Pregnancy Proposals: The Duke's Baby

Once that was accomplished, she toweled herself and left her hair loose so it would dry faster. She put on a clean yellow nightgown and matching fleece robe. When she climbed back into bed, it felt good.

She’d barely nestled under the covers when the door opened and she saw Lance walk in carrying a tray in one hand, and a bunch of magazines in the other.

Through narrowed lids she noticed he’d showered, too. He wore a silk shirt in a dark coffee shade and tan trousers. Whether he donned formal clothes or military khaki, he was so attractive she found she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

As he crossed the distance and started to lower the tray to the bedside table, she glimpsed one of the life-size wall paintings of Lancelot directly behind him. The handsome knight was leaning over the queen in their bedchamber, as if he’d just come in from hunting and was eager to taste her mouth before joining her.

The gorgeous man waiting on Andrea was in much the same position. In that instant she couldn’t separate the two pictures in her mind. The pulse at her throat began to throb a wild crescendo.

Lance must have noticed her reaction because his wandering eyes focused on that telling spot for a breathless moment before they continued their slow, intimate journey to her face.

Heat swept through her body to her cheeks. Their gazes fused.

“How are you feeling now?” His voice resonated deep inside her.

She inhaled unsteadily. “I—I’m fine.”

“Fine enough to try and eat something?”

Andrea looked over at the magazines and tray he’d put next to her pills. He’d brought hot tea, broth, apple slices, grape juice, water and a roll. She had an idea he’d picked everything out himself. Though she wasn’t hungry, she didn’t want him to think she was ungrateful, so she reached for an apple slice and began munching.

The gesture seemed to please him. He moved away. She thought he intended to leave. Instead he reached for an upholstered chair and brought it over to her bedside before sitting down to drink a cup of the steaming brew.

Lounging back with one long leg crossed over the other at the ankles, he looked the epitome of the French aristocrat relaxing at home in luxurious surroundings. A far cry from the man in camouflage who’d moved through the forest with the stealth of a savage cat. Yet both made up part of the same fascinating man standing attendance on her.

“Good? Bad?” he asked, reminding her of the fruit she’d just swallowed.

“Good actually. I’m surprised.” She reached for another slice. “You make an excellent nurse.” He was a man of many talents. “I’m sorry you returned home from war to discover you have two patients to wait on.”

He stared at her over the rim of the cup. “Since both are improving, I have no complaints.”

She reached for the glass of grape juice and took a sip. “Have you talked to your father since we got back from the clinic?”

“Yes. Because he had a visitor today, I told him I thought he should have a quiet evening. Tomorrow will be soon enough for you to join him for lunch. He agreed with one stipulation.”

“What was that?”

“He expects me to keep you entertained.” Her heart raced for no good reason. “I told him it wasn’t a hardship.”

“Your father’s a wonder.”

“I’ll keep him,” Lance said in a thick-toned voice.

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.