Justine Davis – Romancing the Crown: Kate & Lucas: Under the King's Command / The Prince's Wedding (страница 1)
ROMANCING THE CROWN: KATE & LUCAS
One gorgeous military hero, one Cinderella bride…
Two glittering, dramatic stories of regal romance from two favourite authors.
MILLS & BOON
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Cattleman’s Woman
Ready for Marriage?
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
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,
ROMANCING THE CROWN: KATE & LUCAS
Under the King’s Command
INGRID WEAVER
The Prince’s Wedding
JUSTINE DAVIS
Under the King’s Command
INGRID WEAVER
ROMANCING THE CROWN
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…
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.”