Read The Rancher's Christmas Princess for Free Online

fade. She sighed when she saw
the end coming after all. The bands of color were losing brightness and form.
Much too soon, it would be over.
    And he was gazing down at her. She saw the magic reflected in
his eyes. He touched her chin, brushed that rough, warm hand across her
cheek.
    She didn’t stop him. She couldn’t, not right then. And even if
she could have, she wouldn’t have. She wanted what
happened next.
    He lowered his golden head. His fine lips touched hers. She
sighed again and turned her body into him. It was wrong of her, and she knew it.
But for that moment and that moment only, wisdom was silenced for the sake of a
kiss.
    For that moment, it was the most natural, the most right thing—to press her lips to his under the last
pale and fading echoes of the aurora borealis.
    And it was a beautiful kiss, as magical as the sight they had
just witnessed together. She forgot everything—the bodyguard waiting close by,
her duty to her lost friend, even the precious child she would soon have to
surrender to him.
    Finally, he lifted his head. He stared down at her, bemused.
“Belle...” The way he said her name required no answer. He raised her hand to
his mouth. She shivered at the touch of his lips. It wasn’t with cold. “Come on.
Inside...” He still had his arm wrapped around her. She let him hold her, let
him guide her. Together they turned for the warmth of the house.
    In the foyer, he took her coat. She gave it reluctantly. She
knew what came next and it was not going to graceful or pleasant.
    She turned to Marcus, who had followed them in. “Will you wait
in the car, please?”
    Marcus frowned, but he did as she bade him. He went out the
front door, closing it quietly behind him.
    Preston said nothing. He’d grown watchful again.
    “Could we perhaps...sit down?” she asked, the words carefully
measured.
    He gestured her ahead of him. They went into the living room.
As before, she sat on the sofa, in the same spot she’d taken earlier.
    He offered, “Coffee, maybe?”
    Perhaps a little false courage. “I don’t suppose you have any
brandy?”
    He went to the cabinet in the corner, got out a crystal
decanter and a proper brandy snifter. He poured her the drink and brought it to
her.
    She thanked him and took a larger sip than she should have.
Brandy, after all, was meant to be savored. It burned going down. And when it
spread its warmth in her belly, she felt no braver than she had before. She set
the glass on the low table in front of her.
    He settled into the easy chair. “All right, hit me with it. Why
are you here in Elk Creek, Montana, at Christmastime, Belle?”
    Where to start? “Do you...happen to remember a certain
archaeology student named Anne Benton? She came to Elk Creek three summers
ago.”
    He frowned. “Why do you ask?”
    “I’m getting there. I promise I am. But could you just...” She
sighed, shook her head. “ Do you remember Anne?”
    He stiffened. And he looked at her steadily for several awful
seconds. But then he shrugged. “Sure I remember her. I liked her. Why?”
    * * *
    Pres had no idea why they were suddenly talking about
Anne Benton.
    He’d hardly known the woman, though he had liked her. She’d
told him she was getting a doctorate in anthropology. A couple of times he’d
gone riding out near the caves where she and the others in her group were
working, cataloging the artifacts and pictographs in the caves, they said. Pres
would stop. Visit a little with them—and with Anne especially. He remembered she
was friendly, with an easy, open way about her.
    It hadn’t been anything romantic. He’d just liked her, that was
all.
    He’d rested his elbows on the chair arms, his hands folded
between. He looked down at them. “I...spent an evening with her once, just
before she left town.” He hadn’t realized he would say that out loud until he
heard the words coming out of his mouth.
    “Spent an evening?” Belle prompted softly.
    Pres didn’t like this. Not