Читать книгу His Pregnant Princess Bride - Catherine Mann - Страница 10

Two

Limos were something of the norm for Erika. Part of the privilege of growing up royal. This should feel normal, watching the sunset while being chauffeured in the limo Gervais had sent to retrieve her from her hotel. Half of her childhood had been spent in the backseat of a limo as she and her family went from one event to another.

But today was anything but normal. As she pulled at the satin fabric of her dress, her mind began to race. She had never pictured herself with a brood of children like her sisters. Not that she didn’t want them, but this was all happening so fast. And with a man she wasn’t entirely sure of. Just the thought of Gervais sent her mind reeling. The thought of telling him about their shared interest made her stomach knot. She began to wonder about what she would tell him. How she would tell him. News she could barely wrap her brain around. But there were secrets impossible to keep in her world, so if she wanted to inform Gervais on her terms, she would have to do so soon.

Tonight.

And just like that, Erika realized the vehicle had stopped. Reality was starting to set in, and no amount of finery and luxury was going to change that. She had chosen the arctic-blue dress because it reminded her of her heritage. Of her family’s Viking past. Of the strength of her small country. She needed these reminders if she was going to face him.

Try as she might, Erika couldn’t get the way he looked at her out of her mind. His eyes drinking her in. The memory sent a pleasurable shiver along her skin.

The chauffeur opened the door with a click, and she stepped out of the limo. Tall and proud. A light breeze danced against her skin, threatening her sideswept updo. Fingers instinctively flew to the white-crusted sapphire pin that, at the nape of her neck, not only held her hair together but also had been in her family for centuries.

Smoothing her blond hair that cascaded over one of her shoulders, she took in the Reynaud family compound in the meeting of sunset with the moon, the stars just beginning to sparkle in the Louisiana sky. Though she had to admit, the flood of lights leading up to the door diminished the starlight.

She lifted her gaze to the massive structure ahead of her. Greek Revival with white arches and columns—no other word than massive, and a girl who grew up in a palace wasn’t impressed easily.

As she walked up the stairs to the home, the sureness from touching her family heirloom began to wane. But before she could lose her nerve and turn back, the limo pulled away and the grand door opened in front of her. This was officially happening.

Though the lights outside had been clinical and bright, the foyer was illuminated by bulbs of yellow. The warmth of these lights reflected on what appeared to be hand-painted murals depicting a fox hunt. American royalty.

A servant gestured for her to walk through the room on the left. Gathering the skirt of her dress, Erika crossed the threshold, leaving behind the foyer and its elaborate staircase and murals.

This room was made for entertainment. She had been in plenty of grand dining halls, and this one felt familiar and impersonal, with wisps of silk that told their secrets to the glass and windows.

Erika had always hated dinners in rooms like this.

Quickly scanning the room, she noted the elaborately carved wooden chair and the huge arrangements of flowers and the tall marble vases. But Gervais wasn’t here, either.

She pressed on through the next threshold and found herself in a simpler room. It was clear that this was a family room. The opulent colors of the grand dining room softened, giving way to a creamy palette. The kind of colors that made Erika want to curl up on the plush leather sofa with a good book and some strong tea with milk.

The family room sported an entertainment bar with Palladian windows overlooking the pool and grounds. But if she turned ever so slightly she could also see an alcove that appeared to lead to a more private section.

The master bedroom and bath? She could envision that space having doors out to the pool, a hot tub, perhaps. She bit her lip and spun away.

It was not as if she was here to gawk at furniture. She had to tell a man she barely knew that they were having a baby. And that the press would have a field day if she and Gervais didn’t get a handle on this now.

And there. She saw him. Chiseled. Dark hair, ruffled ever so slightly. His lips parted into a smile as he met her gaze.

Nerves and something else jolted her to life. Pushed her forward. Toward him and that wolfish smile.

She looked around and saw housekeeping staff, but no one else. Erika waved an elegant hand to the expansive room they stood in and the ones she’d already passed through. “Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Dempsey owns the other home on the compound grounds, next door. My younger brothers Jean-Pierre and Henri share the rights to the house to the northwest on the lake. Gramps has quarters here with me, since this house has been in our family the longest. It’s familiar. He has servants on call round the clock. He’s getting older and more forgetful. But we’re hoping to hold back time as long as we can for him.”

“I am so sorry.”

“They make great meds these days. He’s still got lots of life and light left in him.” A practiced smile pressed against his lips. It was apparent he was hopeful. And used to defending his grandfather’s position.

“And where does the rest of your family live?”

“Are you worried they’ll walk in on us?” He angled a brow upward, and she felt the heat of his eyes graze across her body. A flush crept along her face, heating her from the inside out. Threatening to set her nerves bounding out of control. She needed to stay calm.

“Perhaps.”

“My father’s in Texas and doesn’t return often. Jean-Pierre is in New York with his team for the season and Henri lives in the Garden District most of the time, so their house here is vacant for a while.”

Stepping out onto the patio, he nodded for her to follow. She hastened behind him. Intrigued. He had that way about him. A quality of danger that masked itself as safe. That quality that made him undeniably sexy.

And that, she reminded herself, was how she’d ended up in this situation.

Gervais surveyed the patio. She followed his gaze, noting the presence of a hot tub and an elaborate fountain that pumped water into the pool. The fountain, like the house, was descended from a Greek aesthetic. Apollo and Daphne were intertwined, water flowing from the statues into the pool.

Over the poolside sound system, the din of steel drums competed with the gentle echo of rolling waves on the lakeshore.

“You arranged dinner outside.” Erika breathed in the air on this rare night of low humidity. She looked around at the elaborate patio table that was dressed for dinner with lights, fresh flowers, silver and china. Ceiling fans circled a delicious breeze from the slight overhang of the porch.

“I promised you gumbo—” he gestured broadly, before holding the seat out for her “—and I delivered.”

She settled into the chair, intensely aware of his hands close to her shoulders. The heat of his chest close to her back. Blinking away the awareness, she focused on the table settings, surprised to realize he planned to serve her himself from the silver chafing dishes. “Your home is lovely.”

“The old plantation homes have a lot of character.” He slid into the seat across from hers. “I know our history here doesn’t compete with the hundreds of years, castles and Viking lore of your country, but the place has stories in the walls all the same.”

“The architecture and details are stunning. I can see why you were drawn to live here.” When Americans talked about their colonial towns, they always spoke of the old-world charm they’d possessed. But that was selling it short. Cities like New Orleans were the distillation of cultures haphazardly pressed against each other. And that distillation yielded beauty that was so different from the actual Old World.

“If you would prefer a restaurant...” He paused, tongs grasping freshly baked bread.

“This is better. More private.” She held up a hand. “Don’t take that the wrong way.”

“Understood. You made your point earlier.”

Seafood gumbo, red beans and rice, thick black coffee and powdery doughnuts—beignets. It was a spread that sent her taste buds jumping.

“Did you have a nice ride from the Four Winds Resort?”

“I did. The trees heavy with Spanish moss are beautiful. And the water laps at the roads as if the sea could wash over the land at any moment.” The languid landscape was so different than her country’s rugged and fierce Viking past. She’d liked learning about New Orleans so far.

“You could stay here, you know.”

“I did not come here for that.” She laced her words with ice even as her body burned with awareness of the man seated across from her.

“Then why are you here after walking out on me without a word or backward glance?”

So that hadn’t escaped his notice. She began to prepare the speeches that had replayed in her mind since she had boarded the plane to make the transatlantic journey.

“I’m sorry about that. I thought I was making things easier for both of us. It was a fling with no future, given we live across an ocean from each other. I saved us both a messy goodbye.”

At that time she had been thinking about the life she needed to get on track. But all her carefully laid plans were shifting beneath her feet, now that she was pregnant.

“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?”