Pregnancy Proposals: The Duke's Baby

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.”