Pregnancy Proposals: The Duke's Baby. Rebecca Winters
father would have sent someone from the château to look for her. But under the circumstances Lance was glad he was the one who’d discovered her body lying there inert. The idea that someone unscrupulous might have come upon her didn’t bear thinking about.
He pressed on the accelerator, heading straight for the clinic. If the doctor said she needed to be in a hospital, he would drive her to Rennes.
The next few minutes became a blur of activity. As soon as the surprised receptionist saw him carrying Andrea through the main doors, she jumped up and showed him into one of the rooms down the hall. “I’ll get Dr. Semplis.”
“I don’t want anyone but Dr. Foucher looking at Andrea.”
“I’m sorry, monsieur, but today is Dr. Foucher’s day off.”
Lance muttered an imprecation. He didn’t know Dr. Semplis and hated the idea of a stranger taking care of her, but it couldn’t be helped. She needed immediate attention. “She’s very ill.”
“Dr. Semplis will be right in.”
At the sound of the woman’s voice, Andrea’s eyes opened. Lance looked into them as he lowered her onto the examining table. “Help is coming, chérie.“ The endearment came out unsolicited from someplace deep inside, surprising the hell out of him. “We’re at the doctor’s office.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
It sounded heartfelt, which meant she was even sicker than he realized, otherwise she wouldn’t be speaking to him.
Soon after the receptionist left, a nurse entered the room. “If you’d please step out, monsieur.“
The last thing Lance wanted to do was leave, but he had no choice. “If you need me, I’ll be right outside the door, Andrea.”
She gave a barely perceptible nod before her eyes closed again.
The last time he’d left a wounded buddy at the field hospital in a near unconscious condition, the poor devil had never recovered. It was the stuff that had made up part of Lance’s nightmares for the last ten years.
He drew in a ragged breath and exited the room. While he waited in the hall, he drew the cell phone out of his jeans’ pocket and phoned the stable.
After learning that Tonnerre had returned safely, Lance phoned his father and told him he and Andrea had decided to drive to Lyseaux before coming back to the château. They’d all have lunch together another day.
His father seemed fine with it, particularly since a good friend of his had dropped by.
Lance told him he’d see him at dinner and hung up, relieved his parent was still in the dark about Andrea. Now that he was rallying from his bout with pneumonia, Lance didn’t want any setbacks.
His main concern was to find out what was wrong with Andrea and make certain she recovered. For some inexplicable reason he felt responsible for her. He grimaced to think about anything that could have put her life in jeopardy.
“Monsieur?” Lance wheeled around to see a younger doctor coming down the hall. “I’m Dr. Semplis.”
“Grâce à Dieu someone’s on duty! Andrea became ill in the forest. She couldn’t sit up, let alone walk out on her own. I had to carry her in; I think it could be flu.”
The other man eyed him curiously. “I won’t have any idea until I examine her, but don’t worry. We’ll know soon enough. Why don’t you take a seat out in reception.”
“I’m staying here,” he declared.
“Suit yourself, but it could be a long wait.”
His jaw hardened. “So be it.”
Andrea drifted in and out of sleep, haunted by dreams of Lancelot braving the elements to carry her to safety on his marvelous steed.
In her waking moments the doctor told her she was dehydrated. He’d ordered an IV. Soon a lab technician drew her blood.
She fell asleep again. Later she became aware of Lance’s presence. He’d pulled up a chair next to the examining table.
Other than asking her if he could do anything for her, he didn’t force her to talk. By his brooding silence however, she could tell something serious was on his mind.
Even if Geoff had prevailed on Lance to stay with her, she found it rather touching that such a fierce, dominant male who probably hated confinement like this more than most people, was keeping a constant vigil at her side.
It made her feel guilty that instead of being with his father who needed him, Lance had to worry about her.
She felt a little stronger and turned her head to look at him. “I should have gone home yesterday.”
He leaned forward, eyeing her narrowly. “To what? An empty house full of memories?”
“A condo,” she corrected him, wondering at his savage tone.
“Who would take care of you?”
“I have a friend, who’s the wife of 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!”