Christmas Conspiracy

by Robin Perini

  “I love you, too, Katherine Nelson. Will you be my ‘sometimes’ Texas rancher wife?”

  “Yes.”

  He held out a pen.

  Kat signed the papers.

  “Well, then, Your Majesty. You have yourself a Prince Consort of Bellevaux the rest of the year.”

  Logan pulled her close and kissed her.

  “This is overwhelming,” she admitted. “I don’t want it to change me too much.”

  “Don’t worry. If you start believing your own queenly press, I’ll bring you back to earth and have you mucking out the royal stalls—or talking down wild horses.” He kissed her nose. “Come to think of it, your horse-whispering skills are going to come in mighty handy during political negotiations.”

  “Thanks for scaring me to death. Is it too late to run?” she asked with a smile.

  “Yes,” he said in all seriousness, “because you don’t really want to. Your people need you and you were born for this.”

  He watched the transformation come over her. The final shift from Texas cowgirl to the queen she was about to become.

  “I love you,” she said simply. “I was born for that, too, and I will never, ever leave you.”

  The king cleared his throat and stepped onto the balcony. Cheers went up.

  “My people, today I have surprising and wonderful news. I have found my long-lost daughter and she has agreed to be my heir and the next Queen of Bellevaux! Our beloved country shall not be annexed, and I now relinquish my throne. Queen Katherine will guide you with wisdom and courage far beyond her years. I bid you welcome her.”

  Leopold gestured to the doorway behind him. “Your queen.”

  Yells of approval roared into the room.

  “Your country awaits, Your Majesty,” her father said with a bittersweet smile.

  Kat trembled slightly, but Logan laced her fingers with his and kissed her tenderly.

  “Ready, Kat?”

  She met his gaze with love and wonderment. “With you by my side, Logan, I’m ready for anything.”

  “Then let’s do this.”

  Together, with joined hearts and hands, the new Queen and Prince Consort of Bellevaux stepped onto the balcony—and into their future.

  Epilogue

  The Christmas tree was perfect.

  Fabergé ornaments, diamond-studded Christmas balls, fourteen-karat-gold tinsel and Waterford crystal sparkled against the forty-foot-tall pine. Gold-plated walls and a fresco on the ceiling were everything a castle should be.

  It still wasn’t home.

  Kat sighed and tugged at the designer gown that cost more than she’d made in a year before becoming queen. She couldn’t stop touching the diamond necklace. Her grandmother’s diamond necklace.

  It had been in the family for three hundred years.

  How had this happened? How had she ended up here? Her new reality made her head ache as much as the tiara.

  Logan pulled her back against him and she sagged into his arms. The one part of her new life that she would never, ever doubt.

  “All those diamonds making you nervous?” Logan whispered, kissing her shoulder.

  She turned in his arms. “How did you know?”

  “I know you, my queen.” Logan rubbed her temple and she nearly purred as he eased away her tension.

  “Mommy!” Lanie cried out.

  Her daughter tugged at her dress. “Grandpa’s here.”

  Kat looked across the room. Her father hovered awkwardly in the doorway. The transition had been hard for him, but they were both finding their way in a very strange relationship.

  Kat smiled. “Will you join us?”

  Leopold’s face creased with a smile. “Thank you.”

  He walked across the marble floor and Hayden ran toward him, his arms opened wide. Leopold picked up his grandson and pushed the blond hair from his face. Her father swallowed. “He has Stefan’s look.”

  Kat studied the portraits along the wall. The king and his family. A family that no longer existed. Her father’s eyes turned sad, and she knew he was thinking of Stefan…no, Léon now. They didn’t know where he was, they only knew he was alive and healing.

  “Don’t cry, Grandpa.” Hayden clasped Leopold’s face in his hands.

  “I’m not, my boy. Because you are safe.”

  Lanie tugged at Leopold’s pants. “Santa’s coming tonight.”

  “That he is, little one.”

  Lanie bit her lip. “Do you think he’ll be able to find us in this big house?”

  “I would imagine he will. He is magic,” Leopold said and settled on the Aubusson carpet near the tree.

  Logan bent his head and encircled her waist with his arms, pressing her back against him. “That’s something I never would’ve thought I’d see, Queen Katherine.”

  She turned in his arms. “Well, Prince Logan, you gave me a fairy tale. We have to live happily ever after.”

  “Wait, wait,” Lanie cried out.

  She snagged her little pink purse. The one she’d discovered in the very large crown jewelry collection. She’d batted her eyes at Logan and he’d given in, letting her carry the pink diamond clutch. Tonight only. Lanie smiled, opened it up and pulled out the old silver horseshoe.

  “Daddy. Put it on the tree.”

  “Lanie? How did you…”

  She bowed her head. “I took it off our old tree before I went to bed. I likes it.”

  Logan swallowed at the antique ornament, the only physical remnant of his past life, besides the land. “I don’t know, Lanie. This is a pretty old ornament. Look how sparkly your tree is with all its new shiny decorations.”

  Lanie pouted. “We have to put this on the tree. It’s special.”

  Logan knelt down in front of her and hugged her close. “You are a special little princess.”

  He lifted her into his arms and walked over to the Christmas tree. “Where should we put it?”

  Lanie reached out and hung the two-century-old pewter horseshoe next to a priceless Fabergé creation.

  Tears stung Kat’s eyes as she stared at what remained of Logan’s legacy. His family’s ranch was gone. His mother’s death was ruled an accident and she now rested next to Logan’s beloved grandmother.

  “It’s finished,” Lanie said. “Santa will know where we are.”

  “How do you figure that, my little princess?” Logan asked.

  “’Cause the horseshoe is a piece of home,” she said simply and squirmed down to play with her brother.

  Logan hugged Kat to him. He removed the tiara from her head and held her close. “We have a brilliant daughter,” he said softly. “Forget everything around us. This is home. You. Me. The kids. This is all we need. All we’ll ever need.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Mason by Delores Fossen!

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  Chapter One

  The scream woke Deputy Mason Ryland.

  His eyes flew open, and Mason stumbled from the sofa in his office where he’d fallen asleep. He reached for his shirt but couldn’t find it. He had better luck with the Smith & Wesson handgun that he’d left on his desk.

  He threw open his office door and caught the scent of something he darn sure didn’t want to smell on the grounds of his family’s ranch.

  Smoke.

  The wispy gray streaks coiled around him,
quickly followed by a second scream and a loud cry for help.

  Mason went in the direction of both the smoke and the voice, racing out into the chilly October night air. He wasn’t the only one who’d been alerted. A handful of his ranch hands were running toward the cabin-style guesthouse about a hundred yards away. It was on fire, the orangey flames licking their way up the sides and roof. And the place wasn’t empty.

  His newly hired horse trainer, Abbie Baker, was staying there.

  That got Mason running even harder. So did another shout for help. Oh, yeah, that shout was coming from the guesthouse all right.

  “Call the fire department,” he yelled to one of the ranch hands.

  Mason also shouted out for someone to call his brothers as well even though they would soon know anyway. All five of them, their wives and their children lived in the family home or on the grounds of the ranch.

  Mason made it to the guesthouse ahead of the others, and he tried to pick through the smoke and the embers flicking through the night air. He hurried to the sound of his trainer’s pleas for help.

  And he cursed when he saw her.

  Abbie was in the doorway, her body half in and half out of the house, and what was left of the door was on her back, anchoring her in place.

  The smoke was thick and black, and the area was already hot from the flames, but Mason fought his way through just as one of the ranch hands caught up with him. Rusty Burke. Together, they latched on to the door and started to drag it off Abbie. Not easily. It was heavy and bulky, and it didn’t help that the flames were snapping at them.

  Mason didn’t usually think in terms of worst-case scenarios, but he had a split-second thought that his new trainer might burn to death. The possibility gave him a much-needed jolt of adrenaline, and Rusty and he threw the door off her. In the same motion, Mason latched on to her arm and dragged her away from the guesthouse.

  “I couldn’t get out,” she said, her voice clogged with smoke and fear.

  “You’re out now,” he let her know.

  Out but not necessarily safe. The ranch hands were already there with the hoses, but he doubted the house would stand much longer. If it collapsed, Abbie could still be burned or hurt from the flying debris.

  “Are the horses okay?” she asked. Mason was more than a little surprised that she’d think of the animals at a time like this.

  “They’re fine.” At least he was pretty sure of that. “This is the only building on fire.”

  Mason scooped her up, and she looked at him. It was pitch-dark, probably two or three in the morning, but thanks to the flames and the hunter’s moon, he saw her eyes widen. A single word left her mouth.

  “No.”

  Mason didn’t have time to question that no before she started struggling. She wasn’t a large woman, five-five at the most and on the lean side, but she managed to pack a punch when she rammed her elbow against his bare chest. He cursed and put her in a death grip so she couldn’t fight her way out of his arms.

  “I’m trying to save you,” he reminded her, and he added more profanity when she didn’t stop fighting.

  Abbie was probably still caught up in the fear and the adrenaline, but Mason was finding it a little hard to be sympathetic with the cold rocky ground biting into his bare feet and with her arms and legs waggling around.

  “We have to get away from the fire,” he snarled.

  Those wide frightened eyes looked at the flames, and she stopped struggling just long enough for Mason to get a better grip on her.

  He started running toward the ranch office where lately he’d been spending most of his days and nights because of the heavy workload. He could deposit Abbie there and hurry back to see if the guesthouse could be saved. He wasn’t hopeful, especially because the ranch wasn’t exactly in city limits. It would take the fire department a good twenty minutes to reach them.

  The door to his office and quarters was still open, and he hurried inside, flipped on the lights with his elbow and placed her on the sofa. Mason looked down at her, to make sure she wasn’t injured.

  She didn’t appear to be.

  Visibly shaken, yes. Trembling, too. Pale and breathing way too fast. All normal responses under the circumstances.

  Her eyes met his again, and Mason saw the fear that was still there. And maybe something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  “Did you try to kill me?” she asked.

  That single question seemed to be all she could muster because she groaned, closed her eyes, and the back of her head dropped against the sofa.

  Mason huffed. That definitely wasn’t something he expected to hear her say. He’d been a deputy for fifteen years, and his employee no doubt knew it. Even though most people were leery of him because…well, because he wasn’t a friendly sort, they didn’t usually accuse him of arson or attempted murder.

  “Why would I set this fire?” he demanded.

  Abbie opened her mouth, closed it and shook her head. She also dodged his gaze. “I’m not sure what I’m saying right now. I thought I was going to die.”

  Mason guessed that was a normal response, but he was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. “How did the fire start?”

  Abbie shook her head again. “I’m not sure. I woke up, and there was smoke all around me. I tried to get to the door, but I started coughing and couldn’t see.” She paused, shivered. “When I got to the door and opened it, it fell on me.” Another pause. “Or something.”

  “Or something?” he pushed.

  Oh, man. The bad feeling was getting worse, and Mason blamed it on that stupid question. Was there a nonstupid reason that she thought someone had tried to kill her, or was this the ramblings of a woman whose mind had been clouded with fear and adrenaline?

  “Or something,” she repeated.

  Abbie pushed her light brown hair from her face. Long hair, he noticed. Something he hadn’t realized because she always wore it tucked beneath a baseball cap. In fact, he’d thought of her as tomboyish, but there wasn’t anything boyish or tom about the person lying on his sofa. In that paper-thin pale blue gown, she looked like a woman.

  An attractive one.

  Something Mason wished like the devil he hadn’t noticed. She worked for him, and he didn’t tread down that path. Business and sex never sat well with him.

  “Did you leave the stove on?” he pressed.

  But all he got was another head shake—something else that didn’t please him. He wanted some answers here, and he wanted something to tamp down that bad feeling in his gut. However, the knock on his already-open door had him shifting in that direction.

  It was his ranch hand Rusty. The lanky young man was out of breath and looked on the verge of blurting something out before his attention landed on Abbie. He motioned for Mason to meet him outside.

  Mason looked at Abbie. “I’ll be right back.” Yeah, it sounded like a warning and it was. By God, he was going to get those answers and settle this uneasy feeling. He would find out why she’d thought he had tried to kill her.

  He stepped outside with Rusty, and when he got a better look at Rusty’s face, he pulled the door shut. “More bad news?” But it wasn’t exactly a question. Mason could already tell there was.

  Rusty nodded. “The guesthouse collapsed. Nothing left to save.”

  Well, heck. That didn’t please Mason, but it could have been much worse. His trainer could have gotten killed.

  Abbie could have gotten killed, he mentally corrected.

  And he cursed himself for thinking of her that way. Mason blamed it on that blasted thin gown and those frightened vulnerable brown eyes.

  “There’s more,” Rusty went on, grabbing Mason’s attention.

  Mason took a deep breath, ready to hear the news he probably didn’t want to hear, but before Rusty could spill it, he saw his brother Grayson hurrying toward them.

  Like Mason, his brother was half-dressed. Jeans that he’d probably just pulled on and no shirt. Even half-dressed,
Grayson still managed to look as if he were in charge.

  And he was.

  As the eldest of his five brothers and the Silver Creek town sheriff, Grayson had a way of being in charge just by being there.

  “How’s the trainer?” Grayson immediately asked.

  “Alive,” Mason provided. He didn’t add the customary and well part to that because he wasn’t sure that was true. He should probably look to see if she’d had a blow to the head. After all, the door could have hit her when it became unhinged. She might even have a broken bone or two.

  “The EMTs are on the way,” Grayson explained. He looked at Mason. “Rusty told you about the guesthouse?”

  Mason nodded. “It’s gone.”

  Grayson stopped next to him, his breath gusting. Probably because he’d run all the way from the main ranch house. “Yeah. And there was a gas can by the back porch. Rusty managed to pull it out of there before the flames took over.”

  What the devil? Mason mentally went through the reasons why Abbie would have had a gas can on the porch, and he couldn’t immediately think of one. She trained his cutting horses and didn’t have anything to do with any ranch equipment that required gasoline.

  “Looks like someone could have set the fire,” Grayson concluded.

  Arson. On the ranch.

  The anger slammed through Mason. Even though he had five brothers who were equal owners of the land, the ranch was his domain. He ran it. It was what he loved, more than a badge, more than just about anything. And if someone had intentionally burned down the guesthouse with Abbie inside, then that someone was going to pay and pay hard.

  “It could have been worse,” Rusty went on, turning to Grayson. “Mason barely got Abbie out of there in time.”

  That was true. And Mason went back to Abbie’s stupid question.

  Did you try to kill me?

  Had she seen something or someone? Maybe. And Mason changed that maybe to a probably after remembering the way she’d looked at him. He was accustomed to people shying out of his way. Used to the uneasiness that he caused with his steely exterior, but Abbie’s fear had twisted something inside of him that he hadn’t felt before.