The Duke's Baby. Rebecca Winters

      Richard was the only man she’d ever slept with and he’d taken his time to get to know her before they’d become intimate.

      Troubled by her thoughts that seemed to swirl toward one inescapable vortex, she looked for a fallen tree where she could sit while she waited for a deer or some such thing to appear.

      In truth she was tired even though she’d slept well. Since eating part of an omelet earlier, she’d felt a trifle nauseous. These were signs of pregnancy, but that wasn’t possible. Since she’d had these symptoms before coming in contact with Geoff, she didn’t think it was flu.

      What could it be except the result of her grief?

      As soon as she returned to the States, she would need to find meaningful work and get on with her life. But right now the thought of making any decisions seemed too much for her.

      She looked around. A few rabbits and squirrels scurried about, but the bigger animals were nowhere in sight. Maybe they’d ventured out at first light and were resting while they digested breakfast.

      A short nap sounded like a good idea to her, too. Maybe she should go back to the château and come here later in the day. Even as the thought entered her head, she happened to notice something moving in the water toward her with the speed of a torpedo. Something long and sleek.

      By the time she’d jumped to her feet in alarm, a dark head had risen from a cluster of lily pads in flower.

      Her hand went to her throat. Lance!

      While treading water he flashed her a white smile. “Good morning,” came that low voice in the heavy French accent she found so seductive.

      Surrounded by the heads of pink and white water lilies, he made a picture of impossible male beauty. Appearing like this made him seem part of the enchantment of the place.

      “I thought swimming across the lake would be the best way to announce I was coming. After our first meeting, the last thing I wanted to do was startle you again.”

      Everything about him pulled the ground out from under her, but that was her problem, not his.

      “You move like an animal and swim like a fish. If I see you fly, then I’m going to know Merlin haunts these woods.”

      His blue eyes darkened with some emotion she didn’t understand. “Why not join me? I’ll show you one of the château’s secrets no one else knows about. You have to swim to it, but don’t worry. The lake’s not deep.”

      Her heart lurched at the thought of being alone with him like this. “I’m afraid I didn’t bring a suit.”

      “You have one now. Corinne, my father’s stepdaughter, keeps extras around for her girlfriends.” He tossed her a small plastic bag he’d been holding in his hand. It landed at her feet.

      Andrea leaned over and opened it. Inside was a cherry-red bikini. She found it odd Lance hadn’t referred to Corinne as the woman he planned to marry. But since his personal life was none of her business, she kept quiet about it.

      “There’s plenty of cover. Hurry and put it on. I’ll wait for you,” he said before vanishing beneath the lily pads.

      However much he might not like it, she realized Lance was endeavoring to extend the olive branch. Geoff had wanted to show her around and must have put his son up to this. To refuse would be churlish of her.

      If she said no, it would only prove she hadn’t forgiven him. In truth, considering his scathing view of women, he might think she’d read more into that angry kiss than punishment.

      Forgetting her lethargy for the moment, she moved behind a pine tree and changed into the two-piece suit. It fit, but just barely.

      Lured by the sense of adventure surrounding him despite his brooding air of cynicism, Andrea removed her sneakers and put them in a pile with her things, then walked down to the water’s edge. He waved to her from a short distance away.

      With her heart pounding hard, she waded into the cold, still water and pushed off toward him. After a few strokes she recovered from the initial shock and discovered the temperature was invigorating.

      His intent gaze beckoned her closer. “Follow me,” was all he said before swimming to the middle of the lake where he did an expert somersault into the depths.

      With less grace Andrea imitated him, glad for her ponytail that prevented the hair from getting in her eyes. As soon as she reached him, he pointed to an object lying on the floor of the lake. She looked down.

      Partially hidden among the plants lay a knight’s sword and shield. Fingers of sunlight illuminated their metallic outlines. In this underworld, anything seemed possible. Andrea wanted to stay longer and inspect them, but she was too out of shape and breath. She began to feel a little panicky.

      Lance must have picked up on her alarm because he put his arms around her and they ascended to the surface together. Their swift rise made her somewhat dizzy. This time she clung to his powerful body in order to drink in air.

      Unlike last time he didn’t thrust her away as if she’d been the one to initiate the contact.

      “Are you all right?”

      She felt his husky tone resonate throughout her body.

      “Yes. Just a little winded for some reason.” Their bodies brushed against each other in a tangle of limbs. “Where did that sword and shield come from?”

      “Years ago my father planted those to give me and my friends a thrill. We decided to leave them there.”

      She smiled. “That sounds like Geoff. You were lucky to have such a wonderful father.”

      As she’d spoken, her lips happened to graze the scar at the side of his neck. It ran from his collarbone into the black hair behind his ear. The bronze of his skin made it stand out a pinkish white.

      “I hope the man who gave this to you isn’t in a position to hurt anyone again,” she whispered, afraid to touch it with her fingers in case it was sensitive.

      His lids veiled his eyes. “What if I told you it was a woman?”

      A female soldier?

      The picture of Lance in mortal combat with a woman managed to disturb her in a whole slew of new and different ways. Any other thoughts went out of her head.

      “It looks like a recent wound. D-does it hurt?” she stammered.

      “No.”

      “I’m glad.”

      “Are you?” came the voice of skepticism.

      “That you’re not in pain?” she blurted in exasperation. “Of course!”

      Embarrassed by the intimate exchange and proximity of their bodies, she pushed away from him and began treading water on her own.

      He moved closer. “After the way I treated you last night, you have every reason to despise me.”

      “You’re right, but that was last night, and you said you were sorry. Let’s forget it, shall we? Your father is overjoyed you’ve come home. Some men and women don’t return from war, or if they do, they’ve lost limbs or—”

      “Or other unspeakable things?” he mocked. “That’s true.” His shuttered eyes continued to search hers. “Unfortunately war isn’t the only place for losses to occur. How long were you married to your husband?”

      “Six years.”

      “You’re still so young.”

      “Almost twenty-eight. Not quite the child you assumed was ingratiating herself to your father,” she reminded him.

      He studied her in the dappled light. “No man would ever mistake you for a child. But I did think you were younger.”

      “So I gathered earlier.”

      “I