A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(23)

The reflection from the moonlight turned her eyes into a deep purple. She searched his face as if she didn’t know whether to believe him.

He held out his hand to assist her from the mudhole.

His mind told him that he needed to leave Forestville and these generous people as soon as he could make other arrangements—that he probably shouldn’t have come here in the first place. But at that moment, looking into her eyes, he didn’t know how he could leave her to fend for herself.

Gretchen’s head drooped against his back and her body grew slack. He turned slightly. “Is she asleep?” he whispered.



Annalisa peeked behind him. Her expression turned tender and she nodded.

He held out his hand to her. “I’ll only stay if you would like me to.”

She stared at it but didn’t make an effort to accept his offer.

She lifted her eyes, and the questions and uncertainty within them told an unhappy story—a story of hardship and pain.

While he was stuck in Forestville, could he change that too? Could he possibly bring just a little bit of joy to those eyes?

A waft of night air tugged at her scarf and curled around a loose strand of her hair. She gave an almost imperceptible sigh and raised her hand toward his outstretched hand.

When their fingers touched, he noticed hers were thin and cold. But there was something soft and feminine about them that made his chest swell with protectiveness.

He assisted her out of the hole and back onto the road.

Water oozed from the worn leather of her boots, and the edge of her skirt dripped. He ought to rush her home before she caught a chill. But with her hand in his, he couldn’t make himself let go.

Another gust of wind rattled the bare branches of the maple trees that lined both sides of the road.

She focused on her wet shoes. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I am, after all, a magic horse tonight. And magic horses always rescue damsels in distress.”

At his words, her fingers trembled, and she tugged her hand away, leaving him longing for more of her touch.

She started forward again. This time she avoided all puddles and kept one step ahead of him. Within a few minutes they reached the door of her cabin. She gently retrieved Gretchen from off his back, and with a shy nod she whispered, “Guten nacht,” before disappearing into the dark interior.



He stared at the closed door for a moment, wondering at the strange longing within his heart.

Then just as quickly he spun away and berated himself. He must remember he needed to be careful. He couldn’t afford to get into trouble again. Trouble might have been his companion in days past, but he wouldn’t let it accompany him here. Not now, not this time.





Chapter

5





Annalisa added a stick of dry maple to the fire and peered through the oiled paper covering the window to the growing light of dawn.

Carl was late.

She’d even gotten up early that morning so that she could be ready for his arrival. She’d milked the cow, separated the cream, refilled the woodbox, and swept the floor. And then she’d started breakfast.

There wasn’t much left in the hole in the ground that served as her root cellar. But she’d found a couple of potatoes that hadn’t sprouted too much. She’d sliced them and fried them in lard. While they’d sizzled, she’d used some of the last of the buckwheat batter and made pancakes to go with her freshly boiled maple syrup.

Of course, she didn’t have any bacon or ham for the meal. She’d long ago used every bit of the pig she’d slaughtered last fall except for the fat. Still, she’d added a few slices of her dwindling supply of dried apples to the top of the potatoes, hoping the fruit would distract Carl from what he was missing.



She rearranged the fork and the mug next to the tin plate, then glanced disparagingly toward the three-legged frying pan she’d moved to the edge of the heat of the fireplace. The meal had been ready since half past six, the time Hans had always wanted it ready after he came in from doing barn chores. He wouldn’t have tolerated a lukewarm, soggy breakfast—especially one without meat.

She smoothed loose hairs back into the braid she’d carefully plaited. She could only pray Carl wouldn’t notice that his breakfast was ruined or how sparse it was.

“Where is he, Mama?” Gretchen sat on a braided rug near the hearth. At two and a half, the girl had the daily job of cleaning the globe of the barn lantern. She held the glass as carefully as Annalisa had taught her and wiped away the splotches of black smoke with a rag.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

But what if he’d decided he didn’t want to help her after all? She’d seen the way he’d kept looking at the door during the meal at her parents’ house. In spite of his ready smile, she’d caught a glimpse of a haunted restlessness in his eyes. Whatever his past, he was obviously still running from it.

The tapping of horse’s hooves came from the path leading to the cabin. In the stillness of dawn, the clomping grew steadily louder against the muddy slush that had frozen during the night.

Carl didn’t have a horse, at least one that she’d seen.

Annalisa glanced past the bunches of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling to the old rifle mounted on wooden pegs above the door.

What if Ward had decided to visit her again in the early morning while she was still alone?