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Hattie was … surprised. If she hadn’t needed to escape so badly, she would’ve been impressed. Nobody told her what to do. Her mom had always tried, but now she was in heaven and all her efforts to teach and love Hattie had failed. Hattie wasn’t even a believer anymore. Her mom used to say to her, ‘If I lose you physically, it’ll kill me, but losing you spiritually would be even more devastating.’ Hattie had lost her parents physically and lost herself spiritually. She feared her mom was all kinds of devastated up in heaven.
Steffan didn’t wait for her to respond but escorted her to the stairway door. He released her with one hand to pull the door open. Before she could scramble away from him, he wrapped her up tight again and then shuffled her back into the stairway and toward the stairs.
“You can’t manhandle me like this,” she protested. Why did her protest sound so weak and breathless? “I have rights.”
He stopped moving and looked down at her, and just like that she lost the ability to draw a full breath. “You do have rights, but as long as you have an altered mental status. Amnesia,” he clarified in a too-sane, calm, doctorly voice that was still so beautiful with that accent, “and no one to look after you, I can’t allow you to leave, even if it means restraining you for your own protection. I’m legally and ethically obligated to keep you here.” His gaze was penetrating. “You have no identification or money, and you don’t even know your own name. Where were you going to run to, Angelica?”
She really, really wanted to hear him say her name. Hattie in his deep, lyrical accent would be insane. Such a silly thing in the midst of her need to escape, but she wanted it clear down to her toes.
“I told you, just a quick evening jog. I’ll run right back to rest in that fabulous hospital bed after I get my workout in. So you do not need to worry a bit about keeping your legal and ethical obligations.” She smiled, maybe sweetly, probably sarcastically.
He arched an eyebrow. “Why do I not believe you?”
“Because you’re un-trusting? You need to work on that, doc. Now kindly let me go so I can get my digestion-aiding run accomplished.”
He laughed and actually released her, but then he backed her into the wall and pinned her with his hands on each side of her shoulders.
“What am I going to do with you?” he asked, and suddenly his voice wasn’t doctorly or commanding. It was husky and low and lovely with that romantic accent, and ooh boy … her heart pitter-pattered like nothing she’d ever experienced.
“I’m sure a big, strong doctor like you would love to give me one sweet kiss and then send me on my way.”
His eyes widened. “One sweet kiss?” he asked, his voice going almost rough in its huskiness. His gaze traveled to her lips and lodged there.
Hattie’s heart was racing out of control, and she could not swallow down the need for him. What was happening to her, and should she let it happen?
No! The answer was a whole load of no. Princes of Augustine were not on her radar. Jensen was coming. She needed to panic—to run.
“Please,” she murmured, faint and leaning into the wall so she wouldn’t collapse. “You have to let me go. I’m in danger staying here.”
His gaze darted to her again, and he eased back slightly. “Danger? From who?”
“I don’t remember,” she lied. She wasn’t in danger. Detective Jensen had been a gentleman and a hero. The man had protected her from prison five years ago. The problem was, being back in Augustine was dangerous to her freedom. Hattie had never forgiven herself for Jane’s death and had been running from the awful memories, an unreasonable fear of Treven, since he was in prison, and the panic that rose every time she thought of being locked up and blamed for a murder she didn’t commit. She had led Treven to her friend, so she blamed herself. If somebody wanted to psychoanalyze her, they’d realize Jane’s death had started her own path of faithless wandering.
“Please, please let me go,” she begged.
“Angelica …” His voice was soft and so kind. He stepped back. She was tempted to try to dodge around him and make a run for it, but she wouldn’t get far before he caught her again. “You’ve got amnesia, a head injury, and no ID or money. Where are you going to go?”
“I have persuasive powers you can’t even imagine.”
“I don’t doubt that.” He rested his palms on the end of his stethoscope. “I don’t doubt that at all.”
Hattie relaxed for half a beat. She jutted out her chin. “I can talk someone into helping me get far from here.”
“I’m sure you can, but where would you go?”
“Just … away, all right?”
His brow furrowed, and he stared at her intensely. Did he know she was lying? Could he feel her fear? Did he have any clue how appealing he was?
He was so honorable and gentlemanly, this princely doctor. Too bad she’d never see him again after she somehow escaped.
The door opened behind Steffan, and they both turned to look. A lean, dark-haired man a few inches shorter than Steffan leaned against the door frame and grinned. “Prince Steffan. Chasing Jane Does around the hospital, I hear?”
Steffan gave an unsteady chuckle as Hattie’s heart raced out of control, her stomach dropped to the floor, and her palms got sweaty.
Detective Jensen.
Her life was over.
