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.”
When she looked up at him, she glimpsed a bleakness in his eyes. After a tension-filled moment she heard him say, “Would it help if I told you life hasn’t been fair to me, either?”
Her gaze flew to his scar. “If you’re referring to your injury, in my opinion it adds to your attraction and makes you more interesting. Ask any woman and she’ll tell you the same thing.”
“That’s always nice to hear,” he said dryly, “but I’m referring to another one.”
She bit her lip. “You have more than the scar?” her voice shook.
“Sometimes the wounds on the inside do the most damage.”
He’d caught her attention. “What’s wrong with you?”
There was an unnatural quiet in the room before he said, “I can’t father a child, Andrea, I’m impotent.”
The impact of his words was so painful, her heart plunged to her feet. She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her cry, but it escaped anyway.
They stared at each other while streams of unspoken words flowed between them.
“You’re the one person I know who understands how it feels to learn you’ll never be able to create a life from your own body. In fact you’re the only person in my life I’ve told,” he admitted soberly.
She groaned remembering Geoff’s excitement that Lance had come home for good. His expectations of grandchildren had put a new light in his eyes.
Those ever ready tears stung hers once more. “Oh, Lance—How did it happen? When?”
After a sharp intake of breath he said, “During one of my assignments in the Middle East, I was exposed to a chemical agent that put me in the hospital for a while. That was seven years ago. After I recovered, I was told I’d never be able to have children.”
To be told that was like being given a death sentence of sorts. She understood. Oh how she understood.
He would never know the joy of seeing himself in one of his own children. There’d be no flesh and blood baby who would grow up to look like the Malbois family.
“If you hadn’t gone in the military …”
“But I did.” His barely leashed anger revealed his pain. “Unlike you however, there’s no miracle that can change my condition.”
Andrea had nothing to say to that. There weren’t any words to give him the smallest hope. She’d never felt so helpless.
“Suffice it to say, not many women of childbearing age want to marry a man who can’t give them a child.”
Right now wasn’t the time to assure Lance there were plenty of women out there who’d give anything to be his wife if he were in love with them. They’d agree to adoption. In any case, the woman who wanted to be his wife wouldn’t make children the issue.
Yet with hindsight she could see that her being infertile had mattered to Richard. He hadn’t even wanted to discuss adoption. If she’d heard she couldn’t have a baby before she’d married him, he would have lost interest in her and walked away. He liked a well ordered life, everything in its place. Anything less than perfect didn’t suit.
Andrea had turned out to be less than perfect. Maybe that was why their sex life had suffered in their marriage. It could explain why he’d ended up burying himself in his books.
When she looked back, she realized she’d been the one to reach out to him on the day he’d died, hoping to ignite that missing spark.
She buried her face in her hands. “Your father’s going to feel terrible for you. You’re his raison d’être.“
“He’ll deal with it.”
“But what about you, Lance? Honestly …” With her heart aching for him, she lifted her head to look at him.
“For a few moments in the clinic today when Dr. Semplis congratulated us, I felt as if you and I had made your baby together. I liked the feeling. So much in fact that I’d like to be its father on a permanent basis.”
She sat up straighter. What was he saying?
“You’ve asked for an honest response from me, so let me ask you a question. How would you like to marry me?”
For the second time in one day, her world stood still. It took her a minute before she could speak.
“You’re talking a marriage of convenience?” she asked in wonder.
“I guess that’s one way of putting it,” he drawled. “From the outset it’s been clear you and your husband enjoyed a great marriage. I realize a love like that only comes once in a lifetime.
“Life has dealt us both a great blow to our dreams, so I’m not going to ask for the impossible. But if you’d let me, I’d like to give you my name. Then I can be there to help you through your pregnancy, and after. I’ll provide for you and the baby for the rest of my life. Everything I have will be yours.
“I can promise you it won’t be hard to say it’s mine. After listening to its heartbeat, I already feel a bond. What are the chances of that happening again? This will be the closest I’ll ever come to playing the role of father right from the cradle.
“Think
