The Rancher's Christmas Princess

by Christine Rimmer

  “Stop teasing me. I mean it.”

  “All right. But listen, take it from one who knows. Sometimes it’s true that things don’t work out, but they will never work out if you don’t at least try. You’ll spend your life wondering what might have been if you’d taken a chance. And think about it. You’re always so busy running around the world, speaking out for other people. It’s important, the work you do. But it’s also all-consuming. When’s the last time you went out to dinner with an attractive man?”

  Belle smiled to herself. “Monday night. With Preston. We went to The Bull’s Eye Steakhouse and Casino.”

  “Sounds...rustic.”

  “It was. Rustic and charming and so lovely. I had such a fine time with him—at least I did until I finally had to tell him about Ben. Things got difficult then, but we worked through it.”

  “Belle, I know it’s been awful for you these past long weeks, having to be there for Anne at the end.”

  “I wanted to be there.”

  “Of course you did. But that didn’t make it easy or pleasant, having to watch your dearest friend die, arranging her funeral and then finding out she wanted you to handle the job of tracking down Ben’s father.”

  “She couldn’t do it, for some reason. But it needed doing. At least she made herself deal with it at the end. She found a way to make it happen.”

  “Belle, I’m not blaming Anne. Honestly. I loved her, too. I’m only saying that you really do need a little joy in your life. Before the tragedy with Anne, you were working all the time. So now you have a few brief weeks there in Montana, through the holidays, to help Ben and his newfound father make a family together. If it’s going well, I’m so glad. And I want you to enjoy every moment.”

  “Dangerous advice.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Definitely.”

  “If there’s something between you and Preston, why not just go with it, see where it leads you? At the very least, you might end up with a few precious memories to treasure.”

  “And what about a broken heart? I could also end up with that.”

  “Yes, you could,” Rhia agreed. “But that’s always the risk, isn’t it, when you take a chance on something important? On the other hand, you could not take a chance. You won’t get hurt that way. But you’ll never find the kind of love that lasts a lifetime either.”

  Chapter Eight

  In the early morning, Belle woke to the sound of Ben fussing in the room next door. She pushed back the covers, pulled on her robe and went to him.

  Charlotte, fully dressed in the same clothes she’d worn the day before, was already there and lifting him out of the crib. “It’s all right, darling.” She sent Belle a glowing smile. “I’ll take him down with me.”

  “Shar-Shar.” Ben sighed and leaned his head on Charlotte’s shoulder. He waved at Belle in that special way of waving he had—opening and closing his small fist.

  She waved back, her heart melting just at the sight of him. “Good morning, my darling.”

  Charlotte carried him to the changing table, laid him down and unsnapped his pajamas. “Let’s get you a fresh diaper first of all, shall we, young man?”

  “Yes!”

  She hummed under her breath, an old French lullaby, as she changed him. Belle, leaning sleepily in the doorway, thought that her friend had never looked prettier. Or younger. Or quite so happy.

  Charlotte glanced over her shoulder again. “Go on. Have your shower. That painter fellow will be arriving before you know it.”

  “Right.” Belle covered a yawn and turned for the bathroom across the hall. The door to Charlotte’s room stood open. Belle glanced in there. The bed was neatly made, the lavender wool scarf tossed across the foot of it, in the same place it had been the night before.

  Belle grinned to herself. Had Charlotte slept in that bed last night? Belle’s guess was no.

  Apparently, Charlotte was the brave one, finally taking a chance on love. Risking her heart. Or maybe just collecting a few precious memories to treasure, as Rhia had suggested Belle ought to do.

  * * *

  Belle thought about her sister’s advice several times that day as she and Preston, Marcus in their wake, went from store to store in Missoula, ordering blinds and curtains, buying linens for Ben’s bed and a new rug, bright blue with an airplane motif. All the stores were decorated for the holidays. Christmas tunes played everywhere they went. It was quite festive, she thought. They stopped in at a toy store and a kids’ clothing store and got a head start on Ben’s Christmas gifts, too.

  For lunch, they found a little restaurant there in Missoula that served barbecue. Marcus took a seat at the counter, out of the way. And it was almost as if she and Preston were all alone. She gazed at him across the table and thought how she really wasn’t up for a holiday fling. She felt more than a little fragile, with the loss of Anne, and with the day drawing near when she would have to say goodbye to Ben.

  She did not want to get her heart broken any more than it already was.

  But even if she never felt Preston’s strong arms around her again, this day was special. Marcus was so skilled at playing invisible that it did feel like it was just the two of them, sharing barbecue and tall, frosty glasses of root beer, talking about their purchases, about whether the snow would hold off long enough for them to get back to the ranch. This simple lunch, this whole wonderfully ordinary day of being together, it all definitely qualified as a memory to treasure.

  And she would. She would treasure it. For all of her life.

  On the way back, they stopped in at the paint store in Elk Creek. They traded in the Winnie-the-Pooh mural kit for one of a train rolling along a track in a country setting, an airplane flying by in the clouds above. It was snowing as they headed for the ranch. They made it into the yard before it really started coming down thick and heavy.

  Inside, there was a large, wonderful-smelling pot of stew on the stove and Doris was just leaving. Preston paid the painter, Richard Gibbons, for his day’s work and showed him the mural kit. Richard said he could put it up, no problem. He would be back in the morning to take care of it.

  Ben was still napping and Charlotte and Silas were hard at work on the house-decorating project. They had actually finished the tree, which was so beautiful, thick with lights and sparkly ornaments, draped in red bead garland and thousands of silvery icicles. No, they hadn’t gotten around to putting up the outside lights yet, but they had arranged cute snow scenes on the mantels in the family room and the front room and put up a manger scene on a long shelf in the foyer. The two looked quite proud of themselves. Charlotte was pink-cheeked and blushing. And Silas couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her.

  Belle observed the two fondly and more than a little wistfully. But then she asked herself again where it could go with her and Preston anyway?

  He was an American, a horse rancher to the core. And she had a rich life, a full life, as a princess of Montedoro, as a spokesperson and fundraiser for causes that needed a strong, determined voice. They had nothing in common but a small boy who had lost his mother.

  Or so she was constantly reminding herself.

  That night, after Ben was in bed, Marcus retired to his room. The other four adults watched a Western and then a comedy on the big-screen TV in the family room. Belle went up to bed—alone—at a little after eleven. She called her mother in Montedoro just to bring her up to speed on her progress uniting Ben with his father.

  Her mother was fond with her, and gentle. She didn’t ask a lot of questions. That had never been Her Sovereign Highness’s way. But Belle always hung up from a conversation with her feeling loved and accepted and unequivocally supported in any decision she might make, any action she might choose to take.

  Friday when Belle got up, the McCade men were already out with the horses and had been for hours. Richard Gibbons arrived at a little after eight and went to work on the mural up in Ben’s room. Doris arrived at nine and started making Christmas cookies. Cha
rlotte and Belle pitched in. They even got Ben involved, rolling out a bit of dough for him and helping him press the cookie cutter to make a cookie snowman and a star.

  The painter finished the mural at around eleven. Belle thanked him and paid him for the day. Later, after lunch, when Ben went down for his nap, Doris said she’d keep an eye on him. Charlotte, Belle and Marcus got to work putting up the outside lights. They were at it for about an hour when Preston and Silas appeared and pitched in.

  Belle went in to get Ben up at a little after three. She bundled him into his warmest clothes and took him outside, where the others were just finishing up. They’d dragged the two tall ladders around the yard, stringing lights on not only the main house, but Silas’s place and the hands’ cabin as well. They even wound lights up the wide trunk of the giant pine in the center of the driveway.

  “We’ll be lucky we don’t blow all the circuits when we turn all these babies on,” Silas warned, looking way too excited at the prospect.

  Charlotte chided, “Then perhaps we shouldn’t have strung up so many.”

  Preston laughed and told them all not to worry. He’d had a bigger breaker box put in a couple of years ago and he was sure it could handle the extra load. He also had spare timers from the system he used in the stables, so he hooked up the outdoor lights to come on about dark and go off at midnight.

  The lights came on at five. They all went back outside then and stood in the middle of the yard and admired their handiwork.

  “Glorious,” declared Charlotte.

  “Mighty fine,” Silas agreed, putting his arm around her.

  Charlotte basked in the moment, gazing up at Silas with stars in her eyes. Belle could almost envy the two of them.

  They seemed so very happy together.

  * * *

  That night was like the nights before it. Belle and Preston put Ben to bed as a team. Belle went upstairs to her room at around eleven. She heard Preston come up a little while later.

  If Charlotte came up after that, Belle didn’t hear her.

  The next day was Saturday, and that meant the Christmas Craft Fair in town. The McCade men were out working early, but they came in at a little after ten. So did Vince and Jack. They wanted to go into town for the festivities, too.

  By eleven, they were on their way, Vince and Jack in Jack’s pickup, Marcus in the SUV with Charlotte and Silas in the backseat. Belle, Preston and Ben rode in Preston’s four-door truck.

  It was a great day, Belle thought. There was more going on than she had realized. The town hall was filled upstairs and down with craft and food booths. There apparently wasn’t enough room for all of the booths in that one building. The overflow took up the main floor of the Masonic Hall down at the far end of Main Street.

  After they toured the town hall upstairs and down, they went to the diner to grab a late lunch. That took a while. The Sweet Stop was packed that day. But eventually, they all got a booth together—minus Jack and Vince, who had taken off on their own. They had sandwiches and hot chocolate. Ben was adorable and not the least fussy. Belle dared to hope he might last into the evening without getting too worn out. They might even make it to the talent show and bake sale auction that would start at seven in the historic Elk Creek Theater.

  Already, Ben was so easy and comfortable with Preston. The little boy spent much of the day in his father’s arms, or with Preston pushing his stroller. As they admired handmade Christmas decorations in the Masonic Hall, Betsy Colson from the hardware store appeared.

  “Why, Preston,” Betsy declared. “That little boy looks exactly like you.”

  Preston beamed. “So I’ve been told.” And Ben hugged him close and buried his face against Preston’s neck the way he would do with Belle or Charlotte when strangers had him feeling shy.

  The sight had Belle smiling through misty eyes. Already, Ben felt safe with Preston. It had happened so swiftly—more swiftly and more easily than she had ever imagined it could. And that meant there would be no need for her to remain in Montana past the first of the year. All too soon, her time in Elk Creek would be ending.

  “Nice to see you, Your Highness,” said Betsy.

  Belle put on a big smile. “It’s lovely to see you, too, Betsy.”

  By six, Ben was fast asleep in his stroller. He’d dropped off without a peep. People said how adorable he was, sleeping like an angel.

  Preston pushed the stroller back up Main, Belle at his side, Silas and Charlotte right behind them, Marcus taking up the rear.

  “Look,” said Silas, “they’ve got the theater doors open.”

  Preston asked Belle, “What do you think?” He was a fast learner. He knew already that toddlers lasted only so long before you had to take them home and tuck them into bed.

  “We could go in,” she suggested. “If he wakes up and starts fussing, we’ll just have to leave.”

  “All right, then,” he agreed.

  She met those blue eyes and she felt downright breathless. He really did have a powerful effect on her senses. One would think she would grow accustomed to being near him.

  But so far, just meeting his eyes, smelling that fresh, bracing aftershave he wore...it never failed to make her breath catch and her belly fill with frantic butterflies.

  He tipped his hat at an elderly couple as they approached going the other way.

  “Preston,” said the white-haired woman. “Silas, hello.”

  “Mary Beth, John, how’re you doing?” asked Silas.

  They all paused right there on the sidewalk. Silas made the introductions. The couple’s last name was Deluca.

  John said, “Delighted to meet you ladies.”

  Mary Beth declared that Ben was “Quite a handsome child.” She also remarked that it had been much too long since she’d seen the McCade men at Sunday Mass.

  Preston sent Belle a wry look and replied, “Well, Mary Beth, it just so happens we’ll be attending nine o’clock Mass tomorrow morning.”

  “Excellent,” replied Mary Beth. “We will see you there.” The Delucas moved on.

  There were a lot of people filing in the wide-open double doors of the old theater. And by then, Silas and Marcus had their arms full of purchases. Charlotte and Belle each carried a couple of shopping bags. It seemed pointless to haul everything into the crowded theater with them.

  Belle suggested, “Why don’t Marcus and I take all the shopping bags to the SUV? We’ll meet you inside.”

  Nobody argued. Silas and Charlotte handed over their purchases and Preston gave her the big bag he’d hooked to the stroller handle.

  The SUV was in the lot next to the diner. It didn’t take long to stow all the bags in the back.

  Belle and Marcus entered the lobby of the Elk Creek Theater only a few minutes after they’d left the others. It was wall-to-wall people inside. Tables lined the walls, covered with red-and-green cloths and all manner of tempting baked goods, each with a little card in front of it that described the item and announced who had baked it. There were pies, cakes, cookies and cupcakes. All of it looked good.

  The crowd was noisy, everyone chatting and laughing.

  Larry Seabuck from the Drop On Inn appeared at Belle’s side. “Ma’am, how are you doing?”

  She gave him a careful smile. He tended to fawn over her and it made her uncomfortable. “Hello, Larry. I’m doing quite well, thank you.”

  He leaned a little too close. “The idea, ma’am, is that everyone gets a good look before the auction starts. Ahem. People decide what they want to win. Men make sure of which pie or cake the wife or the sweetheart made with her own little hands. It gets the competition going when the bidding starts. And more competition means more money for this year’s worthy cause—which I see by that big banner on the wall by the door, is the old theater itself this time. Ahem.” His wire-rimmed glasses had slipped down his nose. He pushed them back up. “I believe they want to put in a new sound system and replace some of the seating.”

  “Thank you, Larry,” sh
e said, and edged away from him as his wife, RaeNell, stepped up and slipped her arm in his.

  “Nice turnout, don’t you think, Your Highness?” RaeNell slid a narrow-eyed glance from Belle to her husband and back again.

  Belle was more than ready to move on. “Very nice. Good to see you, RaeNell.” She turned for the next table, murmuring “Excuse me” as she slipped around a young couple holding hands and whispering together. Marcus was right behind her, keeping close the way he always did in crowds.

  The lobby wasn’t very big and she spotted Preston instantly. He stood across the room, near the wall, looking so tall and solid and manly. He was watching her, waiting for her.

  Her heart lifted. For a split second, the space cleared in front of him and she saw the stroller, with Ben in it, still sound asleep, his head drooping to the side, his plump lower lip stuck out and his dimpled chin tucked low into his blankets. Tenderness filled her. For the child.

  And for the man.

  Awash in mingled longing, joy and sadness, it took her a moment to notice the woman who had suddenly materialized at Preston’s side. She was blond, petite and pretty. Beneath her bright red down jacket, she wore a tight, white cowl-necked sweater and jeans that clung to her slender curves like a second skin.

  Preston glanced at the woman sharply, frowning, as she wrapped her hand around his arm and went on tiptoe to whisper something in his ear.

  He wasn’t having any of whatever she was offering. He muttered something out of the side of his mouth and tried to pull free of her grip.

  But she held on. And then she whispered something else.

  “Let go of my arm, Lucy,” he said, each word formed so slowly and deliberately that Belle could read them on his lips. He didn’t seem angry, just not the least interested and impatient to escape.

  Lucy laughed, the sound forced and brittle. “Oh, now, don’t be that way,” she teased, too loudly. But she did let go.

  Preston took hold of the stroller and rolled it away from her. Belle felt the sweetest cool wash of relief. It was clear he was over his former fiancée.