by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
No. She wasn't going to lose him. No matter what.
With a cry that came from somewhere darker than her nightmares, Kate brought her gun around and took aim at Chambers's heart.
Another cry mingled with her own, a deeper one. Before Kate could pull the trigger, Sam reached up and clamped his hand around Chambers's wrist. He squeezed, his blood-smeared forearm cording in a burst of strength. Chambers screeched in pain and released the spear.
Sam didn't let go. Despite being flat on his back, despite being gravely injured, he flexed his arm and yanked her downward. Her forehead smashed into the deck.
Kate was already running forward, her gun trained on Chambers. But Chambers wasn't moving. Sam had knocked her out cold.
"Oh, Sam! Sam!"
He turned his head. One corner of his mouth lifted in a weak smile. "Sorry," he rasped.
"Lie still. I'll call for help as soon as I deal with her." She tucked her gun into her waistband and dragged Chambers aside. She retrieved the rope she'd found, pulled Chambers's limp arms behind her back and bound her hands.
"Sorry," he repeated. "Never... hurt... a woman before."
"For this one, I'm glad you made an exception." Kate had extra rope. She wrapped it around Chambers's feet for good measure and pulled it taut, trussing her like a calf.
"Had to hit her, Kate. She would... have killed you... if she got... the gun."
It wasn't his welfare but hers that had concerned him, Kate thought. She blinked back a rush of tears. She couldn't give in to her emotions now. She had to get Sam to a hospital. "I know, Sam. But you just saved her life."
He frowned. "Don't... understand."
Kate dropped down at Sam's side. She checked the compress, then laid her shaking fingers over his heart. "I would have shot her because she would have killed you."
His eyelids drooped. He blinked, fighting to hold onto consciousness. He lifted his hand to her cheek. "You're one... hell of a woman, Kate." "I love you, Sam." His hand fell to his side as his eyes drifted shut. He didn't reply.
The island of Montebello appeared in the west, gleaming like a jewel in the noon sun. Freshly washed by the rain, the stone buildings around the harbor of San Sebastian formed a beacon of white as the helicopter neared the shore. Kate glanced at the waves that blurred past beneath them and felt the lump in her throat grow.
From the time she'd used the Penelope's radio to call for help, everything had seemed to happen in fast-forward. The search grid she and Sam had set up for the mission had worked, after all—even before she had completed her transmission, a sleek cabin cruiser full of Navy personnel had been bearing down on them with a Coast Guard cutter close behind.
The mission was a success. The Montebellan police chief, Admiral Howe and the royal family had been notified that Chambers and her accomplice were in custody and were on their way back to face Montebellan justice.
As a co-commander of the operation, Kate should have accompanied the suspects on the trip to shore. It was her responsibility to see this through to the end and ensure they were handed to the police.
But there was no way she was leaving Sam's side until he was out of danger. To the surprise of her colleagues, who were accustomed to her rigid devotion to her duty, she put the first man to arrive in charge of wrapping up so she could board the helicopter with the medics.
She shifted her gaze from the window to the man on the stretcher beside her. She brought Sam's hand to her lips and brushed a kiss across each of his knuckles. He hadn't regained consciousness. It worried her, but it was a mercy to him—the agony he must be enduring from his injury was unimaginable. How could anyone in those circumstances have had the strength to do what he'd done?
The lump in her throat was getting too big to swallow past. Yes, love hurt, but she'd never run from it again.
In another one of those spurts of fast-forward, the naval base appeared below. The helicopter swooped toward the landing pad on the roof of the base hospital. Medical personnel were gathered, waiting, their green gowns fluttering in the rotor backwash. Kate had to relinquish her post at Sam's side to let the doctors do their job. She held herself together and jogged behind the gurney as he was wheeled directly to surgery, but when the doors closed behind him, she felt her legs give way.
Before she could hit the floor, someone caught her elbow. "Hang on," a deep voice said. "I'll call a doctor."
"No, I'm okay. Thanks." She took a few quick breaths and lifted her head.
At her first sight of the tall, dark-haired man who held her arm, she started in surprise. "Your Highness!"
Prince Lucas lifted his eyebrows, evidently as startled as she was. "Lieutenant Mulvaney?"
Kate straightened. She was aware how little like an officer she must look in her bloodstained pants and ripped T-shirt. She looked even worse than the first time she'd met the Montebellan royalty, but right now she didn't care. "Sam's in there. Lieutenant Coburn, I mean. I have to make sure the doctors know I'm here so they'll tell me—"
"They will, Lieutenant Mulvaney," Prince Lucas said. He firmed his grip on her elbow and steered her away from the operating room doors toward a grouping of chairs. "When I heard what happened I came down to see how Lieutenant Coburn is. The doctors know where I am."
She wavered on her feet and gazed at the closed doors before finally sinking into a chair. "Ursula Chambers did this, Your Highness. She's a snake, she's not a woman. She's—"
"She's in custody, thanks to the two of you. I won't forget that. My country and I owe you a debt we'll never be able to repay."
"We were doing our duty, Your Highness."
"You did more than that. And please, call me Lucas. This is no time to worry about protocol."
Kate raked her fingers through her salt-stiffened hair. "You might as well call me Kate, then. I'm not behaving much like an officer."
"No, Kate." His blue eyes softened as he studied her. "You're behaving like someone in love."
That's all it took. A kind look, an understanding word, and the tears she'd managed to hold back finally flowed. After the way she had wept this morning, she was amazed she had any left. "Does it show that badly?"
He took a neatly folded square of linen from the pocket of his sport coat and handed it to her. "Let's just say I'm familiar with the symptoms."
Even through her tears Kate recognized the Sebastiani family crest on the handkerchief. She should be aghast at her unprofessional behavior, but she blew her nose on it anyway. "Sam's not going to die. He can't. He's too strong. He's too stubborn. He won't stop fighting."
"That's right. You have to have faith."
"He doesn't even know how I feel," she said. "It took me too long to realize I loved him."
"That's what happened to me. Jessica never knew, either."
Kate wiped her eyes and looked at him. Behind his chiseled features she glimpsed a flicker of suppressed pain. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. Lucas. I didn't mean to remind you—"
"It was my own fault, Kate. I left her because of duty. I thought there would be time. I hadn't known... life is so fragile." He leaned over, bracing his forearms on his thighs as he laced his fingers together. "Things would have been different if it hadn't been for her sister's twisted schemes."
"Ursula Chambers denies she killed Jessica. She said Gretchen Hanson did."
"Hanson? Do you mean that woman who abandoned my son?"
"Yes, that's what Chambers told me on the boat."
"What else did she say?"
"I'm sorry. That's all I heard. I wasn't able to question her further. She was still unconscious when I came back on the helicopter with Sam."
A flash of resolution chased the pain from Lucas's features. "We'll have plenty of time to deal with everyone involved later. Believe me, I intend to see that justice is done."
"We all are." She glanced once more at the closed doors. "It's the least we can do for the people we love."
It was a long, slow climb back to consciousness. Sam noticed the sounds first. The beepin
g of electronic equipment, the steady whoosh-dick of a respirator. The murmur of voices and the squeak of shoes. Then came the smell of antiseptic and boiled cotton. And then, of course, the pain.
Sam rode the wave of red agony until he was on top of it, then pushed it into a corner of his mind. He knew this drill. He'd been here before. What was it this time? Another gunshot? A saber wound? Shrapnel? What about the mission? Where was his team?
"Lieutenant Coburn?" It was a stranger's voice, but Sam recognized the tone of brisk concern. It was the same on every base around the world. Had to be a medic.
Sam concentrated on opening his eyes, but his lids were too heavy. He must have been anesthetized—whatever had happened, it must have been bad.
Something warm brushed his forehead. Mixed with the hospital smells came the scent of... gardenias.
Kate. She was here. He tried once more to open his eyes. This time, he saw a sliver of light.
"Go and get some rest, Lieutenant Mulvaney." It was the medic's voice. It was receding as if he were turning away. "The surgery was a success, in large part because the internal lacerations from the barbed spearhead were limited by the way you immobilized the object so promptly." There was the scratch of a pen on paper. A door opened. "You won't be able to talk to him until tomorrow. Aside from his concussion, the drugs in his system would knock out a horse."
The door closed. There was a long silence, but Sam knew he wasn't alone. The touch came again. Sam turned his head toward the caress. He parted his lips and said Kate's name. But it didn't come out that way. It sounded like the creaking of a rusty hinge.
Frustrated, he gathered his strength and willed his eyes to open.
Kate was leaning over him. Her eyes were red. He lifted his hand to touch her cheek. "Okay?" he asked.
She seized his hand and pressed his fingers to her mouth. Her lips quivered. "Yes, Sam. You're going to be fine."
"Not me. You." He felt a tear drop onto his thumb. "Are you okay? You're crying."
She made a noise that was half laugh, half sob. "Oh, Sam. I'm all right now. Everything's going to be all right now."
"The mission?"
"It's over. It was a complete success."
"Over?"
"I'll tell you about it later."
"Not over," he tried to say. The rusty hinge noise was back. He could feel himself fading. But this was important. He had to tell her something. "Please. Don't say it's over."
* * *
The prison-issue coveralls were no protection against the cold that seeped through the stone walls. What kind of backward place was this, anyway? She was an American citizen. She had rights, didn't she?
Ursula rubbed her arms, wincing at the tenderness in her wrist. That lawyer and the consulate guy they'd sent to talk to her yesterday had been idiots. She'd told them to sue someone for police brutality or Navy brutality or whatever they wanted to call it—she'd even agreed to let the lawyer take a percentage of the settlement—but they kept pointing out that she had committed murder, attempted murder, kidnapping and assault and resisted arrest.
She never got a break. That was the story of her life. She was surrounded by fools. It was all Scarpa's fault that she'd been caught. And now her face, her perfect face, it was... it was... Oh, God. How bad was it?
With trembling fingers, she lifted her hand and tenderly touched her jaw. There was no mirror in here. No one had listened to her pleas for one, so she hadn't been able to see the extent of the damage, but she'd felt it.
Her fair skin and beautiful bone structure had been the few gifts her father hadn't been able to take back. But she could no longer trace the clean line that had defined her face so strikingly because her jaw was too swollen. Gingerly she moved her fingers to her forehead. The lump there was going down, but she could feel that her skin was rough with unsightly scabs where she had struck the deck.
Oh, it was simply too upsetting to think about. She sank to the bunk, shocked to feel real tears well in her eyes. She could produce attractive little tears on cue when she needed to play a role, but she never actually wept because it was unflattering. It would make her eyes puffy and her nose red. She hadn't cried for her sister or for Desmond, but she couldn't help crying for herself.
There was a shuffle of footsteps outside her cell. "Chambers, you have visitors."
Ursula shook her head. "No, I can't see anyone right now. I can't."
"You don't have a choice, ma'am."
Was there no end to what she had to endure? She dipped her head, using the cuff of her sleeve to pat her eyes dry. She fluffed her hair, swallowing another sob as some strands caught on her ragged fingernails. She needed a deep conditioning and a trim as well as a manicure, but she was a great actress, she would overcome this adversity. She'd show them. She'd show them all.
Keys jangled. The door creaked open. Ursula crossed her legs in a pose she knew would show her slim thighs to advantage, even in these shapeless orange prison clothes. She pulled a lock of hair forward to hide her scraped forehead, then angled her head so that her hand could mask her jaw. She could still be beautiful if she tried.
Four people stood in front of her. She recognized the lawyer and the cop named Sergeant Winters who had tried to question her when she'd arrived yesterday, and she mentally dismissed them as unimportant. Her gaze went to the tall, dark-haired man who leaned against the bars of the door. She recognized him instantly. This was the ranch hand with amnesia who'd turned out to be Jessica's prince. Lucas Sebastiani. He was even more handsome than she remembered. Reflexively she braced one arm on the bunk behind her so she could push out her bust.
Lucas stared at her with an expression of revulsion.
It must be because of the scrape on her forehead, she thought, trying to smooth more hair over it. That would repulse anyone. Her gaze moved to the fourth person in the group. It was a tall, red-haired woman in a Navy uniform....
"You!" Ursula said. "You're the bitch who knocked off my aim and kicked—"
"Ms. Chambers, please," the lawyer said. "You're not helping your case by outbursts like this. I strongly advise you to cooperate."
"That's good advice," the redhead said. "After what you've done to the people we care about, none of us here have much patience left."
"What do you mean, after what I've done?" Ursula exclaimed. "I had no choice. It wasn't my fault. I only wanted what was rightfully mine."
Lucas continued to regard her as if she were a specimen in a zoo.
Ursula wished the prison guards had allowed her some makeup. She moistened her lips and moved them into a pouting smile. "Give me a chance to explain. Then you'll see."
Finally, she was going to get the chance to tell her side. And so she started at the beginning, with her father who had unjustly willed everything to Jessica. She told about how her sister had given a mysterious drifter a job as a ranch hand, only to be heartbroken when the drifter left and she discovered she was pregnant. Ursula saw how Prince Lucas clenched his jaw at this part of her story, but she ignored him. She had center stage now. She wasn't going to give it up.
It would have been so easy if Jessica had left her beloved ranch and traveled to Montebello the way Ursula had urged her to when they realized the drifter was actually a prince. They would have been set for life once the king had learned Jessica was carrying the royal heir. But no, her softhearted sister refused to use her child to tie her to a man who had never made promises or spoken of love.
Ursula saw the Navy woman flinch at that part of the story, and she felt a burst of energy, knowing she had everyone's attention. She must be giving the performance of her life. She explained how Desmond had come looking for his half cousin the prince and had ended up joining forces with Ursula. They had planned to bring the prince's baby to Montebello after Jessica's death so the royal heir could assume his rightful place. Gretchen Hanson had already been on her way here with the brat, but it had all gone horribly wrong when Desmond had betrayed Ursula with another woman. He'd made her k
ill him. Just like Jessica's refusal to profit from her child had brought about her own death. They could see now that none of it was her fault—
"I can't listen to any more of this," Lucas said, turning away. "Anyone can see that she's insane."
Ursula clawed more hair across her forehead and smoothed her orange coveralls suggestively over her breasts. "Wait. I'm not finished."
Her lawyer shook his head and filed out with the policewoman. "I'm sorry, Ms. Chambers. I'll find someone else to take your case."
Only the red-haired Navy woman remained. She stared at Ursula, her gaze pinning her to the bunk.
"What are you looking at?" Ursula snarled.
The woman smiled and held something out to her. "Here. I heard you were asking for this."
"What?"
"You wanted to know what I was looking at. I think it's a fitting punishment to let you see for yourself."
Ursula focused on the object. It was a mirror.
The prison door clanged shut to the echoes of Ursula's scream.
Chapter 16
Kate turned the jeep toward the base and pressed down on the accelerator. The wind was brisk, yet she welcomed the cool rush on her face. She needed to smell fresh air. She needed to see sunshine. After the dank evil she had encountered in the jail cells under the police station, she had a pressing need to cleanse the taint from her lungs.
Ursula Chambers would spend the rest of her life behind bars. The only question that remained was where. Both the Montebellan police and the FBI wanted a piece of her.
Similarly, Gretchen Hanson wouldn't be breathing freely anytime soon, either. She admitted she'd lied about who had killed Jessica, but now she claimed her simpleminded brother who helped around Jessica's ranch had committed the deed.
The final prisoner Kate had interviewed had been Edwardo Scarpa, a palace guard. She understood why he had seemed familiar—she must have seen him when she'd visited the palace. He was falling all over himself to cooperate with the police, hoping for leniency, but it was unlikely he'd get it. He'd betrayed the trust placed in him by the king. Montebellans dealt swiftly with treason.
