Romancing the Crown: Kate & Lucas: Under the King's Command / The Prince's Wedding

“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 previous 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.