was shrill as the guard ushered her through the hospital entrance. Several nurses had gathered in the corridor, evidently drawn by the commotion. The woman dragged her heels, appealing to her audience. “That’s not even my baby. I’ve been taking care of him since his mother died. I was bringing him to his father, I swear, but I couldn’t get into the palace and—”
“Lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the guard said.
“Did she say palace?” someone asked.
“I shouldn’t be treated like this,” the woman persisted. “I should get a reward. That’s no ordinary baby. He’s the son of Lucas Sebastiani. Prince Lucas Sebastiani. That baby is the royal heir!”
Sam took the corner on two wheels and floored the accelerator. The jeep leaped up the hill and skidded to a stop outside the hospital. Word must have already leaked out, judging by the crowd that was gathered near the doors. The security guards and Montebellan police quickly cleared a path when they recognized Sam’s passengers.
“Thank you, Lieutenant Coburn.” The deep voice came from the rear seat. “I like a man who can follow orders.”
Sam had only begun his assignment in Montebello a few hours ago, so he was still unaccustomed to dealing with royalty. He was never sure whether to salute or bow. The moment he hopped to the ground, he turned to offer his hand. “I apologize if the ride was rougher than you’re accustomed to, Your Highness.”
King Marcus smiled and shook his head. “Believe me, I’ve had worse. You got us here faster than any of my drivers would have.” He got out with an agility that belied his sixty-odd years and reached for the petite blond woman who was swinging her legs toward him. “Gwen, are you all right?”
“Heavens, yes. It was rather exciting, don’t you think?” Blue eyes twinkling, Queen Gwendolyn smoothed her husband’s white hair and placed her hands on his shoulders. She permitted him to lift her to the ground, then tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. Despite their casual attire, the couple’s bearing was unmistakably regal. “Lucas?” the queen asked. “Aren’t you coming?”
Sam turned to look at the third member of the royal family who had accompanied him on the wild midnight ride. Lucas Sebastiani, Prince Lucas to the people of Montebello, hadn’t exhibited the same excitement as his parents over the news of his possible child. He had been silent during the journey from the palace to the hospital, but Sam didn’t mistake his stillness for indifference.
He’d seen this reaction before, when something was so important, the consequences so huge, a person couldn’t dare to hope it was true. What was going on behind those tightly controlled, aristocratic features?
How would it feel for a man to suddenly discover he was a father?
Like all navy SEALs, Sam was accustomed to thinking on his feet, to adapting quickly to changes whenever he was on a mission, but this assignment was rapidly taking more twists than the cobblestone streets he’d just navigated. He was supposed to be advising the Montebellan police in their search for the woman who had murdered the king’s nephew, Desmond Caruso. It wasn’t a typical assignment for a SEAL who was trained in counterterrorism, but King Marcus had wanted someone with an objective viewpoint, someone with a reputation for success.
With little more than an artist’s sketch of the murderer to go on, the search would be challenging, to say the least. But Sam thrived on challenges. He had been in a strategy session with the king when the call from the hospital had come in.
An abandoned baby? A possible royal heir? The news was a shock to everyone. And from the information the hospital staff had relayed, the woman who had attempted to abandon the child apparently had proof of its parentage. Moreover, she had some connection with the murderer Sam was seeking. With the swift decisiveness that was typical of his leadership, the king had terminated the meeting. Rather than taking the time to form a convoy of palace staff and bodyguards, he’d commandeered Sam and Sam’s military jeep to take the fastest route to the hospital.
“Son?” Marcus laid his hand on Lucas’s shoulder.
Lucas got out of the jeep, his movements stiff. He nodded to Sam to lead the way.
The hospital lobby was bustling with activity, yet silence spread as people recognized the royal family. A portly man in a gray security guard’s uniform hurried forward, his face flushed. “Your Highnesses,” he said, bowing to each of the royals in turn. “This is such an honor.”
“Where’s the child?” Lucas asked. His voice was hoarse, as tightly controlled as his features.
“The baby? He’s in the emergency ward.” The guard gestured toward a corridor on their right. “The doctors are checking him.”
“If any harm has come to that baby—” Lucas paused, his jaw clenching.
“No, no, he seemed fine.” The guard looked at Sam, his gaze flicking over his dress blue uniform. “Another American Navy officer found him. She has been seeing to his safety since we learned who the baby is.”
“Where’s the woman who tried to abandon the baby?” Sam asked.
“She says her name is Gretchen Hanson. We’re holding her in the security office in the north wing.”
“Good work,” King Marcus said. “Lieutenant Coburn and I will want to question Ms. Hanson before you turn her over to the police, but first things first.” He patted Queen Gwendolyn’s hand and gave his son an encouraging nod. “Let’s take a look at this baby.”
Apart from the thick stone walls, vaulted ceilings and arching doorways that marked its centuries-old architecture, the King Augustus Hospital was a modern medical facility. The lingering scent of aged stone was overpowered by the smell of disinfectant. Sounds that could have been heard in any hospital—the squeak of crepe soles on tile, the beeping of a monitor, the metallic rattle of a gurney—echoed in the background as Sam and his group headed for the emergency ward.
It was easy to determine which examining room the child was in by the crowd of hospital staff gathered outside the door. The hush that had marked the royals’ arrival in the hospital spread through the ward. Sam realized it wasn’t awe, it was respectful affection. The Montebellan people genuinely cared about their monarch, and they all wanted to be part of the drama that was unfolding. As one, the crowd moved from the door.
In a circle of light, a trio of doctors was bending over an examining table. Sam focused on the tiny form at the top. The baby was lying on its back, gurgling softly as it clutched the end of a stethoscope.
“Oh, my Lord.” Queen Gwendolyn drew in a sharp breath. “Marcus, look.”
The king stared at the baby. In silence, he slipped his arm around his wife’s shoulders.
“Look at his hair, look at his eyes,” Gwendolyn went on. “And that chin. Do you see it?”
“Yes, Gwen,” he said softly, pulling her close to his side. “I see.”
Sam studied the child for a minute, then moved his gaze to the prince. What the queen had meant was clear. Lucas and the child shared the same dark brown hair, the same blue eyes, even the identical stubborn chin. The resemblance was so strong, it was unmistakable. A DNA test would undoubtedly have to be performed, considering the importance of proving the royal heir’s identity, but to anyone with eyes, the paternity was obvious.
