Книга - Navy Baby

Navy Baby
Debbie Macomber


Perfect for fans of Maeve Binchy' - CandisIt was a night she’d never forget…two strangers coming together in one breathless moment of intense need and heart-stopping desire. But now sheltered Hannah Raymond is expecting the child of rugged naval seaman Riley Murdock—a man she never thought she’d see again…. Riley has been searching for the elusive Hannah for months—ever since that night of searing passion le?? him shaken to the very depths of his soul.Now fate has fi nally reunited them. Determined to give his child the chance he’d never had, Riley marries Hannah. They had created the miracle of life together, but would that be enough to spark the miracle of love?










Navy Baby


New York Times Bestselling Author




Debbie Macomber







www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)


It was a night she’d never forget…two strangers coming together in one breathless moment of intense need and heart-stopping desire. But now sheltered Hannah Raymond is expecting the child of rugged naval seaman Riley Murdock—a man she never thought she’d see again….

Riley has been searching for the elusive Hannah for months—ever since that night of searing passion left him shaken to the very depths of his soul. Now fate has finally reunited them. Determined to give his child the chance he’d never had, Riley marries Hannah.

They had created the miracle of life together, but would that be enough to spark the miracle of love?


To my uncle, A. D. Adler.

How special you are to me.

I love you!




Contents


Chapter One (#uf2cd091f-a090-5bff-9279-c26fae0ba00d)

Chapter Two (#u86dc2669-2bb6-5300-a881-f5ac3d3ad599)

Chapter Three (#u4808d385-61bd-5a57-b2ec-8b0d0b96b6e2)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


On her knees on the bathroom floor, Hannah Raymond viewed parts of the toilet that were never meant to be seen at such short range. Her stomach rolled and heaved like a tiny canoe being swept down a raging river. The tile felt icy against her knees, yet beads of perspiration moistened her brow. Closing her eyes in an effort to hold back the waves of nausea, Hannah drew in several deep, even breaths. That seemed to help a little, but not enough.

“Oh, God,” she prayed silently, “please, oh, please, don’t let me be pregnant.” No sooner had the words crossed her lips when she lost what little breakfast she’d managed to down that morning.

Her monthly period was late. Over two months late. But that could be attributed to the stress she’d been under these past several weeks. The stress and the grief. It had been nearly four months since Jerry’s death. She ached to the bottom of her soul for him, and would, she was convinced, until the end of her life. She’d loved Jerry for six years, had planned her entire life around him. They were to have married soon after the first of the year.

Now there would be no wedding because there was no Jerry. Grief caught her once more in a stranglehold of pain and she squeezed her eyes closed, battling the tears, as well as the nausea. Adding to her torment was the knowledge that if she was pregnant, the child she carried wouldn’t be Jerry’s.

The face of the sailor had imprinted itself onto her mind, bold as could be. He was tall, powerfully built and strong featured. With a sense of dismay she pushed his image away, refusing to think about that July night or dwell on her folly.

Once again her stomach heaved, and Hannah brushed the thick folds of shiny brown hair away from her face and leaned over the porcelain toilet.

“Hannah?” Her father knocked politely against the bathroom door. “Honey, you’d best hurry or you’ll be late for Sunday school.”

“I…I’m not feeling very well this morning, Dad.” Her words were immediately followed by another bout of vomiting.

“It sounds like you’ve got the flu.”

Bless his heart for offering her an excuse. “Yes, I think I must.” She prayed with everything in her being that this was some intestinal virus. If living a good life, following the Golden Rule and being the best preacher’s kid she knew how to be were ever to work on her behalf, the time was now.

“Go back to bed and if you feel up to it later, come over for the service. I’m preaching from the Epistle to the Romans this morning and I’d like your opinion.”

“Sure, Dad.” But from the way she was feeling now, she wouldn’t be out of bed any time within the next week.

“You’ll be all right here by yourself?” Her father’s voice echoed with concern.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” Once again she felt her stomach pitch. She gripped the sides of the toilet and her head fell forward, the effort of holding it up too much for her.

Her father hesitated. “You’re sure?”

“I’ll be all right in a little bit,” she managed in a reed-thin voice.

“If you need me,” George Raymond insisted, “just call the church.”

“Dad, please, don’t worry about me. I’ll be much better soon. I’m sure of it.”

Her father’s retreating footsteps echoed in the hallway, and Hannah sighed with relief. She didn’t know what she was going to do if she was pregnant. Briefly she toyed with the idea of disappearing until after the baby was born. Going into hiding was preferable to facing her father with the truth.

George Raymond had dedicated his life to serving God and others, and having to confess what she’d done didn’t bear contemplating. Hannah loved her father deeply, and the thought of disgracing him, the thought of hurting him, brought a pain so strong and so sharp that tears instantly pooled in her eyes.

“Please God,” she prayed once more, “don’t let me be pregnant.” Slowly rising from the floor, she swayed and placed her hand against the wall as an attack of dizziness sent the room spinning.

She staggered into her bedroom and fell on top of the mattress. Kicking off her shoes, she sat up long enough to reach for the afghan neatly folded at the foot of the bed. Spreading it over her shivering shoulders, she gratefully closed her eyes.

Sleep came over her in swells as though the ocean tide had shifted, lapping warm, assuring waves over her distraught soul. She welcomed each one, eager for something, anything that would help her escape the reality of her situation.

It had happened in mid-July, only three short weeks after the tragic accident that had claimed her fiancé’s life. Her father had been out of town, officiating at a wedding in Yakima. He was staying over and wasn’t scheduled to arrive back in Seattle until late Saturday afternoon. Hannah had been invited, too, but she couldn’t have borne sitting through the happy event when her own life was filled with such anguish. How grateful she’d been that her father hadn’t asked her to travel with him, although she knew he would have welcomed her company.

Before he left, George Raymond had asked if she’d take a load of boxes to the Mission House in downtown Seattle. He’d done it, Hannah knew, in an effort to draw her out of the lethargy that had claimed her in the weeks following Jerry’s funeral.

She waited until late in the afternoon, putting off the errand as long as she could, then loaded up the back of her father’s old Ford station wagon without much enthusiasm.

Hannah had driven into the city, surprised by the heavy flow of traffic. It wasn’t until she’d found a parking spot in the alley in back of the Mission House that she remembered that Seafair, the Seattle summertime festival celebrating ethnic heritages and community, was being held that weekend. The whole town was festive. Enthusiasm and good cheer rang through the streets like bells from a church steeple. Several Navy ships were docked in Elliott Bay and the famed torchlight parade was scheduled for that evening. The city sidewalks and streets were crammed.

None of the excitement rubbed off on Hannah, however. The sooner she delivered the goods, the faster she could return to the safe haven of home. She’d been on her way out the door when she was waylaid by the mission director. Reverend Parker seemed genuinely concerned about how she was doing and insisted she sit and have a cup of coffee with him. Hannah had chatted politely, trying not to be impatient, and when he pressed her, she adamantly claimed she was doing well. It was a lie, but a small one. She didn’t want to talk about how angry she was. How bitterly disillusioned. Others had borne even greater losses. In time she’d heal. In time she’d forget. But not for a while; the pain was too fresh, too sharp.

Hannah knew her friends were worried about her, but she’d managed to put on a facade that fooled most everyone. Everyone, that was, except her father, who knew her so well.

“God works in mysterious ways,” Reverend Parker had told her on her way out the door. He’d paused and gently patted her back in a gesture of love.

Until Jerry’s death, Hannah had never questioned her role in life. When others grieved, she’d sat at their sides, comforted them with the knowledge that whatever had befallen them was part of God’s will. The words came back to haunt her now, slapping a cold hand of reality across her face. Several had issued the trite platitude to her, and Hannah had quickly grown to hate such meaningless clichés.

God’s will. Hannah had given up believing all the religious jargon she’d been raised to embrace. If God was so loving and so good, then why had He allowed Jerry to die? It made no sense to her. Jerry was a rare man, good and godly. They’d been so much in love and even though they were engaged to marry, they’d never gone beyond kissing and a little petting. They’d hungered for each other the way all couples deeply in love do, and yet Jerry had always managed to keep them from succumbing to temptation. Now, with everything in her, Hannah wished that once, just once, she could have lain in his arms. She’d give everything she would ever have in this life to have known his touch, to have surrendered her virginity to him.

But it was never meant to be.

Stirring, Hannah woke, rolled over and stared blankly at the wall. Her hands rested on her stomach, which seemed to have quieted. A glance at her watch told her that even if she rushed and dressed she’d still be late for the church service. She didn’t feel like listening to her father’s sermon. It wouldn’t do her any good now. Huge tears brimmed in her eyes and slipped unheeded down her cheeks, soaking into her pillow.

Sleep beckoned her once more, and she closed her eyes. Once again the sailor’s face returned, his dark eyes glaring down on her as they had the night he’d taken her to the hotel room. She’d never forget his shocked, distressed look when he’d realized she was a virgin. The torment she’d read in his gaze would haunt her all the way to the grave. His eyes had rounded with incredulity and disbelief. For one wild second Hannah had feared he would push himself away from her, but she’d reached up and brushed his mouth with her own and then…

She groaned and with a determined effort banished him from her mind once more. She didn’t want to think about Riley Murdock. Didn’t want to remember anything about him. Certainly not the gentle way he’d comforted her afterward or the stark questions in his eyes as he’d pulled her close and held her until she’d slept.

Go away, she cried silently. Leave me in peace. Her strength was depleted, and without effort she drifted into a restless slumber.

Riley was there waiting for her.

Following her conversation with Reverend Parker, Hannah had gone out to the alley where she’d parked the station wagon. To her dismay she discovered that while she’d been inside the Mission House, several cars had blocked her way out of the alley. By all rights, she should have contacted the police and had the vehicles towed away at the owners’ expense, but it would have been uncharacteristically mean.

Since the parade was scheduled to begin within the next hour, Hannah decided to stay in the downtown area and view it herself. There wasn’t any reason to hurry home.

The waterfront was teeming with tourists. Sailors were everywhere, their white uniforms standing out in the crowd, their bucket hats bobbing up and down in the multitude.

Sea gulls lazily circled overhead, casting giant shadows along the piers. The fresh scent of the sea, carried on the warm wind off Elliott Bay, mingled with the aroma of fried fish and simmering pots of clam chowder. The smell of food reminded Hannah that she hadn’t eaten since early that morning. Buying a cup of chowder was tempting, but the lines were long and it was simply too much bother.

Life was too much of a bother. How different all this would be if only Jerry were at her side. She recalled the many good times they’d spent with each other. A year earlier, Jerry had run in the Seafair race and they’d stayed for the parade, laughing and joking, their arms wrapped around each other. What a difference a year could make.

The climb up the steep flight of steps that led from the waterfront to the Pike Place Market exhausted Hannah. Soon, however, she found herself standing along the parade route, where people were crowded against the curbs. Several had brought lawn chairs and blankets, and it looked as if they’d been camped there a good long while.

Vendors strolled the street, selling their wares to children who danced in and out of the waiting crowd like court jesters.

Hannah was amused by their antics when little managed to cheer her those days. She was so caught up in the activities going on around her that she wasn’t watching where she was walking. Before she realized what she was doing, she stumbled headlong into a solid male chest. For an instant she assumed she’d blundered into a brick wall. The pair of strong hands that caught her shoulders convinced her otherwise. His grip tightened to keep her from stumbling backward.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, once she’d found her voice. He was a sailor. One tall and muscular sailor. As nonsensical as it seemed, he had the look of a pirate about him—bold and daring. His hair was as dark as his eyes. He wasn’t strikingly handsome; his features were too sharp, too craggy for that. Then his finely shaped mouth curved into a faint smile, flashing white, even teeth.

“I’m…sorry,” she stammered again, staring up at him, embarrassed at the way she’d been openly appraising him. She couldn’t help being curious. He seemed so aloof, so withdrawn that she felt forced to embellish. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” She offered him a feeble smile, and when he dropped his hands, she blushed and looked away.

“You weren’t hurt?”

“No…no, I’m fine. What about you?”

“No problem.” His gaze swept over her, and he moved on without saying another word.

Following the brief encounter, Hannah decided it would be best if she stood in one place. She selected a vantage point that offered her a good view of the parade, which was just beginning.

With mild interest she viewed the mayor and several other public officials as they rode by, sitting atop polished convertibles. She lost count of the number of bands and performing drill teams that passed. A fire-flashing baton twirler was followed by a variety of enchanting floats.

Enthralled almost against her will, Hannah stayed until the very end, when it was well past dark. The crowds had started to disperse, and hoping the station wagon was no longer blocked, she headed down the steep hills toward the Mission House. Since there were still people about, she didn’t think there’d be a problem of being alone in a bad section of town. But as she neared the Mission House, she discovered there were only a few cars left parked in the area. Soon there was no one else in sight.

When she first noticed the twin shadows following her she was pleased, naively thinking there was safety in numbers. But when she turned and noted the way the two were closing in on her, with menacing looks and walks, she knew she was in trouble.

As she approached the street on which the Mission House was located, she noted that the pair was still advancing. Quickening her pace, she clenched her purse to her side. An eerie sensation ran up and down her spine, and the taste of dread mingled with a growing sense of alarm filled her mouth.

Although she was moving as fast as she could without breaking into a run, the pair was gaining. She’d been a fool to separate herself from the crowds. She hadn’t been thinking right. Again and again her father had warned her about such foolishness. Maybe she had a death wish. But if that were the case, then why was she so terribly afraid? She trembled, her heart was pounding like a storm trooper’s.

The instant she saw the lights of a waterfront bar, Hannah breathed a little easier. She rushed forward and slipped inside grimacing as she walked straight into a thick wall of cigarette smoke.

Men lined the bar, and it seemed that every one of them had turned to stare at her. Beer bottles were clenched in their hands, some raised halfway to their mouths, frozen in motion. A pool table at the back of the room captured her attention, as did the handful of men dressed in black leather who stood around it holding on to cue sticks. One glance told Hannah they were probably members of a motorcycle gang.

Wonderful. She’d leaped out of the frying pan directly into the roaring flames. Hannah sucked in her breath and tried to behave naturally, as though she often wandered into waterfront bars. It seemed, however, that she’d become the center of attention.

It was then that she saw him—the sailor she’d bumped into earlier that evening. He was sitting at a table, nursing a drink, his gaze centered on the glass. He seemed to be the only one in the room unaware of her.

Where she found the courage to approach him, Hannah never questioned. Squaring her shoulders, she moved across the room and placed her hand on the chair opposite him. “Is this seat taken?”

He looked up, and his eyes lit with surprise before a frown darkened his piratical features. The only thing that made him less threatening than the others in the room was the fact he wore a sailor’s uniform.

Not waiting for his reply, Hannah pulled out the chair and promptly sat down. Her knees were shaking so badly she didn’t know if she could stand upright much longer.

“Two men were following me,” she explained. Her hands continued to tremble, and she pushed the hair away from her face. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it made sense to scoot in here.” She hesitated and looked around her, noting once again the menacing-looking men at the bar. “At least it did at the time.”

“Why’d you choose to sit with me?” He seemed to find the fact somewhat amusing. The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile, but she wasn’t sure it was one of welcome.

Why had she chosen him? “You were the only one not wearing leather and spikes,” she said, but in retrospect she’d wondered what it was that had caused her to approach him. The fact she recognized him from earlier in the evening was part of the answer, she was convinced of that. Yet there was something more. He was so intense, so compelling, and she’d sensed integrity in him.

A half grin had widened into a full one at her comment about him being the only one there not wearing leather and chains.

He raised his hand, and the waitress appeared. “Two of the same.”

“I don’t know if that would be a good idea,” Hannah said. She intended to stay only long enough to discourage the pair waiting for her outside.

“You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Hannah didn’t argue with him. It would do little good, and he was right. She continued to tremble, but she wasn’t completely convinced fear was the reason. Even then, something deep inside her had known. Not consciously, of course. It was as though some deep inner part of herself had reached out to this stranger. Intuitively she’d known he would never harm her. The waitress delivered two amber-colored drinks. Hannah didn’t have a clue what she was tasting. All she did know was that a small sip of it was potent enough to burn all the way down her throat and settle in her stomach like a ball of fire. The taste wasn’t unpleasant, just potent.

“Do you have a name?” the sailor asked her.

“Hannah. What about you?”

“Riley Murdock.”

She grinned, intrigued by the name. “Riley Murdock,” she repeated slowly. She watched as he raised the glass to his lips and was struck by how sensuous his mouth was. With some folks, Hannah had noted over the years, the eyes were the most expressive feature. One look at her father’s eyes and she could easily read his mood. Riley was different. His eyes were blank. Impersonal. But his mouth competently telegraphed his thoughts. He was intrigued with her, amused. The way the corners turned up just slightly told her as much.

“Are you here for Seafair?” she asked, making polite conversation. A second sip burned a path down the back of her throat.

He nodded. “We’re only in port for the next few days.”

“So, how do you like Seattle?” She was beginning to grow warm. It was a good feeling that radiated out from the pit of her stomach, and it had the most peculiar effect on her. It relaxed Hannah. The tension eased from between her shoulder blades and the stiffness left her arms. She was a little dizzy, but that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, either.

“Seattle’s all right.” Murdock sounded like a man who’d been in too many ports to appreciate one over another. He finished the last of the his drink and, not wanting him to think she was unappreciative, Hannah sipped from her own. Actually, once she grew accustomed to the flavor, the taste was mellow and smooth. It still burned, but the fire was warm and gentle. Welcome.

“Finish your drink and I’ll walk you to your car,” Murdock offered.

Hannah was grateful. It took her several minutes to down the potent liquor, but he was patient. He didn’t seem to be the talkative sort and that suited her. She wasn’t interested in conversation any more than he was.

If the two men who’d followed her were waiting for her outside, Hannah didn’t see them. She was glad. A confrontation was something she wanted to avoid, although she was surprised by how formidable Riley Murdock looked when he stood. He was easily six feet if not an inch or two taller. And rock solid. His arms weren’t bulging with muscles, but there was a strength in him that Hannah had sensed from the moment she’d first seen him. A physical strength, yes, but a substantial emotional fortitude, as well. Although she wasn’t good at judging ages, she guessed him to be somewhere in his early thirties. Light-years beyond her twenty-three.

Moonlight cascaded over the street as they started walking. The sky was filled with stars as though someone had scattered diamond dust across endless yards of black satin. Riley rested his hand on her shoulder in a protective, possessive gesture that Hannah found comforting. If she were to shut her eyes, she could almost pretend it was Jerry at her side and not some sailor she barely knew. He was so near, so strong, and being with him, standing this close, blocked out the sharp edges of the pain that had dominated her life these past few weeks.

For the first time since her father had come to break the news to her about Jerry, the dull ache was gone. It felt so good not to hurt, so pleasant that she didn’t want this time to end. Not so soon. Not yet.

An unexplainable comfort radiated from her shoulder where Riley had placed his hand. His touch was light, gentle, nonthreatening. Hannah had to force herself to lean into him and absorb his strength. It felt so good to have him at her side, so strong and reassuring.

They paused at a street corner and Hannah glanced up at him; her gaze slid warmly into his. She smiled briefly, feeling a little shy and awkward, yet at the same time more bold than she could ever remember being. It was the drink, she told herself, that had lent her the courage to behave the way she had.

From the corner of her eye she noticed the light change, but neither moved. He was openly studying her, reading her. Hannah boldly met his gaze. Gently his hand slid up the side of her neck. She closed her eyes and slowly, seductively, rubbed her chin across the tops of his fingers in a catlike motion. Warm sensations enveloped her and she smiled contentedly. This was what she’d had before and lost. Heaven help her, she needed something to hold on to through the years, something that could never be taken away from her the way Jerry had been. If she were to be damned for seizing the moment, then so be it. Without thinking, without calculating her actions, she turned and placed her arms around Riley’s neck, stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him. She knew from his reaction that she’d taken him by surprise. Hannah had never done anything more brazen in her life. She guessed there were subtler ways of letting him know what she wanted, but she was a novice at this and was reacting to impulse and not reason.

Kissing a stranger was completely out of character for Hannah. Everything had taken on an unreal quality. At least when she was in Riley’s arms she was feeling again. And it was so good to experience something other than pain, something more than the agony that stampeded her heart and soul.

Riley slipped his hands over her hips and held on to her waist as if he weren’t sure what he wanted. His gaze pierced hers, and Hannah smiled shyly back. He plunged his fingers through her hair and stared down on her for several breath-stopping moments before he kissed her. Sighing, Hannah leaned toward him. Together they made warm, moist kisses, each one increasing in intensity. His tongue edged apart the seam of her lips and then traced the roundness of her mouth.

When they reluctantly parted, neither spoke. Hannah could feel him assessing her, but what conclusions he drew, she could only speculate. She didn’t want him to ponder her boldness too much, because then she’d be forced into thinking herself, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Leaning her weight against him, she stroked her long fingers against his nape, sliding them into his hair. Soon she was directing his mouth back to hers.

If there had been a sensible thought left in her head, Hannah banished it as she sought his kiss. He didn’t disappoint her, displaying an eagerness, a willingness that made her stomach warm. Gradually the sensation plummeted to the lower half of her body. The delicious, delightful excitement seemed to increase with each sweet foray of his tongue and mouth. Wanting to squeeze out every inch of feeling, she started to rotate her hips, pressing against him where she ached the most.

He caught her by the waist, forcing her to still.

“Hannah—” he breathed her name in a soft sexy way that sent chills scooting down her spine “—do you know what you’re asking for?”

She bit into her lower lip and nodded.

“Then let’s get a hotel room. A decent one.”

She should have stopped him, called a halt at that very moment. She might have if he hadn’t kissed her again. It should be Jerry she was loving; but he was gone and Riley was very much alive, and she needed him. The havoc his touch created within her was too powerful to resist. It was as if she were wading in floodwaters, struggling to remain upright against a raging storm of need. Sensation abounded, so full, so abundant, her inhibitions toppled over one another like tumbling dominos.

Hannah remembered little of anything else until they were inside the rented room. She recalled that Riley had stopped every now and again on the moonlit sidewalk to kiss her as if he feared she might change her mind.

The fact they didn’t have any luggage wasn’t a concern to the clerk who handed them the key and pointed the way toward the elevator. The minute they were inside the antique contraption, Riley pulled her back into his arms.

Hannah was convinced that if the room had been on the tenth floor instead of the third, he would have made love to her then and there.

He unlocked the door but didn’t bother to turn on the light switch. The drapes were open, and the moonlight spilled softly across the bed. With his arm around her waist, he guided her inside and closed the door, leaning her against it.

His hands, pressed on either side of her face, imprisoned her against the hard door. His eyes found hers, as if he needed some form of reassurance.

Hannah smiled and, raising her fingertips to his mouth, unhurriedly traced his lower lip. His mouth was warm and moist, soft to the touch. Enticing. Leaning forward, she kissed him, shyly using her tongue as he’d done with her.

Riley moaned, and catching the back of her head, deepened the kiss until they were both breathless with need. Even in the dark, Hannah could see how intense his eyes were, filled with a desire so powerful that just looking at him caused her skin to tingle.

Then slowly, purposefully, he unfastened the buttons of her blouse—one by one, starting at the bottom and working his way up. It was as though he expected her to stop him, and he seemed mildly surprised when she didn’t. He removed her shirt and then her bra, dropping both to the floor. Once she was bare, he seemed to let an inordinate amount of time pass before he removed his own shirt.

Gently, as though he sensed he was frightening her, he caught the lush fullness of her breasts in his palms, lifting them. “You’re very beautiful.”

She blinked, not knowing what to say. “So-o are you.”

He smiled as if she’d amused him and, leaning down, caught her nipple in his mouth, closing over the fullness of her soft, feminine mound before lavishing it with greedy attention. His tongue laved the tightening hardness and then he sucked fiercely. Hannah whimpered at the startling wave of pleasure it gave her. Gradually she grew accustomed to his attentions and relaxed, closing her eyes as she delved her fingers into his hair. He repeated the process with her other breast, and Hannah felt a stirring sense of wonder at each powerful tug of his mouth. The warm, heavy feeling she’d experienced earlier in the lower half of her body returned a hundredfold, and she moved instinctively against the hard bulge in his loins.

“That’s right, baby,” he murmured as his hand found the snap on her jeans.

Once they were both free of their clothes, Riley picked her up in his arms and effortlessly carried her to the bed.

He was eager then; too eager to go slowly. He mounted her, settling himself between her open thighs. Not sure how much pain to expect, Hannah tensed, gritted her teeth and turned her head to the side. He caught her by the chin, however, and kissed her deeply, causing the heat to rise to the exploding point. Not knowing how else to ask for him to make love to her, Hannah raised her hips.

It seemed to be what he was waiting for as he settled between her legs, his heated shaft nudging apart the creamy folds of her womanhood. Once again Hannah tightened her jaw as he relentlessly entered her, pausing only when he met the restrictive barrier of her virginity.

He stopped then, frozen. Hannah’s gaze found his, and she read his confusion. He pulled back his head, gritting his teeth, his look tense and confused.

“It’s all right,” she whispered softly. Fearing he might leave her, she looped her arms around his neck and drew his mouth to her own. The kiss was wild, tempestuous, a battle of wills.

Hannah wasn’t sure who won. In the end it didn’t matter. Slowly, determined to bring her whatever pleasure he could, Riley continued forward, tiny increment by tiny increment until he was buried so deep inside her, she was convinced he could go no deeper.

She was panting with pain, panting with pleasure. He gave her a moment to adjust to him, to allow her senses to recover. She felt his heat, his strength, his hardness envelop her, and she felt as though her heart reached out to him, bonding them in ways she never expected. Twinges of pleasure gradually overcame those that had brought her pain.

Slowly he began to move within her, in long easy strokes that lingered and then opulently replenished the pleasure.

Heat encompassed her, and when it became too much, she moaned and bit into her lip, breathlessly searching, striving for what she didn’t know. In the end, release came, making her senses explode in shattering waves so strong they lifted the upper portion of her body off the bed.

He held her for a long time afterward; he kissed the crown of her head gently, then rolled onto his side, taking her with him. His arms continued to hold her as he brushed the hair from her face with gentle fingers and wiped the moisture from her eyes. He was full of questions—Hannah sensed them as profoundly as if they were spoken—yet he left them unasked. For a long time he did nothing but hold her, and for then it was more than enough.

She fell asleep, and woke chilled. Riley was awake still, and when he saw her tremble, he pulled up the covers, then gathered her close into his arms once again.

“Why?” he asked her, his voice deep and impatient.

Hannah could think of no way to explain. At least not with words. Tilting back her head, she brushed her lips over his, loving the velvet feel of his mouth and tongue.

“That doesn’t explain a whole lot.”

“I know.” She had no answers for him. The emptiness was back—reality so harsh and brutal that she couldn’t bear it a moment longer. Not knowing any other way to ease it, she raised her arms and brought his mouth down to hers and kissed him once more. He wanted answers, not kisses, but soon his physical need overpowered everything else and he made love to her a second time.

Hannah woke at dawn, sick with guilt and self-recrimination, and quietly slipped from the room. It was the last time she’d seen Riley Murdock.

She lay in bed, eyes open wide as she stared at the ceiling. The time had come for her to quit fooling herself. The week before, she’d bought a home pregnancy test at the local drugstore, hiding it under a magazine until she’d reached the checkout stand. It was in her underwear drawer now.

Reading the instructions carefully, she did as they said and waited the longest fifteen minutes of her life for the results.

Positive.

She was pregnant. By her best calculations, almost three months. Dear God, what was she going to do? Hannah had no answers. None. If her mother had been alive she might have been able to confide in her, seek her advice. But her mother had died when she was thirteen.

By rote Hannah set a roast in the oven and waited for her father to return from the church service. At twelve-thirty he walked in the back door, and his gentle eyes brightened when he saw her sitting at the kitchen table.

“So you’re feeling better?”

She offered him a feeble smile and clenched her hands together in her lap. “Daddy,” she whispered, her eyes avoiding his, “I…I have something to tell you.”




Chapter Two


Riley Murdock had been in one bitch of a mood for nearly three months. He’d done everything within his power to locate the mysterious Hannah and cursed himself a hundred times over that he hadn’t thought to ask for her surname.

Once he found her, he didn’t know what the hell he intended to do. Strangling her seemed like a damn good idea. The woman had driven him crazy from the moment she first stumbled into him on the festive Seattle sidewalk.

When he’d woken to find her gone that morning, he’d been devastated with self-recrimination. Then he’d grown furious. In the weeks since, his wrath hadn’t diminished. He didn’t know what game she was playing, but by heaven he intended to find out.

If there was anyone to blame in this fiasco, Riley noted, it was himself. He’d known from the first that she wasn’t like the other women who frequented waterfront bars. The story she’d told him about a couple of men following her was true. She’d been genuinely frightened, trembling with anxiety. The look in her eyes—damn, but she had beautiful gray eyes—couldn’t easily be fabricated. Why she had opted to approach him, he didn’t know. The woman was full of surprises.

If he was astonished by the fact she’d chosen to sit at his table, then he should have been a candidate for a heart transplant when he discovered she was a virgin. As many times as Riley had analyzed what happened between them, nothing added up right.

She’d approached him. She’d been the one to kiss him. Hell, she’d practically seduced him. Seduced by a virgin. No wonder the tally kept coming up inaccurate. He should have realized, should have figured it out. Instead, he’d been left to deal with this incredible sense of guilt. If only she hadn’t disappeared without explaining. Anger tightened his stomach every time he thought about waking up that morning and finding her gone. He’d damn near torn apart the desk manager trying to find out about her. But apparently no one had seen her go.

Riley blamed himself still. He feared he’d frightened her so badly that she’d fled in horror. Had he hurt her? She’d been so tight and so small. It was all he could do not to slam his fist into the wall every time he thought about their brief encounter, which was damn near every minute of every day. What had happened to her since? Was she sick? Alone? Frightened? Pregnant?

He’d been in control of their encounter until she’d kissed him. Now it was weeks later and he still reeled at the memory of the gentle, shy way in which she’d pressed her lips to his. He cursed how he could close his eyes and continue to taste her. How sweet she’d been. How warm and delicate. Her lips had molded to his, and her flavor reminded him of cotton candy. That alone was enough to torment him, but it wasn’t all. Her fragrance continued to obsess him. It wasn’t a commercial one he could name. The only way he could think to describe it was to imagine walking waist-deep in a field of wildflowers.

The woman had somersaulted into his life, sent his senses cartwheeling, and then, without a thought, without a care, had vanished, leaving him bitter and confused.

The hell with her, Riley decided rashly. He’d wasted enough time, energy and expense trying to find her. He’d return to his well-ordered life and forget her. Which was obviously what she intended to do with him.

If only he could forget her.

“Dad,” Hannah pleaded softly, fighting to hold back a sob, “say something.”

The truth was out, and Hannah hung her head waiting for the backlash of anger and disappointment. It was what she deserved and what she expected.

To her surprise, her father said nothing. He sat in the chair and stared into space, his face devoid of expression. Then he stood, laboriously, as if he were feeling old and beaten. Without a word he walked out the back door.

Tears filled Hannah’s eyes as her gaze followed him. He stood on the porch for several moments, his hand wrapped around the support beam, and stared into a cloudless October sky. Then, stepping off the porch, once again with slow and strained movements, he crossed the parsonage lawn and entered the old white church. Hannah sat at the kitchen table and gave him fifteen minutes before she followed him.

She found her father kneeling at the front of the church, before the altar, his head and shoulders slumped forward. Her heart constricted painfully at the sight of him there on his knees.

“Daddy,” she whispered, speaking to him as she’d done as a frightened child. She was frightened. Not of what he’d say or of what he’d do, but because the circumstances surrounding this pregnancy were so complex.

George Raymond opened his eyes and straightened. Placing his hand on his knee, he rose awkwardly to his feet. His gaze rested on her, and she watched as his Adam’s apple moved up and down his throat while he struggled to restrain the emotion. He tried to smile, a weak attempt to comfort her, then took her hand and together they sat in the front pew.

Hot tears brimmed in Hannah’s eyes, threatening to spill over. The lump in her throat felt as large as a basketball, making swallowing nearly impossible. Her father had every right to be angry with her, to rage at her for her stupidity. What she’d done had been the height of irresponsibility. In her anguish she’d rebelled against everything she’d been raised to believe—an incredible departure from anything she’d ever done.

If she could offer any excuse, it was that she hadn’t been herself. The hours she’d spent with Riley had been the first in days, in weeks, in which she wasn’t suffocating in her grief. She’d reached out to him, a stranger, needing his touch, needing to be held and loved and protected. Needing a reprieve from her pain to ease the frustration of having been cheated from this experience with Jerry, the only man she’d ever truly loved. She’d been despondent, and in her anguish she’d sought the comfort of a stranger. It had been sheer stupidity on her part. And now she was faced with the knowledge that the one major indiscretion of her life was about to bear fruit.

Even if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, even if she’d been able to bury the events of that night for what remained of her life, she had changed. Not only in the physical sense. It had taken her several weeks to realize the physical aspects of her experience were only a minor portion of their lovemaking. Her emotions had become involved. She didn’t know how to explain it or what to make of it. She’d assumed that once she left the hotel room, she’d never think of Riley again. But she did, almost constantly, against every dictate of her will.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” she whispered brokenly. “So sorry.”

Her father wrapped her gently in his arms. “I know, Hannah, I know.”

“I was wrong…. I was so angry at God for taking Jerry. I loved him so much.”

With a tenderness that pitched knives at her heart, her father brushed the hair from her face. “I needed a few moments alone to think through this situation. I’ve been reminded that God doesn’t make mistakes. This child growing under your heart was planted there for a reason. I don’t know why any more than I understand the reason God took Jerry home. Nevertheless you are going to have a baby, and the only thing we can do is make the best of the situation.”

Hannah nodded, not knowing what to say. She didn’t deserve so wonderful a father.

“I love you, Hannah. Yes, I’m hurt. Yes, I’m disappointed in your lack of judgment. But there is nothing you could ever do that would change my love for you or the fact you’re my daughter.”

Hannah closed her eyes and breathed deeply, clinging to her father’s strength and his love.

“Now, tell me his name,” he said, breaking away from her.

Keeping her gaze lowered, she whispered, “Riley Murdock… We met only once—the night of the torchlight parade. He’s in the Navy, but I don’t have a clue where he’s stationed.” Finding him now would be impossible, which was just as well. Hannah didn’t want to think about what Riley would say or do once he found out she was carrying his child. Frankly, she wondered if he’d even remember her.

Her father gripped her hand in both his own, and once again Hannah noted how frail he looked. The lines around his eyes and mouth had formed into deep grooves and there was more gray than reddish brown in his thick thatch of hair. Funny how she hadn’t noticed that earlier. The changes had come since Jerry’s death, but she’d been so consumed by pain and uncertainty that she hadn’t noticed he’d been dealing with his own grief.

“The first thing we have to do,” he said gently, “is make a doctor’s appointment for you. I’m sure Doc Hanson will be able to see you first thing Monday morning. I’ll give him a call myself.”

Hannah nodded. Unwilling to face the truth, she’d delayed contacting a physician longer than she should have. Doc Hanson was a friend of the family and could be trusted to be discreet.

“Then,” Hannah told him, drawing in a deep sigh, “we’ll need to decide where I should go.”

“Go?” Her father’s dear face darkened, the age lines becoming even more pronounced.

“I won’t be able to continue living here,” she said, her tone weary. She wasn’t thinking of herself, but of her father and of Jerry’s memory.

“But why, Hannah?”

She inhaled deeply. “Everyone will assume the child is Jerry’s.” With everything in her heart she wished her fiancé had fathered her child, but she had to deal with the cold, harsh facts. Riley Murdock—a stranger from the Seattle waterfront—was the father. Although it was tempting, very tempting, to allow her church family and friends to believe she carried Jerry’s child, she couldn’t have lived with the lie. Not when he’d always been so morally upright.

“We’ll simply explain to everyone that the child isn’t Jerry’s,” her father stated with one hard nod of his head, as if that alone would set everything right.

“Do you honestly think the congregation will believe me?” she asked him, the words tight in her throat. “I have to leave, Dad,” she said firmly, unwilling to compromise.

For her father’s sake she must leave Seattle. He’d been such a loving and kind parent, and there were sure to be those in the church who would malign him for her wrongdoings. There would be an equal number who would stand beside them both with loving support, but Hannah couldn’t bear to see her father suffer because of her mistakes.

“I’ll go live with Aunt Helen until after the baby’s born….”

“And then what?” her father demanded, sounding uncharacteristically alarmed.

“I…don’t know. I’ll cross that bridge when I reach it.” So many questions and concerns were coming at her, like a spray of rocks from a speeding car. Hannah didn’t feel capable of fending off a single one, at least not now.

“We don’t need to decide anything yet,” he assured her after a moment. But he wore a thoughtful frown as they walked back to the house, where Hannah had left dinner simmering.

The frown didn’t seem to leave her father’s features from that moment forward. Hannah had been in to see Doc Hanson, who confirmed what she already knew. He ran a series of tests and prescribed iron tablets and vitamins because she was anemic. He’d been gentle and kind and didn’t ply her with questions, for which she was grateful.

It was Friday afternoon nearly two weeks after Hannah had first told her father about the pregnancy. Exhausted from her day’s work as an underwriting assistant for a major insurance company, she walked into the house and discovered her father waiting for her in the living room. He sat in his favorite chair, his hands curved around the faded upholstered arms, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Hannah called it his “thinking chair.” To discover him resting in the middle of the afternoon was highly unusual.

“Good afternoon, Dad,” she greeted with a smile, and walked across the worn beige carpet to kiss his weathered cheek. “Is everything all right?”

“It’s just fine,” he said, returning her smile with an absent one of his own. “Keep your coat on. We’re going out.”

“We are?” Offhand, Hannah couldn’t think of any appointment she’d made. Only infrequently did she accompany her father on house calls, and those were generally scheduled for Tuesday and Thursday evenings. George Raymond made it a point to visit every family in his congregation at least once a year.

His hand protectively cupped her elbow as he led her out the front door and down the steps. The station wagon was parked in the driveway.

“Where are we going?” Hannah questioned. Rarely had she seen her father look more resolute. It was as if he were marching with Joshua, preparing to face the walls of Jericho.

When he didn’t answer, she assumed he hadn’t heard her and she repeated the question. That, too, was ignored.

He drove silently for several minutes before he reached the freeway, and then he headed south toward Tacoma. The car was warm, and although she was curious as to what was happening, Hannah soon found her eyes drifting closed. Her head bobbed a couple of times as she struggled to remain awake. If only she’d get over this depressing need for extra sleep. It seemed she couldn’t last through the day without napping. Lately she’d taken to heading for bed nearly as soon as she’d finished the dinner dishes. She shifted positions and opened her eyes when they crossed the Narrows Bridge and headed toward the Kitsap Peninsula.

She woke when her father made a sharp turn and eased to a stop in front of a guard house. He rolled down the window, and a blast of cold air alerted Hannah to the fact they’d arrived at their destination. She straightened and looked around. Although she’d never been on one before, she recognized immediately that they were entering a military compound.

“Dad?” she quizzed. “Where are we?”

“Bangor,” he announced a little too loudly. “We’re meeting Riley Murdock.”

In Chaplain Stewart’s office Riley sat, ramrod straight, across the room from Hannah Raymond and her stern-faced father. Riley’s gaze narrowed as he fired a look in her direction. Not once did she deign to glance his way. She sat, her back as rigid as his own, but although she held her head high, her gaze refused to meet his. Perhaps it was just as well.

First thing the previous morning, Riley had been called before his commanding officer. When he arrived, he’d discovered Chaplain Stewart and Lieutenant Commander Steven Kyle.

“Do you know a woman by the name of Hannah Raymond?” the chaplain had asked him.

Riley had reacted with surprise. For three months he’d been frantically searching for her, spending every available weekend combing the Seattle waterfront, asking if anyone had seen a woman of her description. He’d followed the leads, but each one had led to a frustrating dead end. He’d gone so far as to contact a detective agency, but they’d offered him little hope. All Riley knew about her was her first name and the fact she had shiny brown hair and dove-gray eyes. There simply hadn’t been enough information, and the agency had been discouraging.

“I know her,” Riley admitted.

“How well?”

Riley had stiffened. “Well enough.”

“Then you may be interested to learn she’s pregnant,” Chaplain Stewart stated abruptly, looking at Riley as though he were the spawn of the devil.

Riley felt as if someone had knocked his feet out from under him, and then, when he was laid low, viciously kicked him.

“Pregnant,” he repeated, stunned, as though he’d never heard the word before.

“She claims the child is yours,” his CO explained. “She maintains it happened during Seafair, which means she’d be about three months along. Does that time frame gel with you?”

Fury and outrage twisted inside Riley until he couldn’t speak. All he could manage was a sharp nod. He clenched his powerful fists at his sides until he was sure he’d cut off the blood supply to his fingers.

“At Seafair?” the commanding officer pressed.

Again Riley nodded. “That would be about right.” The woman had put him through three months of living hell, and he wouldn’t soon forget or forgive that. “When did she contact you?” he asked his CO.

It was Chaplain Stewart who answered. “She didn’t.”

“Then who did?” he demanded.

“George Raymond, Hannah’s father. He’s had an extensive investigation done on you, as well.”

Great. Wonderful. Now Riley was going to be left to deal with an irate father. That was exactly what he needed to start his day off on the wrong foot.

“George and I attended seminary together,” the chaplain had continued, and it was clear from the way he spoke that the two men had been good friends. “When Hannah confessed that the father of her unborn child was in the Navy, George contacted me, hoping I’d be able to help him locate you.”

Riley couldn’t believe this was happening. The desire to wring Hannah’s scrawny neck increased by the minute.

Hannah was pregnant! If he had any luck, Riley swore, it was all bad. Okay, so he was being mildly unreasonable. But she was the one who’d come on to him. He’d assumed, at least in the beginning, that she must be using protection. If he’d believed otherwise he would have taken care of the matter himself. It wasn’t until after he’d discovered she was a virgin that he had briefly wondered. And worried. He’d admit now that the deed was staring him in the face.

“What does she want?” Riley demanded. Support, medical bills, maybe even an allotment to cover her expenses while she was unable to work. Riley had no intention of sloughing off his duty. He was the one responsible and he’d own up to it.

Chaplain Stewart stood and walked across the room. He paused and then rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, as if he needed extra time to shepherd his thoughts.

“As I told you earlier, George Raymond is a minister. In his mind there’s only one thing to be done.”

“And that is?” Riley demanded, remembering he’d left his checkbook at his apartment.

“He wants you to marry his daughter.”

“What?” Riley was so shocked he nearly laughed out loud. “Marry her? Hell, I don’t even know her.”

“You know her well enough,” the chaplain reminded him, throwing Riley’s own words back in his face. “Listen, son,” he continued thoughtfully, “no one’s going to force you to marry the girl.”

“You’re damn right about that,” Riley returned heatedly, slightly amused that he’d gone from Satan’s spawn to “son” in a matter of a few minutes.

“Hannah’s not like other women.”

Riley didn’t need to be reminded of that, either. No one else he’d ever kissed tasted half as good as she had, or smelled so fresh and lovely. No other woman had loved him nearly as well, Riley reminded himself regretfully; her untutored responses haunted him still. He’d felt engulfed by her tenderness, awed by her beauty and jolted by her hungry need. She’d been so tight and so hot that even now, he couldn’t think about their night together without wanting her again.

“You have to understand,” Chaplain Stewart went on to say, “Hannah’s been raised in the church. Her mother died when she was in her early teens, and she took over the family responsibilities then. Her older brother’s in the mission field in India. This young woman comes from as traditional a background as you can imagine.”

That was all fine and wonderful. She’d cared for her family, and he didn’t doubt she possessed more than one admirable trait, but Riley wasn’t convinced marriage would be the best solution to the problem. Not only weren’t they acquainted, Hannah’s life couldn’t have been less like his own had they sat down and drawn up a composite of opposite family types.

“Wanting to protect those she loves, not wanting to shame her family, Hannah’s apparently opted to move away.”

“Where?” Riley demanded, instantly alarmed. He had the feeling he was going to end up following this woman halfway across the country before this was over.

“I’m hoping her leaving the area won’t be necessary,” Chaplain Stewart said pointedly.

“What the chaplain is saying,” Lieutenant Commander Kyle stressed, “is that if you married the young lady it would solve several problems. But I want it understood, that decision is yours.”

Riley stiffened. No one was going to force him into marrying against his will. He’d rot in jail before he’d be pressured into wedding a woman he didn’t want. At his silence, Riley’s CO leafed through his file, which was spread open across the top of his desk. Riley would be up for Senior Chief within the next couple of years, and the promotion was important to him. Damn important.

“Think about what Chaplain Stewart has said,” Lieutenant Commander Kyle urged. “The Navy can’t and won’t force you to marry the woman.”

“That’s true enough,” the chaplain added. “But from everything I’ve seen and heard, I believe it’s the only decent thing you can do.”

Both men were looking at him as if he’d enticed Hannah Raymond into his bed. They weren’t likely to believe she’d been the one who’d seduced him!

Riley had brooded over the meeting with Lieutenant Commander Kyle and Chaplain Stewart all night. Hannah was pregnant with his child and the chaplain was breathing down his back like monster dragons exhaling fire. Although his CO hadn’t said it, Riley had the impression his promotion might well hang in the balance. Everyone else seemed to know what he should do about it. Everyone, that is, except him.

Now that he saw Hannah again, Riley was even more uncertain. He remembered her as being a lovely creature, but not nearly so delicate and ethereal. She was thin—thinner than when he’d met her that July night—and so pale he wondered about her health.

Riley feared the pregnancy had already taken its toll on her, and he couldn’t help being concerned about her well-being. The urge to protect and care for her was strong, but Riley pushed it aside in favor of the anger that had been building within him for the past several months.

He had damn good reason for being furious with her.

“Are you convinced the child is yours?” Chaplain Stewart directed the question to Riley.

The room went still, as though everyone were on tenterhooks anticipating his reply. “The baby’s mine,” he answered firmly.

Hannah’s soft gray gaze slid to his as if she longed to thank him for telling the truth. He wanted to leap to his feet and remind her that she’d been the one to run out on him. It hadn’t happened the other way around. If anyone’s integrity was to be questioned, then it should be hers.

“Are you prepared to marry my daughter?” demanded the thin, graying man Riley could only assume was Hannah’s father.

“Dad?” Hannah gasped, pleading with her father. “Don’t do this, please.” Her voice was soft and honest, and Riley doubted that many men could refuse her.

Reverend Raymond looked at Riley as if he fully expected him to sprout horns and drag out a pitchfork. If that were the case, it was ironic that the minister was demanding that Riley marry his daughter.

“As your father, I insist this young man do right by you.”

“Chaplain Stewart,” Hannah said, coming to her feet, ignoring her father. “Could Riley and I talk for a few minutes…alone?” The last word was added pointedly.

The two older men seemed to reach a tacit agreement. “All right, Hannah” the Navy chaplain agreed, coming to his feet. “Perhaps that would be for the best. Come on, George. I’ll pour us a cup of coffee and we’ll leave these two to sort out their problems in their own way. I have faith young Murdock means well.”

Riley waited until the door had closed before he leaped to his feet. He glared across the room at Hannah, not knowing what to do first—shake her until her teeth rattled or gently take her in his arms and demand to know why she was so deathly pale. Before he had the opportunity to speak, she did.

“I’m terribly sorry about all this,” she murmured. “I had no idea my father had contacted you.”

“Why’d you leave?” he bit out the question between clenched teeth, still undecided about how he was going to deal with her.

She frowned as if she didn’t understand his question. Her brow creased until she understood, and then it creased even more. “I suppose I owe you an apology for that, as well.”

“You’re damn right you do.”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“Obviously,” he retorted, trapped in his anger. “No one in their right mind would do this to themselves. The question is, what the hell are we going to do about it now?”

“Oh, don’t worry. It isn’t necessary for you to marry me. I don’t know what ever made Dad suggest that.”

She seemed so damn smug about it, and that riled him all the more.

“Apparently your father feels differently. He seems to think my marrying you would salvage your honor.”

She nodded. Her hair was tied at her nape, giving Riley a clear view of the delicate lines of her face. As pale as she was, she resembled a porcelain doll, fragile and easily breakable. She looked dangerously close to that point right then.

“My father is an old-fashioned man with traditional values. Marriage is what he would expect.”

“What do you expect?” His tone was less harsh, his concern for her outweighing his irritation.

Hannah placed her hand on her smooth stomach as though she longed to protect the child. Riley’s gaze dropped there, and he waited a moment, trying to analyze his own feelings. A child grew there. His child. Try as he might, he felt nothing except regret mingled with a healthy dose of concern.

“I…I’m not sure what I want from you,” Hannah answered. “As I tried to tell you before, I feel terrible about dragging you into this mess.”

“It takes two. You didn’t create that child on your own.”

Her smile was shy. “Yes, I know. It’s just that I never meant to involve you…afterward.”

That didn’t set any better with Riley than the implied threat from his commanding officer. “So you intended to run off and have my child without telling me?”

“I…didn’t have a clue as to how to find you,” she argued.

“Your father didn’t seem to have much of a problem.”

She looked away as though she wanted to avoid an argument. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to contact you.”

She sure the hell had a low opinion of him. It rankled Riley that Miss High-and-Mighty would make those kinds of assumptions about him.

“Next time don’t assume anything,” he barked. “Ask!”

“I apologize—”

“That’s another thing. Quit apologizing.” He held both hands to his head, hoping the applied pressure to his scalp would help him think.

“Are you always this difficult to talk to?” she asked. He was pleased to hear a little mettle in her voice. It told him he hadn’t been wrong about her. This woman had plenty of spirit. It also assured him her health wasn’t as bad as he suspected.

“I am when I’ve been backed into a corner,” Riley stormed.

She stood and reached for her coat. “Then let me assure you I’m not the one forcing you into a marriage you obviously don’t want.”

“You’re right. It isn’t you. It’s the United States Navy.”

“The Navy? I…don’t understand.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Riley barked. “It’s either do right by you or kiss a promotion I’ve been working toward for the last several years goodbye.” Lieutenant Commander Kyle had implied as much in a few short words.

“Oh, dear. I had no idea.”

“Obviously not.” He rammed all ten fingers through his hair, then dropped his hands to his sides. “My career could be on the line with this one, sweetheart.” That was an exaggeration, but in some ways Riley felt it could be true.

Hannah grimaced at the derogatory way in which he’d used the term of affection. “But surely if I spoke to them…if I were to explain…”

Riley laughed shortly. “Not a chance. Your father made sure of that.”

“I didn’t know.”

“The way I see it,” he said with thick agitation, “I don’t have a hell of a lot of choice but to go ahead and marry you.”

Hannah’s head snapped up at that. “You…can’t seriously be considering going through with a wedding.”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”




Chapter Three


In a matter of hours, Hannah was scheduled to become Mrs. Riley Murdock. She sat on the end of her bed, wrestling imaginary crocodiles of doubt and indecision. They might as well be real, she mused, clenching and unclenching her hands. She felt as though there were powerful jaws snapping at her, jagged teeth tearing at her confidence and determination.

It was Jerry she loved, not Riley. Nothing would ever make the hard-edged sailor into another seminary student. Hannah wasn’t foolish enough to believe the Torpedoman Chief was likely to change. One look at his cold, dark features the afternoon of the meeting at Bangor reminded her what a rugged life he led. There was nothing soft in this man. Nothing.

The day of the meeting, he’d been both angry and restless, stalking the room, thundering at her every time she attempted to apologize. In some ways she was convinced he hated her.

Yet it was his child growing within her womb. Hannah flattened her hand across her abdomen and briefly closed her eyes. Despite the complications this pregnancy had brought into her life, Hannah loved and wanted this baby.

Hannah knew that Riley wasn’t marrying because of the pregnancy. By his own admission, he was doing so for political reasons. Both her father and Chaplain Stewart had seemed relieved when Riley had announced they had agreed to go through with the wedding.

Hannah had agreed to no such thing. She’d been trapped into it, the same way Riley had. She wasn’t sure even now, sitting in her room, dressed for her wedding ceremony, that she was making the right decision.

They were so different. She didn’t love him. He didn’t love her. They’d barely spoken to each other—and it was because they had nothing in common except the child she carried. How a marriage such as theirs could ever survive more than a few weeks, Hannah didn’t know.

“Hannah,” her father called after politely knocking on her bedroom door, “it’s time we left.”

“I’m ready,” she said, standing. She reached for the two suitcases and dragged them across the top of her bed. This was all she would bring into their marriage. The pot-and-pan set, the dishes, silverware and other household items she’d collected over the years were gone. She’d donated them to the Mission House the evening she’d met Riley. The irony hadn’t been lost on her. Nor had she forgotten how Reverend Parker had announced that God works in mysterious ways. Her entire life felt like an unsolved mystery, and she’d long since given up on deciphering the meaning.

She opened the bedroom door and found her father standing on the other side, waiting for her. He smiled softly and nodded his approval. “You look beautiful.”

She blushed and thanked him. She didn’t feel beautiful in her plain, floor-length antique-white dress, but having her father smile and tell her so lent her some badly needed confidence. The fact he seemed so sure that marrying Riley was the right thing helped a great deal. She’d always trusted her father and had never doubted his wisdom.

George Raymond took the suitcases from her hands and led the way down the stairs. As he loaded the luggage into the back of the station wagon, Hannah stood on the porch and glanced around her one last time. Bright orange, gold and brown leaves blanketed the sloping lawn, and the skeletal limbs of the two chestnut trees that ruled the front yard rose toward the deep blue sky. She would miss all this, Hannah realized, wondering how long it would be before she returned.

The ride to Bangor took almost two hours. Her father did most of the talking. He seemed to sense how nervous Hannah was and sought to reassure her.

Chaplain Stewart, Riley, and a man and woman Hannah didn’t recognize were waiting for them in the vestibule of the base chapel. The chaplain and her father broke into immediate conversation. From the other side of the room, Riley’s eyes found hers. His facial expression didn’t alter, and he nodded once.

He looked tall and distinguished in his white dress uniform, and although it was little comfort, Hannah realized, that she was marrying a handsome man. In the days since their last meeting, she’d had repeated nightmares about him. In her dream he came at her like a huge monster, eager to devour her. Seeing him now produced a shiver of apprehension.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Hannah said, her voice barely audible, “I’d like a few minutes alone with Riley.”

The conversation came to an abrupt halt as Chaplain Stewart cast an accusing glare in Riley’s direction. If the other man’s censure disturbed him, he gave no indication. Silently he led the way to the opposite end of the room.

“You’ve changed your mind?” His tight features told her nothing of his thoughts. Perhaps that was what he was hoping she’d do.

“Have you?”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “I asked first.”

“I’m…willing to go through with the wedding, if you are.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

He didn’t look any too pleased about it, and she decided against saying so.

“You wanted to talk to me?” he demanded gruffly.

“Yes. I thought we should reach an understanding regarding…the sleeping arrangements before we…you know…before we…”

“No, I don’t know,” he returned impatiently. His gaze narrowed sufficiently. “Listen, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, then the deal’s off. If I’m going through the hassle of marrying you, then I want a wife, not a sister. Do I make myself understood?”

Hannah lowered her gaze, clenching her hands tightly together in front of her. “Do I have to be your…wife right away?” Her voice was soft and low.

He was silent for so long that she wasn’t sure he’d heard her. “I don’t suppose it would hurt any if we took some time to get to know one another better first.”

“That’s what I thought.” She raised her head and looked up at him, relieved that he was willing to give her the time she needed to adjust to their marriage.

“How long?” he demanded.

She blinked at the sharpness of the question. “Ah…I’m not sure. A few weeks at any rate. Possibly a couple of months.”

“A couple of months!”

Hannah was convinced the entire chapel heard him roar and would immediately guess the gist of their conversation. Her face filled with boiling color. “Couldn’t we just…well, let it happen naturally?”

His face had tightened into a brooding frown. He wasn’t pleased and didn’t bother to pretend otherwise. “I suppose.”

“Of course, we’ll be sleeping in separate bedrooms until such time that we’re both comfortable with that aspect of…our marriage.”

“Right,” he returned caustically before turning away from her. “Separate bedrooms.”

Separate bedrooms! The words repeated themselves in Riley’s mind throughout the brief wedding ceremony Hannah’s father officiated. The fact that he didn’t give Riley the chance to kiss the bride wasn’t lost on him. What he hadn’t figured out was why the old man had demanded Riley marry his daughter in the first place. His father-in-law was as straitlaced as they come. It remained a mystery why George Raymond had insisted Riley marry Hannah. Hell, if it came down to it, Riley wasn’t entirely sure what had prompted him to go through with the wedding himself. What his CO claimed had carried some weight, that was true enough, but Riley knew himself well. No one could have forced him into marrying Hannah if he’d been completely opposed to the idea. Which obviously meant, he reasoned, he wanted her as his wife.

Glancing at her now, sitting by his side as they drove to his apartment in nearby Port Orchard, gave him further cause to wonder. She hadn’t said more than a handful of words since the ceremony. He hadn’t a clue what she was thinking, but he figured she was looking for some way to get out of this.

“It was very nice of Chaplain Stewart and Lieutenant Commander Kyle to arrange housing on the base for us, wasn’t it?” she asked softly.

“Very nice,” he repeated. He wondered how many strings his CO had had to pull to come up with that. The news had come as a surprise to Riley, who’d lived in a small apartment complex for the past two years.

“When will we be moving?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

Hell, first he couldn’t get her to talk, now he couldn’t shut her up. “Next weekend.”

“Good. Packing will give me something to do while you’re gone during the day. Once we’ve moved, I’ll look for a job.”

“I don’t want you doing any lifting, you hear?” She flinched at his harsh tones, and he regretted speaking so forcefully. He’d recently bought a book on pregnancy and birth, and it had stated that lifting anything heavy should be avoided. Riley was surprised at the overwhelming urge he felt to protect Hannah and the baby.

“But I want to help.”

“We’ll do the packing together.” He left no room for argument.

“But what will I do every day?”

“What you normally do.”

“I’ve always worked.”

He was silent at that, not knowing what to tell her. He didn’t want her out looking for a job. It was plain the pregnancy had already taken a toll on her health. “Relax for a while,” he suggested after a moment. “There isn’t any need for you to rush out and find a job now.”

She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning her head against the back of the cushion. “I think I could sleep for a week.”

She looked as if she’d do exactly that, but not in his bed, Riley noted bitterly. Not in his bed.

Riley’s apartment was on the second floor of a complex overlooking Sinclair Inlet. The Nimitz, an aircraft carrier, and several other large Navy vessels were moored along the piers of the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard. Standing on the balcony, Riley pointed out each ship for her, telling her its classification and type. Most of the information went over Hannah’s head, but she found the aircraft carrier easy to distinguish from the others.

The apartment itself was compact. It was clear he’d made an effort to clean up the place a bit. The fact pleased her. The living room had been straightened and newspapers neatly stacked in the corner. The carpet was olive green and blended well with his furniture, which consisted of a black recliner and a three-quarter-length sofa.

“You thirsty?” he asked, taking a beer out of the refrigerator.

Hannah’s gaze fell on the alcoholic beverage as she shook her head. She had the feeling he’d offered it to her for shock value. “No, thank you.”

Riley shrugged, twisted off the cap and guzzled down half the contents in a series of deep swallows. His Adam’s apple bobbed with the action. Hannah turned away from him, and looked back at the narrow waterway.

“We have a minor problem,” he said, joining her at the wrought-iron railing.

“Oh?” It was barely four, and already the sky was darkening.

“The apartment only has one bedroom.”

Hannah’s heart sank. “I see.”

“Lieutenant Commander Kyle assured me the place on the base would have two, but for now we’re here. What do you want to do about the sleeping arrangements?”

Hannah didn’t know. At least not right then. “I could rest on the sofa, I guess.”

Riley snickered at that and turned away from her, pausing at the sliding-glass door. “You’d better come in before you catch a chill.”

That wasn’t likely with her wearing her full-length wool coat, but she didn’t want to argue with him. He closed the door behind her, finished the beer and tossed the brown bottle into the garbage. It made a clanking sound as it hit against a glass object, probably another beer bottle. Hannah had never been around a man who regularly indulged in alcoholic beverages and she wondered if this would become a problem between her and her husband.

“You don’t approve of drinking, do you?”

That he could read her thoughts so clearly came as a shock. “Would it matter if I did?”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought.” She hesitated, then couldn’t resist asking, “Do you do it often?”

“Often enough” was his cryptic reply. He moved past her to lift her two suitcases, which he’d set down just inside the front door, and carry them into the lone bedroom.

Curious to see the rest of the apartment, Hannah followed him down the narrow hallway. The bedroom was the only room on the left. The drapes were closed and the double bed was poorly made. Hannah guessed that he didn’t often bother to make it in the mornings.

He placed her suitcases on top of the bed, then sat on the end of the mattress. “You won’t get much sleep on that sofa. It’s old and lumpy. In case you didn’t notice, it’s also short.”

“I’ll manage.”

“I’m not a monster, you know.”

She blushed, remembering the dreams she’d had the past week about him springing horns and giant teeth. “I know.”

“You don’t sound all that convinced.” He flattened his hands and leaned back, striking a relaxed pose. “If you recall the night we met, you were the one who—”

“Please, I’d rather not talk about that night.” She abruptly left the room, walking into the kitchen. He followed her just the way she knew he would.

“In case you’ve conveniently forgotten, you were the one who seduced me.”

“I…prefer to think we seduced each other,” she returned boldly.

“Naturally, that’s what you’d choose to think.”

Her face felt fire-engine red. “Do you mind if we change the subject?”

“Not in the least. Answer me one thing, though. What do you expect will happen if we share the same bed? You don’t want me to touch you, then fine, I wouldn’t dream of it. You have my word of honor.”

Hannah ignored the question and the man. Opening the refrigerator, she removed a head of lettuce and a package of half-frozen hamburger. “How does taco salad sound for dinner?”

“Fine, for tomorrow night.”

Her gaze flew to his, not understanding him.

“We’ll be dining out this evening.”

“We are?”

“Right,” he said, grinning at her, his look almost boyish. He seemed to enjoy teasing her, bringing up details that would embarrass her, possibly because he fancied seeing her blush. “Far be it for you to tell Junior how you were forced to cook on our wedding day.”

“Junior?” Funny, but she’d never given the sex of their baby any thought. The fact that he had, warmed her heart.

“We’ll call him that for now, unless you’d rather not.”

Her eyes met his, and for the first time that day she felt like smiling. “I don’t mind, although I think you should be prepared for a juniorette.”

“Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter to me. A baby is a baby.”

His matter-of-fact attitude stole a little of her good cheer, but she didn’t let it show.

“It’s ladies’ choice tonight. What’s your pleasure?”

Hannah hesitated. She’d been craving seafood for weeks, but it was expensive and she didn’t want him to think she was extravagant. “Any place would be fine.”

“Not with me. It isn’t every day a man gets married. How would you feel about a seafood buffet? It’s a bit of a drive, but there’s a wonderful restaurant on Hood Canal that serves fabulous lobster.”

“Lobster?” Hannah’s eyes rounded with pleasure.

“And shrimp. And oysters and scallops.”

“Oh, stop,” she said with a laugh. “It sounds too good to be true.” This man had the most incredible knack of reading her mind.

He reached for her hand, and grinning, he led her out the front door and down the stairs to where his red CRX was parked. The drive took the better part of an hour, but once they arrived and were seated, Hannah realized it had been well worth the effort. The smells were incredible. The scent of warm bread mingled with garlic and freshly fried oysters.

Hannah piled her plate high with steamed clams and hot bread. As soon as she was finished, she returned for a slice of grilled salmon and barbecued shrimp, balancing a cup of thick clam chowder on the edge of her plate. The waitress came by with a glass of milk, which Riley had apparently ordered for her. She was pleased to note that he chose coffee for himself.

“This is wonderful,” she exclaimed, after returning to the buffet table for the third time. She took a sampling of finger lobster and some oysters.

Riley was openly staring at her.

“Is something wrong?” she questioned, after adjusting the napkin on her lap.

“I would never have guessed one person could eat so much.”

Hannah gazed at her plate. “I’ve made a glutton of myself, haven’t I?” She rebounded quickly and smiled up at him. “You have to remember, I’m eating for two.”

“You’re eating as if you’re expecting triplets,” he teased, but the way his mouth lifted up at the corners told her he was pleased.

Breaking off a piece of bread, Hannah reached for the butter. “Is there anyone you want to tell about the wedding?” she asked conversationally.

“Who do you mean?” Her question appeared to displease him.

“Family,” she said, not understanding his mood.

“I don’t have any family.”

“None?” It seemed incomprehensible to Hannah, who was so close to her own.

“My father ran off when I was eight, and my mother…Well, let’s put it this way: she wasn’t much interested in being a mother. I haven’t had any contact with her in years.”

Hannah set the bread aside. “I’m sorry, Riley. I had no idea…I didn’t mean to bring up unhappy memories.”

“You didn’t. It’s in the past and best forgotten.”

“How’d you end up in the Navy?”

He seemed to find her query amusing. “How else? I enlisted.”

“I see.” It had been a stupid question, and she grew silent afterward.

They left the restaurant a few minutes later. A full stomach and the warm blast of air from the heater lulled her into a light sleep. She was only mildly aware of Riley turning on the car radio, switching stations until he found one that specialized in Easy Listening.

Hannah woke when he stopped the engine. It took her a second to realize her head was resting against his shoulder. She straightened abruptly as though she’d been caught doing something wrong. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”

“Don’t be,” he said brusquely, as though she’d displeased him far more by offering an apology than using his shoulder as a support.

He came around and helped her out of the car and cupped his hand under her elbow as they walked up the flight of concrete steps to his apartment.

Once they reached the top, Riley unlocked the door. Shoving it open, he turned to Hannah and without a word calmly lifted her into his arms.

Taken by surprise, she let out a small cry of alarm. “Riley,” she pleaded, “put me down. I’m too heavy.”

“Let me assure you, Hannah Murdock, you weigh next to nothing.” With that he ceremoniously carried her over the threshold, gently depositing her in the leather recliner.

Hannah smiled at him, a little breathlessly, although he’d been the one to do all the work. This man was full of surprises. All week she’d been convinced she was marrying a monster, but Riley had gone out of his way to prove otherwise. Perhaps this marriage had a chance to survive, after all.

Riley turned on the television and reached for the evening paper and, after a few minutes, Hannah excused herself and began unpacking a few of her things. Since they would be moving within a matter of days, she only removed items she’d be needing.

Since Riley seemed wrapped up in something on television, she decided to bathe. The water was warm and soothing, and as she rested her head against the back of the tub, she traced her index finger over her stomach. There was no evidence her body was nurturing a child—at least not yet—but she hadn’t reached the fourth month of her pregnancy. The doctor had told her to expect to feel movement at any time, and the prospect thrilled her.

When she’d finished, she dressed in a thick flannel gown and brushed her hair away from her face. Riley was still in the living room, sitting on the edge of his cushion, punching his arms back and forth. She noticed he was watching a boxing match, and she cringed inwardly.

He must have noticed her, because he reached for the television control and turned down the volume. His eyes widened as he assessed her.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, glancing down at herself.

“You normally wear that to bed?”

“Yes.” He made it sound as if she’d donned sackcloth and ashes.

He nodded and punched the control, turning up the volume. “Then my guess is Junior will be an only child.”

Hannah bristled; then, not knowing what else to do, sat down and tucked her feet under her. The fight taking place on the television screen was violent, with two boxers slugging it out as though they had every intention of badly maiming each other. Hannah winced and closed her eyes several times.

“Why would anyone fight like that?” she asked during a commercial break.

“Ten million might have something to do with it.”

“Ten million dollars?” Hannah was incredulous. Standing, she looked around for something else to do. She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. The evening paper was on the floor next to Riley’s chair. She picked it up and read through it.

“Would you like to go to church with me tomorrow?” she invited.

“No.” His eyes didn’t stray from the screen.

She set the paper aside and yawned.

“Go ahead and go to bed. I’ll wake you when I come in.”

Hannah was skeptical, but the fight was only in the sixth round and it looked as if it could continue for a good long while. “You don’t mind?”

“Not in the least,” he answered, and waved her toward the bedroom.

Hannah found an extra blanket in the hall closet and wrapped that around herself as she lay on top of Riley’s bed. It would have been presumptuous of her to crawl beneath the covers when she fully intended to sleep in the living room after Riley had finished with his program.

Although she was exhausted, Hannah had a difficult time falling asleep. What an unusual day she’d had. She’d married a man who was little more than a stranger to her, and discovered in the short time they’d spent alone that he was easy enough to like. She sincerely doubted that she’d ever grow to love him the way she had Jerry, but then Jerry had been a special man. It wasn’t likely that she’d ever find anyone like him.

Riley was rough around the edges; she couldn’t deny that. He drank beer as though it were soda and enjoyed disgusting displays of violence. Yet he’d gone out of his way to see to it that she had a wonderful wedding dinner. He appeared to be trying.

She smiled at the memory of how he’d hauled her into his arms and carried her over the threshold, then immediately frowned when she recalled the way he’d looked at her in her nightgown and announced that Junior would be an only child.

With a determined effort, Hannah closed her eyes. She knew she wouldn’t sleep, but lying in bed was a hundred times more appealing than being subjected to the boxing match.

Hannah stirred, feeling warm and comfortable. Her arm was wrapped around a pillow, although now that she thought about it, this particular pillow was anything but soft. Her eyes fluttered open, and she found a pair of intense eyes staring back at her. She blinked, certain she was seeing things.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“The question, my dear wife, is what are you doing clinging to me as if you never intend on letting me go?”

Hannah immediately removed her arm and bolted upright. To her surprise, she was beneath the covers. “How’d you do that?” she asked, noticing at the same moment that he wasn’t.

“Do what?” Riley asked with a yawn. He sat up and stretched his hands high above his head and growled as though he were an injured bear stalking the woods. The sound was so fierce it was all Hannah could do not to cover her ears.

“You said you’d wake me,” she reminded him, not the least pleased with this turn of events.

“I tried.”

“Obviously you didn’t try hard enough.” Primly, she tossed aside the covers and leaped out of bed. “You had no right…We agreed—”

“Hold on a minute, sweetheart, if you’re—”

“Don’t call me sweetheart. Ever.” She hated the way he said it. Jerry had always spoken it with such tenderness and love, and she wouldn’t have this man who was her husband desecrate the few precious memories she had of her fiancé.

“All right,” Riley said, holding up his palms. “There’s no reason to get bent out of shape. For your information, I did try to wake you, but it was obvious you were in a deep sleep. It was either haul you into the living room or leave you be. I chose the latter.”

Hannah glared at him. She’d risen quickly and neither the baby nor her stomach appreciated the abrupt change of position.

“Hannah, you’re looking pale. Are you all right?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” she lied. The all-too-familiar sensation was taking root in the pit of her stomach. Her brow broke out in a cold sweat and her knees grew weak.

“There’s no reason to be so upset,” Riley continued, undaunted. “I did the gentlemanly thing and slept on top of the covers. Our skin never touched, I promise you.” He paused. “Hannah…”

She didn’t hear whatever he intended to say. With her hand over her mouth, she rushed down the hallway, making it to the toilet just in time to empty her stomach.

Riley helped her to her feet when she’d finished, and gently wiped her face with a damp cloth. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Damn, if I’d known you were going to get sick, I’d have slept on the sofa myself. I’ll tell you what—you can take the bed and I’ll camp out there until we move.”





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