Free The Rancher's Christmas Princess by Christine Rimmer

instead of cribs. Maybe
he gets interested in sleeping in a bed himself.”
    It was her turn to laugh. “He’s a year and a half old, Preston.
He can’t even form a coherent sentence yet.”
    “But he will. Soon. And when he’s ready, the bed will be ready
for him.”
    She looked at him obliquely. “How can I possibly argue with
such clear and cogent reasoning?”
    “Clear and cogent. That’s me, all the way.” He looked very
pleased with himself. “So the bed stays?”
    She gave the bed a disapproving glance. “It cries out for new
bedding.”
    “Fine. We’ll get a new bedspread. Sheets, all that. But the bed
stays?”
    “All right.”
    “Good.”
    They looked at each other, neither speaking. She thought about
kissing him, about how very much she had liked kissing him.
    And then she thought how she never should have kissed him, how kissing him had only confused the issue,
made it more difficult to tell him about Ben, and probably increased his
animosity when she finally did tell him. It had been touch and go between
them—last night and this morning.
    Things were going better now. She’d be well advised not to do
anything to threaten the very workable and practical arrangement they had
managed to agree upon.
    “’Scuse me...” It was Silas again. She was standing in his
way.
    “Sorry.” She stepped aside. Silas came in, arms full of baby
things, followed by Marcus, who carried Ben’s suitcases. Preston went out.
    Belle focused her mind on putting baby clothes in bureau
drawers, a much more productive endeavor than fantasizing about coaxing more
kisses from a man she never should have kissed in the first place.
    * * *
    Within a half hour, she had Ben’s things put away.
Charlotte brought him in and they put him down for a nap. He went right to
sleep, the little angel, even in the unaccustomed room. He was probably
exhausted from all the activity and excitement of the morning. There had been
way too many changes in his life recently. A child needed continuity. And he
would have that. He would have a good life, with his newfound father.
    Belle would personally see to it.
    There was a small room downstairs off the kitchen. It had a
tiny bath with shower. Preston gave that room to Marcus. Charlotte retired to
her room across the upstairs hall and Belle went to claim the room next door to
Ben’s. She had her things put away in no time and then she spent a few minutes
working on her list of improvements for Ben’s room. Tomorrow, she would drive
into town and see what she could purchase there. Then on Thursday, she would go
to Missoula, if necessary, to get whatever she hadn’t been able to buy in Elk
Creek.
    Downstairs, she found Charlotte in the kitchen with the
housekeeper, Doris, a substantial woman with a broad face and a helmet of
steel-gray hair.
    “Your Highness.” Doris, busy cutting up vegetables at the
counter by the sink, gave her a solemn nod of greeting. “I hope you’re settling
all right.”
    “I am settling in perfectly. Thank you, Doris—and please, I
prefer to be called Belle.”
    “It don’t hardly seem proper,” Doris argued. “Bad enough you
been upstairs workin’ like the hired help.” Doris had offered to put Belle’s
things away for her. Belle had thanked her but said she had no problem taking
care of all that herself.
    “I’m used to being self-sufficient,” Belle told her.
    Doris sniffed. “Well, all right, then. And I guess, if that’s
how you want it, I’ll be callin’ you Belle.”
    “I would appreciate that. Thank you.”
    “We’re accustomed to taking care of ourselves,” Charlotte said
proudly. She sat at the table, sipping coffee and nibbling on what looked like
lemon coffee cake. “Belle’s work takes her to places where the accommodations
can be quite primitive. We manage. It’s lovely to be guests in such a clean,
well-cared-for home.”
    Doris gave her a look. “Charlotte, are you butterin’ me
up?”
    Charlotte smoothed her pale brown