The Rancher's Christmas Princess (16 page)

BOOK: The Rancher's Christmas Princess
8.57Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

He tried to think of something neutral to say, but then that
seemed pretty damn fake to pretend that nothing had happened.

Yeah, okay. It was a conversation they apparently needed to
have. He had to make it clear to her that there was this time they were having,
so fine and perfect, like a dream come true.

And there was real life. He wasn’t moving to some European
country to hang out with the jet set. And damned if he would ask her—or even
let
her—give up what was hers by rights, a life
of glamour and privilege, to move to Montana and be a ranch wife.

They finished the meal in a strained, unhappy silence.

When they left The Bull’s Eye, he almost asked her if she
wanted to just head back to the ranch. But she hadn’t said a word about cutting
the evening short—she hadn’t said much of anything since he’d asked her to stop
talking about their nonexistent future together.

Maybe, once they got to the dance, once he got his arms around
her on the dance floor, the mood would lighten up a little. They could put the
heavy issues aside. They could do what he’d assumed they had agreed to be doing
together: enjoying a beautiful time while it lasted.

The Masonic Hall was all done up for the party, with a
Christmas tree in every corner and lights strung from the rafters. They checked
their coats and went in. A five-piece band, the one the Community Club always
got for town dances, was playing “Let It Snow.”

Pres took Belle’s hand and led her over to the punch table. He
poured them each a paper cupful. She took hers with a nod, her lips moving,
saying “Thank you,” though he didn’t hear the words. The band was too loud.

They stood there, sipping the too-sweet punch, waving
occasionally to people they knew as the music grated in his ears. He felt grim
and determined and realized he’d hardly felt grim at all since Belle had brought
Ben and Charlotte and the damn bodyguard and moved into his house.

And then he started thinking how he used to feel that way all
the time, how being with Belle kind of put a whole new light on every day, and
brightened every night. How he’d been losing himself in just being with her and
not let himself think about how it was going to be when she left.

Yeah, at least he’d have Ben. That mattered a lot. Ben would
give him a focus and a hope in his life that he’d lost somewhere along the
way.

But it was still going to be pretty damn awful to wake up every
day and not once see her smile across a table at him, not once hear that voice
of hers that was cultured and musical and sexy as hell. Not be able to turn to
her for advice about Ben. Not be able to ask her opinion when he was considering
the pros and cons of just about anything.

Not to have her with him in his bed. For the lovemaking, which
with her was the best he’d ever had—and yeah, it wasn’t like he had a lot to
compare it to. But still. A man knows the best when he’s having it. And with
Belle, it was the best, bar none.

And what about the simple feel of her skin, the way she sighed
in her sleep, the smell of her hair?

How was he supposed to get by without the smell of her
hair?

And why the hell did she have to bring this up and get him so
he couldn’t stop thinking about it anyway?

“Let It Snow” finally ended. The band launched into something
slow and sweet.

He turned to her and took the half-empty cup of punch from her.
He set the cup on the refreshment table and put his cup beside it. “Let’s
dance.”

She went into his arms. The world filled up with her: with the
scent of her subtle, tempting perfume, the feel of her soft, smooth body under
the red velvet she wore. He closed his eyes and pretended that right now, this
moment, was all that there was. Just him and Belle, dancing together to an old
Willie Nelson song his mom used to play at Christmastime before they lost
her.

He tried to hold on to that feeling, the feeling of him and
Belle together, right now. The feeling that the past and the future didn’t
matter, didn’t even exist.

When the song ended, she smiled at him.

He took that to mean the rough patch was over. They could go
ahead as they had been. Through the holidays.

Until the New Year.

They danced some more. When the band took a break, she left him
to visit the ladies’ room. He stood by the refreshment table and talked horses
with Gil Belquist, who owned the Triple B Ranch, southwest of town.

Gil turned to get more punch. He bent over the table and past
his shoulders Pres caught sight of Lucy, standing by the door. Staring at
him.

What was her problem, anyway?

But then Belle returned and the band started playing again. He
took her in his arms and there was only the two of them. The way it ought to be
for every last second of the time they had left together.

They were quiet on the ride home, but it seemed to him a
comfortable kind of silence. He was really thinking that things were okay
between them again.

Inside, Charlotte and the old man were waiting up. They
reported that Ben had been a little angel. He’d gone to bed without a fuss.

Then Charlotte said, “I’ll just walk Silas across the
yard....”

They put on their coats and left.

Pres turned to Belle—and he knew as soon as he looked in her
eyes. Things were not okay. In the restaurant, she’d said they could discuss it
later.

Later
was now.

“Let’s go in the living room,” she said.

He trudged in after her, feeling like a condemned man on the
way to the execution chamber. She waited until he was inside, then she shut the
wide doors to the foyer and checked the baby monitor that Charlotte had left on
the coffee table, making sure it was on.

She sat on the sofa. He took the seat across from her. It
seemed wrong, somehow, to sit next to her for this.

“Please, Preston.” She leaned forward, toward him, her hands
tightly folded in her lap. “I only want you to know that I...I care for you. I
care for you deeply. And I have been thinking that I don’t want it to end with
us. I don’t want us to just walk away from each other once the holidays are
over. I want...well, I want more. More time with you. More
life
with you.”

God, she was beautiful. It wasn’t fair how beautiful she was.
He never should have gotten anything started with her. He could see that now.
Now, he was the one stuck trying to make her see reason. “I’m crazy about you,
Belle. You know that.”

Her face seemed to light from within. “Well, all right, then.
What is the problem? I’m not asking you to marry me.” She blushed in the
prettiest way. “Not yet anyway. I’m only saying that if we both want to be
together, why don’t we just...allow for the possibility that there might be more
for us beyond the New Year?”

“What more? I’m not moving to Montedoro, Belle. I belong here.
My life is here.”

“I know that.” She said it so simply. Calmly.

He put up both hands. “Hold on. Wait a minute. You’re actually
considering...I mean, you have some idea that
you
might move
here,
to Elk Creek?”

“I do, yes. I am considering a move to Elk Creek.”

“Belle, that’s beyond crazy. That’s just purely insane.”

She sat back from him then. Her eyes turned guarded. “It
certainly is not. I think I could fit in here.”

“It’s not a question of your fitting in. You’d be bored out of
your skull inside of a month.”

“Excuse me.” Now the color in her face was more of the
pissed-off variety. “Have I seemed
bored
to
you?”

“Belle, you’ve been here two weeks. It’s the holidays. Wait
till mid-February. You won’t be able to get out of Montana fast enough.”

She sat up even straighter. “I think you’re wrong.”

“You haven’t lived through a Montana winter yet.”

“But I could, no problem. I am a person with resources,
Preston. And I’m not talking about money. I have a rich internal life. I know
how to keep myself occupied with productive activities. I love to read and to
study. I’ve already spoken with Mary Beth Deluca about the various community
projects with which I might become involved were I to make my home here. I could
still travel for my work. And I would also be interested in helping you with the
horses. It so happens I love horses. And then there would be Ben. I would be
spending a lot of time with him.”

It all came clear to him then. “Ben.” He said it gently.

“Yes. Of course. Ben.” She frowned. “Why are you looking at me
like that?”

“Well, because I get it now. It’s about Ben.”

She put her hand to her throat. “About Ben? I don’t
understand.”

He laid it right out on the table. “If you stay here, you don’t
have to give him up.”

She lowered that hand back to her lap and then she just sat
there, looking at him for several seconds that seemed like forever. When she did
speak, each word was ice-cold. “I’ve been prepared to give Ben up from the
first. That’s why I came here, in case you don’t remember.”

“I know. But if you hook up with me, you won’t have to.”

She smiled. It was not a happy expression. “I’m very tempted to
say something sarcastic and heavy with irony right now. But instead, I’ll simply
tell you directly that yes, it would be wonderful for me to be here to help Ben
grow up. I would give a lot for the chance at that. But Ben doesn’t need
me
to grow up strong and capable. He will have you and
Silas to guide him. And this excellent community you have here in Elk Creek. So
there’s simply no need for me to sacrifice my own life to see that he is well
cared for. If I chose to live here, to remain here, with you, it would be for
you,
Preston. For you and for me and for what we
might share together.”

By God, he was starting to believe her. And that scared the
hell out of him. He stood up. “I...I can’t, Belle. Since we started, I’ve hated
even thinking about how it will be when you go. Now you’re telling me you’re
thinking that maybe you
won’t
go. And all I can
think is... You say that now. When it’s all exciting and new and fresh between
us. But what will you say in a month? In a year? If I had you for a year, and
then
you left me...” His throat locked up. He
swallowed, hard. “I can’t do that. I think it would kill me.”

She rose, too, regal as any queen. “Your mother died, you know?
She didn’t
leave
you.”

“What?” He let his annoyance with that train of thought show.
“You’re going to start psychoanalyzing me now?”

“No, I’m only pointing out that you lost your mom at a tender
age. And you never really tried with a woman until Lucy. And we know that did
not go well. It could be you’re so reluctant to give this thing between us a
chance because experience has taught you that you’ll only be disappointed.”

“Maybe experience has taught me right.”

“If men never took a chance on women, Preston, the human race
would be doomed.”

Why couldn’t he make her understand? “Belle, I can’t, okay? I
just can’t.”

“That’s not so. You can. You simply won’t. Do you see me as a
flighty sort of person? Someone who makes commitments and then changes her mind
about them?”

“No. Never. You’re not like that. That’s not what I mean. It’s
only...” He didn’t know how to finish. So he just stood there, feeling awkward
and awful and out of his depth.

She came around the table toward him and didn’t stop until she
stood right in front of him. His arms ached to reach for her, to pull her close,
crush his mouth down on hers.

To forget all this talk of what might be. To lose himself in
the moment, in the shine of the firelight on her hair, in the scent of her skin,
the softness of her body pressed good and close to his....

But he didn’t reach for her. He kept his hands hard at his
side.

She was the one who reached out. She lifted her slim, smooth
hand and pressed her palm to his cheek. He felt that touch so deep inside, in
places no one had ever touched him before. She said, “My sister Rhia told me
that I ought to take a chance on you.”

He answered in a low rumble. “She doesn’t even know me.”

“No, but she knows
me.
She knows I
can be...cautious. That I could be one of those people who won’t risk loving for
fear of a broken heart.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a little caution.”

“No.” She took her hand away. It needed every ounce of will he
possessed not to grab it back. “But sometimes one has to be bolder, to risk
getting hurt, to find the kind of love that lasts a lifetime—or so my sister
said.” She turned and walked away from him. He watched her go, aching so bad to
call her back, but knowing she wanted more from him than he was brave enough to
give. At the doors, she paused and faced him again. “I’ll leave the monitor
here. If Ben needs you in the night, I know you’ll be there for him. In the
morning, when you go out to the stables, just open my bedroom door and put the
monitor inside. I’ll take it from there.”

And that was all. She opened the doors and went through,
leaving him behind.

Chapter Thirteen

E
verything was the same.

And yet it was all completely changed.

Pres went to bed alone. And in the morning before dawn, when he
got up to go out to the stables, he left an empty room behind. He slipped the
baby monitor inside her door, just like she’d asked him to.

Temptation was a real bitch. He couldn’t stop himself. He
opened the door wider than he needed to. And for a minute—or maybe three—he
stood there, staring into her darkened bedroom, breathing the air she breathed,
staring at the shape of her across the room, under the covers, dimly seen
through the gloom.

Then, very quietly, he pulled that door closed.

At nine, they went to Mass. And then into town for lunch at the
diner. Belle was gracious and gentle as always. She smiled at him more than
once. But it wasn’t the same kind of smile she would have given him the day
before.

It wasn’t an intimate smile.

At home, Charlotte set to work making her family recipe for
chicken with wine. She said, “Silas can help me and we can take care of Ben. Why
don’t you two go outside? Perhaps a horseback ride? Belle loves to ride.”

He waited for Belle to speak up and say how she didn’t feel
like a ride right now, how she didn’t want to go outside—especially not with
him.

But then she only gave him one of those new
cordial-but-not-intimate smiles. “Would you mind, Preston? I would love to go
riding.”

He kind of wondered what she was up to, but what could he say?
“Sure. Weather’s clear for once. We can ride.”

“Thank you. I’ll just tell Marcus where I’m going so he won’t
worry....”

The bodyguard came along, although he rode behind them, far
enough back that it was easy to pretend he wasn’t even there.

Belle wore tan riding breeches and English riding boots. But
she took right to the Western saddle. And she had a fine, easy seat on a horse.
They took some trails he knew where the snow tended to pile up off the riding
path. It was pretty easy going, a lot of it under the tall, sheltering branches
of the evergreens.

She didn’t talk much. But then, neither did he. Mostly, he was
wondering if maybe she was rethinking sleeping separate from him. If maybe she
was deciding that she wouldn’t mind enjoying the rest of the time they could
have together, kind of going back to their old understanding of how it would
be.

He told himself how that wouldn’t be a good idea, how if she
did have some notion that they could be temporary lovers after all, he would
just tell her he didn’t see how that could work. That it was just asking for a
big old heap of trouble. That she had been right to go to her room alone last
night.

But who did he think he was kidding?

All she had to do was crook her little finger. He’d have her
buck naked with those fine, slim legs in the air lickety-split—the watchful
bodyguard be damned.

Once a cottontail rabbit ran across their path. The horses
shied. She laughed and had the frisky white mare he’d given her settled and easy
in about a second flat.

So, yeah, she knew horses. And she knew how to handle them.
He’d figured as much from those things she said about her sister Alice that
first night, about the Akhal-Tekes they kept in Montedoro. But it was one thing
to know it in his head and another to ride out at her side and be confident she
knew what she was doing.

Back at the stables, he told her to go on inside, he’d take
care of the horses. But she insisted she could unsaddle her own horse. And she
did, removing the bridle first, then taking his tips on how to proceed, given
the differences between the Western saddle and the English saddle she was
accustomed to.

Once the horses were groomed and free in the near paddock, she
thanked him. And then she turned and left him standing there, staring after her
gorgeous swaying backside, wishing he had grabbed her and kissed her and
promised her anything if she would only be with him again.

He slept alone that night.

It was bad. He’d known that it would be. That he would suffer
like hell when she left him.

He just hadn’t expected to do all this suffering when she was
still right there in the house with him. She and Charlotte and Marcus spent most
of the next day in Missoula, finishing up the Christmas shopping. And then, when
they came home, the old man took off. He said he had some Christmas shopping of
his own to do. He didn’t get home until after dinner, but Charlotte had kept a
plate ready for him.

She fussed over him, getting him a glass of whiskey, jumping up
to get him more bread. He actually kissed her when she passed him the butter.
You’d think they were newlyweds sometimes, the way the two of them carried on.
It annoyed Pres no end. Didn’t the old man have any clue how tough it was going
to be for him when Charlotte left with Belle?

Apparently not. His dad seemed to be much better than he was at
living in the moment, at enjoying a good thing while he had it and not worrying
about the pain that was coming down the pike.

That evening, Belle reminded him that he needed to start
thinking about hiring a nanny, someone to take care of Ben when he and the old
man were out working.

He said, “Yeah, I’ll get right on it.”

“When?” she asked so sweetly.

“The day after Christmas. How’s that?”

“That will be fine. Would you like me to ask Mary Beth or
Father Francis if they have anyone they would recommend?”

“Thanks, but I can handle it.”

She didn’t say anything after that. Only nodded.

And walked away.

Another lonely night dragged by.

And all of a sudden, it was Christmas Eve. The women played
Christmas music all day. He was getting pretty tired of hearing “White
Christmas.” But then, his nerves were generally shot.

Every night Belle wasn’t with him was a whole new kind of
purgatory.

And he knew she was leaving right after New Year’s. That meant
a week of constant suffering, wanting to talk to her the way they used to talk,
with warmth and understanding between them. Wanting to touch her when touching
was not allowed. Yeah. Another week of that.

Then she would go.

And he would probably be even more miserable than he was
now.

It was getting so he couldn’t remember why he’d turned her down
Saturday night—well, okay. He did know. It was so he wouldn’t suffer in a year
or two when she realized she was sick and tired of being a rancher’s wife and
decided to hightail it back to her villa by the sea in glittering, glamorous
Montedoro. It was because it was going to be so damn much worse to lose her
later than to go ahead and bite the bullet now.

God in heaven. He didn’t see how it could get all that much
worse than this.

Over dinner that night, they discussed attending Midnight Mass
and the candlelight service. But they decided to skip it that year.

“Next year,” his dad promised, sharing a rather intimate look
with Charlotte. “No matter what.”

“No matter what,” Charlotte answered softly.

After Ben was in bed and Marcus had retired to his room, the
old man appeared in the family room with a bottle of champagne in one hand and
four fluted crystal glasses between the gnarled fingers of the other. He raised
the bottle high. “Let’s pop this champagne. Shar and I have an announcement to
make.”

At which point Charlotte, on the sofa, jumped to her feet.
“Silas.” She gave him a look. One of those looks that women have been giving men
since the dawn of time. “We discussed this.”

The old man blustered back, “I’m an impatient man, Shar. I’m
tired of waitin’. It’s time we laid it on out there, time everyone knew our
plans.”

She hustled to his side, grabbed his arm and spoke in a
flustered whisper. “There are others to consider here and you know that.”

He dipped his gray head and planted a kiss on her upturned
mouth.

“Silas!” She was blushing.

“Then you better damn well consider ’em now. I am poppin’ this
cork tonight, one way or another.”

“Oh, Silas...”

He bent close and kissed her again. “Go on, now,” he said, his
mustache twitching with his devilish smile and his voice downright tender. “Do
what you need to do....”

Charlotte sighed. And then she nodded. And then she let go of
his arm and turned to Belle, who was watching them with an expression that fell
midway between bemused and slightly stunned. “I wonder if we might share a
private word?”

Belle got up. She raised her head high and put on a gentle
smile, the way she always did when she faced something difficult. For a moment,
Pres forgot all about his own suffering and only wanted to get his arms around
her and tell her it was going to be okay—even if it wasn’t. Everyone knew what
was happening here. Ben wasn’t the only one Belle would be leaving behind come
the New Year. “Of course,” she said, still smiling. “Let’s go upstairs.”

* * *

Belle shut the door of her bedroom and went to sit on
the side of the bed beside her longtime companion.

Charlotte had her hands folded in her lap—but she couldn’t keep
them still. From folding them she had quickly progressed to wringing them.

Belle put her hand over both of Charlotte’s. “Come now. It’s
not as terrible as all that. In fact, if I’ve assumed correctly, it seems that
something wonderful has happened and congratulations are in order.”

Charlotte’s hands stilled—but her shoulders dropped. “I’ve been
trying since Sunday to find a way to tell you. But I know that things aren’t
going well with you and Preston. I didn’t want to...make things worse. I hate to
leave you. I...” She blew out a heavy breath in lieu of saying the rest.

It did hurt. To think of losing Charlotte, too. It hurt a great
deal. But it was also cause for real rejoicing. Belle did her best to focus on
the joy. “So, then, you’re marrying Silas and staying here?”

Charlotte sniffled and swallowed hard. “It’s horrible of me, I
know.”

Belle squeezed Charlotte’s hands and then put her arm around
her friend. She guided Charlotte’s head down on her shoulder. “Listen. Are you
listening?”

Charlotte sniffled again. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“I am so happy for you. Silas is a lucky man—and he’s also a
wonderful man.”

“He is. Yes.” There was more sniffling.

Belle reached over, snagged a tissue from the box on the
nightstand and passed it to Charlotte. “You have waited far too long to have
your happiness.”

“But what about
your
happiness,
dearest?” A sob escaped Charlotte. She did her best to swallow it back. “Oh, I’m
such a ninny.”

“No, you most definitely are not a ninny.” Belle stroked her
silver-threaded light brown hair, breathed in the rose scent she always wore.
“And as for my happiness, one day I shall have it. Just you watch. But for now,
I’m very happy that my dearest friend has found what she’s been looking for. And
think how perfect this is for our Ben. We’ve been so worried that he won’t have
enough of a woman’s influence in his life as he grows. But now we know that he
will. He will have his beloved Shar-Shar right there with him, to love him and
care for him, every single day from this day forward. And we won’t have to worry
about finding the right nanny in a big hurry. You can take care of that in time
as you see fit.”

Charlotte sniffed again. And then she lifted her head from
Belle’s shoulder. “This tissue is hopelessly soggy. Could you pass me
another?”

Belle did just that. “Now, I want you to dry your eyes and
we’ll go downstairs and toast to the coming union of two of my favorite people
in this whole, wide world.”

* * *

So they went down to join the men. Silas opened the
champagne and they toasted the engagement of Preston’s father and Charlotte.
Belle took care not to glance in Preston’s direction during the toasts. She
didn’t know what she might do or say if she caught him looking her way.

She was absolutely livid with him for turning his back on what
they might have shared together. She was furious and she was deeply hurt. She
would have hated him.

If only she didn’t love him so much.

The few hours until bedtime dragged by. But finally, at ten,
she allowed herself to say good-night. Upstairs in the bathroom she went through
the motions, cleansing her face, brushing her teeth. Then she crossed the hall
to her room, put on a plain white nightgown and got into bed. She heard Preston
come up. It seemed to her he hesitated in front of her door.

Her heart stopped.

And then recommenced beating in a glum and plodding way when he
went on by and entered his own room. She heard him close his door.

Two hours later, the Christmas lights in the yard had gone out
and she was still wide awake, lying there in the dark, staring up at the
shadowed ceiling, wishing she dared to simply pack her things and leave in the
morning.

But no. There was more than her broken heart to consider here.
If she left early, Charlotte would know exactly how bad off she was. After all,
Charlotte was well aware of how determined and focused she could be. If her pain
was so great that she couldn’t see this visit through until the New Year, well,
Charlotte would worry. And she didn’t want her loyal longtime companion worrying
any more than absolutely necessary. Charlotte fully deserved the happiness she’d
found. She deserved to have a glorious first holiday season with her newfound
true love. And Belle was determined to see that she got it.

Plus, there was Ben. He was adjusting marvelously to his new
life here in Montana, to his father and his grandfather. But another week with
Belle available to him seemed wise. Yes, he needed to move on, to let her go.
And she was working on that, shifting the responsibility for him more and more
to Preston and Silas. And after tonight, she could add Charlotte into that mix.
The goal was to have everyone
but
Belle caring for
him by the time she left. With Charlotte to count on, pulling away from Ben was
going to be a lot smoother than she would have dared to hope.

Other books

The Book of Joby by Ferrari, Mark J.
Broken by Travis Thrasher
Farnsworth Score by Rex Burns
Last Dance by Melody Carlson
Creando a Matisse by Michelle Nielsen