The Rancher's Christmas Princess Page 2

  “Your father’s American, then?”

  “He took Montedoran citizenship when he married my mother. But yes, he was born here in America. I’ve ridden since I was small. We all have, my brothers and sisters and me. My sister Alice is the true horsewoman of the family, though. Do you raise cattle also?”

  “We do run cattle, yes. A small herd. But we’re mostly a horse operation. I’m in partnership with my dad and the ranch has been in the family for four generations. I’m pretty proud of our breeding program. Our horses are steady-natured, good for ranch work. They also perform well in rodeos across a range of events. We have two fine thoroughbreds standing at stud.” Whoa. He’d said a mouthful. As a rule, he wasn’t a man to fall all over himself bragging about his operation. He concentrated on his food again.

  She asked, “Any brothers or sisters?”

  “Just me and the old man.”

  She leaned in a little. “You smiled. Because of your father?”

  He shrugged. “You’d have to meet him. My father considers himself a charmer.”

  “But he’s not?”

  “I generally let people make up their own minds about that. But be warned. He’ll talk your ear off if you give him half a chance.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She passed on.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I was only a kid.”

  “That must have been hard. For you. And your father.”

  “Like I said, a long time ago.” He had a few questions of his own. One in particular: What was it she needed to see him about? But she seemed to want to...get to know him a little, for some reason. And he realized that was just fine with him. He was curious about her, too. “How about your family?”

  She sipped her coffee. “Both of my parents are still living and in good health.”

  “You said you had sisters and you mentioned brothers, too?”

  “I have four sisters and four brothers.”

  “That’s quite a royal family.”

  “Montedoro is a principality,” she explained. “That means we, the ruling family, are not, strictly speaking, considered royal.”

  “So your father’s not a king?”

  “Actually, it’s my mother who rules Montedoro.”

  Right. RaeNell had told him that, now that he thought about it. “You said your dad was born an American...”

  She nodded. “They met in Los Angeles. My father used to be an actor. He did well for himself, even won an Oscar for best actor in a supporting role.”

  “But he gave all that up when he met your mother?”

  “Yes, he did. When my mother took the throne he became His Serene Highness Evan, Prince Consort of Montedoro—and no, my mother is not a queen. She’s the sovereign princess.”

  “I see,” he said. Though he didn’t, not really. He only thought that her world and his were galaxies apart.

  Which had him feeling suddenly awkward and foolish. He’d been talking way too much, acting like a rube, a hayseed way too full of himself, all puffed up to be having breakfast with this amber-eyed beauty from a long, long ways out of town.

  Come on now. Exactly what business did she have with him? Whatever it was, she sure wasn’t in any rush to get down to it. He pushed his plate away, wiped his mouth and set his napkin on the table.

  The princess could take a hint. “I wonder if we might speak in private...” she cautiously suggested. He couldn’t say he blamed her for wanting to take the conversation elsewhere. The low murmur of other voices filled the diner now. But he had no doubt that every ear in the place remained cocked toward their booth.

  He thought again about how he had nothing in common with her, how she was out of his league and way out of his reach. How he was only here to find out why she was asking around about him. He reminded himself how he had no interest in women anyway, not since his fiancée dumped him for that jackass Monty Polk over two years ago now.

  Plus, RaeNell had mentioned a baby, hadn’t she? That the princess had a baby with her. She wore no wedding ring. But why would she bring a baby to Elk Creek unless it belonged to her?

  He went ahead and asked her. “Belle, are you married?”

  She answered without hesitation. “No, Preston, I’m not.”

  Then what about the baby?

  But he couldn’t quite get those words out. He’d been raised to mind his manners around a lady. And he didn’t know her well enough to ask her something as personal as that.

  Instead, he shocked the hell out of himself by asking, “Would you have dinner with me?”

  Chapter Two

  The princess had agreed that he would pick her up at the Drop On Inn at seven. Pres was there right on time, freshly showered and shaved, wearing tan slacks and a sport jacket under his winter coat—and feeling like something way too close to a damn fool.

  RaeNell was behind the desk, hanging miniature red balls on the little Christmas tree. “Lookin’ pretty spiffy there, Pres. I’ll tell her you’re here.”

  He gave her a nod of acknowledgment and wondered how RaeNell knew that he was there to pick up Belle. Then he decided not to stew over it. RaeNell always knew way more than she had any business knowing.

  She picked up the phone and pushed a button. “Hello, Lady Charlotte. Please tell Her Highness that Preston McCade is waiting in the lobby....Yes. Thank you.” RaeNell put the phone down. “She’ll be right down.”

  “Great.”

  RaeNell stood back to admire the little tree, then stepped close again to move an ornament to a spot nearer the top. “Where are you taking her? The Bull’s Eye? Of course you are. Where else you gonna get a decent steak in this town?”

  Pres said nothing. He didn’t need to. RaeNell had always been perfectly capable of carrying on a conversation all by herself.

  RaeNell folded her arms and braced them on the counter and pitched her voice to a whisper that somehow managed to ring out clear as a shout. “So what did she want from you? What’s it all about? Come on, you can tell me. You know I will never tell a living soul.”

  “I don’t know what she wants from me, RaeNell. She hasn’t said yet.”

  “But everyone saw you having breakfast with her, the two of you yakking away like you’re the best of friends.”

  He only looked at her. He kept his expression untroubled, although he was at least as curious as RaeNell as to what it might be that Belle wanted from him. “Sorry, she didn’t say.”

  The concrete stairs to the upper floor were visible through the window that gave a view of the parking lot. He watched Belle and her bodyguard descend.

  RaeNell pasted on a big smile and stopped leaning on the counter. The bodyguard opened the door and Belle sailed through wearing a long wool coat. Beneath the hem of the coat he saw she wore black boots with low heels. At breakfast, she’d worn a cashmere sweater and tan pants, with tan boots to match. He liked the way she dressed. Simply and practically. Expensive, but not flashy.

  She met his eyes. “Preston, hello.” The dark, cold Montana night suddenly seemed cozy, bright as a new day.

  He offered his arm. She stepped up and took it. He felt like a million bucks—or maybe two million. The bodyguard opened the door for them.

  As soon as they were outside where RaeNell couldn’t eavesdrop, he said, “The restaurant’s just down the street. We can walk, if you don’t mind a few snow flurries and a little gale-force wind.”

  She gripped his arm a fraction tighter, moved in just an inch closer. He got a whiff of her perfume. It was like her. Subtle, but so tempting. “I would love to walk.”

  He asked, “Your bodyguard have a name?”

  “Marcus.”

  “You can leave Marcus behind. I promise not to give you any reason to need backup.”

  She let out a small, resigned sigh. “Marcus goes where I go. If I dismissed him, he would still follow us. He doesn’t take orders from me. His job is to protect me and he’s very...committed to his
job.”

  “Even if you don’t need protecting?”

  “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”

  “Sadly, in this day and age, you just never know. A little over five years ago, my brother Alexander was kidnapped in Afghanistan. He eventually escaped and he’s home safe and happily married now, but the kidnapping forced my family to face a few realities. Whenever we travel now, we have security round-the-clock.”

  He’d read about her brother’s kidnapping. That afternoon, he’d spent an hour on the internet learning what he could about Belle and her family. “I’m sorry to hear about your brother.”

  “He’s doing well now. Truly. But Marcus will be accompanying us.”

  “Fair enough.”

  She had her face tipped up to him. Her eyes seemed almost golden in the light that spilled out the lobby windows. She clutched his arm a little tighter. “Then shall we go?”

  “This way.” He touched her gloved hand where it wrapped around his forearm. They started off down the street.

  The bodyguard fell back several paces. It wasn’t that hard to pretend he wasn’t there.

  * * *

  The Bull’s Eye Steakhouse and Casino was in a brick storefront between the Upper Crust Bakery and Elk Creek Cleaners. The sign out front was a target with a giant red arrow sticking out of the center. Miniature multicolored Christmas lights framed the front windows and the door.

  Inside, nothing had changed since the last time Pres ate there. The walls were paneled in bead board up to the chair rails and decorated with a lot of bad paintings of cowboys on trail drives. The tablecloths? Vinyl, printed with Western scenes. The chairs had red vinyl cushions and backs. There was a full bar. In the back was the “casino,” which consisted of two poker tables and a row of gambling machines. From the dining room, faintly, you could hear the never-ending sound effects from the machines.

  The Bull’s Eye wasn’t exactly jumping that early December night. Pres had called ahead and told the owner which table he wanted. It was the one tucked into that quiet corner, across from the bar.

  Daisy Littlejohn, the owner’s daughter, greeted them, waited for Pres to hang their coats and his hat on the coat tree by the door next to the Christmas tree and then led them to the table he’d asked for. Once they were settled in the red vinyl chairs, she handed them menus. “Wayne will be right with you.”

  Wayne, the waiter, knew his job. They went through the business of ordering drinks and food. He got all that out of the way quickly. In no time, they were left alone with a bread basket and a nice bottle of red wine.

  “It’s not fancy,” Pres said, “but I think you’ll like that rib eye you ordered.”

  “I’m sure I will.” She sipped from her water glass.

  Pres had ended up facing the door. The bodyguard stood by the row of chairs in front of the register, out of the way. He seemed to be good at blending in. Daisy was behind the register counter, fiddling with some receipts or something. She seemed totally oblivious to the big, silent fellow standing right there beside her.

  “I looked you up on the internet,” Pres confessed.

  Belle nodded, apparently not in any way surprised. “Did you find out anything interesting?”

  He buttered a hunk of bread. “I learned about what happened to your brother.”

  She nodded. “It was terrible for all of us. We were sure he had died. But he returned to us. And it’s over now. His wife, who is like a sister to me, is expecting twins next month. They are very much in love, Lili and Alex.”

  “I read that your Lili is a princess from the island country of Alagonia.”

  “Yes. Lili’s the crown princess, the heir presumptive.”

  He chuckled. She amused him to no end with her talk of princes and crowns, of thrones and titles. “And that means?”

  “Lili’s an only child. If her father, the king, never has a son, she will rule Alagonia one day. She’s called the heir presumptive because it’s presumed that she will one day be queen, barring the birth of a male heir. If she were a man, she would be called the heir apparent and her position as first in line of succession would be secure, regardless of any future children her father might have.”

  He studied her expression. “Somehow, you don’t approve of that?”

  “Well, I think it’s somewhat...backward. As though men were born naturally superior to women, naturally more suited to rule and therefore should take precedence. Everyone in the modern world knows that’s completely untrue.”

  Pres set down his butter knife. “You expecting me to argue that point with you?”

  “Were you planning to?”

  “Not a chance.”

  She sent him a sideways look. “Good thinking, Preston.”

  He moved on to a safer subject. “I also read that you’re a nurse, that you work with Nurses Without Boundaries.”

  “Yes. In my family, we believe in being useful. I don’t do a lot of hands-on nursing, but I am able to help raise awareness—and necessary funds—to get supplies and medical personnel where they’re most needed around the world.” She was so damn easy on the eyes. He could have sat there across from her forever, listening to her beautiful voice, watching her face, on the lookout for a hint of a smile. And he really was impressed that she was a nurse. She’d gone and gotten herself an education in a useful profession, even though she probably had money running out her ears and would never actually need to work. “What else did you learn about me?” she asked.

  He swallowed a bite of bread. “Your oldest brother, the heir to the throne, is a widower with two children.”

  She picked up her wine, took a small sip. “What else?”

  “Your second-born brother married a lawyer from Texas who happened to be the mother of his son.”

  She chuckled. A beautiful sound. “That’s a long story. For another time.”

  “None of your sisters are married. Neither is your one other brother, Alexander’s twin, Damien. I also read all about your mother and father and how they met.”

  She gave an elegant shrug. “How did your parents meet?”

  “My dad was six, my mom was five. It was her first day of kindergarten.”

  “Ah,” she said. “Love fated from childhood.”

  “I don’t know about that. The story goes that he chased her around the playground. She ran away screaming, tripped and needed seven stitches in her chin. She didn’t let him near her for years after that.”

  “At least it was a memorable meeting.”

  “It certainly was.”

  Wayne brought their salads. They ate, talking easily. Of her life. Of his. The steaks came—and were terrific as always. He told her he was an agriculture major in college. She said she’d gotten her nursing degree in America, at Duke University.

  He knew that this dinner was supposed to be an opportunity for her to get down to whatever it was that she needed to discuss with him. Didn’t matter. It felt like a date to Preston. A real date. A successful date, the kind of date that has a man thinking he will ask this woman out again. The kind of date that makes the world seem new and fresh and full of promise.

  He kept reminding himself that it really wasn’t a date. That any minute now, she was going to get down to it, to tell him what was going on.

  But she didn’t tell him. They had coffee and the Bull’s Eye’s famous bread pudding.

  And she remained not the least forthcoming as to why she’d been asking around town about him. He probably should have been more bothered about that, should have pushed at her to get on with it.

  But he wasn’t all that bothered and he didn’t feel like pushing. He was enjoying himself too much. By the time he’d swallowed the last of his bread pudding, he was starting to think he didn’t really care if she ever told him why she’d been looking for him.

  The bodyguard was still waiting patiently by the door when they went to get their coats. Pres helped Belle into hers.

  She looked back o
ver her shoulder at him. “Thank you, Preston.”

  He had his hands on her slim shoulders. He never wanted to take them away. And he wasn’t ready for the evening to end. “How about a drive out to my ranch?”

  “Yes, I would like that.”

  He let go of her reluctantly and reached for his hat. “It’s a half-an-hour ride,” he warned because it only seemed fair to let her know the trip would take a while. “A half hour each way.”

  “That’s fine. Marcus will follow us and drive me back. That way you won’t have to make two trips.”

  “I don’t mind making two trips.” The words came out husky and full of meanings he hadn’t intended to put in them.

  She only said softly, “That’s lovely. But Marcus will be following us. He might as well bring me back.”

  * * *

  Belle was becoming annoyed with herself.

  She should have told him by now. The longer she dragged it out, the more upset he was likely to be when she finally got down to it.

  But every time she started to edge up on the difficult things that needed saying, she would glance across the table into those sky-blue eyes of his and...her tongue was suddenly a slab of lead in her mouth, inert and unresponsive. Incapable of forming the necessary words.

  Because, honestly, how does one tell a man such a thing? How does one deliver such news?

  She should have planned better. She should have rehearsed what she might say, practiced how to...lead up to it. Because she wasn’t leading up to it and the longer she stalled, the worse it was going to be when she finally delivered the truth.

  The drive out to his ranch was a quiet one. He wasn’t a man who felt it necessary to fill every silence with words. Even with her nerves on edge from all she had yet to say, she appreciated that about him. He was good with silence. At peace with it.

  There were so many things she liked about him. Too many. Her response to him was distressingly positive on more than one level. She found him much too attractive. It made her feel...all turned around somehow.

  Maybe she really shouldn’t have rushed into this. Her mother and father had urged her to hire a private investigator to check Preston out before she approached him. They’d seen no reason why she had to head straight for Montana after the funeral.