Protecting Her Royal Baby

“Ms. Coleman, this is Henry’s Dry Cleaning,” the female voice on the answering machine said. “Your clothes are ready for pickup at your earliest convenience. Thank you.” A beep.

Hunter scanned the room and spotted an old family portrait on her dresser. He walked closer to get a better look. Based on her parents’ hairstyles and his estimate that Brianna was about twelve in the picture, he judged the photo to be approximately fifteen years old.

“Brianna, it’s Aunt Robyn. Just checking to see how you are doing. Any more Braxton Hicks? Call me if I can do anything for you, honey. Bye.”

Hunter jerked his attention to the answering machine. Aunt Robyn? So Brianna did have some family checking in on her. After getting a fresh set of clothes from her closet for her to wear home from the hospital, he took the family portrait from the dresser and stuck it in the top of her purse. An old picture and an aunt Robyn. Not much to go on, but maybe they’d be enough to trigger something in Brianna’s memory.

* * *

Brianna studied the photograph Hunter handed her, and something warm and familiar tugged at her heart. “Obviously they’re my parents. I mean, look at my dad. I’m a female version of him.” She grinned, seeing the similarity in smiles beaming at her from the picture, but she still had so many blanks about her past. “It feels right. The picture seems familiar, but I still can’t remember their names or specific events. Whether they’re still alive or if they live across the country. Were they planning to come into town for the birth of their grandson? I need to call them and tell them I’m okay, but...” She shook her head.

“Oh, speaking of calls...” Hunter rubbed his hands on his jeans and gave her a guilty glance. “I listened to your phone messages. I hoped there’d be something useful there.”

She turned her head and blinked at him. “Was there?”

“Well, sort of. Someone calling herself Aunt Robyn called to check on you. She didn’t sound worried or upset to have missed you, though, and she didn’t leave a call-back number.”

“Aunt Robyn?” Brianna wrinkled her nose and bit her bottom lip as she thought about the name. Though it did resonate with her, it didn’t have the sure, warm feeling that her parents’ picture did. “Maybe. Something’s there, but...”

“Oh, and your dry cleaning is ready at Henry’s.”

She quirked a half grin. “Thanks. Now if only I could remember where Henry’s is.”

He set her purse on the edge of her bed and scooped her phone out. “Maybe it’s in your contacts list on your phone?”

She set the portrait aside and took her phone, grinning when she saw the screen saver photo of Sorsha. “And how was the warrior princess?”

“Who?”

“Sorsha. I named her after the warrior princess in the movie Willow.”

Hunter gave her an odd look. “That you remember, but not your aunt Robyn?”

She paused, considering his question. “That does seem like an odd detail to recall when so much else is blank, but the doctor did say my memory would return in random pieces. No rhyme or reason.”

He lifted a shoulder. “True. And Sorsha is fine. Grateful for her breakfast.”

Brianna gave the screen saver another happy glance before swiping the screen to search her phone for contact names, photographs, messages, anything that would help her. As she scrolled her contacts, she found a listing for Robyn Elyse Rosenberg. Could that be the woman who identified herself as Aunt Robyn? Worth a shot.

She tapped the screen to call the woman, but the call went straight to voice mail. “Um, hi. It’s Brianna Coleman,” she said, feeling awkward. What if Robyn Elyse Rosenberg was a business contact, her ob-gyn or her real-estate agent? “I’ll call again later. Bye.” She disconnected the call and frowned at Hunter. “So do I just go through my contacts list and ask anyone who answers, ‘Do you know me? Who am I?’ That seems...weird.”

He rolled up a palm and sent her a commiserative moue. “You have a better idea?”

She sighed. “No.” Glancing back down at her phone, she noticed she had an alert indicating four messages were waiting for her. The first three were voice messages, one a repeat from the dry cleaner, another confirming her appointment for today with a Dr. Greene’s office. Her ob-gyn? That’d be worth looking into later. The third message was from someone named Phil Holtz asking her to call him.

Frowning, she shook her head. “Phil Holtz. That name means nothing to me.”

“Oh, that’s the guy you were planning to sell your car to. Guess you should let him know it got totaled.”

“I was selling my car?”

Hunter nodded. “Seems so. The paperwork was all on your kitchen table.”

“Oh.” She grunted and glanced at the phone again. The last message was a video sent via text message.

Curious, she opened the video, then gasped as a man filled the screen. Chris. Or rather, Prince Cristoff. “Oh, my God, it’s him!”