Once the baby comes, we’ll have our hands full.”
They’d reached the château. He pulled around the side and shut off the engine.
“My uncle liked to be home. He was a family man.”
“I’m looking forward to it myself.” Lance undid his seat belt. “During my downtime in the military, some of my married buddies would receive letters and pictures of their children through e-mail.
“I envied them having a family to go home to. After my hospitalization, I envied them for being able to give their wives a child. Under the circumstances it made sense to stay in the service and let those poor devils go home to the people who needed them.”
She released her seat belt.
“I can relate. In fact I’ve lived for so long without hope, I’m still in shock I’m pregnant.”
“Our baby will be here within six months. Maybe by then we’ll both believe it.”
After being burned by his past, Lance was astounded that he was putting himself in a position where he had to be willing to trust a woman again. Upon leaving the service, he never wanted or intended for this to happen. He was still in shock that he’d returned home to a situation where a woman had the power to make him vulnerable again.
But he couldn’t deny the emotions building inside him where Andrea was concerned. The attraction to her was too strong to ignore or deny, even if she was still in love with Richard.
When she’d broken down in Lance’s arms while she gave into her pent-up grief, it should have doused any fire building in him whether physical or emotional.
Instead the opposite had happened, and therein lay the problem. The one thing he feared was intruding on her grief. How to deal with this woman who was still mourning her husband?
That was the burning question Lance wrestled with at the moment. The only way to respect her feelings and keep his needs from growing out of control was to concentrate on the baby.
With that decision firmly in place he kissed her cheek before levering himself from the driver’s seat to help her out.
When he looked up, he noticed the light in his father’s room had been turned off.
“Papa’s gone to bed,” he said as he ushered Andrea into the foyer and up the stairs. “We’ll tell him over lunch. That’ll give both of you time to sleep in. How does that sound?”
When they reached her door she raised tremulous eyes to him. “That’ll give you time in case you have a change of mind during the night.”
He drew in a harsh breath. “Not a chance in hell.”
When morning came Andrea didn’t experience any nausea, yet her stomach felt fluttery. What if Geoff had reservations? She’d see it in his eyes immediately.
Without time to lose she hurriedly took another pill and her vitamins before getting dressed for the day. Andrea didn’t want anyone waiting on her. No one should have to climb all those stairs to bring her something to eat.
She put on fresh coral lipstick and brushed out her hair. It swished against the shoulders of her khaki blouse. Since all her pants were too tight to be comfortable, she donned the same wraparound skirt she’d worn a few days earlier. It accommodated her thickening belly.
The next time she went to town she’d buy some new clothes. She still had to pinch herself that she’d joined the ranks of those fortunate women who needed to visit a maternity shop.
As she descended the stairs, her whole world felt different. Because she was going to be a mother, and Lance would be the baby’s father, the knowledge colored her thinking. She had a new reason to live.
Lance happened to be on his way up to her floor wearing charcoal trousers and a claret toned sport shirt. Her breath caught at the sight of such potent masculinity. If she hadn’t cried his name in time, they would have collided.
As it was, his hand fell on her shoulder. She felt its warmth all the way to her bones. His eyes roved over her features in male admiration. “You look like a different person this morning. Motherhood becomes you.”
Everything he said sounded intimate and personal. “It must be that and the medicine. I’m much improved even since yesterday.”
She noticed the visible rise and fall of his well-defined chest. “I’m glad to hear it. I told Papa we wanted to have lunch with him. He’s looking forward to it.”
“How does he seem physically?”
“He’s getting back to his old self in a hurry.” Lance’s eyes scrutinized her. “Where were you going so fast?”
“To the library to do some research before lunch.”
His hand slid away from her arm with seeming reluctance. “While you do that I’ll be in the study doing some business.”
By tacit agreement they went down to the main floor together. She’d never been more aware of his height. He smelled so good—looked so good—If Lancelot had this same effect on Guinevere, Andrea could understand why Arthur’s dream failed and Camelot ceased to exist.
Lance accompanied her to the double doors of the library. His close proximity created havoc with her senses.
“I’ll look in on you later and remind you to take another pill,” he whispered.
Inhaling an unsteady breath she said, “There’s no chance of my forgetting.”
“I’m not so sure. With all those drawings to look at, you’ll be riveted. I spent a lot of my boyhood in there and know their fascination.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
Afraid to look at him she hurried inside, needing to put distance between them as a safeguard against her growing attraction to him.
The château’s library contained priceless books pertaining to the Du Lac family as well as thousands of titles dealing with all aspects of Arthurian legend. Some had been written in Breton, an old Brittany language resembling Cornish and Welsh.
Andrea found its history intriguing. She could understand how Richard had gotten caught up in the lore of the region. The various versions of the Knights of the Round Table could keep you engrossed indefinitely.
Two hours later, after she’d settled down to read an interesting piece in English on Perceval’s search for the Holy Grail, she heard female voices outside the door. It was probably a conversation between the maids. She continued her study of the text, unaware someone had entered the library until a woman spoke to her.
“Mrs. Fallon?”
“Yes?” Andrea got to her feet. A tall, striking blonde in an expensive three peach colored suit had entered the room. She appeared to be Andrea’s age, or maybe a little older.
“I’m Corinne Du Lac.”
Du Lac?
That meant she must have taken Geoff’s name when her mother
