Читать книгу The Rancher's Christmas Princess - Christine Rimmer - Страница 10

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 over 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.

But she’d had other ideas. She’d agreed to hire the investigator, but she’d also decided to come straightaway to meet him. In the end, it was going to have to be her decision anyway. She didn’t want to dawdle over it, growing more and more attached to Ben as he grew more attached to her.

Better to get moving on what needed doing, to...get it over with.

She was a good judge of character and so far Preston had done nothing to raise any red flags with her. On the contrary, he seemed to her a solid, trustworthy man. A responsible man. When she’d asked the chatty motel owner about him, the woman had said he was gruff and not an easy man to know, that he’d only gotten more withdrawn after a “disappointment in love” two years before. Belle had wanted to ask the woman for details about that “disappointment.”

But she hadn’t. It would have felt too much like gossiping. Still, after what Mrs. Seabuck had said about him, she’d worried he would be hard to know.

And then she’d met him and found him much too easy to talk to. He hadn’t been gruff or withdrawn in the least, not with her anyway.

She could find no excuse to keep the truth from him. She needed to follow through on her dear friend’s final request.

Anne had wanted it this way....

Anne.

Just thinking her name brought a fresh surge of pain. Her friend had been gone for only ten days. Maybe she should have listened to her parents, waited for the investigator’s report at least.

All she really wanted was to keep Ben with her, to raise him as her own.

But that wasn’t to be. In the end, she was honor bound to carry through and do what Anne requested.

How to get started, though? How to get the all-important words out of her mouth?

Dear Lord, she still didn’t know.

It was snowing lightly, the white flakes flying at the windshield out of the darkness. So beautiful. So cold.

The land was bare and rolling with a silvery glow about it. Staggered, leaning fences lined the slopes to either side of the two-lane highway. Farther out, she could see the dark shapes of evergreens. The sky was endless—cloudy overhead, but clear far in the distance. On the crests of the mountain ridges way ahead, beneath the lowering dark clouds, she could see a band of cobalt studded with stars.

“Here we are,” Preston said. Neither of them had spoken for several minutes. He turned the four-door pickup truck onto a smaller road. The lights of Marcus’s SUV beamed in through the rear window as the bodyguard swung in behind them.

Thick evergreens, several rows of them on either side, lined the curving road. “Ponderosa pines,” he said. “They make a good windbreak.”

The snow had stopped. They rode between the thick stands of dark trees. And then the road opened up. There was a rustic arched gate with a sign: McCade Ranch. Beyond the gate, she saw barns and sheds, pastures and corrals, the land rolling in the distance. Farther out, those craggy peaks poked into the sky.

There were two houses facing off across a wide yard and circular driveway from each other. They were both two-story, of wood and natural stone, the smaller house seeming almost a miniature of the larger one. There were lights on in both houses. Nearer the barn, she saw another house, more rustic, like a cabin. There were lights on inside that one, too.

Preston parked in front of the largest house. Marcus pulled in behind him and was at her door, opening it for her, before Preston could get there.

She got out and went to meet Preston as he came around the front of the pickup. “Marcus will need to go in first, if that’s all right? To...have a look around.”

Preston shrugged. “Whatever it takes.” He turned to the bodyguard. “Go ahead. It’s not locked.” Marcus went up the steps and disappeared inside. Preston offered his arm and she took it. They proceeded up the steps at a slower pace. “So...do we wait out here until he gives the okay?”

She felt her cheeks redden. Really, all these security protocols did become tiresome. “It should be only a minute or two. And the good news is, once he gives the all clear, if you ever invite me back, he won’t insist on doing this again.”

“You sure?” Blue eyes teased.

“I promise.” Her gaze drifted to his mouth. It was a fine mouth, firm and yet well-shaped. She wondered what it might feel like pressed to hers—which was a completely unacceptable and inappropriate thing to be wondering.

She was not going to kiss this man. She hardly knew this man. This evening was not about kisses and she desperately needed to remember that.

“Don’t look now, but here comes my father.” Preston’s gaze had shifted. He was looking out across the front yard. Which meant maybe he hadn’t seen her staring at his lips—she hoped. “Whatever he says, don’t believe a word of it.”

She turned to look. A tall, rangy white-haired man with a thick, walrus-worthy moustache came striding toward them dressed in a pair of jeans that had seen better days and one of those waffle-weave shirts that looked like it doubled as his pajamas. He had bushy gray brows and a definite gleam in his eyes.

“Preston,” he said, his voice deep and rumbling and full of good humor. “Where’s your manners? You bring a lady home, you know I need to meet her. It’s only right I give her warning about you.” The old guy’s mustache twitched. He gave Belle a wink. “I’m Silas. The charming half of the family.” He offered a leathery hand.

Belle took it. “Arabella. Please call me Belle.”

He enclosed her hand between both of his. His gray eyes twinkled down at her. “I heard about you. They say you’re a princess....”

“Back it down a notch, Dad,” Preston muttered dryly.

The door opened and Marcus emerged. “All clear, ma’am.”

Silas patted her hand before letting it go. “A bodyguard. I can tell by that thing in his ear. And the lack of any facial expression whatsoever.”

Preston appeared to be suppressing a groan. “Why don’t we go in?” He gestured at the open door.

“Don’t mind if I do, son.” Silas gave a little bow. “But after you, Your Loveliness.”

Belle grinned. She couldn’t help it. So often, people were intimidated by her background. Not Silas McCade. “Why thank you, Silas.” She led the way into a roomy two-story foyer. Wide stairs led to the upper floor. It seemed to her a sturdy, solid house. A house that could do with a woman’s touch—some brighter colors, different curtains. But still, it was a fine house. Clean and well-maintained.

“Let’s go in the living room.” Preston helped her out of her coat and hung it on the hall tree, along with his own and that handsome cowboy hat he always wore. Then he gestured toward the open double door to her left. She went in. The McCade men followed. Marcus remained behind, near the front door. Preston told her, “Have a seat.”

She did, on the sofa.

Silas took an easy chair across from her. “A little whiskey would be welcome, son. You, Belle?”

“Nothing right now, thank you.”

Preston poured a drink, gave it to his father and sat down in the other easy chair.

Silas started talking. About how he had the foreman’s cottage across the yard, about how it got lonely at the ranch on a cold winter night. “Nice,” he said, “to have a little feminine company around this old place.” He started in about the horses they raised. “Preston’s good with horses and our breeding program is one of the best in the state. But I’m what they call a natural. You heard about those horse whisperers? I can do them one better. I don’t even have to whisper. A horse just naturally wants to please me. They know what I’m thinking and they do what I want them to do without me having to breathe a word.”

Preston advised softly, “Don’t let false modesty stand in your way, Dad.”

“Never have. Never will.” Silas drained the last of his drink and stood again. “Well, I guess I’ve monopolized the conversation enough for this evening.” He gave a nod of his shining silver head. “Belle, it’s been a delight to meet you.”

“And to meet you, Silas.”

Now Silas seemed almost shy. “You come back again. Anytime. Often.”

“Thank you.”

He left them.

Preston waited until the front door closed behind him. “No one quite like my dad.”

“He’s a charmer, definitely.”

“For God’s sake, don’t ever tell him that. He’s impossible to live with as it is.”

“I doubt that. I’m guessing he’s good company. And that the two of you get along quite well together.”

Preston looked at her levelly then. “Yeah, you guessed right.”

She thought of her cousin Charlotte, her companion, who was back at their lodgings, with Ben. She counted on Charlotte in so many ways. They’d been together for four years. And they did well together, she and Charlotte. She imagined that Preston’s relationship with his father might be somewhat the same.

He was watching her.

She met and held his gaze. It was so easy to do, to look at him. And it felt...good. Warm and exciting to be here with him. She hadn’t expected this. To be so attracted to him. As a rule, she was a down-to-earth, practical person, not prone to flirtations or easy infatuations.

It probably wasn’t a good thing to be so taken with him, when you came right down it. It was hard enough to be calm and objective about the task before her without these sparks flashing back and forth between them.

He said, “You’re so quiet, all of a sudden....”

“Sorry. Just...thinking.”

“About?”

“I was...” Tell him. Tell him now. But her courage deserted her. “...wondering if you have this big house all to yourself?”

“I do. My dad moved across the yard when I got back from college. He said it was a fine thing that I wanted to work with him. But the house would be mine one day and I might as well lay claim to it. He said the smaller house suited him. Doris, our longtime housekeeper, used to live in. But she remarried last year and moved to her new husband’s place. He’s got five acres not far from here. She comes in Monday through Friday to clean—here and across the yard at the old man’s place. She also cooks for us.”

“How many hired men do you have here?”

“We keep two hands on year-round, and then hire at least two more in the spring. There’s another house, the men’s cabin, with a living area downstairs and an open sleeping loft that holds six beds.”

She remembered. “The cabin near the barn?”

“That’s right. Doris cooks for the hands, too, Monday through Friday. Weekends, we play the meals by ear. It works out fine.”

He would need a full-time nanny. Ben would change his life completely. He had no idea....

In her mind’s eye, she saw him, suddenly, sitting in Anne’s lap, his blond head tipped back to smile at her adoringly, in those last days before she grew too ill to sit up.

Anne.

A sudden, hard wave of loss rolled through her. Her stomach knotted, her throat clutched and tears welled. She swallowed them down, blinked the moisture away.

“Belle?” He was rising from his chair. “What happened? What did I say? What’s wrong?”

She put out a hand. “No. Sit down. Please. It’s...all right. I’m all right. Honestly.”

He sank back to the chair. “Why don’t I believe you?”

Tell him. Tell him now. She opened her mouth to break the news.