Pregnancy Proposals. Rebecca Winters
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we’ll take a drive into the country for dinner.
“In the meantime, do me a favor and mind the doctor. I’ll instruct the kitchen to send up your meals tomorrow. That way you can give those pills a chance to do their job while you rest.
“Bonne nuit, Andrea.”
Still in shock, she watched him leave, knowing there’d be no rest for her from now on. Not when the future Duc Du Lac had just asked her to marry him so he could have a baby.
Richard’s baby.
But Richard wasn’t alive, and Lance, who was very much alive, yet could never get a woman pregnant, was prepared to step in and father her baby.
It meant she’d never have a financial worry. She could be the total stay-at-home mother she’d dreamed of being, and her baby would have a daddy who would raise him and love him.
Andrea had no doubts about Lance’s devotion to her child. His reaction at the clinic, the excitement in his eyes when he’d gone out to buy her the gifts, let her know he’d be a natural when it came to fatherhood. After all, he was Geoff’s son. What better role model could any man have.
Her baby would inherit a grandfather who would lavish his love on his grandchild.
Three people who’d known loss would dote on her baby. What a lucky boy or girl to be the recipient of so much love.
The only way the decision to marry Lance wouldn’t be convenient was if he eventually met a woman and fell madly in love.
Andrea had no doubts he would always be there for their child, but he would feel trapped in the marriage he’d entered into with Andrea. That would be the risk she’d be taking if she said yes to him now, and then further down the road he wanted out.
For the rest of the night she tossed and turned, wishing she couldn’t feel or understand his pain that he couldn’t procreate.
She should never have listened to him—never have given him the chance to broach the subject with her. Something had told her there’d be a price to pay if she did.
There was a price all right.
He’d stripped her of her of peace of mind. Lance knew she’d become emotionally involved and had purposely left her to writhe while she considered the pros and cons of his outrageous marriage proposal.
It was a desperate measure on the part of a very desperate man. If she agreed to it, what did that make her?
Every kind of a fool for even entertaining something that could bring untold pain and anguish down the road.
“THIS is a lovely old inn, Lance. What does the name of it mean in English?”
He studied Andrea’s oval face in the candlelight. She had the classic features of a true beauty. He doubted she wore anything but lipstick.
“It’s called the Gold Chestnut Tree. If you hadn’t become ill the other day, I would have shown you the real one.”
She blinked. “Real one?”
“In 1990 there was a fire here in the Valley of No Return. It burned for five days. Afterward thousands of donations poured in from around the world to help save the mythical heritage that abounds here. Papa was one of the people instrumental in spearheading it.”
“Five days—”
“It was devastating. You may have heard of the Parisian sculptor, François Davin. He created a huge golden chestnut tree with pure gold leaves to pay tribute to international cooperation. The tree symbolizes the immortality of the dreams of men of goodwill.”
“I believe Richard did mention something about it. The branches are supposed to resemble a stag’s antlers.”
“That’s right. It’s to commemorate the wild animals who led the knights through the enchanted forests, and to remind us of the power of man’s love of Mother Nature.”
“How lovely,” she mused.
The personification of loveliness was seated across from him. “How was your crêpe?”
“As you can see, I ate most of it. Combined with the cider, everything tasted delicious.”
“No nausea spells this afternoon?”
She shook her head. The golden-brown strands glistened against her shoulders. With eyes dark as poppy throats, she had an enchanting color scheme.
“I spent part of the afternoon with your father in the garden and kept waiting to be sick, but it didn’t happen. The medicine has worked wonders.”
That was good news.
Since driving away from the château with her, Lance had purposely kept up desultory conversation to put her at ease. To his chagrin she’d seemed so comfortable with him throughout dinner, he had the premonition she’d made up her mind to turn him down hours before. As a result, she was enjoying their evening out without any accompanying nervousness.
Lance on the other hand found his appetite had left him. Once having asked her to consider his proposal, the idea that she might turn him down was getting harder and harder to accept. In fact it was quite unthinkable.
Baby or no baby, he discovered he wanted to be with her all the time. His physical attraction to her had been immediate. Knowing she was pregnant made her even more desirable.
Tonight she looked lit up inside. In the simple black dress and strand of pearls, her curvaceous body moved with a femininity that made him ache to touch her. He was charmed by her soft laughter. She was a person who enjoyed the small moments.
Andrea wanted nothing from him. As a consequence, he was prepared to give her his name. So far no other woman had meant enough to him that he wanted to live with her on a constant basis, let alone be responsible for her.
No longer able to enjoy the evening when he didn’t know her decision, he announced they were leaving the restaurant. She went along without demur, which probably meant she was tired and wanted to go home.
On the way back to the château, he drove her past Paimpont abbey to the pool nestled in the foothills his father wanted her to see. He shut off the engine and glanced at her profile.
“One night after your baby’s born and you’re able, I’ll bring you here for a swim. Merlin fell madly in love with Viviane in this spot. They used to make love here. When the moon is full, it reflects off the water like the silver chalice Perceval sought.”
She put down her window, allowing the sultry summer night air to filter through the car. “This place could be right out of a fantasy. Ever since I’ve been in Brittany, I feel as if I’ve been caught in a spell.”
Lance liked the sound of that. “It’s because you’ve entered the sanctuary of the wicked fairy Morgan-le-Fay, Arthur’s half sister. Remember those red rocks we passed earlier where the waters are turbulent? She would lure fickle knights here, then imprison them.
“Motivated by his love for the queen, Lancelot braved untold dangers to break those poor souls from Morgan’s evil spell. In the process he found the way out through this enchanted pool.”
“You’re part of that same enchantment,” Andrea spoke up. “Like a shapeshifter you take on a different form depending on the moment. I never know who’s going to appear next.
“Will it be the loving, devoted son? The battle scarred military man? The impeccable host? The knight in modern armor still rescuing damsels in distress? The wounded soldier who believes he’s lost his manhood? The boy-man yearning for his idyllic childhood? The Duc-elect of Du Lac fame? The unofficial fiancé of his stepsister?”
Mon Dieu.
Except