THANKSGIVING DADDY

by Rachel Lee

  “Ahh.”

  Something in the tone of his voice alerted her, and she snapped open her eyes to see his smiling face only inches away. “Loveless marriage,” he repeated.

  “Yes. A marriage of convenience. You said it yourself.”

  “I’d settle for it, if that were the case. But I don’t think that’s it.”

  “No? Then what is?”

  “Edie, do you love me?”

  She froze for an instant, her mind scrambling around like a mouse looking for escape. Finally, the words burst from her. “How the hell would I know? I’ve never been in love!”

  He rolled her gently onto her back, propping himself over her on his elbows, one leg still thrown across hers. “Love is something you feel and something you do, not something you define. But what really worries you is that I might not love you. Isn’t it?”

  She faced the stark terror then. His question drove it to the core of her entire being. “I need to trust,” she said weakly.

  “You already trust me or we wouldn’t be here right now. Trust isn’t the issue, Edie. You’re afraid of what you feel for me, afraid that I could hurt you with it.”

  There it was, printed in large font in brilliant full color on the forefront of her brain. He could hurt her. He could hurt her worse than anyone in her entire life, including mountain guerillas armed with RPGs. Worse than her mother’s abandonment of her, worse than her grandmother’s death.

  She felt a hot tear roll down one cheek and forced herself to meet his gaze. “I’m terrified,” she admitted.

  “I know you are.” He shifted, cupping her face between his hands. “I’ve been terrified for a while that you’d disappear when I wasn’t looking. I promised I won’t abandon you. Now I’m going to tell you something else. I won’t hurt you, not in any real way. Oh, everybody messes up and causes some unhappiness from time to time, but I would never really hurt you.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because I love you.”

  The words sank in slowly, reaching tensions deep within her, beginning to dissolve the fear. “How do you know? I don’t get how you know!”

  “Because I know how much it would hurt to lose you. How much I need to see your face every day, to hold you in my arms every night. I know how badly you could hurt me. Trust me, I know.”

  He probably knew better than anyone, she thought. He slid over her, filling her with his hardened staff, uniting them into one. But he didn’t move, even as a sigh of pleasure escaped her.

  “I know I love you. And I don’t care if it takes twenty years for you to be sure you feel the same about me. I’ll be there.”

  She thought about the years ahead, tried to imagine them without Seth, and couldn’t. The mere thought of it hurt her deep inside.

  Was that how you figured it out, by knowing life without a particular person would be unendurable? Because life without Seth looked like a lunar landscape to her now, barren and without air. Colorless.

  She struggled under the blankets, and at last managed to reach up and caress his shoulders. “I can’t live without you anymore,” she admitted. “I hated feeling that way.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I think I love it.”

  He smiled and began to move slowly inside her. Gently. “We’ll go back to Minot together. You can resign after the baby is born. Yuma will be thrilled because he’s been pressing me to push you into taking over his job.”

  “Is that why we’re getting married? For Yuma?”

  “Hell no,” he said, just before he kissed her. “We’re getting married because life won’t be worth living any other way.” Suddenly he lifted his head. “But let’s not tell my mom yet.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to make the announcement to everyone at Thanksgiving.”

  Before she could answer, he kissed her again and buried himself deeper.

  A long time later she said the words he wanted to hear, because she was finally absolutely certain.

  “I love you, Seth.”

  Her heart took off for the heavens, soaring with joy and an amazing freedom. Judging by the look on his face, so did his.

  She felt she would never touch ground again.

  Epilogue

  Edie stood at the sliding glass doors in the family room of the Tates’ house. Behind her swirled an unbelievably big family—six daughters, six husbands, eight grandchildren, plus Seth and the Tates. Thanksgiving dinner still filled her stomach, which had grown noticeable over the past few weeks. Outside, night darkened the world and snow covered the ground, but inside everything was warm as the family discussed putting up the Christmas tree the next day.

  So many people. She had been trying all day to connect names and faces, but it didn’t seem to matter to anyone. They welcomed her warmly, as if she had always belonged, and happiness settled into her heart.

  She had made the right decision. She wanted her son to grow up in this family, to be part of their many Thanksgivings and Christmases to come.

  Arms slipped around her from behind and she smiled.

  “Overwhelmed?” Seth asked.

  “A little. But it’s great.”

  “Do you need to rest or are you ready to make our announcement?”

  She turned within the circle of safety his arms provided. Tipping her head back, she kissed him. “I’m ready.”

  “Okay. Want me to do the honors?”

  “It’s your family.”

  His smile widened and he dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Okay.” He turned, keeping one arm around her, and raised his voice. “Hey, everybody. I have an announcement.”

  It took a few minutes, mostly to get the kids settled. Edie felt almost embarrassed to have everyone staring at her.

  “Here’s the thing. Most of you already know from Mom that I’m going to be a father. And I can’t think of a better time to tell you all how happy I am about that than Thanksgiving, because I’m incredibly thankful. In fact, I’m thrilled. But I’m even more thankful because Edie has agreed to marry me.”

  The applause was instantaneous. Marge clapped her hands to her face and began to laugh and cry at the same time.

  Everyone started to move toward them, but Seth held up his hand. “I am so very, very grateful that this woman came into my life.” He looked down into Edie’s face. “I am so grateful for a failure that has turned into the best thing in my life, ever.”

  He bent to kiss her. The room started moving toward them and a small voiced piped up.

  “Is Uncle Seth a Thanksgiving Daddy?”

  He lifted his head, holding Edie’s eyes with his. “I sure am, Billy. I sure am.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from HOW TO MARRY A PRINCESS by Christine Rimmer

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  Chapter One

  On the first Wednesday in September, temptation came looking for Alice Bravo-Calabretti.

  And she’d been doing so well, too. For more than two weeks, she’d kept her promise
to herself. She’d maintained a low profile and carried herself with dignity. She’d accepted no dares and avoided situations where she might be tempted to go too far.

  It hadn’t been all that difficult. She’d spent her days with her beloved horses and her nights at home. Temptation, it seemed, presented no problem when she made sure there was none.

  And then came that fateful Wednesday.

  It happened in the stables well before dawn. Alice was tacking up one of the mares, Yasmine, for an early-morning ride. She’d just placed the saddle well forward on the mare’s sleek back when she heard a rustling sound in the deserted stable behind her.

  Yasmine twitched her tail and whickered softly, her distinctive iridescent coat shimmering even in the dim light provided by the single caged bulb suspended over the stall. A glance into the shadows and Alice registered the source of the unexpected noise.

  Over near the arched door that led into the courtyard, a stable hand was pushing a broom. He was no one she recognized, which she found somewhat odd. The palace stables were a second home to her. Alice knew every groom by name. He must be new.

  Gilbert, the head groom, came in from the dark yard. He said something to the man with the broom. The man laughed low. Gilbert chuckled, too. Apparently the head groom liked the new man.

  With a shrug, Alice gave the beautiful mare a comforting pat and finished tacking up. She was leading Yazzy out of the stall when she saw that Gilbert had gone. The stable hand remained. He’d set his broom aside and lounged against the wall by the door to the courtyard.

  As she approached, the man straightened from the wall and gave her a slow nod. “Your Highness.” His voice was deep and rather stirring, his attitude both ironic and confident. She recognized his accent instantly: American.

  Alice had nothing against Americans. Her father was one after all. And yet...

  As a rule, the grooms were Montedoran by birth—and diffident by nature. This fellow was simply not the sort Gilbert usually hired.

  The groom raised his golden head. Blue eyes met hers. She saw mischief in those eyes and her heart beat faster.

  Temptation. Oh, yes.

  Down, girl. Get a grip.

  So what if the new groom was hot? So what if just a glance from him had her thinking of how boring her life had become lately, had her imagining all kinds of inappropriate activities she might indulge in with him?

  Nothing inappropriate is happening here, she reminded herself staunchly.

  And then, in an attempt to appear stern and formidable, she drew her shoulders back and gave the man a slow once-over. He wore a disreputable sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped off, old jeans and older Western boots.

  Hot. Definitely. Tall and fit, with a scruff of bronze beard on his lean cheeks. She wondered briefly why Gilbert hadn’t required him to dress in the brown trousers, collared shirt and paddock boots worn by the rest of the stable staff.

  He stepped forward and her thoughts flew off in all directions. “Such a beautiful girl,” he said in a tender tone—to the mare. Alice stared, bemused, as he stroked Yazzy’s long, sleek face.

  Like most of her ancient hotblood breed, Yasmine was a fiercely loyal, sensitive animal. She gave her trust and affection to very few. But the bold and handsome American worked a certain magic on the golden mare. Yazzy nuzzled him and nickered fondly as he petted her.

  Alice permitted his attentions to the horse. If Yazzy didn’t mind, neither did she. And watching him with the mare, she began to understand why Gilbert had hired him. He had a way with horses. Plus, judging by his tattered clothing, the fellow probably needed the work. The kindhearted head groom must have taken pity on him.

  Finally, the new man stepped back. “Have a nice ride, ma’am.” The words were perfectly mundane, the tone pleasant and deferential. Ma’am was the proper form of address.

  The look in his eyes, though?

  Anything but proper. Far from deferential.

  “Thank you. I shall.” She led the mare out into the gray light of coming dawn.

  * * *

  The new groom had disappeared when Alice returned from her morning ride. That didn’t surprise her. The grooms were often needed outside the stables.

  Her country, the principality of Montedoro, was a tiny slice of paradise overlooking the Mediterranean on the Côte d’Azur. The French border lay less than two kilometers from the stables and her family owned a chain of paddocks and pastures in the nearby French countryside. A stable hand might be required to exercise the horses in some far pasture or help with cleanup or fence repair at one of the paddocks.

  And honestly, what did it matter to her where the handsome American had gone off to? He was nothing to her. She resisted the urge to ask Gilbert about him and reminded herself that becoming overly curious about one of the grooms was exactly the sort of self-indulgence she couldn’t permit herself anymore.

  Not after the Glasgow episode.

  Her face flamed just thinking about it.

  And she needed to think about it. She needed to keep her humiliation firmly in mind in order to never allow herself to indulge in such unacceptable behavior again.

  Like most of her escapades, it had begun so innocently.

  On a whim, she’d decided to visit Blair Castle for the International Horse Trials and Country Fair. She’d flown to Perth the week before the trials thinking she would spend a few days touring Scotland.

  She’d never made it to Blair Castle. She’d met up with some friends in Perth and driven with them down to Glasgow. Such fun, a little pub hopping. They’d found this one lovely, rowdy pub and it was karaoke night. Alice had enjoyed a pint or two more than she should have. Her bodyguard, huge, sweet old Altus, had caught her eye more than once and given her the look—the one meant to warn her that she was going too far, the one that rarely did any good.

  As usual, she’d ignored the look. Repeatedly. And then, somehow, there she was up on the stage singing that Katy Perry song, “I Kissed a Girl.” At the time, it had seemed like harmless fun. She’d thrown herself into her performance and acted out the lyrics.

  Pictures of her soul-kissing that cute Glaswegian barmaid with her skirt hiked up and her top halfway off had been all over the scandal sheets. The paparazzi had had a field day. Her mother, the sovereign princess, had not been amused.

  And after that, Alice had sworn to herself that she would do better from now on—which definitely meant steering clear of brash, scruffy American stable hands who made her pulse race.

  * * *

  The next morning, Thursday, the new groom appeared again. He was there, busy with his broom, when she entered the stables at five. The sight of him, in the same disreputable jeans and torn sweatshirt as the day before, caused a thoroughly annoying flutter in her solar plexus, as well as a definite feeling of breathlessness.

  To cover her absurd excitement over seeing him again, she said, “Excuse me,” in a snooty abovestairs-at-Downton-Abbey tone that she instantly regretted, a tone that had her wondering if she might be trying too hard to behave. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  He stopped sweeping. “Noah. Ma’am.”

  “Ah. Well. Noah...” She was suddenly as tongue-tied as a preteen shaking hands with Justin Bieber. Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. “Would you saddle Kajar for me, please?” She gave a vague wave of her hand toward the stall where the gray gelding waited. As a rule, she personally tacked up any horse she rode. It helped her read the horse’s mood and condition and built on the bond she established with each of the animals in her care.

  But once she’d opened her mouth, she’d had to come up with a logical excuse for talking to him.

  And she was curious. Would he work the same magic, establish the same instant comfortable rapport with Kajar as he had with Yazzy?

  The groom—Noah—set aside his broom and
went to work. Kajar stood patiently under his firm, calm hands. Noah praised the horse as he worked, calling him fine and handsome and good. The gelding gave no trouble through the process. On the contrary. Twice Kajar turned his long, graceful neck to whicker at Noah as though in approval and affection.

  Once the job was done, the groom led the horse from the stall and passed Alice the reins. His long fingers whispered across her gloved palm and were gone. For a moment she caught the scent of his clean, healthy skin. He wore a light aftershave. It smelled of citrus, of sun and cedar trees.

  She should have said, “Thank you,” and led the horse out to ride. But he drew her so strongly. She found herself instigating an actual conversation. “You’re not Montedoran.”

  “How did you guess?” Softly. With humor and a nice touch of irony.

  “You’re American.”

  “That’s right.” He looked at her steadily, those eyes of his so blue they seemed almost otherworldly. “I grew up in California, in Los Angeles. In Silver Lake and East L.A.” He was watching her in that way he had: with total concentration. A wry smile stretched the corners of his mouth. “You have no idea where Silver Lake is, or East L.A., do you? Ma’am.” He was teasing her.

  She felt a prickle of annoyance, which only increased her interest in him. “I have a basic understanding, yes. I’ve been to Southern California. I have a second cousin there. He and his family live in Bel Air.”

  “Bel Air is a long way from East L.A.”

  She leaned into Kajar, cupping her hand to his far cheek, resting her head against his long, fine neck. The gelding didn’t object, only made a soft snuffling sound. “A long distance, you mean?”

  One strong shoulder lifted in a shrug. “It’s not so far in miles. However, Bel Air has some of the priciest real estate in the world—kind of like here in Montedoro. East L.A.? Not so much.”

  She didn’t want to talk about real estate. Or class differences. And she needed to be on her way. She went as far as to stop leaning on the horse—but then, what do you know? She opened her mouth and another question popped out. “Do your parents still live there?”