"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.