The Rancher's Christmas Princess

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.

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.