Beth Cornelison - Protecting Her Royal Baby

“Hunter?” she called. “Hunter, are you there?”

He burst through the door, his expression worried. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”

“What’s your full name?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“Your full name? Do you have a middle name?”

His attention shifted to where her baby still nuzzled her breast, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Um...”

Oops. Heat prickling her cheeks, she tugged the receiving blanket up to cover the baby’s head.

He scratched the stubble on his chin, his brow puckering in thought as if trying to remember what she’d asked. “Oh, uh...Benjamin. Why?”

“Hunter Benjamin Mansfield,” she said, liking the sound of it. “A strong, noble-sounding name.”

He shrugged. “If you say so.”

She smiled. “I do. Would you mind if I named my son Benjamin...after you?”

Shock froze his features for a moment before his mouth twitched in a lopsided grin and his eyes lit with wonder. “Seriously?”

“He needs a name. I may not be able to fill out all the blanks on his birth certificate yet, but I can give him a first name. Seems fitting, you being the man who came to our rescue.” She paused. “If that’s all right with you.”

He chuckled and swiped a hand over his face. “I’m...honored! Yeah.”

She smiled and peeked under the blanket at her son. “Then Benjamin it is.”

Naming her baby was a small thing in the big picture, but at least one thing in her blank-slate life had been settled. A disproportionately large swell of relief filled her.

“Was that it? You need anything?” Hunter asked.

Fatigue pulled at her, weighting her limbs. “A nap. But first this guy—” she tipped her head toward the baby “—needs to fall asleep.”

He sent her a commiserative nod. “Yeah, you’ve had a busy day.” Sliding his hands down his backside, as if searching for back pockets that the running shorts he wore didn’t have, Hunter edged back toward the door. “Well, then...I’ll let you finish feeding him. In fact, I’m thinking I’ll go scare up a sandwich or something. You sure you don’t want a snack or a soda?”

“No thanks. Just sleep.” As if hearing her request, her son’s eyes—Benjamin’s eyes—closed groggily, and she stroked a finger along his silky-soft cheek. “That’s a good boy. Sweet dreams, Ben.” She raised her head. “Could you help me move him to the bassinet?”

Tugging the bedsheet up, she kept herself covered as she held Ben out from her body enough for Hunter to slide his hands under the blue bundle. When he splayed his fingers, Hunter’s hands were large enough to ably cradle her son’s head and bottom securely. The sight of those masculine hands against the soft blanket that swaddled her child sent a ripple of awareness through her. Those same strong hands had held hers with gentle warmth, had comforted her with tender care...and had pulled open the crumpled door of her wrecked car with brute power. How would those amazing hands feel caressing her skin? Exploring her body? Her pulse kicked, and her mouth dried.

What was she doing letting her thoughts stray down that path just hours after childbirth? Sure, Hunter was drop-dead handsome and kind to a fault, but talk about bad timing! She didn’t even know if she had someone at home waiting for her, worrying about where she was. And because Hunter had told the hospital she was his wife, if someone did call looking for her, they wouldn’t know she was here, even as a Jane Doe.

“Hunter? What if my family is looking for me? The hospital thinks my last name is Mansfield.”

He cut a side glance to her from the bassinet, where he watched Ben settling in to sleep. “Huh, I hadn’t thought about that.” He frowned and rubbed his chin. “But before we backpedal on that story, we need to consider all the angles of this.”

Under the sheet, she adjusted her clothes, post-nursing, and snuggled down on the bed, completely wiped-out by the delivery. “What angles?”

“Well, like your safety.”

She lowered her eyebrows, a niggling sense biting the back of her neck. “My safety?”

“You don’t remember? When I first got to your car, you were sure someone was trying to hurt you.” He moved to the chair by her bed and sat on the edge, leaning toward her with an anxious look on his face. He knew something he wasn’t telling her. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything from right before the accident? Why were you racing down that road so fast?”

“I was in labor. I—” She stopped, knowing somehow there was more to it. She sank back against her pillow, shut her eyes. Behind closed eyes images and sounds of the day’s trauma replayed in her head. Lying in the overturned car. The blinding pain in her head. The blood. The ambulance sirens. She took a deep breath and tried to push the swirl of confusion over the accident and tangled feelings toward Hunter out of her mind. The nagging sense of disquiet sorted itself out from the other memories. A fear that stole through her like a wraith, chilling her to the bone. Someone had wanted to hurt her. She was sure of it.

Brianna’s eyes flew open, and she gasped. Her gaze darted around the hospital room as if expecting to find someone standing over her, ready to snuff the life from her.

Hunter scooted the chair closer, took her hand. “What? What do you remember?”

“Nothing...specific. Just this ominous, oppressive feeling of danger. I can’t explain it, but...”

“I think I can.” Hunter’s expression darkened, and his gaze dropped to the floor, his forehead lined with deep furrows of concern.

Brianna’s gut flinched, rebelled. A sour taste filled her mouth. “What?”

“When we were leaving the accident scene, I got a good look at the back of your car.” He met her eyes, and the intensity in his blue gaze rocked her to her core. “Someone had shot at the back of your car. Maybe not today, but at some point. That’s one of the reasons I want to go back out and look at the car before the police impound it. I’m sure the officer who responded to the accident would have seen the bullet holes and will be investigating, but I want to know all I can. So I can protect you.”

She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. “Are...are you sure they were bullet holes? Maybe a rock—”

“I’m sure.” He sandwiched her hand between hers and stroked her wrist with his thumb. “I served a few years in the Army Reserves and have hunted with my brothers for years. I know guns, and I know bullet holes. The ones in your car looked to be in the .38-to .44-caliber range. The kind of weapon that has stopping power.”

Her breath shuddered from her, and she stared at Hunter, stunned by what she was hearing.

His hand caressed her cheek, cupped her face. “Brianna, I’m sorry to dump this on you. I don’t mean to scare you with this, but I thought you needed to know. So you could take precautions. Be alert to possible threats.”

“But...why...? I don’t...” She wet her lips and tried to slow her racing thoughts. “They weren’t just trying to hurt me, then. Whoever shot at the car was trying to...” She gulped. “To kill me?”

Apprehension dented his brow. “That’s how it looks to me.”

Her bottom lip trembled, and she caught it with her teeth. Nausea roiled in her belly, and her aching head pounded with fresh ferocity.

His grip on her cheek tightened, and he tipped her face toward him. “But listen to me, Brianna. I’m not going to let that happen. I’m going to help you get to the bottom of this. We’ll figure out who was trying to hurt you and why. We’ll find something to tell us who you are and where your family is. I promise. I won’t let anyone harm you or Ben.”

Tears prickled her eyes. She had too much to process. An attempt on her life, the car accident, her lost memory. In the midst of so much turmoil, Hunter was a beacon to her. A safe harbor. She might not know him, but her instincts told her to trust him. Gratitude was an understatement of how she welcomed and cherished his offer of help and protection. Without her memory, with her body weakened from injury and a painful delivery, with a new baby to consider, she was vulnerable with a capital V.