one of my husband’s colleagues.”
“No family?”
“When my parents were killed, my mother’s sister Aunt Kathy and her husband Rob raised me along with their two daughters. They still live in New Haven, but they’re very busy. I wouldn’t want to bother them, not after everything they’ve done for me.”
Lines darkened his handsome face. “Then let’s be thankful you remained here. You could have collapsed on the flight over.”
Since the possibility was patently true, Andrea couldn’t deny it. “I’m sorry to take you away from your father.”
“He’s on the mend. You’re the one I’m worried about.” She saw that his hands had formed fists. “I can’t figure out what’s taking the doctor so damn long to give you a diagnosis. Dr. Foucher should have been here.”
“I think you’ve been on the battlefield too long where everything happens fast, and decisions have to be made in a split second. Things go more slowly back in civilization.”
He rubbed the back of his bronzed neck. “You’re right.” His probing gaze roved over her features. “There’s more color in your cheeks.”
“I’m feeling a little better. Must be the IV.”
“Dieu merci.”
“I’d like to tell you something,” she whispered.
A stillness seemed to envelop him. “Go ahead.”
“You redeemed yourself today.”
“I thought there was no redemption,” his voice grated.
“I was wrong. You rescued a damsel in distress. That’s what heroes do, even if their crown has slipped.”
“I never had one,” he bit out in what sounded like self-abnegation. “You’re imagining things.”
“No. I’m awake, and I was with you when it happened. No one, and I mean no one else could have pulled off what you did unless his name was Lancelot Du Lac. I must confess I’m in awe of you.”
“All right, Andrea—” The doctor swept in the room, bringing Lance to his feet. “I finally have confirmation of what’s wrong with both of you.”
“Both?” Andrea’s anxious gaze flew to Lance’s. “Are you ill and you didn’t tell me?”
Dr. Semplis laughed. “You’re going to have a baby, maman.” He turned to Lance. “Congratulations, papa.”
“A baby?”
“But that’s impossible!” Andrea cried, trying to sit up. “I mean I can’t be pregnant!”
“I’m afraid you are,” the doctor interjected before she could say anything else. “Twelve weeks along in fact.”
“Twelve—” Her cry resounded in the tiny room.
The doctor eyed both of them with amusement. “I’m surprised neither of you recognized the symptoms. Under the circumstances I’ll leave you two alone for a minute, then I’ll be back in to talk to you.”
“Wait—”
“Thank you, Dr. Semplis,” Lance said, taking charge as if he was used to dealing with her. He put his strong hands on her shoulders to ease her back. “We do need some private time.”
The door clicked shut.
Overwhelmed by emotions bombarding her, Andrea broke down sobbing. Once she got started, she couldn’t stop.
Lance said her name in alarm several times and handed her a box of tissues. “Andrea … tell me what’s going on,” her urged.
“You wouldn’t understand.” The words came out in another gush of tears. How could he when she could hardly comprehend it herself.
“You said it was impossible. Does that mean your husband isn’t the father?”
Her breath caught. “No—Yes—I mean I’ve never been with another man, so it has to be my husband’s. But I was told it would take a miracle.”
“Why?” he demanded softly. His hands were kneading her upper arms, but he didn’t seem to be aware of it.
She raised drenched brown eyes to him. “Because I went through premature menopause several years ago, ruling out pregnancy. It happens in a certain small percentage of women. My specialist told me that in my case, the chances of ovulating were so astronomical, I should never count on conceiving a child.”
Andrea wondered if a trick of light was the reason his eyes suddenly darkened.
“She’s been helping me experiment with herbs and hormone therapy to keep my heart healthy. I assumed the physical changes to my body were a result of the hormones. My hands have been so swollen, I left my rings at home.”
“So that’s the explanation,” Lance murmured.
She nodded. “Since Richard’s death I’ve been more tired than usual, and have experienced quite a bit of nausea. But I thought the symptoms had to be the fault of depression and the hormones.
“To think I’m almost through my first trimester of pregnancy and didn’t know it! I—I’m in shock.”
She looked at him through blurry eyes. “Oh, Lance—Richard wanted a baby so badly. Now he’s gone, and he’ll never know our child or be able to help me raise it.”
He remained silent while another explosion of tears poured out of her, more profuse than before. When they finally subsided she said, “In the beginning we had such plans for a family. He was an only child. We wanted two or three so they could be friends. It’s wonderful when siblings have each other.
“Then we found out I couldn’t have any. We were both devastated. I—I wanted to have his baby. Once we heard the awful news, he was so crushed,” she said on another sob.
“When I buried him, I thought it was the end of everything. I came to France so empty, and now—”
“Now everything’s different,” he murmured in a thick-toned voice. She felt him rub the arm that didn’t have the drip in it.
Andrea wiped her eyes. “Except that my baby will grow up without its father. I was deprived of both my parents. I—I can hardly bear to think of history repeating itself. Every child needs a daddy.
“Why did Richard have to die—” Her sorrowful wail rang in the room.
Wordlessly Lance put his arm around her back. She found herself sobbing against his broad shoulder. After a time she realized she was getting him all wet and pulled away embarrassed.
She reached for some tissues and sniffed. “I’m sorry for breaking down like this. You must think I’m insane.”
“I think Richard was a damn lucky
