by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
"Yes, sir. After I apprehended the suspect, I thought it best to guard the child until someone from the palace arrived. Admiral Howe, the base commander, agreed when I reported the situation to him. I'm at your service until you wish to relieve me."
"I appreciate your quick thinking, Lieutenant."
The baby was gurgling again, happy with the attention he was receiving from the queen and the prince. Montebellan royalty who just happened to be his grandmother and his father. Kate felt the gleeful sound grate across her nerves.
Standing guard over the baby had been difficult. Not because there had been any danger, but because she had wanted her involvement with all of this to be over an hour ago. Had she thought the baby stirred painful memories? That was nothing compared to what she'd felt when she'd seen Sam walk in the room.
Why couldn't she have kept on running?
"I was happy to help, sir," she replied.
"I hate to impose further, but I'd appreciate it if you could remain and answer a few questions for us." The king nodded toward Sam. "This is Lieutenant Sam Coburn."
Unable to postpone it any longer, Kate let her gaze meet Sam's.
Oh, God. Five years had passed, but some things hadn't changed. His golden brown gaze still had the power to make her knees weak.
She wanted to leap into his arms.
She wanted to curl into a ball and hide.
Duty, she reminded herself. Do your duty, just as you have always done.
"Yes," she said. She was proud of the way her voice remained level though her pulse pounded in her ears. "Lieutenant Coburn and I have already met."
"Excellent." The king glanced at his son. Under the supervision of the doctors and the doting gaze of Queen Gwendolyn, Lucas was carefully lifting his child into his arms. A look of amazement softened his features.
Kate pressed her nails into her palms to keep herself steady. The emotions kept on coming. Seeing the prince cradle his infant so tenderly made her wonder what might have happened if Sam...
No. She wouldn't go down that road. She wouldn't let that thought form. She'd avoided it for five years. She could keep it at bay for another five minutes, couldn't she?
"Since you two are already acquainted," King Marcus continued, moving to join his family, "I'll let Lieutenant Coburn fill you in. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a grandson to get to know."
And just like that, Kate found herself face-to-face with the one man she'd believed she'd never see again.
"Hello, Kate."
His voice strummed over her raw nerves in a melody too haunting to forget. She'd always loved his voice. It didn't belong here in the sterile efficiency of a hospital. It belonged on a moonlit beach, with the sound of the waves whispering over the sand and the rhythmic smack of naked skin on naked skin....
She tightened her fists, surprised her nails hadn't yet drawn blood. Her gaze returned to his. "Hello, Sam."
"You're looking well."
"You, too."
He smiled. "I guess it would be kinda too corny to say long time no see."
His smile deepened the new lines around his eyes and folded brackets beside his mouth and still made her stomach knot like that of a schoolgirl with her first crush.
Damn him, that hadn't changed, either. "The king said you would have some questions for me."
At her brisk tone, his smile dimmed. "That's right."
"All I did was recover the baby. I'm not sure I understand how that would involve a Navy SEAL."
Sam tilted his head toward the door. "I'll fill you in on the way to the security office."
She started to move forward when she saw him lift his hand. He was going to touch her. She felt his intent as plainly as if he had spoken aloud.
Sam had always been a toucher. In public it had been a palm on the small of her back, a brush of fingertips over her forearm or an easy drape of his arm over her shoulders. Casual, respectful touches that had kept her body humming with awareness.
And when they were no longer in public, he hadn't only made her body hum, he'd made it sing.
Kate stepped to the side to avoid his hand and strode out of the examining room. Sam might not have changed, but she had. She was older, wiser and in complete control of her life. She could do this. Yes, she could.
Sam fell into step beside her. "What would you like to know first?"
Where did you go after your letters stopped? Did you ever think of me? Did you ever wonder what would have happened if only circumstances had been different?The questions clamored in her heart, but she asked, "Why are you taking orders from the king of Montebello?"
"I'm working as an adviser. He requested our government to provide someone with my training to help coordinate the efforts of the police and our navy in the search for a murderer."
"The woman who killed his nephew, Desmond Caruso?"
"That's right. How did you know?"
"I saw the artist's sketch of the suspect in the paper today. It's logical that the king would ask for high-level help." She glanced at Sam. "And by someone with your training, you mean counterterrorism, I assume."
"Right again."
" Congratulations."
"Why?"
"If you're an expert in counterterrorism, then that must mean you're in SEAL Team Six. Just like you always said you wanted."
"There were plenty of things that I wanted, Kate."
She could tell by his tone that he wasn't referring to his career. But she wasn't going to talk about this now. It was over. The past was gone, gone, gone. "And you succeeded," she said, refusing to let the conversation get personal. "But how does all of this involve the prince's baby?"
"That's what I'm here to find out."
They reached a set of swinging doors. Sam stretched his arm past Kate's shoulder and pushed open the door before she could reach it. He didn't touch her, but she could feel the warmth of his arm as it passed near her head.
She tried to attribute the shudder to fatigue. "I still don't understand."
"I started this assignment today, so there are a lot of details that need filling in, but here's what I do know. Last year, Prince Lucas was in the States, flying over Colorado, when his plane went down. He was in bad shape for a while, wandered around not knowing who he was. That's when he met a woman named Jessica Chambers."
"Jessica. Jessie," Kate said, remembering the reverent way the prince had said the name. "That would be the baby's mother."
"Right. The prince had an affair with Jessica before his duty brought him back to Montebello. Several months later, he found out she died in childbirth. Her, and the baby."
"They thought the baby died, too?" she asked.
"Yeah. What makes it worse is he hadn't realized she was carrying his child when he left. No wonder the poor guy is looking like he's been hit by a truck."
Kate stumbled.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked, catching her arm.
No, she was not okay. After five years of coping, it seemed as if every painful memory of her past was getting dredged up tonight. She wrenched free of Sam's touch, her heart pounding as if she were still running. "I'm fine."
He tilted his head, his gaze more golden than brown as he studied her. "We could grab a coffee before we question the Hanson woman. From the looks of the family reunion back there, the king will probably be busy for a while."
"No, I'm fine. I just want to get back to..." She frowned, zeroing in on the pronoun he had used. "Before we question her?"
"Considering the way you were in at the start, I figured you'd want to see this through." He glanced pointedly at his hand and then at the place on her arm where he had touched her. When his eyes met hers once more, his gaze was direct and much too knowing. "You always did like to see neat, clean endings, didn't you?"
* * *
Whether it was an oversight by the renovators or had been left alone deliberately for the psychological effect, the room that served as the security office for the hospital looked as if it belonged in a previo
us century. One of the walls was bare stone, giving the chamber the chill of a dungeon.
"I want complete immunity. You promise me that, then I'll answer your questions."
Sam propped a hip against the edge of the table and shrugged. "Why would you want immunity if you've done nothing wrong, Miss Hanson?"
Gretchen Hanson tossed her mouse-colored hair out of her eyes with a flick of her head. She leaned back in her chair and attempted what she probably thought was a coy smile. "I already told you, I was trying to bring that child back to his father. I showed you baby Luke's birth certificate. That proves who he is. You saw the names."
The document had appeared genuine, Sam thought, and the date of birth was nine months after the prince had spent time at Jessica's ranch in Colorado. Each detail Hanson had revealed during her questioning so far had supported her story of the baby's identity, reinforcing what had been obvious to anyone seeing the prince and the baby together. "Considering the way you treated the child," Sam said, "you shouldn't be making any demands."
"What do you mean? I've been taking good care of that baby. I deserve a reward."
"That's an odd way to care for a child, Miss Hanson," Kate said. "Leaving him to fend for himself in the dirt of a flower bed on a cool October night." She paced across the small room and stopped at the opposite side of the table from Sam.
He tamped down the twinge of irritation he felt at Kate's movement. The room was small, but she had been careful to keep as much distance as possible between them since they'd arrived. She'd already made it clear that she didn't want him to touch her, no matter how casually—she had jerked away as if she'd been burned when he'd touched her arm in the corridor. And she seemed to have no problem staying away from him.
Didn't she remember being naked and screaming his name?
All right, this wasn't the time or the place to revisit the past. His irritation was unwarranted, nothing but a bruised male ego. It was sensible of her to treat him like a stranger. He was finding it difficult enough to concentrate with Kate in the room. If she were any closer, he wouldn't have a hope of doing his job.
Gretchen was continuing to protest her innocence. "I wasn't going to leave him there."
"Please, let's not waste any more time," Kate said, interrupting what was shaping up to be yet another whining plea. "We've gone over this before. I saw what you did and I heard what you said. You're in deep trouble, Miss Hanson."
Sam nodded. "Better listen to Lieutenant Mulvaney. Do you have any idea what the penalty for child abuse is in Montebello?"
Gretchen's gaze flicked back and forth between them, her bravado fading. "I'm an American citizen. I have rights."
"But you're in San Sebastian, the capital of Montebello. It's a very old, very traditional monarchy. And it's not just any child we're talking about, it's the royal heir." He lifted one hand toward the stone wall, deciding to use the setting to try a bluff. "I assume you've heard that there are dungeons under the palace?"
"What?"
"Those thick stone walls are centuries old and completely soundproof." Sam lowered his voice. "No one can hear what goes on inside, but there are stories...."
"You can't let them put me in a dungeon!"
"I'm trying my best to dissuade them, but unless you show some sign of cooperation, there's not much I can do."
"But I've been cooperating!"
"You told the hospital security guard you had information on the woman the police are seeking," Sam said. "If that's true, I can guarantee you won't be clamped in irons."
Gretchen's pasty complexion paled even further. "Irons?"
Sam saw Kate lift an eyebrow at him. She would know as well as he did that Montebellan justice was as modern as any system in the West. It was easy to guarantee that Gretchen wouldn't be mistreated because nobody was mistreated. Sam hoped Kate wouldn't blow his bluff.
"Better take Lieutenant Coburn's offer," Kate said. "It's not immunity, but it's the best we can do."
Obviously Kate understood what he was doing. And why shouldn't she? He'd always known she was an intelligent woman, he'd just never been overly concerned with her mind. He'd been occupied by.. .other things.
And he wanted to reach across the table and drag her to his side and make her remember every single one of them....
"I'm not the criminal here," Gretchen muttered, sinking down in her chair. "It's all Ursula's fault."
Sam rubbed his face. Yet again he tried to focus on his duty. "Go on."
"Ursula's the one who should be stuck in some dungeon, not me. She told me to bring the baby here. She was the one who made sure we had the birth certificate to prove who the kid is. We were supposed to get a reward from the royals. They were supposed to be so grateful that we'd been taking care of the royal heir that we'd be set for life. She had these big ideas, but she screwed it up."
"How did she do that?" Kate prodded.
"By getting her face all over the papers, that's how."
"What do you mean?"
"That sketch on the front page of the newspaper. The woman who's wanted for murder. It's Ursula. I just about fainted when I saw it. That must have been why she didn't show up to meet me. Didn't she think about how she was leaving me high and dry?"
"That was very inconsiderate of her," Kate said, not missing a beat. "But I don't understand how you came to be taking care of the prince's baby in the first place."
Gretchen exhaled impatiently. "I'm a midwife. I delivered it. That was Ursula's idea, too. She wouldn't help with that, either. It was her own sister, and I had to do everything."
"Her sister?" Kate asked.
"Yeah, the mother was Ursula's kid sister, Jessica. That's how come we got involved in the first place. The prince had knocked up Jessica and took off, so naturally she would ask her sister for help."
Sam sensed some pieces of the puzzle move into place. At the king's strategy session earlier that evening, Sam had learned that the prince felt the artist's sketch of the murderer, based on a description given by a young child witness and his father, looked familiar. That must have been why. Ursula's face would have borne some resemblance to Jessica's. Jessica Chambers. Ursula Chambers.
He nodded in satisfaction. Now he had a name to go with the artist's sketch that had been circulated to all the Montebellan news media. "Do you know where Ursula Chambers is now?" he asked.
"If I did, I sure wouldn't be here," Gretchen muttered. "I don't know why Ursula had to kill the king's nephew. Desmond was supposed to be helping us."
"Are you claiming that Desmond Caruso knew about the baby?" Sam asked. "He knew about the existence of the prince's son?"
"Oh, yeah. He knew. He was the one who paid the plane fare from Colorado to Montebello for me and baby Luke. He promised that Ursula and me would be made duchesses or countesses or something like that. The royals are filthy rich, you know. They were going to reward us."
Another piece clicked into place. So that was the victim's connection with the murderer, Sam thought. He'd heard rumors of Caruso's less-than-exemplary character. The king's nephew had been an illegitimate branch of the royal family tree, and he had always resented the limitations of his birth despite the king's acceptance of him. It was definitely possible for the man to have been involved in a scheme to profit from the prince's child.
But why had Ursula killed him? Had he tried to double-cross her, to cut her out of the money she had been promised? Or had the motive been more personal?
"It was Ursula's idea to keep the prince's baby in the first place, but I had to do all the work," Gretchen said. "It wasn't easy, hiding out and taking care of the child."
"No, I imagine it wasn't," Kate said.
"I have my stupid brother to take care of, too, you know."
"You must be very busy."
"You bet I am. Gerald's too dim-witted to manage without me. Between him and the baby, I never had a minute to myself."
Sam doubted that. This woman was no self-sacrificing saint. With every word she utt
ered, she demonstrated her lack of compassion. "It was generous of you to take in the child after his mother died."
"Damn right. I've had that kid since the day he was born."
Sam frowned. "We were told Jessica Chambers died in childbirth, and that her baby died, too. What can you tell us about the birth?"
Gretchen's eyes narrowed, her face taking on a feral look. She glanced around as if searching for an escape route.
Sam leaned forward, acting on a hunch. "Miss Hanson, how did Jessica Chambers really die?"
"She was murdered," Gretchen burst out. "Ursula did it. She killed her own sister just like she killed the king's nephew. I swear. She's the one you want. I didn't do anything wrong."
It was an ungodly hour to be awake. No one but street cleaners and peasants was up before dawn. Instead of sneaking around these dreary old streets, she should have been safe and warm in some posh hotel room right now, dreaming of ways to spend her money.
Tucking a stray lock of her blond hair under her scarf, Ursula Chambers paused at the corner to check for police. Nothing was moving except a stray cat picking its way around some garbage cans. She hitched her carry-on bag over her shoulder, kicked the cat aside and hurried down the street.
She'd had high hopes when she'd arrived on this island. She'd had a surefire plan, too. Jessica had always had things easy—all their lives, she'd had the luck that should have been Ursula's. So it was only fair that Jessica's brat would be her big sister's ticket to easy street. Ursula had planned it all out carefully. She deserved success, but then everything had fallen apart.
She was surrounded by idiots, that was the problem. Idiots and double-crossers. Desmond had been almost as attractive as she was, and he'd been one of the best lovers she'd had, but he should have known better than to betray her with that little black-haired tart. She'd seen him kissing the girl, some princess or other, and yet when she'd confronted him later he'd tried to deny it.
It hadn't been Ursula's fault she'd had to kill him. He'd given her no choice. One minute Desmond was smiling through his lies, the next minute she found that statue in her hand and saw blood pooling around his head.
She'd wiped off her fingerprints and put the statue she'd hit him with on the shelf. She'd ditched the blood-spattered dress she'd been wearing. She'd slipped away from Desmond's cottage and made it off the palace grounds without anyone seeing her. She'd even gone back and burned the cottage to destroy any trace evidence.