Under the King's Command Read online

  Under the King's Command

  INGRID WEAVER

  ROMANCING THE CROWN

  The royal family of Montebello rejoices in the discovery of their newest member, yet a dark cloud hovers over the kingdom. Danger and desire clash once more as the hunt for the baby's kidnapper continues...

  Lieutenant Sam Coburn: The tough SEAL'S friends always suspected a woman was behind his hardened heart. Now he's found the woman who stole it - and he's determined to get it back at all costs.

  Lieutenant Kate Mulvaney: This cool officer has walled off her emotions for years - but it only takes one look at a certain SEAL to prove the wall is made of straw and the heat between her and Sam is an open flame...

  Dear Reader,

  I' ve always had a tremendous respect for people who serve their country in uniform. One of my earliest memories is of scaling a bookshelf in our living room in order to view close up the model of the plane my father flew in combat. When my editor invited me to write Under the King's Command, I was thrilled at the opportunity to tell the story of Sam Coburn and Kate Mulvaney, two courageous naval officers who are as dedicated to their duty as they are to each other.

  For half this year, the ROMANCING THE CROWN continuity series has been whisking readers into a realm of romance and mystery. I feel privileged to take part in this project with such a talented group of authors and editors. In my book, the hunt for a murderer draws Sam and Kate to the beautiful island kingdom of Montebello. While intrigue unfolds around them, they are led to the secret in their own past.. .and the greatest adventure of all: love!

  Sincerely yours,

  Ingrid Weaver

  Chapter 1

  When Kate first heard the baby cry, she wanted to keep running. It was probably just a seagull in the harbor, nothing out of the ordinary. She had already passed the halfway point and was heading back. She needed a shower, she needed sleep.

  But the gulls that wheeled and swooped over Montebello's capital of San Sebastian in the sunlight didn't usually fly at night. The cry couldn't have been from a bird. She slowed, turning her head to listen. All she heard was the slap of her running shoes on cobblestones and the rhythm of her breathing.

  Who would take a child out for a stroll at this hour? The night wind was brisk for October in this part of the Mediterranean. Apart from a group of late theatergoers near the market square, Kate hadn't seen anyone for the past ten minutes.

  It must have been her sleep-deprived mind imagining things, that's all. At the naval base, anyone not on watch would have the sense to be asleep, but Kate had come to rely on these late-night jogs. It was her time to herself, time to leave the day behind and focus on something blessedly basic, like putting one foot in front of the other.

  Perhaps if she ran far enough, she'd be able to outrun not only the day but the past. And then maybe she wouldn't hear phantom babies crying when no one was around—

  The cry came again. More distant than before, barely there, it echoed from the walls and skipped along the cobblestones like the shadow of a butterfly.

  Despite the perspiration that sheened her skin, Kate felt the hair on her arms rise. There was no mistaking it that time. It had come from her left. For a split second, she wanted to turn right, to keep running to her base, to her bed, to exhaustion-induced oblivion.

  Just as she'd been running for five years?

  The split second passed. Since when had Lieutenant Kate Mulvaney chosen to take the easy road? She turned left.

  The street narrowed, becoming an alley. Kate stumbled over a flowerpot that flanked a doorway, her shoulder scraping against crumbling brick. The walls that rose on either side of her were centuries old, their windows closed against the autumn night. The homey scents of olive oil and garlic still hung in the air here, remnants of someone's late supper, but no light showed from behind the shutters. By day, these historic alleys were magnets to tourists, but now the houses were simply homes.

  Had she overreacted? Could the sound she heard have been that of a fussy baby behind one of those shuttered windows? Could some weary parent be pacing the floor, comforting the child and putting it back to bed with a kiss while Kate raced past like a fool?

  No. An ordinary cry wouldn't have set Kate's hair on end. It wouldn't have stirred this instinctive uneasiness deep inside. She reached a crossroads and paused, holding her breath as she strained to listen. In the winding maze of the old quarter, sound traveled in deceptive patterns. The child could be a quarter mile away or it could be in the next alley.

  There. Another cry. It seemed closer than before, but it was quickly muffled, as if someone were covering the baby's mouth.

  Exhaling hard, Kate chose the middle street. She left the neighborhood of cobblestone alleys and entered a moonlit courtyard ringed by a hedge. There, at the opposite end, a figure moved furtively in the shadows. More cries wafted through the air, rapid and frantic enough to break a stone's heart.

  "Hey," Kate called, breaking into a sprint. "Wait."

  The figure appeared to be a female carrying a blanket-wrapped bundle the size of an infant in her arms. Instead of stopping, she scurried through a break in the hedge.

  Kate followed, emerging on a sloping street that was illuminated by a line of wrought-iron street lamps. She blinked to adjust her eyes to the sudden brightness and spotted a sign for the King Augustus Hospital. The woman was on the opposite side, heading up the hill toward the hospital's back entrance.

  Hesitating, Kate wondered if the woman might be taking her child for medical care. Was that the reason for her haste?

  But instead of going through the hospital's doors, the woman stopped beside the low stone planter that jutted from the hospital wall and set her bundle on the flowers.

  A gurgling wail came from the bundle.

  The woman brushed off her palms. Her voice, dry and harsh, carried clearly on the breeze. "Go ahead and cry. Someone will hear you soon."

  Kate scowled and jogged up the hill. "Excuse me, do you need some help?"

  The woman snapped her head up and glanced over her shoulder. Instead of retrieving the baby, she took a step away.

  Kate was close enough to see a tiny fist poke out of the bundle of blankets. It waved in the air, as if to punctuate its displeasure.

  The woman's response to the infant's distress was to take another step away.

  Kate's chest heaved, not only from the exertion of her run but from a growing sense of outrage. This woman acted as if she intended to leave the child where it was. "What are you doing?" Kate demanded. "You're not really planning on abandoning your baby there, are you?"

  The woman glanced around, her gaze as furtive as her movements had been. In the bleak glare of the streetlights, her plain, pinched features and her mousy brown hair gave her the look of a rodent. "Keep out of this. It's none of your business."

  "A child's welfare is everybody's business. If your baby is ill—"

  "There's nothing wrong with the baby. He's fine. I just can't keep him anymore."

  The resolution in the woman's tone deepened Kate's outrage. Nevertheless, she tried to reason with her again. "Ma'am, if you need help caring for your child, there are agencies that you can go to—"

  "You know nothing about it. Get out of my way."

  It took no more than a heartbeat for Kate to assess her options. As a U.S. naval officer and a foreigner in Montebello, she had no authority over this civilian. Yet turning away, continuing with her run, was out of the question. No matter how tired she was, no matter what flack she might take from her base commander for interfering, she had a clear duty that transcended the rule book and the need for sleep. Before the woman could take another step, Kate grasped her wrist. "Sorry, I can't let you leave."
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br />   "What do you think you're doing? Let go of me!" The woman yanked her wrist, a surprising amount of strength in her wiry frame, but she couldn't break Kate's hold. Muttering a curse, she aimed a kick at Kate's shin.

  Kate neatly sidestepped the kick as her training took over. Without loosening her hold, she used the woman's momentum to spin her around, then twisted her arm behind her back. Exerting just enough pressure to hold her in place against the low stone wall without injuring her, Kate turned her head to look at the infant.

  He had managed to kick off the blankets altogether and lay on his back with his feet and fists waving in the air. His cries had stopped, as if he preferred the cold embrace of the flowerbed to being held in his mother's arms. His face was flushed from crying, and tiny shudders rippled over his body, but his blue eyes were bright with interest as he gazed around him at the crushed flowers.

  How could anyone discard their child like this? Babies were so precious, their lives so fragile, what kind of monster would abandon, with such indifference, the life she had carried? Didn't she fear the nightmares that would follow? Didn't she realize how the cries would haunt her?

  "Let go," the woman repeated. "Ow! You're breaking my arm!"

  Kate wrenched her attention to her duty. Turning toward the hospital doors, she raised her voice to the level she'd learned to employ on the deck of a battleship and called for help.

  After ten seconds the hospital door swung open and an elderly white-clad nurse peeked out. Her eyes widened when she saw Kate and the struggling woman.

  Belatedly, Kate realized how the situation must look. Dressed in her sweat-damp T-shirt and running shorts, her face bare of makeup and her hair a windblown mess, she probably appeared like some kind of female mugger who was overpowering this hapless, mousy woman. Before the nurse could jump to the wrong conclusion about which one of them was calling for help, Kate spoke up. "I'm Lieutenant Kate Mulvaney, U.S. Navy," she said. "I'm making a citizen's arrest. I need you to call the police and tend to—"

  "No! No police." The woman renewed her struggle to escape Kate's hold. "I didn't do anything!"

  The nurse ducked inside before Kate could tell her to see to the baby. Lying in the planter the way he was, he wouldn't have been visible from the door. Now that he'd stopped crying, no one would notice he was there unless they were looking. If Kate hadn't witnessed what had happened, how long would the child have gone undiscovered?

  She thought of what might have happened to the helpless infant and had to restrain herself from giving the woman's arm an extra twist.

  A security guard emerged from the hospital. He was a large man with a generous belly that stretched his light gray uniform to the limit of its buttons. "What's going on here?" he asked.

  Kate identified herself once again and guided her prisoner toward him. "This woman was abandoning her baby."

  "Baby? What baby?"

  As soon as the guard took the woman's arm, Kate released her and turned to the planter. "This baby," she said. Leaning over, she carefully picked up the child. "I'll bring him into emergency. I think a doctor should have a look at him..."

  Kate's words trailed off. Too many sensations were hitting her at once. The warmth of the infant, the way he felt, so light, so vulnerable in her arms, the powdery baby smell that rose from his dark hair, all of it slid right past her defenses and stirred up the old yearning—

  She should have kept on running. And she would, as soon as she had done her duty. She would hand the child to a doctor and stay until police arrived so she could answer their questions, but after that, there would be no reason to hang around any longer. The situation was unfortunate but under control. Whatever the woman's story, it wasn't Kate's concern.

  But oh, how sweetly the baby nestled to her breast.

  Damn.

  "I didn't do anything wrong." The woman's voice was shrill as the guard ushered her through the hospital entrance. Several nurses had gathered in the corridor, evidently drawn by the commotion. The woman dragged her heels, appealing to her audience. "That's not even my baby. I've been taking care of him since his mother died. I was bringing him to his father, I swear, but I couldn't get into the palace and—"

  "Lady, I don't know what you're talking about," the guard said.

  "Did she say palace?" someone asked.

  "I shouldn't be treated like this," the woman persisted. "I should get a reward. That's no ordinary baby. He's the son of Lucas Sebastiani. Prince Lucas Sebastiani. That baby is the royal heir!"

  * * *

  Sam took the corner on two wheels and floored the accelerator. The jeep leaped up the hill and skidded to a stop outside the hospital. Word must have already leaked out, judging by the crowd that was gathered near the doors. The security guards and Montebellan police quickly cleared a path when they recognized Sam's passengers.

  "Thank you, Lieutenant Coburn." The deep voice came from the rear seat. "I like a man who can follow orders."

  Sam had only begun his assignment in Montebello a few hours ago, so he was still unaccustomed to dealing with royalty. He was never sure whether to salute or bow. The moment he hopped to the ground, he turned to offer his hand. "I apologize if the ride was rougher than you're accustomed to, Your Highness."

  King Marcus smiled and shook his head. "Believe me, I've had worse. You got us here faster than any of my drivers would have." He got out with an agility that belied his sixty-odd years and reached for the petite blond woman who was swinging her legs toward him. "Gwen, are you all right?"

  "Heavens, yes. It was rather exciting, don't you think?" Blue eyes twinkling, Queen Gwendolyn smoothed her husband's white hair and placed her hands on his shoulders. She permitted him to lift her to the ground, then tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. Despite their casual attire, the couple's bearing was unmistakably regal. "Lucas?" the queen asked. "Aren't you coming?"

  Sam turned to look at the third member of the royal family who had accompanied him on the wild midnight ride. Lucas Sebastiani, Prince Lucas to the people of Montebello, hadn't exhibited the same excitement as his parents over the news of his possible child. He had been silent during the journey from the palace to the hospital, but Sam didn't mistake his stillness for indifference.

  He'd seen this reaction before, when something was so important, the consequences so huge, a person couldn't dare to hope it was true. What was going on behind those tightly controlled, aristocratic features?

  How would it feel for a man to suddenly discover he was a father?

  Like all navy SEALs, Sam was accustomed to thinking on his feet, to adapting quickly to changes whenever he was on a mission, but this assignment was rapidly taking more twists than the cobblestone streets he'd just navigated. He was supposed to be advising the Montebellan police in their search for the woman who had murdered the king's nephew, Desmond Caruso. It wasn't a typical assignment for a SEAL who was trained in counterterrorism, but King Marcus had wanted someone with an objective viewpoint, someone with a reputation for success.

  With little more than an artist's sketch of the murderer to go on, the search would be challenging, to say the least. But Sam thrived on challenges. He had been in a strategy session with the king when the call from the hospital had come in.

  An abandoned baby? A possible royal heir? The news was a shock to everyone. And from the information the hospital staff had relayed, the woman who had attempted to abandon the child apparently had proof of its parentage. Moreover, she had some connection with the murderer Sam was seeking. With the swift decisiveness that was typical of his leadership, the king had terminated the meeting. Rather than taking the time to form a convoy of palace staff and bodyguards, he'd commandeered Sam and Sam's military jeep to take the fastest route to the hospital.

  "Son?" Marcus laid his hand on Lucas's shoulder.

  Lucas got out of the jeep, his movements stiff. He nodded to Sam to lead the way.

  The hospital lobby was bustling with activity, yet silence spread as people recognized
the royal family. A portly man in a gray security guard's uniform hurried forward, his face flushed. "Your Highnesses," he said, bowing to each of the royals in turn. "This is such an honor."

  "Where's the child?" Lucas asked. His voice was hoarse, as tightly controlled as his features.

  "The baby? He's in the emergency ward." The guard gestured toward a corridor on their right. "The doctors are checking him."

  "If any harm has come to that baby—" Lucas paused, his jaw clenching.

  "No, no, he seemed fine." The guard looked at Sam, his gaze flicking over his dress blue uniform. "Another American Navy officer found him. She has been seeing to his safety since we learned who the baby is."

  "Where's the woman who tried to abandon the baby?" Sam asked.

  "She says her name is Gretchen Hanson. We're holding her in the security office in the north wing."

  "Good work," King Marcus said. "Lieutenant Coburn and I will want to question Ms. Hanson before you turn her over to the police, but first things first." He patted Queen Gwendolyn's hand and gave his son an encouraging nod. "Let's take a look at this baby."

  Apart from the thick stone walls, vaulted ceilings and arching doorways that marked its centuries-old architecture, the King Augustus Hospital was a modern medical facility. The lingering scent of aged stone was overpowered by the smell of disinfectant. Sounds that could have been heard in any hospital—the squeak of crepe soles on tile, the beeping of a monitor, the metallic rattle of a gurney—echoed in the background as Sam and his group headed for the emergency ward.

  It was easy to determine which examining room the child was in by the crowd of hospital staff gathered outside the door. The hush that had marked the royals' arrival in the hospital spread through the ward. Sam realized it wasn't awe, it was respectful affection. The Montebellan people genuinely cared about their monarch, and they all wanted to be part of the drama that was unfolding. As one, the crowd moved from the door.

  In a circle of light, a trio of doctors was bending over an examining table. Sam focused on the tiny form at the top. The baby was lying on its back, gurgling softly as it clutched the end of a stethoscope.