Brianna’s heart stilled, and her breath caught. Was Hunter in love with her?
She hazarded a glance his direction, and her gaze collided with his. His expression reflected the same shock that skittered through her. But as their eyes held, the surprise faded, and a wistful longing and poignant warmth shone in his gaze.
Did she love Hunter? Could Miriam and Harry see something she’d refused to see, hadn’t admitted to herself, because a relationship with Hunter seemed...unlikely? Ill-advised? Fraught with complications?
Complications. The word Chris had used to describe what stood in the way of his future with her. His obligations to the throne. Politics. Royal tradition. The same issues still complicated her life and stood in the way of being with someone she loved. Because she couldn’t plan a life with Hunter until she settled the past with Chris, until she knew Ben’s fate, until the unrest in Meridan had been put down and the danger to her son’s life eliminated.
Although she couldn’t deny her feelings for Hunter, Harry had also said that she and Chris had loved each other.
After lunch, Brianna promised to visit the Hartleys again before they left town, then hugged the older couple before she and Hunter headed back to unpack and rest.
When they reached her parents’ beach house, they unloaded their bags from the rental car and crunched over the broken shells to the porch.
“I want to call Grant and see how Ben is doing,” she said as Hunter keyed open the door. “Then I need time to...” Pump my breast milk. She stopped before she said it and chuckled that she’d almost said the words aloud, almost overshared. A private detail like that might be a natural thing for a husband and wife to discuss, but did she really need to tell Hunter every intimate piece of her life?
“You need to what?”
She grinned and waved him off. “Never mind. I almost overshared.”
“Ah.” He tweaked her cheek. “The dreaded overshare. Remind me to tell you about the night Darby and I celebrated the end of exams in college.” He pulled his face into a comical grimace, and she flashed him a smile.
“I look forward to that story.”
That it felt natural enough for the share to have almost tumbled from her tongue didn’t escape her. She’d reached a point with Hunter that she was comfortable sharing every part of her life, from her fears to her foibles. She’d relaxed her inhibitions enough that nothing seemed too personal.
Hunter stood aside and let her enter the beach house first. Another wave of nostalgia rolled over her as she scanned the nautical decor. A yellow glow spilled through open window blinds, filling the living room with a warm, homey aura. Though the house smelled musty and stale from being closed up for the past several months, the overall impression of the pale blue walls, ivory-toned furniture and open floor plan was airy and bright. Cheerful.
“I’ll take these upstairs. Is there a room you prefer I stay in?” Hunter asked.
She shook her head. “Any of them. Wherever you’ll be most comfortable.”
With a nod, he disappeared up the steps with her weekender tote and his duffel bag.
Taking her burner cell phone from her purse, she called Grant and talked long enough to learn that all was well in Lagniappe. She thanked Hunter’s brother again for his help and disconnected the call, turning her attention to the house she’d shared with her parents.
She brushed her fingers along the back of the couch as she strolled deeper into the room, glancing at the family pictures on the mantel over a stone fireplace. Brianna thought of the stories the Hartleys had told them, the smiles she’d worn in the pictures in the photo albums Harry had brought out. She’d been happy here. She’d had a loving, blessed childhood before her parents were killed in the car accident.
A sharp ache, a flash of memory, sliced through her. A state trooper at her door. Aunt Robyn consoling her. A weighty sense of loneliness and abandonment.
Sucking in a deep breath, she shoved the painful memory aside to focus on happier thoughts. She wanted to remember the good parts of her younger years. She wanted to recall the crabbing, the picnics, the sailing and swimming and laughter she’d known at this house.
And she needed to remember the details of her time here with Chris.
She moved into the kitchen, opening cabinets and picking up whimsical odds and ends—a pair of seagull salt and pepper shakers, a lighthouse magnet on the fridge, a smiley-face mug full of pens and markers by the phone.
Her pulse tripped when she noticed the light on the answering machine was blinking. She had messages. Heart hammering, she stepped over to the machine and pushed the play button.
“Hi, Brianna. It’s Miriam. I’d hoped to catch you before you left for the airport to say goodbye and safe travels. I’ll try your cell. Take care, honey. We love you!” The time stamp played, indicating that message was from February. Brianna deleted it.
The next message was a hang-up from February, which she also deleted.
“Hi, Brianna. It’s me.” A male voice. Chris? A tickle of familiarity skittered down her spine. “Are you there? Please pick up.” She bit her bottom lip, her chest tightening. She started to reach for the phone, as if the caller were there now, as if she could talk to him and ask him questions and hear what he had to say about the tragic turn of events between them.
“I...I wanted to apologize for the way I left town. There are things...things I haven’t told you about me. About my life and...” The man muttered harshly, a word she didn’t recognize. A foreign word?
She held her breath, knowing this had to be Chris, knowing he’d tried to reach her after she’d left the beach house. But why?
“Bri, love, I want to be honest with you. I want you to know why I had to leave.”
The thump of footsteps on the stairs signaled Hunter’s return.
“I loved you. Still love you, darling,” Chris was saying, and Hunter stopped at the foot of the stairs, jerking his head up.
“What’s that?” he asked, brow dented as he pointed toward the answering machine.
Brianna waved a hand, shushing him.
“But I have responsibilities to my country. I have to decide how—” The message cut off with a beep, and the time stamp announced the message had arrived in early March.
Brianna groaned. “No! You have to decide what?” She slapped the counter with one hand and raked her hair back with her other. “Call back. Call back! Please tell me he called back!”
“That was Chris,” Hunter said, striding across the living room to her, an odd, worried look in his eyes.
“Yes.”
“And?”
The next message started. Brianna held up a finger, asking Hunter to wait, then leaned closer to listen.
“It’s Cristoff...” A grunt. A sigh. “Chris again. Look, just call me on the number I gave you. It’s my private line. We need to talk, love.” A pause. “Please. I miss you.” Another sigh. “Okay, goodbye.” The date stamp announced that call had come in just after the last one that got cut off.
Brianna raised a palm. “What number? He left me a number to call?”
“Maybe it’s written down around here somewhere.”
“For all the good it will do now if Chris is being held somewhere. I doubt his captors left him with his phone.”
Another message, a wrong number, came in at the end of April.
The last message was Chris again, but his tone, his manner, was far different. “Brianna, it’s Chris. Damn it, if you’re there, pick up. It’s important! You’re in danger. Please, pick up. We have to talk. Brianna? Please. Are you there?” A ragged sigh. “Damn it, where are you? It’s vital that I talk to you!” He grumbled what was likely a curse, then, “Brianna, call me immediately when you get this message. Your life is in danger. I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I wish— Hell, just call me!”
&n
bsp; Chapter 13
Hunter met her gaze, and even knowing all she did now, the panic and anxiety in Chris’s tone caused a flutter of alarm in her gut.
The date stamp placed the call just days before Ben had been born. Chris had been looking for her just before the car accident, just before someone had shot at her car.
Brianna wiped her slick palms on her jeans and stumbled over to the couch. She dropped heavily onto the plush cushions and shook her head in disbelief, trying to absorb this new information.
“So...” Hunter joined her on the couch, swiping a hand down his face, then casting a hesitant side glance. “He was looking for you, trying to reach you.”
“Yeah.” A memory tugged at her, and she stared across the room at a painting of a sandpiper, trying to pull the lurking image to the forefront.
“So why not call your cell phone?” Hunter asked. “The video message he sent you tells us he had that number. Or at least he acquired that number at some point more recently. Had you changed cell providers since last winter?”
Brianna cut a quick look toward Hunter. “I...I don’t know. I—” The ghostlike scene flickered again, distracting her. She closed her eyes, hoping to better capture the wispy vision.
“I suppose you can check your records, past bills to see if—” Hunter turned his body toward her. “Bri? What is it?”
“My legal name is Cristoff, not Chris. Cristoff Hamill. I’m the crown prince of Meridan and next in line to assume the Meridanian throne after my father, King Mikhail Hamill. If the baby you’re carrying is my son, then he is of royal blood and is heir to the throne after me.”
“If the baby is yours? You think I’m lying?”
“You wouldn’t be the first woman to try to pass your baby off as a royal’s child—”
“I’m not trying to pass my baby off as— Damn it, Chris! You know me better than that! At least I thought you did.”
“Brianna, I only meant—”
“My baby is yours. There’s been no one else. I didn’t know you were a...a prince, for crying out loud. I don’t even know how to begin processing that! I don’t care about... I don’t want...”
“Brianna, calm down. This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. I wanted a normal relationship for once.”
“Normal?”
“But the fact remains, I am a prince, and if your baby is mine—”
“Stop saying ‘if’!”
“The fact that you are pregnant with my child complicates things. You’re in more danger than ever. You have to hide. You have to protect our baby.”
A shiver rolled through Brianna as the conversation came back to her. She could picture Chris standing in her living room, could recall the shock that had gripped her. She remembered the men who had burst into her home carrying weapons.
Her chest clenched, and acid roiled in her gut. “I remember...”
More images flickered. Past terror resurfaced, as real as the first time. They’d grabbed Chris, and he’d yelled for her to run. She’d fallen. Pain had gripped her belly. Loud staccato blasts of gunfire...
“Bri?” Hunter’s fingers wrapped around her arm, and she startled. “You’re white as a sheet. What’s wrong?”
“I know what happened. I remember the day of my car wreck, before the wreck.” She swallowed hard, choking down the taste of bile. “I remember the men shooting at me, Chris yelling for me to run.”
Another full-body shudder raced through her, and she stopped to draw an unsteady breath.
“Hey...” Hunter guided her onto his lap and stroked her back. “You’re safe now. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Not while I have breath in my body.”
She rested her head on his shoulder and allowed his soothing caress to calm her ragged nerves. But his promise sent a different kind of quiver through her, because she knew he meant what he said. Hunter would defend her to the death. And she feared the dangerous men who’d invaded her home that day two weeks ago, who’d burned her house down around her, who were likely hunting her still, might kill Hunter to get to her.
“I don’t want that,” she whispered.
“Don’t want what?”
“I don’t want you to die protecting me.”
He gave a short, wry laugh. “I don’t want that, either, but I’ll do what I have to for you.”
She shook her head. “No. I mean I can’t stand the thought of losing someone else I—” She caught herself before she said too much. Someone else she loved.
Her parents. Helen. Even Chris. The Hartleys said she’d loved Chris, and that matched her memory of being desolate and heartbroken, watching him walk away from her on the beach. She had to have cared deeply for him to be that hurt by his desertion.
But it wasn’t only Chris’s departure that haunted her. The past few days had given her a much better picture of her past, and an understanding of the lonely, hollow feeling that filled her when she contemplated recent years. She’d lost so many people she loved, had felt alone in the world many times.
“I’m not going anywhere, Bri,” Hunter said, as if reading her mind. “Not until this danger’s past.”
His qualifier dropped her heart to her toes. “And then?”
“I don’t know. I guess that will depend on what you choose.”
“Me?”
He took a moment to answer, his dark eyebrows knitting, his expression troubled. “I’m not blind to the fact you have feelings left for Chris. And he’s Ben’s father. Then there’s the whole heir-to-the-throne angle, the possibility you’ll have to raise Ben in Meridan.” He paused and sighed heavily. “I won’t mess that up. I can’t stand in the way of your chance, Ben’s chance, for a better life than what I could give you.”
Brianna blinked, stunned by what he was saying. The last thing she wanted was to repay Hunter’s kindness and sacrifice by hurting him. “Hunter, I...”
She stopped when her voice cracked, and before she could catch her breath, he’d cupped the back of her head and caught her mouth in a deep, searing kiss. Brianna looped her arms around his neck and clung to him, returning his kiss with a fervor she hoped spoke for her heart.
His kiss was gentle but urgent, coaxing her lips to part as his tongue swept in to tangle with hers. A sweet lethargy flowed through her, and she sank into him, savoring his warmth, the strength in his arms as he held her close. She buried a hand in his thick hair and curled her fingers against his scalp. Her other hand flattened against his chest, feeling the powerful thump of his heart, and she sensed her own pulse synchronizing with his, a spiritual connection strengthening between them.
She’d tried to keep her feelings for Hunter in check, because of the uncertainties in her future. But alone with him, touching him, kissing him like this, she couldn’t contain the tender emotions spilling from her heart. He was dear to her, essential to her, woven into the fabric of the person she’d become since the car accident. Her past and future were still riddled with holes, empty unknowns, but in this moment, right now, she felt whole. Because of Hunter.
She angled her head and deepened their kiss, a mewl of contentment forming in her throat. He drew on his lips with seductive persuasion, molding her mouth and sending ribbons of pleasure to her core.
Heat building inside her, she dipped her hand under his shirt and smoothed a hand over the taut skin of his back. She wanted more, wanted his hands on her, wanted to wrap her body around his and show him the depth of her feelings for him.
With a deep-pitched groan, he laid her back on the sofa cushions. Brianna held her breath until he shifted and stretched out beside her, half of his body pressing her deeper into the couch. He stroked a hand along her arm, then briefly cupped her breast before moving his hand across her belly and hip. “I hope you know how much you mean to me, Bri.”
She framed his face with her
hands and tugged him closer for another kiss. “I do. And I care deeply for you, too. Really, I do. I just can’t make promises about—”
He cut her off, slanting his mouth over hers and giving her nape a gentle squeeze. “I’m not asking for promises. I know where we stand. I only wanted you to know how I feel. In case there was any doubt.”
“I’ve never doubted you, Hunter. I knew from that first day at the accident that I could trust you. I’ve wanted you beside me, a part of my life, from the very start. You make me feel safe and cherished. And happy.” She flashed him a sad smile. “I wish I could give you more. You deserve better. You’re a good man, Hunter. If things were different—”
“But they’re not.” His eyes darkened, and he pressed his mouth into a grim line. “So let’s deal in realities. Take each day as it comes. Huh?” He blew out a sigh and levered his body off hers. Rising to his feet, he raked a hand through his hair and glanced toward the stairs. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”
His disappointment was palpable, and her heart hurt for him. She opened her mouth to offer him comfort and reassurance, but caught herself. She knew he wouldn’t welcome what he’d likely see as pointless platitudes. Instead, she nodded. “Good idea. I’m tired, too.”
He held out a hand, helped pull her to her feet.
“Which room did you put my bag in?” she asked.
“The master bedroom. You are the lady of the house. It should, by rights, be yours.”
She flashed him a small grin of acknowledgment. “Thanks. Don’t wait on me. I’m going to lock up and set the coffeemaker to brew in the morning. I’ll be up in a moment.”
“You don’t need any help?”
“Setting up the coffee?” She pulled her grin into a teasing smirk, hoping to lighten the bittersweet turn in the mood. “No, I think I can handle it.”
“I meant...” He laughed softly. “Never mind. I’m going up.”
Brianna shuffled into the kitchen and pulled the dustcover off the coffeemaker. She opened the cabinet above the brewer and found a canister with coffee grounds. She blinked. How did she know that was where the coffee was kept? Logical, obvious storage spot? Lucky guess? Or were her memories of smaller details about her life coming back along with the big points?
Protecting Her Royal Baby Page 17