Under the King's Command

by Ingrid Weaver

"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.

  "If I did, I sure wouldn't be here," Gretchen muttered. "I don't know why Ursula had to kill the king's nephew. Desmond was supposed to be helping us."

  "Are you claiming that Desmond Caruso knew about the baby?" Sam asked. "He knew about the existence of the prince's son?"

  "Oh, yeah. He knew. He was the one who paid the plane fare from Colorado to Montebello for me and baby Luke. He promised that Ursula and me would be made duchesses or countesses or something like that. The royals are filthy rich, you know. They were going to reward us."

  Another piece clicked into place. So that was the victim's connection with the murderer, Sam thought. He'd heard rumors of Caruso's less-than-exemplary character. The king's nephew had been an illegitimate branch of the royal family tree, and he had always resented the limitations of his birth despite the king's acceptance of him. It was definitely possible for the man to have been involved in a scheme to profit from the prince's child.

  But why had Ursula killed him? Had he tried to double-cross her, to cut her out of the money she had been promised? Or had the motive been more personal?

  "It was Ursula's idea to keep the prince's baby in the first place, but I had to do all the work," Gretchen said. "It wasn't easy, hiding out and taking care of the child."

  "No, I imagine it wasn't," Kate said.

  "I have my stupid brother to take care of, too, you know."

  "You must be very busy."

  "You bet I am. Gerald's too dim-witted to manage without me. Between him and the baby, I never had a minute to myself."

  Sam doubted that. This woman was no self-sacrificing saint. With every word she uttered, she demonstrated her lack of compassion. "It was generous of you to take in the child after his mother died."

  "Damn right. I've had that kid since the day he was born."

  Sam frowned. "We were told Jessica Chambers died in childbirth, and that her baby died, too. What can you tell us about the birth?"

  Gretchen's eyes narrowed, her face taking on a feral look. She glanced around as if searching for an escape route.

  Sam leaned forward, acting on a hunch. "Miss Hanson, how did Jessica Chambers really die?"

  "She was murdered," Gretchen burst out. "Ursula did it. She killed her own sister just like she killed the king's nephew. I swear. She's the one you want. I didn't do anything wrong."

  It was an ungodly hour to be awake. No one but street cleaners and peasants was up before dawn. Instead of sneaking around these dreary old streets, she should have been safe and warm in some posh hotel room right now, dreaming of ways to spend her money.

  Tucking a stray lock of her blond hair under her scarf, Ursula Chambers paused at the corner to check for police. Nothing was moving except a stray cat picking its way around some garbage cans. She hitched her carry-on bag over her shoulder, kicked the cat aside and hurried down the street.

  She'd had high hopes when she'd arrived on this island. She'd had a surefire plan, too. Jessica had always had things easy—all their lives, she'd had the luck that should have been Ursula's. So it was only fair that Jessica's brat would be her big sister's ticket to easy street. Ursula had planned it all out carefully. She deserved success, but then everything had fallen apart.

  She was surrounded by idiots, that was the problem. Idiots and double-crossers. Desmond had been almost as attractive as she was, and he'd been one of the best lovers she'd had, but he should have known better than to betray her with that little black-haired tart. She'd seen him kissing the girl, some princess or other, and yet when she'd confronted him later he'd tried to deny it.

  It hadn't been Ursula's fault she'd had to kill him. He'd given her no choice. One minute Desmond was smiling through his lies, the next minute she found that statue in her hand and saw blood pooling around his head.

  She'd wiped off her fingerprints and put the statue she'd hit him with on the shelf. She'd ditched the blood-spattered dress she'd been wearing. She'd slipped away from Desmond's cottage and made it off the palace grounds without anyone seeing her. She'd even gone back and burned the cottage to destroy any trace evidence.

  She'd thought she was safe. Then some kid had screamed and pointed at her at the airport, and now everyone in the country could see her face when they turned on their TVs or opened their newspapers. It was a good thing she had noticed the police sketch on the front page of the Montebello Messenger before she'd tried to meet Gretchen.

  She glanced at her reflection in a darkened shop window. The drawing had been surprisingly good for a police sketch, but considering the features the artist was working with, how could it not be? Ursula had always known she was blessed with a face that should have been on a Broadway poster or a movie screen. Along with her talent and her dynamite body, she'd been destined for stardom... if only her acting career hadn't been ruined by her manager.

  But what more could she have expected from a man? All the men in her life had betrayed her in one way or another, hadn't they? The only smart thing to do was to use them before they could use her. And Ursula was smart. She was a survivor.

  An aircraft took off in the distance, the throb of its engines magnified by the narrow streets. Ursula clutched her carry-on and looked up to follow its progress. The airport was still her best bet. Her credit cards were maxed out, but she had just enough cash left from the sale of her sister's heirloom ring to cover a one-way ticket to the States. As long as she made it through customs before that idiot Gretchen told someone her name, she'd be home by tomorrow.

  Like any great actress, Ursula Chambers knew when it was time to make an exit.

  Chapter 3

  Put this on so you won't be cold."

  Kate shook her head quickly as she saw Sam reach for the buttons of his dress blue uniform jacket. "No, thanks. I'll be fine."

  "The jeep doesn't have a top." He slipped the last button from its hole and shrugged off the jacket. "And you're only wearing your running clothes."

  S
he told herself not to look. For the past five hours she'd been hearing variations on the same lecture in her head. But she was only human, so she couldn't prevent her gaze from wandering.

  How could it be possible for his shoulders to be broader than she remembered, for his chest to be more solid? The white shirt he wore beneath the jacket was flattened to his body by the breeze, defining the masculine contours like a lingering caress.

  She looked away. She was no longer his lover. She was his colleague, his equal in rank. "Keep it, Sam. You're only wearing a shirt yourself."

  "Yeah, but haven't you heard? SEALs are tough." Without waiting for permission, he settled the jacket around her shoulders.

  "Sam..."

  He rounded the hood of the jeep and hopped into the driver's seat. "Come on, Kate. I'll take you home."

  There was no point arguing. Sam hadn't changed—he still liked to get his way.

  Which was one of the reasons she'd let him go.

  She took the seat beside him and clutched the lapels of the jacket together. Pleasant warmth flowed into her from the heat of his body that was trapped in the garment. His scent surrounded her, teasing her with awareness, daring her to remember.

  "How long have you been in Montebello, Kate?"

  "Seven months tomorrow. And you?"

  "Two days." He turned the jeep and headed down the hill from the hospital.

  "I didn't know you were being posted here."

  "I wasn't. I had just finished an assignment in the Middle East and figured while I was in the neighborhood I might as well spend my leave in Montebello. The leave got canceled when I got the order to report to King Marcus."

  "That's a shame. This is a wonderful place if you're here on vacation. Tourism is one of Montebello's biggest industries."

  "Yeah. There are plenty of sights I never got around to seeing, but duty called."

  "It has a way of doing that."

  "If I'd known you were here, I would have looked you up. How have you been?"

  They were picking up speed. Sam drove with the same straightforward competence with which he did everything else. Kate turned her face to the breeze so she wouldn't keep inhaling his scent. "I've been fine, Sam. And you?"

  "Busy."

  "Judging from the service ribbons on this jacket, I'd have to agree."

  "Like they say, Ijoined the Navy and saw the world."

  "That's great. It's—" She almost said that it was what he'd wanted, but she remembered how he'd responded to that comment before. She had to keep things light, keep things friendly. The base was only a few more minutes away. Then this interminable evening would be over. "You said you always wanted to travel. And how's your mother?"

  "She's doing well. She and Marvin moved to Arizona two years ago, and the climate's done wonders for her rheumatism."

  "Is your stepfather still in the car business?"

  "Uh-huh. He opened up a dealership in Flagstaff. Wanted to call it Marvelous Marvin's, but my mom couldn't stop laughing every time he said it so he settled for Oasis Autos."

  She smiled. Sam had supported his widowed mother throughout his teenage years. He'd delayed joining the Navy until she was securely remarried. Noble, loyal Sam. He was a throwback to the days when men took care of their women no matter what.

  Which was another reason she'd let him go.

  "And your little brother?" she asked.

  "Chuck's doing his master's degree at Stanford."

  "Does he still want to be a paleontologist?"

  "Uh-huh. At least now he's got an excuse to go on backyard treasure hunts."

  She heard the note of pride in Sam's voice, and her smile grew wistful. Sam had helped raise his younger brother, and he'd done a marvelous job. He would have made a wonderful father.

  But he'd also deserved his shot at following his dreams.

  She'd made the right decision.

  Yes, she had.

  "How are your parents doing, Kate?" he asked.

  "They divorced four years ago."

  "Oh. I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. They're much happier now." And that was true. Some people simply weren't meant to be together."

  Like her and Sam.

  He remained silent as they approached an intersection. Instead of taking the road that would be the quickest route to the base, he turned toward the road that ran along the coast.

  "It's shorter if you go the other way," Kate said, twisting to look over her shoulder.

  "I know."

  "But—"

  "I wanted a chance to talk to you. Is the wind too cold?"

  "No. With this jacket I'm fine, but—"

  "It's a beautiful evening, isn't it, Kate?" he asked softly.

  "Montebello averages three hundred days of sunshine a year, so the skies here are usually clear."

  "Do you still like watching the pattern of waves in the moonlight?"

  "I take the inland roads when I go jogging."

  He slowed the jeep as he rounded a bend, his hand somehow brushing her thigh as he worked the gear shift. "Remember how we used to like listening to the whispers the waves made when they broke on the beach?"

  Yes, she remembered all too well. She angled her knees toward the door, the skin on her thigh tingling. "The coastline along this stretch is mostly rock, but there are several popular beaches."

  "Maybe you could show me sometime."

  "Sam..."

  "It still gets to me, you know."

  "What does?"

  "The sound of the water. It gets me right here," he said, taking one hand off the wheel to touch his chest. "Anywhere you go in the world, it's got a million different tunes that it plays. Sometimes it's restless, sometimes it's angry. A lot of times it's just plain lonely."

  "I remember you always liked the sea."

  "Good thing, considering my choice of profession, wouldn't you say?"

  "Yes, it's fortunate."

  "And only one of the things we have in common, Kate." He slowed further, finally pulling the jeep to a stop at the side of the road. He turned off the ignition and inhaled deeply. "I read somewhere that every drop of water on the planet has been through a cycle of life that takes it through practically every type of living thing before it returns to the ocean. But it still smells great, doesn't it?"

  It wasn't only the sea that smelled great, she thought. Now that they were no longer moving, the hint of Sam's scent that rose from his jacket was stronger than ever.

  The memories were battering at her mind, pushing to be released, but she held them back. She couldn't go through this again. Once was enough.

  He turned toward her, draping his elbow over the back of his seat. "It's hard to believe it's been five years."

  No, she thought. Don't do this. Please. Let's keep talking about the climate or your family or our work.

  "I like your hair like that." He lifted his hand toward her ear.

  She knew what was coming. He was going to smooth her hair behind her ear, just as he used to do when it had been long. She tipped her head to avoid his touch. "It's more practical to keep it short."

  "Is that why you cut it?"

  She gritted her teeth against an image from the past, yet still she saw Sam smiling at her, his fists caught in her hair as he rubbed her curls in slow, sensual circles over her breasts. "Yes, it got in my way," she answered.

  "Kate?"

  "Mmm?"

  "I've missed you."

  And I've missed you, she thought.

  But she didn't miss the pain. It was locked away with the memories. She couldn't release one without the other.

  It had been the right choice. It had, damn it.

  She kept her gaze on the horizon. "Like you said, Sam, it's been five years."

  "Since we're both here now, maybe we could get together sometime. What do you think?"

  She didn't reply. She could feel his gaze moving over her face. What did he see? What did he remember?

  Sex. That's what he would remember. That's what
it had been about, after all. Just sex.

  Sure. Sex on the beach, with the waves lapping at their feet. Laughing, playful sex in the water with their skin slick and cool. And slow, thorough, toe-curling sex on the deck in the moonlight when they'd anchored their rented sailboat in that secluded bay and spent their last night together wrapped in a blanket and each other's arms....

  Kate felt a flush work its way over her cheeks. She felt her pulse pound against the gold chain that circled her neck. She hoped the darkness would hide them both.

  Sex had been all they'd wanted from each other. And they'd both been perfectly willing to supply it. They'd been young, they'd been unattached, they'd both been about to embark on their new lives in the Navy. So why shouldn't they have indulged in some good, healthy, uncomplicated lovemaking before they had parted ways?

  No, not love. It had never been love.

  And that was the final reason she had let him go.

  "The past is over," she said. "We had an agreement. Let's leave it that way."

  "Kate..."

  "I was wrong, Sam. I believe I'm getting cold after all," she said. "Please, take me home."

  * * *

  Kate was running again, but in the panic of her dream, she didn't know where she was. The streets were a dark labyrinth of towering walls and dead ends. Her feet were heavy with nightmare paralysis. She had to find the baby. She had to reach it. She had to save it.

  Pain doubled her over. It ground through her belly and shot down her thighs. She crossed her arms over her stomach, gasping for breath, and limped forward. She couldn't stop. She had to find it.

  The streets grew narrower and transformed into corridors. The echo of her footsteps became the rattle of gurney wheels. The past tangled with the present as she was moving toward the emergency room.

  "No. Wait." Kate mouthed the words, twisting on the mattress and clutching the sheets as if she could hold back the inevitable. She knew how this ended, but maybe if she tried harder, maybe if she held on longer she could make it end differently this time....

  The pain was tearing a hole in her gut. Her strength was gone, but still she strained forward. The baby. It needed her. She had to try.

  "It's too late. He's gone."