Protecting Her Royal Baby

by Beth Cornelison

  Brianna curled her lip in and caught it with her teeth as her eyes filled with happy tears. The love that lit her face made his heart perform a tuck and roll. What would he give to have her look at him with that much joy and affection?

  “Would you mind holding him while I switch sides?” she asked.

  Hunter blinked and flashed her an embarrassed grin, having been caught staring. He hoped his expression hadn’t given away the direction his thoughts had traveled. “Oh...sure.”

  She angled her body away as she moved Ben from her breast and twisted at the waist to hand him back to Hunter.

  He took Ben and shifted the baby to his shoulder. “Here ya go, buddy. How about a midmeal burp, huh?”

  Brianna held out the burp cloth she’d had draped on her arm. “Don’t you want a—”

  With a little hiccup, Ben spit up milk all over Hunter’s shirt.

  “Whoops,” Brianna said, clearly struggling not to laugh.

  Hunter groaned and frowned at Ben. “Seriously, dude? You couldn’t have waited five seconds until I got the cloth from your mom? It’s right there. Three feet away.”

  The chuckle Brianna had been suppressing now filled the room, her laughter a musical sound that moved something deep in Hunter’s soul. Making Brianna laugh was well worth baby barf on his shirt any day of the week.

  His chest tightened at realizing he was falling hard and fast for both Brianna and her cherubic son. He was already halfway to heartache. Damn it. If he didn’t rein in his feelings, he was sure to get his heart crushed when the inevitable scenario with the prince played out.

  * * *

  The next morning, Brianna woke to the bright beams of golden light streaming through the window. The cheery sunshine lifted her mood and put a smile on her face. She stretched lazily, realizing she actually felt rested for the first time in days. She’d fed Ben at 3:00 a.m. and hadn’t heard a peep from him since. Rolling to check the bedside clock, she squinted at the numbers. Eight twenty-five? That had to be wrong. Ben woke up and ate every three hours.

  Tossing back the covers, she stumbled over to Ben’s bassinet. Sorsha was curled up in the baby bed, snoozing comfortably. But Ben was gone.

  “Ben?” Panic gripped her heart, and she spun around, her gaze sweeping the room for some clue where her son could be. She raced to the door, unmindful of her dishabille, and ran down the steps toward the kitchen. “Hunter? Hunter!”

  “In here.”

  She followed the sound of his voice to the family room, where Hunter sat kicked back in a recliner with Ben asleep on his chest. His bare chest, she realized after her concern for her son abated. She heaved a huge sigh of relief, and her pulse should have calmed to a normal cadence. But the sight of her son resting peacefully against Hunter’s taut chest and tanned skin was so sexy and sweet at the same time her breath stilled. She gaped at Hunter’s muscle-sculpted shoulders and arms, his flat, hair-dusted abs... Brianna’s pulse stutter-stepped. Who needed coffee in the morning with that sight to get your blood pumping?

  “Morning,” he said with a lopsided grin that melted her heart. Dear Lord, this man wore down her defenses. What would she give to be able to wake to this man’s warm smile and sexy chest every morning?

  Her fingers itched to feel all that warm skin, and she envied Ben, who snuggled against Hunter. She balled her hands at her sides, squelching the impulse to dig her fingers into his biceps and run her fingers over his chest. “Morning,” she answered, her voice croaking. She cleared her throat and added, “I kinda freaked when he wasn’t in his bed. I can’t believe he’s still asleep.”

  “He woke up at six-thirty, and I brought him down here before he could wake you. I figured you needed your sleep.”

  She blinked and moved to the side of the recliner to gently stroke her sleeping son’s back. “Didn’t he need a diaper change? To be fed?”

  “I changed him and gave him a bottle, and he went back to sleep.”

  Brianna tipped her head. “A bottle of what? How did you feed him?”

  Hunter flashed her a cocky grin. “Grant still had some of Kaylee’s powdered baby formula.” He aimed his thumb at the bottle on the lamp table next to him. “He sucked it right down.”

  “Formula? But...” Brianna raked a tangle of hair back from her face and sat on the edge of the couch. “I read that switching between bottles and breast milk can lead to nipple confusion. And because some formulas are sweeter than mother’s milk, babies will learn to prefer the formula over the breast milk.”

  “Yeah, seems Darby said something about that when Savannah was born. But I didn’t think one bottle would hurt him. And sleeping in was definitely in your best interests.” Hunter paused, then gave her an odd look. “Wait...you say you read that? When?”

  She shrugged. “I...”

  When had she read it? She could visualize the book, the diagrams, the illustrations and charts. “Before he was born.” She raised a wide-eyed look to Hunter. “Before he was born!”

  Hunter’s smile brightened. “Your memory is coming back.”

  She flopped back onto the sofa and conjured the image of the baby-care book again. “It is. I remember reading books and blogs about newborn care, about feeding regimens and first aid and...” She pressed a hand to her mouth as relief swamped her and tears pricked her eyes. “Oh, thank God.”

  “Rest. Time. Healing. The doctor said that’s what you needed.” Hunter’s eyebrows drew together in a wary frown. “Do you remember anything else? Anything...about Chris?”

  Grant’s brown tabby, Cinderella, hopped up onto the couch next to Brianna and sniffed her. She reached for the cat, letting Cinderella smell Sorsha’s scent on her hands before scratching the feline’s cheek and chin. Patting the cat helped her relax as she searched her memory for details about her relationship with Chris. She tried to bring images to mind of quiet times with him, laughter, making love to him. Surely something as intimate and important as sex would have made a significant impression in her brain. But when she closed her eyes and tried to pull that memory from the void, she saw herself with Hunter instead. Holding Hunter, kissing Hunter, wrapping her limbs around Hunter’s naked body.

  Feeling her nipples tighten and her blood heat, she shook her head and rubbed her thumbs against her eyes to erase the image. She was in trouble if instead of memories her mind could conjure only desires and fantasies of what could be, what she wanted to be real.

  “What? Did you remember something else?” he asked.

  She raised a wary gaze, praying he couldn’t see the truth in her eyes. “Not a memory of Chris.”

  “What, then?” Hunter’s gaze held hers for a moment, then, as if he read something in her expression, his eyes grew smoky.

  Her mouth dried, and she forced enough moisture into her mouth to swallow. “I... Nothing.” A restless energy prickled her skin, and she shifted on the cushion, pulling an afghan from the back of the sofa around her shoulders. Lifting her gaze to Ben, she cleared her throat. “Do you want me to take him?”

  She reached for Ben, and he waved her off. “Nah. Why bother him? I’m okay. There’s coffee in the kitchen if you want it. Decaf, since I know you’re watching your caffeine consumption.”

  Coffee sounded wonderful to her, and she pushed off the couch, taking the afghan with her, in pursuit of a large mugful. She padded into the kitchen and, after taking a mug with Mansfield Construction in gold lettering from the cabinet, Brianna pulled the carafe from the coffeemaker. Her hand trembled as she poured the hot brew, and it sloshed onto the counter.

  She groaned as she replaced the carafe and found a rag to wipe up her spill.

  Hunter naked. Making love to her. Where had that image come from, and why couldn’t she get past this...this infatuation with him? He and his family had been generous and hospitable to the extreme. He’d already given more
than she had any right to expect from him. Thinking he might want to stick around and be a father figure to Ben, be her companion, her lover, was crazy. “It’s selfish.”

  Hearing a squeaky sort of meow, she glanced down at her calf, where Cinderella rubbed against her and then blinked up at her with big green eyes. She set her coffee down and scooped the brown tabby into her arms. “So you agree it’s selfish, Cinderella?” A loud purr rumbled from the feline as Brianna scratched the kitty’s head. “Hmm. I’ll take that as a yes.” She laid her cheek against the feline’s soft fur. “How can I think of dragging Hunter into a situation so full of complexities and unknowns? I haven’t even talked to Chris about Ben yet. I don’t know what my future holds, what Ben’s life will be like. I can’t make plans with Hunter and then call it off because my son has to take the throne in Meridan,” she reasoned aloud to the cat. Even if Hunter is where my heart lies.

  The thought caused a pang in her chest and a stab of guilt. She needed to put her son’s welfare before her own. She needed to stop feeling sorry for herself and what she couldn’t have with Hunter and concentrate on reconciling her past relationship with Chris to the current situation. She didn’t know if Chris was dead or alive, where he was or what he might be suffering. An entire country was in upheaval, its monarchy threatened, and she was bemoaning her slim chances of having a relationship with Hunter?

  Cinderella gave another squeaky meow before hopping out of her arms. Brianna dusted cat hair off her nightgown and lifted her mug for a giant sip. She missed caffeine. Maybe if she had a hit of caffeine to start her morning, she could think straight, sort out the knot of emotions and fill in the blanks in her memory.

  As she drank her decaf, she stared out the window of the back door, which led from the kitchen to a small deck. The wood was newer than the rest of the house, and she guessed that Grant had had it built in recent years. Beyond the deck was a large yard with a jungle gym, a giant live oak with a tire swing, a covered sandbox and a pink playhouse. The entire yard was framed by dense woods of pine trees and hardwoods. The perfect playground for Grant’s daughters. The autumn sun shone through the fall foliage and dappled the lawn with a buttery light. She hoped when Ben got older, he’d have a magical place like this where he could run, climb, make believe and explore to his heart’s content.

  As if on cue, a plaintive whine drifted in from the next room, shattering her daydream and calling her back to the present. A present in which she had no home, thanks to an arsonist. Tearing herself from the view of Grant’s idyllic backyard, she headed into the living room to relieve Hunter of babysitting duty.

  Finding a new, safe home for herself and Ben needed to be a priority. As she left the kitchen, the word home resonated inside her. But it wasn’t an image of the house she’d gone to after the hospital that flashed in her mind’s eye, but a clapboard beach house with gray shutters and window boxes with red geraniums.

  On the heels of the image, a swell of longing and nostalgia swept through her, and her knees buckled. Her mug of coffee sloshed onto her hand, and she set it on the nearest surface, a bookshelf, so that she could grab the doorframe.

  “Bri? Are you all right?” Hunter surged out of his chair with Ben tucked in his arms and hurried to her. “Your face paled as you came in here. You look ready to pass out.”

  “I just had a memory. A house at the beach. A house I loved and considered home.”

  “Your parents’ place in Cape Cod maybe? The one your aunt Robyn told us about?”

  She nodded. “Probably. That makes sense.” She glanced at the dripping mug and frowned. “Oh, no, I’m getting coffee on your brother’s floor.”

  “He has kids. No doubt worse has been spilled. I know for a fact I dumped red juice on the dining-room floor when I was seven, back when the house belonged to our grandparents.”

  Pushing away from the wall, she caught a few drips with her free hand before Hunter offered her the burp cloth he’d been using with Ben. “Speaking of your brother, where is he?”

  “Already gone into the office. He’s an early riser, thanks to Kaylee.”

  “Oh.” She wet her lips and glanced around the quiet family room before returning her gaze to his. “What about you? Do you need to go into work today?”

  He shrugged. “Nah. Not really.” A devastating grin spread across his face. “What do you want to do today? I’m all yours.”

  All hers? Her pulse ramped up at the thought. If only that were true...

  * * *

  Over the next several days, Brianna savored the quiet beauty of Grant’s rural home. Borrowing from her host a backpack-style carrier for Ben, she took walks with Hunter through the woods surrounding Grant’s house. The fresh air and chirping birds refreshed her soul. Hunter held her hand on their strolls and regaled her with stories of his adventures in those same woods when he and his brothers were boys. The portrait he painted with his tales of a loving family and idyllic childhood tugged at her heart. She wanted that life, not just for herself but for her son. She pictured Ben romping in those woods, and the longing swelled to an ache.

  In addition to the nature walks, she had plenty of time to nap, and the rest worked wonders healing her body. She had a follow-up appointment with the neurologist, who took new scans of her concussion and seemed pleased with her progress. The doctor reiterated his opinion that time for the swelling to recede and rest for her stressed body were her best medicines. As predicted, her memories took their time returning, though she did regain spotty moments of her past. The returning events and people were a collage with no particular rhyme or reason, like a jigsaw puzzle being built one painstaking piece at a time.

  She remembered a doll she got from her father at Christmas one year, and the thrill of winning a swim meet as a preteen. She recalled bonfires with hot dogs, fireworks and marshmallows, but the friends around the fire remained faceless. Details of her research at Bancroft Industries returned, and Hunter drove her back to her laboratory to retrieve files and articles to study while she was on maternity leave.

  Though her past was slowly coming together, her recent history, including her relationship with Chris, remained frustratingly dark and elusive.

  Grant proved a gracious, if somewhat reticent, host. Though he was kind and thoughtful, like Hunter, he seemed distant at times, and his eyes held a sadness that broke Brianna’s heart for the widower. Nancy stayed with her a few afternoons, giving Hunter time to check in at the construction sites and keep his building projects on track. In the evenings, though, Hunter was as attentive to her and Ben as a new father would be. He took turns holding Ben while they watched TV with Grant, and he listened patiently to her stories of almost-smiles and nap schedules as if she were recounting an intriguing travelogue instead of her newborn’s day. By pumping her milk, Brianna was able to share feeding duties with Hunter. He volunteered for one late-night feeding each night, letting her get a few uninterrupted hours of sleep.

  But her healing body and quality time with her son aside, the most significant change during the past week at Grant’s house was the deepening bond she felt for Hunter. Despite the warnings she gave herself about falling for someone she couldn’t commit to, his charm and magnetism drew her closer every day. The need to settle the unresolved questions concerning Chris, Ben and her future became more and more urgent to her, because only with closure in her relationship with Chris could she even entertain the notion of the life she had started dreaming of with Hunter.

  As much as she hated leaving the safety and comfort of Grant’s home, the resolution she needed lay in reconstructing the days she’d spent with Chris at her parents’ beach house on the Atlantic coast. Decision made, she announced her plan at dinner the night before the older Mansfields were scheduled to return home from Disney World with Grant’s daughters.

  “I want to go to Cape Cod,” she said without preamble over the breakfast of bacon and e
ggs she’d prepared for the men. “I want to find the vacation house my parents left me, the one where I must have been staying when I met Chris. Maybe there are answers there, people who remember seeing us together, people who could tell us what happened last winter.”

  Hunter exchanged a startled look with his brother before sending her a skeptical frown. “Don’t you think if the Meridanian militants could track you to your house, they’ve got eyes on the house at the Cape?”

  She sighed. “Do you have a better idea?”

  He flattened a hand on the table. “You mean other than staying here where you’re safe?”

  She turned both palms up, exasperated. “For how long? When will this be over? What if Chris is killed and I never get to question him? I need to know all I can about my son’s father, for medical reasons if nothing else. I need to know what’s expected of Ben, what his future holds, what my options are, where my relationship with Chris stood when we separated.”

  “Give it more time. Other memories have come back. Surely your time with Chris will return in a few more days.”

  “We don’t know that. The doctor couldn’t guarantee how much I’d eventually remember. Visual prompts have helped trigger my memories before. I think seeing the house, being in Cape Cod, will help fill in the holes.”

  Hunter glanced at his brother. “Grant, help me out here?”

  Grant raised an eyebrow and faced Brianna. “Nancy and I can watch Ben for a week or so if you’re worried about taking him with you on this fact-finding mission. I’ll guard him with my life.”

  Brianna’s pulse stuttered. “I know you will.”

  “That’s not what I mean!” Hunter exploded. “Grant, what are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking a life on hold is no life at all.” Grant picked up a mug of coffee and sipped. “Brianna needs to do what her heart’s telling her to do. She needs closure, answers, before she can move on.”