The Rancher's Christmas Princess

by Christine Rimmer

  She expected to move into his house? “Why?”

  Her soft mouth trembled a little. He could see this wasn’t any easier for her than it was for him. “Ben needs time. Surely you can understand that Charlotte and I can’t just drop him off at your house and go home to Montedoro?”

  It was so strange. His life had been feeling pretty meaningless, a little empty, since the whole thing went to hell with Lucy. But now that he’d seen the child, now that he knew absolutely that the boy was his, he felt energized. Focused. He didn’t have a wife, but he did have a child. “I want him. He’s mine and I will learn to take care of him.”

  She reached out as if to touch his arm again, then thought better of it. She pulled her hand back, slid it between her knees with its mate, hunching her shoulders a little, hoarding her body heat. “Please, Preston. Consider. Ben’s already lost the one constant in his life up till now, his mother. He counts on me, and on Charlotte. It could be terribly damaging for him if we were to just...disappear. He will need time, to get to know you and your father, to come to love you, to transfer his trust to you. Plus, even though your house is solid and comfortable and you’re clearly willing to take on the care of a small child, it won’t hurt you to have a little help at the start.”

  A little help at the start...

  He supposed she had a point.

  His head was spinning and his life felt strangely cracked wide-open all of a sudden. He had a son. Belle would be staying with him. Her companion, Charlotte, too. And the damn bodyguard.

  He touched his lip. Still swollen. He could do without the bodyguard. But he understood that Marcus went where Belle went. Plus, well, he knew she was right. His son needed time to become accustomed to his new life, to his father and grandfather, who would care for him now.

  “How long will you be staying?” he asked.

  She was shivering. She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbed them to warm herself a little. “I don’t know. I thought we could play it by ear, see how it goes. A month, I would guess, in any case.” Her fine, aristocratic nose was bright red. Her lips—those lips he had tasted only last night—were just a little bit blue. Her breath plumed in the icy air. “Until the New Year?”

  He rose, tipped his head in the direction of the sidewalk. “Come on. You’re freezing. Let’s get back.”

  She looked up at him through those amazing golden eyes, but she didn’t stand. “Just tell me. Are you willing?”

  Are you willing? The question seemed to echo in his head.

  Okay, he was still pretty ticked off at Anne Benton. She’d had his baby and never said a damn word about it to him. But Anne was gone forever. And as for Belle, well, he had to give her credit. She was a hell of a woman, a woman who was only trying to do the right thing.

  The hard fact was, he had no idea how to take care of a kid. But he wanted the boy. Absolutely. More than he wanted to draw his next breath.

  The world, for him, so bleak and without potential since Lucy dumped him, was suddenly full of strange and terrifying promise.

  “I’m willing,” he told her, and reached down his hand. “We’ll do it your way.”

  Chapter Five

  Pres got his first lesson in child care that day. He learned how to properly attach a car seat into the backseat of his quad cab. The seat went in facing the rear.

  He and Belle got into a little wrangle about that. Because, come on, why shouldn’t the kid face front and get a decent view of what was going on?

  She patiently explained that it was safest for a child to ride rear-facing until the age of two. “Their vulnerable heads and necks are much better protected that way in the event of a crash.”

  “I’m not going to crash,” he informed her.

  She folded her arms across her middle. “Spoken like a man.” And then she won out by reminding him that he had promised to be guided by her. “Plus, it’s only six more months, then he’ll be facing front. The time will fly by. Believe me.”

  That stopped him. Six months. By then, Belle would be long gone. Ben would be calling him Daddy. His world was changing in a very big way. His life would never be the same.

  “All right.” He studied the installation pictures on the side of the car seat. “I’m on it.” It wasn’t that hard. He had it hooked in and properly secured in no time.

  She checked his work. “Very good.” She signaled Charlotte, who was waiting with Ben and the old man in the warmth of the motel reception room.

  Belle’s companion came out carrying the boy. The old man pushed the empty stroller, which he folded up and stuck under the camper shell in the back without even having to be told to do it. Like he knew exactly what to do with all the equipment you needed to take care of a kid.

  And maybe he did, come to think of it. He’d raised Pres after all.

  Charlotte marched right up to Pres. “Excellent job installing the seat.”

  “Er, thank you, ma’am.”

  Ben was making chortling sounds and trying to stick his mittened fingers into Charlotte’s mouth. “Shar-Shar...” He said something else. Something not in any language Pres was familiar with.

  Charlotte kissed his cheek. “Yes, and I adore you, too, young man.” She caught Belle’s eye and the two women exchanged a look. Then Charlotte said, “And for your next lesson, you will be putting him in the seat.” He realized she was talking to him when she tried to hand the kid over to him. Panic gripped him.

  The boy didn’t seem to like the idea either. He let out a scared little squeak and buried his head against the older woman’s shoulder. “No. Shar-Shar. No...”

  He felt the strangest admixture of relief and disappointment. “Uh, maybe we ought to give him a chance to get used to me first....”

  Charlotte regarded him through those enormous eyes of hers. “Put your hand on his back. Gently.” He was afraid to do it. What if the kid started crying or something? It would be his fault. “Do it,” Belle’s companion said pleasantly, yet with a definite thread of steel underneath.

  So he did it. He laid his gloved hand lightly on the small back of the little boy. Even through the layers of winter clothing, he felt the kid’s living warmth.

  Ben lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. It was a wary sort of look, but at least he didn’t look scared or like he was about to burst into tears.

  “Hi,” Pres said, for lack of anything better. He felt like an idiot. And at the same time, pretty damn wonderful.

  “Hi,” the boy parroted in a small voice. And then he pressed his face into Charlotte’s shoulder again, his small arms clutching tightly around her neck.

  Pres arched an eyebrow at Belle’s companion. Charlotte gave him a regal nod, which he took as permission to remove his hand. He did, slowly. With great care.

  Charlotte put the boy in the car seat. They headed for Missoula, Pres and Belle in front, Charlotte with the little one in back. The old man rode with the bodyguard in the black SUV.

  The paternity test didn’t take long. There were forms to fill out, IDs to produce. Pres let them take his thumbprint. For Ben, they wanted a print of his right foot. And they took pictures of both of them as well. Then a nurse swiped a Q-tip along the inside of his cheek. She did the same to Ben. The results would be sent to the ranch by courier at the beginning of the following week.

  That was it. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet, so they went straight back to Elk Creek and had lunch at the Sweet Stop in the same booth they’d shared that morning.

  After that, Belle checked out of the Drop On Inn. Larry was running the front desk. He fell all over himself saying how sorry he was to see them go and how much he hoped they’d enjoyed their stay. Pres wanted to tell the fool to cool his jets, but he kept his mouth shut about it. It wasn’t his business if Larry Seabuck wanted to act like a love-addled fool. And Belle knew how to handle herself. She nodded and smiled and thanked Larry for his hospitality.

  Outside, his father and the bodyguard were loading up the SUV and the back of the quad cab
with suitcases and baby equipment. Pres went out to help, although they were doing just fine without him. It was better than watching Larry drool all over Belle.

  For the ride to the ranch, somehow Charlotte ended up in the backseat of the SUV with the old man. The car seat was already in Pres’s truck, so Belle put Ben into it. Pres assumed she’d be riding in the back with him.

  But she took the other seat in front. She buckled herself in and sent him a companionable glance. Her eyes were shining. Like they were on some grand adventure together.

  He couldn’t help giving her a smile. Maybe he was as bad as Larry, when you came right down to it. One look from those amber eyes of hers and he was a goner. He knew he needed to watch himself.

  She was here to help him become a father to his son. And then she would go back to her country on the coast of France, back to living in a palace and jetting around the world to disadvantaged countries, where her mere presence brought funds for much-needed medical supplies and raised awareness of people struggling and in need.

  Her smooth brows drew together. “Preston, is there something the matter?”

  “Not a thing,” he baldly lied. “Ready?”

  She nodded. “Let’s go.”

  He put the truck in gear and off they went.

  * * *

  “’Scuse us, Belle.”

  “Oops.” She stepped clear of the doorway. Preston’s father and Marcus came in, carrying Ben’s crib between them. She pointed. “How about on that wall?”

  They carried the crib over there, extended and locked the legs and then left again to get the rest.

  Belle lingered. The upstairs room was nice and large with a couple of big windows to let in plenty of light. It was one door down from the master suite where Preston slept and there was another bedroom on the other side. Belle planned to take that room for the next month.

  There was a child’s desk in the corner, a bookcase and two full-size chests of drawers. And a single bed with a brown bedspread. The walls were covered in faded green-and-white stripes and the curtains were of a dull brown. The room could be perfect for a little boy—with some paint. And some new curtains and blinds. And maybe some wall stenciling or even a mural.

  Preston came in with the collapsible changing table. “Where?”

  She pointed. “There.”

  He put it where she’d indicated and opened it up. “How’s that?”

  “Wonderful.”

  He was watching her. “Then why are you frowning?”

  “The bed needs to go. And I have to start making a list of everything else that needs doing in here.”

  “Hey.” He raked his hand back through his thick golden-brown hair. “That was my bed when I was a kid.”

  “You can bring it back in when Ben is ready for it.”

  “And when will that be?” he asked.

  Outside, the sky had cleared again. Thin winter sun slanted in the window near where he stood. It brought out more of the gold in his hair. His shoulders went on for days. And it wasn’t only that she liked looking at him. He was a fine man, in his heart, where it mattered, someone who would always do the right thing.

  A wry smile curved his lips. “You are a thousand miles away.”

  She shook herself. “No, I am right here, in this nice, big room that cries out for fresh paint and new curtains.”

  He folded his strong arms across his broad chest and gave the room a once-over. Slowly. “Okay, you may have a point.”

  “Good. It’s so nice when we see eye to eye.”

  He laughed. It was a slightly rusty sound, as though he didn’t laugh often. “I think that’s my job, isn’t it? To make sure I see eye-to-eye with you on all things Ben-related.”

  She mirrored his pose, folding her own arms across her middle. “It shouldn’t be difficult. Because I know whereof I speak.”

  “I love the way you talk. Whereof. Nobody uses whereof anymore.”

  A little shiver went through her. Because of the light in his eyes and the teasing curve of his mouth. “Oh, yes, they do. I just used it.”

  “You didn’t answer my question about the bed. When will Ben be ready for a real bed?”

  “Soon. Six months. A year, perhaps...”

  “How about this? We leave the bed here. He gets used to having it around. Maybe he sees that other people sleep in beds instead of cribs. Maybe he gets interested in sleeping in a bed himself.”

  It was her turn to laugh. “He’s a year and a half old, Preston. He can’t even form a coherent sentence yet.”

  “But he will. Soon. And when he’s ready, the bed will be ready for him.”

  She looked at him obliquely. “How can I possibly argue with such clear and cogent reasoning?”

  “Clear and cogent. That’s me, all the way.” He looked very pleased with himself. “So the bed stays?”

  She gave the bed a disapproving glance. “It cries out for new bedding.”

  “Fine. We’ll get a new bedspread. Sheets, all that. But the bed stays?”

  “All right.”

  “Good.”

  They looked at each other, neither speaking. She thought about kissing him, about how very much she had liked kissing him.

  And then she thought how she never should have kissed him, how kissing him had only confused the issue, made it more difficult to tell him about Ben, and probably increased his animosity when she finally did tell him. It had been touch and go between them—last night and this morning.

  Things were going better now. She’d be well advised not to do anything to threaten the very workable and practical arrangement they had managed to agree upon.

  “’Scuse me...” It was Silas again. She was standing in his way.

  “Sorry.” She stepped aside. Silas came in, arms full of baby things, followed by Marcus, who carried Ben’s suitcases. Preston went out.

  Belle focused her mind on putting baby clothes in bureau drawers, a much more productive endeavor than fantasizing about coaxing more kisses from a man she never should have kissed in the first place.

  * * *

  Within a half hour, she had Ben’s things put away. Charlotte brought him in and they put him down for a nap. He went right to sleep, the little angel, even in the unaccustomed room. He was probably exhausted from all the activity and excitement of the morning. There had been way too many changes in his life recently. A child needed continuity. And he would have that. He would have a good life, with his newfound father.

  Belle would personally see to it.

  There was a small room downstairs off the kitchen. It had a tiny bath with shower. Preston gave that room to Marcus. Charlotte retired to her room across the upstairs hall and Belle went to claim the room next door to Ben’s. She had her things put away in no time and then she spent a few minutes working on her list of improvements for Ben’s room. Tomorrow, she would drive into town and see what she could purchase there. Then on Thursday, she would go to Missoula, if necessary, to get whatever she hadn’t been able to buy in Elk Creek.

  Downstairs, she found Charlotte in the kitchen with the housekeeper, Doris, a substantial woman with a broad face and a helmet of steel-gray hair.

  “Your Highness.” Doris, busy cutting up vegetables at the counter by the sink, gave her a solemn nod of greeting. “I hope you’re settling all right.”

  “I am settling in perfectly. Thank you, Doris—and please, I prefer to be called Belle.”

  “It don’t hardly seem proper,” Doris argued. “Bad enough you been upstairs workin’ like the hired help.” Doris had offered to put Belle’s things away for her. Belle had thanked her but said she had no problem taking care of all that herself.

  “I’m used to being self-sufficient,” Belle told her.

  Doris sniffed. “Well, all right, then. And I guess, if that’s how you want it, I’ll be callin’ you Belle.”

  “I would appreciate that. Thank you.”

  “We’re accustomed to taking care of ourselves,” Charlotte said proudly
. She sat at the table, sipping coffee and nibbling on what looked like lemon coffee cake. “Belle’s work takes her to places where the accommodations can be quite primitive. We manage. It’s lovely to be guests in such a clean, well-cared-for home.”

  Doris gave her a look. “Charlotte, are you butterin’ me up?”

  Charlotte smoothed her pale brown hair, which she always wore neatly pulled back in a chignon. “It is possible that I am, yes.”

  Doris blinked and then she and Charlotte laughed together. Belle got herself a cup of coffee, which Doris let her do without a word of protest. Then the housekeeper explained that the McCade men were out with the horses. “They’ll be in for dinner, which is pot roast. I take the food over to the men in the cabin and leave it in the oven there, ready for them. I leave everything ready here, too, for Silas and Preston. They usually eat right here in the kitchen. But with you two and the little one and the bodyguard staying for a time, I’ve gone ahead and set the table in the dining room. You need me, I can stay to serve tonight. I’ll just give my Enoch a call and tell him I’ll be late.”

  Belle said, “The pot roast smells wonderful and we can manage just fine.”

  Doris frowned. “You sure?”

  Charlotte chimed in. “You go home to your husband.”

  “Well, all right, then.” Doris told them they were not under any circumstances to clear the table. “I got Silas and Pres trained to put the leftovers away so’s they don’t spoil. Everything else, I’ll take care of in the morning.”

  “All right, then,” said Belle.

  “Silas has told me the news,” Doris confided. “About that darling boy bein’ Preston’s. About you bringing him here to his daddy. About his mother’s passing. I was very sorry to hear about that, about your loss.” She shook her head and clucked her tongue. “I never met her, but I understand she was your friend. It’s a sad thing to lose a friend. Especially one who should’ve had all her life ahead of her. And so hard on the little boy, too.”

  “Yes,” Belle replied, wondering if it would ever get easier to speak about Anne. “Hard on everyone. Thank you, Doris.”

  Doris clucked her tongue some more and then set to work chopping carrots with gusto. “Preston’s a good man,” she said. “I think he will be a fine father.”