His Pregnant Princess Bride. Catherine Mann
she warned him, her shoulders stiff with tension. “I will not be forced into marriage because you think that is the best plan. I have plans, as well.”
How many people had underestimated her resolve over the years because she had that label of “princess” attached to her? Her commanding officers. Teachers. Her own parents.
She would simply have to show Gervais her mettle.
“I understand that,” he murmured, his voice melting into the sounds of waves and steel drums. “Now we need to make plans together.”
Some of the tension in her eased. “Nice to know you can be reasonable and not just impulsive.”
With a shrug, he began again. “In the interest of being reasonable, let’s spend the next four weeks—”
“Two weeks,” she corrected him. She had already disrupted her life and traveled halfway across the globe for him.
He nodded slowly. “Two weeks getting to know each other better as we make plans for our child. You could stay here in my home, where there are plenty of suites for privacy. I won’t make a move that isn’t mutual. We’ll use this time to find common ground.”
“And if we are not successful in your time frame?” This felt like a business deal. But the time frame might be enough to bring him to reason.
“Then I guess I’ll have to follow you home. Now, how about I call over to the hotel for them to send your things here? You look ready to fall asleep on your feet.”
“You’re honestly suggesting I give up my plans completely and stay here?” She gestured back toward the house. Two weeks. Together. Under the same roof.
That part sounded decidedly less like a business deal. The very idea wisped heatedly over her skin.
“Not in my bed—unless you ask, of course.” He smiled devilishly. “But if we’re going to make the most of these two weeks, it’s best we stay here. There are fantastic graduate school programs in the area, too, if you opt for that later down the road. And I can also provide you with greater protection here.”
“Protection?” What in the world did she need his protection for? And from what? And what was this later-down-the-road notion for her plans?
“We’re a professional NFL family. That brings with it a level of fame and notoriety unrivaled in any other business domain. The fans are passionate. And while most of them are supportive, there is a segment that takes the game very personally. Some of the more unstable types occasionally seek revenge for what they perceive as bad decisions.” His jaw flexed. “Since your child is my child, that puts our baby at risk as a Reynaud. If you won’t stay here for yourself, then stay for our child. We are safe here.”
He had found the one reason she couldn’t debate. But she needed to be careful. To give herself time to think through the consequences of what she was agreeing to, and she couldn’t do that now when she was so tired.
“I am weary. It has been a long, emotional day. I would appreciate being shown to these guest suites that you speak of and I will consider it.”
“Of course.” He picked up his phone and tapped the screen twice before setting it down. “You’ll find all the toiletries you need at your disposal. I’ll have someone show you to a room and make sure you have everything you need.”
Before he finished speaking, a maid had arrived at the door, perhaps summoned by his phone.
Apparently, Gervais was serious about giving her some space if she elected to stay in the house with him. And while she appreciated that, she was also surprised at his easy efficiency. Hadn’t her pregnancy announcement rattled this coolly controlled man even a little?
“Thank you.” She looked at him, her breath catching at the raw masculinity of the man. She backed up a step, needing boundaries. And sleep.
“And I’ll have a long Hurricanes jersey sent up for you to sleep in.” His eyes remained on hers, but his voice stirred something inside her.
The last time they had slept under the same roof, there hadn’t been much sleeping accomplished at all. And somehow, as she took her leave of him, she knew that he was remembering that fact as vividly as she did.
* * *
The door closed behind her, and she loosed a breath that she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
This was...different from what she had grown up with. The billowy sheer curtains thinly veiled a view of Lake Pontchartrain. Heels clacked against the opulent white marble as she made her way to an oversize plush bed. Instinctively, she ran her hand over the white comforter as she took in the room.
A grand, hand-carved mahogany-wood nightstand held a score of toiletries.
It was luxurious. She unscrewed the lid on one of the lotion bottles, and the light scent of jasmine wafted up to her. She set it down, picked up the shampoo, popped the lid and breathed in mint and a tropical, fruity flavor.
This house was old, not as old as her castle, of course, but it still had history. And such a different feel than her wintry homeland. This was grander, built more for leisure than practicality.
Plopping onto the bed, Erika was somewhat surprised to note the bed was every bit as comfortable as it looked. The bed seemed to wrap her in a hug.
And she needed a hug. Everything in her life was undergoing a drastic change. Untethered. That was where she was. Her career in the military was over. It left her feeling strange, adrift. The past few years, her path had been set. And now? A river of conflicting wants and obligations flooded her mind.
Yes, she wanted to pursue her dream. She wanted to be a nurse-practitioner and pursue her studies in the UK, wanted that so badly. But that dream wasn’t as simple as it had been a couple months ago.
Even now, thousands of miles away, she felt the tendrils of familial pressure. When they learned she was going to have a child, they would be pressuring her. Probably into marriage. And Gervais seemed to have the same ideas. How was she supposed to balance all of it?
In her soul, she knew she’d be able to take care of her child. Give her baby everything and have her dreams, too. But the weight of everyone’s expectations left her feeling anxious. First things first, she needed to figure out what she wanted. How she would handle all of this. And then she could deal with the demands of her family and Gervais.
Lifting herself off the bed, she made her way to the coffee table where a stack of old sports programs casually dressed the table.
Dragging her fingers over the covers, she tried to get a feel for Gervais. For his family. The Greek Revival hinted at wealth but shed little on his personality. Though, from her brief time in the halls, she noticed how sparsely decorated the place was. On the wall, directly across from where she stood, were some photos in sleek black frames. They were matted and simple. The generic sorts of photographs that belonged more in a cold, impersonal office than a residence.
She walked over to investigate them further. The two images that hung on the wall were formal portraits, similar to the kinds she and her family had done. But whereas her family bustled with Viking grace and was filled with women, these pictures were filled with the Reynaud men.
The sons stood closer to the grandfather. Strange. A man who looked as if he could be Gervais’s father was on the edge of the photograph, an impatient smile curling over his face.
Gingerly, she reached out to the frame, fingers finding cool glass. Gervais. Handsome as the devil. A smile was on her lips before she could stop it. She dropped her hand.
No, Erika. She had to remain focused. And figure out how to do what was best for her—their—child that didn’t involve jumping into bed with him. Again.
Pulling at the hem of the jersey that cut her midthigh, a jersey she’d found on her bed and couldn’t resist wearing, she resolved to keep her hands off him. And his out from under her jersey. Even if that did sound...delicious.
*