The Rancher's Christmas Princess
Read The Rancher's Christmas Princess Online
Authors: Christine Rimmer
A CHRISTMAS PRESENT.
FROM THE PAST.
Arabella Bravo-Calabretti came to Elk Creek, Montana, with a
secret to deliver and a job to do. Being a Bravo Royale, she was going to do it
right. Before she handed her best friend’s darling son, Ben, over to his
unwitting father, they would all spend Christmas together. Only then could she
be absolutely sure that rancher Preston McCade was ready to be a dad.
Or…was that
really
the reason
Belle was hanging around? She and Preston were practically from different
planets, yet the attraction was undeniable. Before long,
someone
was utterly in love with a rancher—and Christmas in Montana
was presenting one surprise after another.
’Twas just before Christmas, and all
over Elk Creek
Tongues were a-flappin’ with the news of the week
A
princess was visiting, with staff and a child,
And seeking a rancher.
Wasn’t that wild?
Now Belle (that’s the princess) had a
story to tell
And she wasn’t certain it all would end well
She had
to be sure that her friend’s child, a boy
Would be raised by his father
with love and with joy.
So Belle and her bodyguard, companion
and babe
Moved in with the ranchers, the Misters McCade
And as
Montana, and Christmas, and love worked their charms
Guess who fell
passionately into whose arms?
Dear Reader,
It is the season of giving. And Arabella Bravo-Calabretti,
Princess of Montedoro, has come to the small Montana town of Elk Creek bearing a
gift beyond price. He’s eighteen months old and his name is Benjamin.
Horse rancher Preston McCade has a good life, a solid,
stable, productive life. It’s a life he’s just fine with, though deep in his
heart he has that nagging feeling that the most important things have passed him
by. Once, he planned on marriage and a family. It didn’t work out. He hasn’t
tried again.
But then he meets Princess Arabella and soon enough, the
child named Ben. And all of a sudden, Christmas is more than just a day in
December. Preston’s life is full of promise again and more than one miracle is
within his grasp. He just needs to be brave enough to reach out and claim the
love that’s waiting for him.
Happy holidays, everyone! May this blessed season bring you
the most important gifts—the ones of love and family.
Yours always,
Christine
The Rancher’s Christmas Princess
Christine Rimmer
Books by Christine Rimmer
Harlequin Special Edition
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Wife Wanted
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Lone Star Country Club: The
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“Reinventing
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¤Montana Mavericks: Back in the Saddle
Other titles by this author available in ebook
format
CHRISTINE RIMMER
came to her profession the long way around. Before settling
down to write about the magic of romance, she’d been everything from an actress
to a salesclerk to a waitress. Now that she’s finally found work that suits her
perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely
gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine is grateful
not only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the day’s
work is through: a man she loves who loves her right back, and the privilege of
watching their children grow and change day to day. She lives with her family in
Oregon. Visit Christine at
www.christinerimmer.com
.
For MSR
Always
Chapter One
N
ews traveled fast in Elk Creek,
Montana.
And the presence of a real, live princess in town? That
definitely qualified as news.
Her Highness’s name was Arabella. Arabella Bravo-Calabretti.
And her mother ruled some tiny, rich country in the Mediterranean Sea. Princess
Arabella had taken three side-by-side rooms at the Drop On Inn on Main Street.
Word was she had a baby in tow. She’d also brought along a big-eyed middle-aged
lady and a bodyguard as well.
In Elk Creek, where things tended to get pretty quiet during
the long, snowy winter, visiting royalty was big news indeed.
As a rule, horse rancher Preston McCade would have given no
thought and less attention to any princess, in Elk Creek or otherwise. However,
Her Highness Arabella had been asking questions—about him. She’d arrived in town
on a Sunday in early December. Preston got a call that very evening informing
him that the princess wanted to get in touch with him.
And on Monday morning bright and early, when he stopped in at
Colson’s Feed and Seed to check on an order, Betsy Colson beamed him the biggest
smile he’d seen on her freckled face in all the years he’d known her.
“Pres.” Betsy slid out from behind the counter. “You heard
there’s a princess in town?”
“Good morning to you, too, Betsy.”
“I heard it from Dee Everhart who got it straight from
RaeNell.” RaeNell and Larry Seabuck owned and managed the Drop On Inn. “She’s
from Montedoro, this princess. You ever heard of Montedoro? It’s on the coast of
France. They say it’s beautiful there. Palm trees. Casinos. Balmy beaches, the
sun shining practically year-round.”
Pres removed his hat and tapped it against his thigh to knock
off the snow. “Speaking of weather, it’s supposed to snow on and off all day.
Tomorrow, too.”
Betsy, who’d been trying to push him around since way back when
she was two years ahead of him at Elk Creek Elementary, braced her fists on her
narrow hips. “Did you
hear
what I just told
you?”
“I heard yesterday. RaeNell called me out at the ranch to tell
me some princess was looking for me.”
Betsy widened her eyes—and lowered her voice. “Dee said that
RaeNell says that the princess wants to
speak
with
you, Pres.”
“Well, then I’m sure she’ll be calling me. I told RaeNell to
give her my number.”
Betsy’s pale brows drew together over her pointy nose. “What do
you think a princess wants with
you?
”
“Not a clue. Any news on those supplements I ordered?”
“They’ll be in by Wednesday, guaranteed.”
“All right, then.” He turned for the door.
Betsy called after him. “She’s staying at the Drop On Inn, you
know. You could just stop in there, find out what she’s after....”
“See you Wednesday, Betsy.” He put his hat back on and pulled
open the door. Ducking under the mistletoe tacked to the door frame, he got out
of there before Betsy could tell him more things he
could
be doing.
The snow had let up. And the Drop On Inn was down at the end of
Main Street. He went ahead and walked over there before stopping in at Safeway
to pick up a few groceries. He
was
kind of curious.
Might as well find out what business this princess thought she had with him.
Larry Seabuck, slim and stooped with thinning gray hair, stood
behind the check-in desk when Pres entered the motel’s pine-paneled lobby.
“Preston, how’s the world treating you?”
“Can’t complain. I heard you had a visitor who’s looking for
me.”
“The princess.” Larry said it reverently and just a tad
possessively, too.
“What room is she in?” Pres took off his hat again.
Larry frowned. “RaeNell said she called you—and when you said
it was all right, she gave Her Highness your phone number.”
“Could you buzz the lady’s room? Tell her I’m here and willing
to talk to her.”
“Ahem. Well. She isn’t in just now.”
Pres rested an elbow on the check-in counter, which had fake
Christmas garland tacked in loops all around the rim and a small tree decked
with blinking lights down at the far end. “You’re looking a little squirrelly,
Larry. Why don’t you just say what’s on your mind?”
Larry’s wire-rimmed glasses had slid down his nose. He eased
them back up. “Well, a woman of quality. An aristocrat. And she’s our guest.
We’ve had two calls from reporters, asking if she’s staying here. She’s asked us
to say she has no comment and doesn’t wish to be disturbed. We want to respect
her privacy.”
Pres, who in recent years hadn’t found a whole lot to laugh
about in life, suddenly realized he was suppressing a chuckle. “She good
lookin’, this princess?”
“Uh. Well. Very attractive. Of course. Ahem. Yes.”
“Larry, I believe you are smitten. You better watch out.
Someone will tell RaeNell.”
“Oh, now, Preston. It’s nothing like that.” Larry blinked
several times in succession. “No, not at all.”
“Just tell me where I can find her. I promise to be on my best
behavior.”
Larry pressed his thin lips together. “You don’t even know how
to talk to a princess.”
“Suppose you clue me in, Larry?”
“Ahem. Don’t sit in her presence unless she invites you to.
Call her ‘Your Highness’ the first time you address her. After that, call her
‘ma’am.’”
“She told you all this?”
Larry sniffed. “Of course not. I looked it up. On
Wikipedia.”
“Well, all right. So where do I find her?”
Larry gave in at last. “Oh, have it your way. Breakfast. She’s
at breakfast.” He threw out a pale, skinny hand in the general direction of the
Sweet Stop Diner across the street.
“Thanks, Larry. You have a fine day.”
* * *
Belle saw him coming. He was tall and ruggedly handsome.
He marched right up to the booth where she sat alone, removed his cowboy hat and
addressed her politely. “Your Highness, I’m Preston McCade. I heard you’ve been
looking for me.”
Her bodyguard, Marcus, who stood near the diner’s front door,
watched her for a sign that he should intervene. Belle met Marcus’s waiting eyes
and gave a quick shake of her head. Then she granted the large rancher a cool,
pleasant smile. “Yes, I have been hoping to meet you, Mr. McCade.” She indicated
the empty seat across from her. “Please, join me.”
Everyone in the diner was watching them. Belle could
feel
their breath-held regard. It was so quiet that a
person could have heard a feather whisper its way to the floor as the rancher
shrugged out of his sheepskin jacket and hung it up on the hook beside the booth
along with his hat. Beneath the jacket, he wore a plain cotton shirt that was
the same pale, cool blue as his eyes. His jeans were worn and his rawhide
Western boots looked lived-in.
Blue eyes,
she thought.
A lovely light blue just like Ben’s....
“The usual, Pres?” the waitress called out from over behind the
long counter.
“Sounds good, Selma.” He slid into the booth.
The waitress stuck an order on the metal wheel in the window to
the kitchen. Then she picked up a coffeepot and sauntered over to the booth.
Preston McCade turned his mug up and she filled it. She topped off Belle’s cup,
too.
The rancher sipped and set down the mug. By then the waitress
had left them. “Planning on being in town long, ma’am?”
“Please.” She spoke softly. “Call me Belle. My visit here
is...open-ended.”
They regarded each other. His gaze was level and steady. He had
strong, broad shoulders and a square jaw with a nice, manly cleft in it. She
could see how Anne might have found him attractive. Any woman would.
And not only was he attractive, but there was also something
steady about him. Something thoughtful and dignified and reserved. Her
instinctive response was that he would be someone a person could depend on. She
felt that it wouldn’t be difficult at all to come to like him, to respect him.
She was glad for that. She’d been worried about what she would do if she
didn’t
like him.
She’d been worried about a lot of things. She was still
worried, if the truth were known, just tied up in knots over this whole
situation.
And her heart ached. For her lost friend. For sweet little
Ben...
Oh, dear Lord. How could she do this? How could Anne have asked
this of her? She shouldn’t
have
to do this....
“You okay, ma’am—I mean, Belle?” McCade spoke low, with what
really did sound like honest concern. He was leaning toward her a little.
Suddenly, she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. She looked down
at his hands bracketing the heavy coffee mug. They were strong hands, big hands.
Capable. Calloused. Hardworking hands.
Was his life...difficult? Harsh? How harsh?
So very many things she needed to know. Too many, really.
Obligation dragged on her like chains.
She composed her expression and then made herself raise her
head again. “Yes, I’m all right. Thank you.” She glanced out the window. “It’s
snowing again.”
He nodded. “You’d best not make your visit
too
open-ended. Stick around another week or so, you won’t be
getting out of Montana until the spring thaw.”
“I think I shall have to take my chances as far as the weather
goes, Mr. McCade.”
“Preston.”
She felt a smile blooming. Almost. “Preston.”
He nodded at her nearly full plate. “Eat. Your food will get
cold.”
She wasn’t hungry. Not anymore. At the sight of him striding so
purposefully toward her, her appetite had fled. Still, she picked up her fork
again.
* * *
Pres sipped his coffee and tried not to stare at the
princess across from him.
She was good-looking, all right. With all that shiny brown hair
and those fine, almond-shaped whiskey-colored eyes. Her skin had a glow to it.
He bet it was soft as velvet to a man’s touch. And she was classy, too. Polite.
Soft-voiced. No wonder Larry had a crush on her.
His food came—a thick steak, four eggs, home fries, toast and a
generous slice of hot apple pie on the side. He tucked into the meal, thinking
that he liked the direct, no-nonsense way she’d met his gaze. She seemed kind of
serious, though. Kind of sad. Like something was weighing on her mind.
Then again, he was pretty damn serious himself as a rule. After
all, life was tough. Then you died.
“Have you lived here in Montana all your life, Preston?”
“Except for four years of college in Utah. I live at the family
ranch. The McCade Ranch. It’s a ways out of town. We breed and train horses.
Quarter horses, mostly, for ranch work.”
“The quarter horse. That most American of breeds. Great
sprinters. So agile. Perfectly suited to work on a ranch.”
His opinion of her went up another notch. “You know
horses.”
“My father was raised on a ranch,” she said. “In Texas. Near
San Antonio. I have a cousin, Luke, who lives on that ranch now. Luke raises
quarter horses, too, as a matter of fact.”
“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.