Navy Baby

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," th6 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."