A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(31)

Did he miss the Old Country and his life there? What had he left behind when he’d run from the duke? Did he miss his family? Had he left a woman he loved?

Over the past week he’d shared very little about himself during their brief interactions. Even so, it hadn’t taken her long to conclude that he knew even less about farming than her family had when they’d first arrived.

Vater had worked the mines of Essen in order to earn what they’d needed for living. But that hadn’t been enough. All the members of their family had worked for hire and had done their share, whether in the field or in the households of noblemen. They’d been accustomed to the hard labor of surviving against the odds.

But while watching Carl, she’d realized that although he was an eager and fast learner, there was something different about him, something that set him apart from them. Not only was he lacking in basic skills, but he had an air of importance about him, as if he were above their simple way of living.

“I finished the plowing,” he said, turning back to her with one of his disarming grins. His eyes sparkled with the pride of his accomplishment.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him the cornfield would need plowing next and that it would be much harder due to the stumps. Then they’d have to do the harrowing and the sowing. And after that, there would be more work to do. There was always work to do.

Not that she was complaining. Even though it had been six years since they’d moved from the Old Country, she could still remember the hardships, the poverty, and the times of near starvation. While they’d faced all that and more in their new homes in America, at least they had the hope of owning their property someday, which was something that had never been possible in Saxony. There they’d lived on the nobleman’s land, rented from him, and worked his fields or mines like slaves. He’d made the laws, and fair or not they’d had to abide by them.

Vater was right. Noblemen like Baron von Reichart had been cruel and heartless, demanding much and giving little in return.

“I’m sure you wondered if I’d ever finish the plowing.” Carl scratched his head.

He had lice. She’d noticed him scratching his head plenty of times before.

She—and each of her family members—had come off the ship in New York the same way, full of lice. Mutter had deloused them not long after their feet had touched solid ground.

But Carl had obviously not had the same fortune.

“I had faith you’d finish,” she said, trying to ignore the inner nagging voice that told her she should help him, that she had it within her power to put an end to his itching misery.

“You just weren’t sure if I would finish this year, right?” His voice was light and teasing.

“Ja. I decided that at least the plowing would be ready for next spring’s planting.” His banter had a way of loosening her reserve. But once the words were out, she squirmed with the boldness of them.

“And I am quite sure even wiggly Snowdrop could have guided the horses more steadily than I have.” He reached down and scratched the belly of the pup stretched out near him. Gretchen knelt next to him and added her fingers to the belly rub, causing one of the dog’s hind legs to kick the air in delightful abandon.

“You’ve done better than the dog could have,” Annalisa offered.



“Well, then, that settles it. I’m good for something around here after all.”

“I couldn’t have plowed it myself.” Not with Gretchen underfoot, and not with the heaviness of the unborn baby.

At her confession, his eyes sought and captured hers. The gentleness there told her that her words had pleased him.

His gaze held her captive, and something warm passed between them. It was a kind of warmth she’d never felt with Hans, but had once dreamed existed between a man and a woman. It was strange, but not unwelcome.

As her pulse tapped like a downy woodpecker on the roof, she turned away, glancing at the quail on the table. The sight mocked her, reminding her that she’d neglected to prepare his midday meal, something that would have angered Hans and garnered his silent contempt.

Flustered, she started forward, not sure what it was about Carl that made her forget herself. “I’m sorry for the delay in preparing your meal.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’ve been too preoccupied to think about food.” He crouched next to the boiling sap and pumped the fanning mechanism that looked somewhat like a bellows. The logs glowed a bluish white as several flames flickered to life.

Even from the side, his face had a chiseled handsomeness, almost like that of a prince out of one of the fairy tales Gretchen loved. He was certainly the kind of man who must have drawn the attention of women wherever he’d gone.

Of course he wasn’t drawing her attention.

Her gaze lingered on the dark shadow of stubble that covered his jawline.

She was only curious. That was all.

The distant clatter of a wagon and the splashing clomp of hooves jarred her. Even though the path to her farm and her parents’ lay adjacent to the winding river road that led to Forestville, they seldom had visitors in the spring when the roads were difficult to travel on.

Gretchen scampered across the room, and Snowdrop followed, barking at the sudden commotion. Annalisa hurried outside after them, draping her scarf over her head. Even though the woolen yarn was damp and scratchy, she tied it tightly under her chin and bent to do the same to Gretchen’s.