a look of love and desire burning in
his eyes. Her gaze went back to it again and again.

  “Since you rode your horse as if it were a part of you, I presume you like the one where Guinevere is riding through the forest with Lancelot.” The queen lay in the crook of his arm and stroked his chin while her eyes devoured him.

  Lance cocked his dark, handsome head. “You’re close. I’d rate that second. Think about it some more and tell me later.”

  She wished he hadn’t put the thought in her mind. Now she’d spend the rest of the night trying to imagine which scene spoke to him at his deepest level.

  It was probably the one where Lancelot lay on his back in a flowering meadow. He’d removed his armor. Guinevere was leaning over him, tickling him with a long pheasant feather from her cap. They were both smiling at each other, as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

  Lance Malbois had so many cares he kept to himself, Andrea assumed he would love that painting best. It represented a moment out of time where Lancelot could forget the world and love this woman of his heart without strife or fear of being caught out by the other knights.

  Aware he was still standing there she said, “Before you go, let me thank you again for the presents. They’re so lovely, I’ll never forget.”

  “I’m glad you like them.”

  “One day you’ll make a wonderful father for some lucky child.”

  “No.” He shook his head.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Lance.”

  When she looked up at him, she glimpsed a bleakness in his eyes. After a tension-filled moment she heard him say, “Would it help if I told you life hasn’t been fair to me, either?”

  Her gaze flew to his scar. “If you’re referring to your injury, in my opinion it adds to your attraction and makes you more interesting. Ask any woman and she’ll tell you the same thing.”

  “That’s always nice to hear,” he said dryly, “but I’m referring to another one.”

  She bit her lip. “You have more than the scar?” her voice shook.

  “Sometimes the wounds on the inside do the most damage.”

  He’d caught her attention. “What’s wrong with you?”

  There was an unnatural quiet in the room before he said, “I can’t father a child, Andrea, I’m impotent.”