“Go ahead, mon fils. I’ll wait for you.”
“Try to sleep.”
“I think I can now that I know you’re going to be a permanent fixture around here. Corinne will be overjoyed when she returns from her trip and realizes you’re home for good.”
Lance looked down at his father who was too ill to deal with anything unpleasant. But the moment he improved, the truth would have to come out.
Percy followed Lance as far as the door but no further. The dog didn’t appear to have much use for him. Lance didn’t blame him for preferring his father’s company to Lance whose nature seemed to have been inexplicably vile in the face of innocent provocation.
After going to his suite for the camera, he took the steps two at a time to the third floor and listened outside Andrea’s room for signs of life. Even if she were in bed, he couldn’t let any more time go by without attempting to repair some of the damage.
He rapped on the heavy door with the back of his knuckles. “Andrea? It’s Lance. I have to talk to you. If you need to get dressed first, I’ll wait.”
In a minute he heard, “Should I decide not to open it, will you take a battering ram to the door?”
No one deserved that remark more than he did.
“You’re someone my father cares for very much. I’ve come to apologize.”
After a long silence, “Apology accepted.”
That was too easy. “Enough to open the door?”
“Surely it isn’t necessary.”
He folded his arms. “I presume you don’t want me to see the suitcase you’re packing. If your departure is too precipitous, my father will never forgive me. Since I’m already in the doghouse, as you Americans say, you wouldn’t wish to add to my punishment, would you?”
“The doghouse would be too good for you.”
His lips twitched. Kind as his father made her out to be, she had spirit. “You’re right. I don’t suppose you’d believe I’m suffering from posttraumatic shock syndrome—”
“I believe it, but you’ve taken it to new depths. You’re more like your alter ego than I’d realized.”
“You mean one day I’ll join Lancelot in Hell?”
“If the armor fits.”
“How do you know I haven’t already been there?”
“I surmised as much. Only someone who’s been in hell would treat me the way you have.”
Her arrow found its mark dead center. His amusement vanished. “Is there no redemption?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”
He drew in a ragged breath. “I’m leaving your camera outside this door. If you choose to stay a little longer, I swear on my mother’s grave no harm will come to you from me.”
After a short silence, “Since I know how much your father loved her, I’ll take that into consideration.”
She knew how to deliver the coup de grâce. There were many sides to Andrea Fallon. She was the most dangerous kind of female.
“I’m sorry about your husband. I didn’t know.”
“I thought Lancelot was given special powers.”
He closed his eyes tightly for a moment. “I’ve done too many dark deeds and have forfeited most of them.”
“How sad.”
She sounded as if she meant it. It was then he realized he’d given too much away, a position he loathed to be in.
“I’m leaving now to spend the night with Papa. Don’t let my uncourteous behavior prevent you from making him happy. Should you disappear without explanation, I can’t promise he won’t go downhill.”
Much as he was hoping she’d relent enough to open the door so they could talk face-to-face, he had a gut feeling it wasn’t going to happen. He’d behaved like a bastard and was reaping the consequences.
“Dors bien, Andrea,” his voice rasped before he turned away and made a swift return to the second floor.
Disturbed by the memory of the way she’d felt in his arms when he’d kissed her, he realized it was going to be a long night …
Delighted by the morning sun that pierced the clouds and filtered down through the cathedral of trees, Andrea made her way to the opposite end of the lake from where she’d been reading the previous evening.
Maybe she would get lucky and one of the forest animals following an ancient game trail to the water’s edge would enter the site where she planned to take pictures.
After a good night’s sleep, which came as a surprise considering her tormented state of mind last evening, she realized the worst thing she could do was run away. Geoff wouldn’t understand. Since she couldn’t explain it herself, she’d decided to put yesterday’s experience behind her and behave like an adult.
Lance had proved to be a man with a scarred soul. Using the most elemental of ways, he’d set out to expose her for the loose, conniving female he believed her to be.
Where his father was concerned, his protective instincts were over the top. Combined with his innate distrust of women, he must have choked on that apology for his rough treatment of her. It was probably a first for him.
But coming from a family with a title and great wealth, he no doubt had reasons for his suspicions. Which he’d carried to the extreme.
Still, he’d returned her camera and had promised she would have nothing more to fear from him. She believed him.
As for her reaction to his virility, that wasn’t his fault. It was her own unchecked response to him Andrea feared.
She should have known there’d come a day of awakening when she’d realize she was alone again and vulnerable. Somehow she hadn’t expected it to happen here, or that it would be Geoff’s son who made her aware of her womanhood in a way no man had ever done.
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.