The Duke's Baby

“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.

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