The Duke's Baby. Rebecca Winters

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 guess you know you’ve made a conquest of my father.”

      Lance didn’t believe in mincing words. He’d followed her to the lac for a definite reason.

      Andrea decided to be blunt, too. “I take it you’re not happy about it.”

      “No,” he answered in a morose tone.

      One thing she could count on with him was his brutal honesty. “Give me through to tomorrow afternoon, then you’ll have him all to yourself.”

      He trod water opposite her. “You know as well as I do he doesn’t want you to leave.”

      “Geoff has his son back. That’s all he cares about.”

      “Not all,” Lance muttered cryptically.

      She shook her head to avoid a bee buzzing around her. “I’m aware he has great plans for you.”

      Maybe it was a cloud blotting out the sun that threw his features into shadow.

      “Do you know, you have the softest skin I’ve ever felt.”

      The unexpected change in conversation had been spoken with such stark candor, white-hot heat spread through her body. She started to swim away from him, but he made a lazy circle around her.

      “I’m the first man to kiss you since your husband, aren’t I?”

      The heat of anger filled her cheeks. “Don’t worry. I’m not waiting for a repeat performance.”

      Of course he didn’t believe her, but the slight hint of mockery etched in his expression was the last straw.

      “Not every recent widow is desperate to jump into bed with the next available male. Not even when he’s as attractive as you are. Especially not with the emotional baggage you wear like a dark mantle.”

      Without hesitation she struck out for the shore where she’d left her clothes. He matched her strokes though she knew he could have reached the edge long before she did.

      Scrambling out of the water, she darted for the pine tree, anxious to cover herself. His eyes and personal remarks left her feeling exposed to the bone. Though he’d done nothing wrong, he’d touched a nerve. She was much too aware of him to be comfortable and he knew it!

      Andrea hadn’t ever met a man like Lance. In her experience she’d only associated with her husband and his colleagues—teachers caught up in the pedantic world of legend and prose, far from the killing fields of war.

      While her husband spent his life searching for stories of a famous knight’s adventures in times long past, Lance had been living one dangerous adventure after another in the present.

      What was it like to fight hand to hand, let alone with someone of the opposite sex? Andrea couldn’t imagine it, yet Lance had returned from the battlefield with scars to prove he’d survived its atrocities by sheer guts and an indomitable will.

      A life that could be snuffed out at any second had to change a man. Though she admired the heroic service Lance had rendered his country, Andrea’s instinct for self-preservation told her to keep her distance from him, even if he was Geoff’s son.

      Or because of it…

      After changing into trousers and a cotton top, she put the wet swimsuit in the bag. Once she’d reached for the camera, she left her hiding place, determined to avoid him until she left for the airport tomorrow afternoon. Geoff had assured her one of the staff would drive her when she was ready.

      But she needn’t have been concerned. One glance at the lake and she realized Lance had disappeared. Now that he’d done his good deed by providing her a moment’s excitement where the famed Lancelot was concerned, he had more important things to accomplish.

      All the way back to the château she told herself she was glad he’d gone. Besides being tired, it saved her from having to sidestep any more discussions about her vulnerability, never mind personal remarks about her skin. Those subjects were way out of bounds.

      What she craved was sleep. During those unconscious hours she would be free of certain thoughts plaguing her since last evening.