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“And when I called you? Left messages asking to speak to you?”
“I thought you were being polite. Gentlemanly. And do not get me wrong, I believe it honorable of you. But that is not enough to build a relationship.”
“How much would it have hurt to return one call? If we’re talking about polite, I expected as much from you.” He cocked an eyebrow.
“You are angry. I apologize if I made the wrong decision.”
“Well, you’re here now. For your conference, right?”
“Actually, that wasn’t the truth.” She fidgeted with her leather band bracelet, inspirational inscriptions scrolled on metal insets providing support. Advice. And if ever she was in need of help, the moment was now. “I only said that in case others overheard. I’m here to see you. I want to apologize for walking out on you and have a conversation we should have had then.”
“What conversation would that be?”
Oh, what a loaded question, she thought. “How we would handle it if there were unexpected consequences from our weekend together.”
He stared at her, hard. “Unexpected consequences? How about you spell it out rather than have me play Fifty Questions.”
She dabbed the corners of her mouth as if she could buy herself a few more seconds before her life changed forever. Folding the napkin carefully and placing it beside her plate, she met his dark brown eyes, her own gaze steady. Her hands shaky. “I am pregnant. The baby is yours.”
* * *
Of all the things that Erika could have said, being pregnant was not what Gervais had been preparing himself for. He ought to say something. Something fast, witty and comforting. But instead, he just looked at her.
Really looked at her as he swallowed. Hard.
She was every bit as breathtaking as that first night they’d met. But there was something different in the way she carried her body that should have tipped him off.
Her face was difficult to read. She’d iced him out of gaining any insights in her eyes. Gervais examined the hair that trailed down her shoulder, exposing her collarbone and slender neck. This was the hairstyle of a royal, so different than the girl who had let her hair run wild over their weekend together.
And what a weekend it’d been. Months had passed since then and he still thought about her. About the way she’d tasted on his tongue.
He had to say something worthy of that. Of her. He collected his thoughts, determined to say the perfect thing.
Despite all of that, only one word fell out of his mouth.
“Pregnant.” So much for a grand speech.
Her face flashed with a hint of disappointment. Of course, she had every right to expect more from him. But more silence escaped his lips, and the air was filled not with sounds of him speaking, but with the buzz of waves and boats.
The trace of frustration and disappointment had left her face. She looked every bit a Viking queen. Impassive. Strong. Icy. And still so damn sexy in her soft feminine clothes and that bold leather bracelet.
“Yes, and I am absolutely certain the child is yours.”
“I didn’t question you.”
“I wanted to be clear. Although in these days of DNA tests, it is not a subject that one can lie about.” She frowned. “Do you need time to think, for us to talk more later? You look pale.”
Did he? Hell, he did feel as if he’d been broadsided by a three-hundred-pound linebacker, but back in his ballplaying days he’d been much faster at recovery. And the stakes here were far higher. He needed to tread carefully. “A child is always cause for celebration.” He took her hand in his, as close as he could let himself get until he had answers, no matter how tempted he was for more. “I’m just surprised. We were careful.”
“Not careful enough, apparently. You, um, did stretch the condom, and perhaps there was a leak.”
He choked on a cough. “Um, uh...I don’t know what to say to that.”
“It was not a compliment, you Cro-Magnon.” She shook her hand free from his. “Simply an observation.”
“Fair enough. Okay, so you’re pregnant with my baby. When do you want to head to the courthouse to get married?”
“Are you joking? I did not come to the United States expecting a proposal of marriage.”
“Well, that is what I am offering. Would you prefer I do this in a more ceremonial way? Fine.” He slid from his chair and dropped to one knee on the flagstone patio. “Marry me and let’s bring up this child together.”
Her eyes went wide with shock and she shot to her feet. Looking around her as if to make sure no one overheard. “Get up. You look silly.”
“Silly?”
For the first time since he’d met her, she appeared truly flustered. She edged farther away, sweeping back her loose hair with nervous hands. “Perhaps I chose the wrong word. You look...not like you. And this is not what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“I am simply here to notify you about your child and discuss if you wish to be a part of the baby’s life before I move forward with my life.”
“Damn straight I want to bring up my child.”
“Shared custody.”
He reached to capture her restless hands and hold them firmly in his. “You are not hearing me. I want to raise my child.”
“Our child.”
“Of course.” He caressed the insides of her wrists with his thumbs. “Let’s declare peace so we can make our way through this conversation amicably.”
Her shoulders relaxed and he guided her to a bench closer to the half wall at the end of the patio. They sat side by side, shoulder to shoulder.
She nodded. “I want peace, very much. That’s why I came to you now, early on, rather than just calling or waiting longer.”
“And I am glad you did.” He slid his hand up her arm to her shoulder, cupping the warmth of her, aching for more. “My brother Dempsey grew up thinking our father didn’t want him and it scarred him. I refuse to let that happen to my child. My baby will know he or she is wanted.”
“Of course our child will be brought up knowing both parents love and want him or her.”
“Yes, and you still haven’t answered my question.”
“What question?”
“The silly question that comes with a guy getting down on one knee. Will you marry me?”
Three (#ulink_04650cc6-6053-5a79-8849-c3d6c89fa0b5)
“Marry you? I do not even know you.” Erika’s voice hitched. Marriage? She had wanted him to be supportive, sure. But...marriage? The words tumbled over and over in her head in a disjointed echo.
“We knew each other well enough to have sex. Call me old-fashioned, but I’m trying to do the right thing here and offer to marry you. We can have a civil ceremony and divorce in a year. As far as our child knows, we gave it an honest try but things didn’t work.” His voice was level. Calm. Practical.
Her fears multiplied. This seemed too calculated. And she would not land in a family environment that was all for show again. Being raised royal had taught her she was not meant for a superficial existence. She had already chosen a meaningful career. A future where she could make a difference.
Swallowing back the anxiety swelling in her chest, she reminded herself to be reasonable.
“You figured all that out this fast? Or have you had practice with this sort of business before?” The notion cut her with surprising sharpness. She did not want to think about Gervais involved with other women after the way they’d been together.
“I am not joking.” His hand inched toward hers.
She scrutinized his face, studied the way his jaw jutted. The play of muted lights on his dark hair, the way it was thickest on top of his head. Even now, he was damn attractive. But that fact wasn’t enough to chase reason from her mind.
“Apparently not.”
“I’ll take that as a no to my proposal.” Retreating his hand, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“You most certainly can. It is far too soon to speak of marriage. And have you forgotten? I have plans to pursue my education in the UK.”
Tilting his head, he lowered his voice. It became soft. Gentle. “You won’t even consider my offer? Not even for the baby’s sake? Let me take care of you while you’re pregnant and recovering, postpartum and such. You can get to know my family during the football season. Afterward, we can spend more time with yours.”
Even if the monarchy was defunct, she was a royal and sure of herself. She shot to her feet. “Do I get any say in this at all? You are a pushy man. I do not remember that about you.”
He stood and stepped closer, very close, suggestively. His hips and thighs warm against hers. “What do you remember about our time together?”
“If you are trying to seduce me into doing whatever you want—” Erika needed to focus. Which was tougher than ever with him pressed up against her and that smolder in his eye setting her on fire.
“If? I must not be working hard enough.” He slid his hands up her arms.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment she felt as if she could give in. But thoughts of her future child coursed through her mind. A ragged breath escaped her lips, and she reopened her eyes.
She clasped his wrists. “Stop. I am not playing games. I came here to inform you. Not demand anything of you. And certainly not to reenact our past together.”
His hands dropped and he scowled. “Let me get this straight. If I hadn’t wanted anything to do with the baby, you would have simply walked away?”
“You never would have heard from me again.” The words escaped her as an icy dagger. She would have no use for such a man. And she had to admit that even if his proposal felt pushy, at least Gervais was not the sort of person to walk away from his child.
“Well, not a chance in hell is that happening this time. You may have brushed me off once before, but not again.”
Had he genuinely wished to see her again after their weekend together? She had been afraid to find out at the time, afraid of answering his call only to discover that his contact was a perfunctory duty and social nicety. After what they had shared, she was not sure she could bear hearing that cool retreat in his voice. Now, of course, she would never know what his intentions had truly been toward her.
She took a deep breath. Regrouped.
“And you cannot command me to your will,” 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.
