A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(35)

“Get out of here.” Carl took a step closer, keeping the rifle trained on the man. “And in the future, if you have business that needs attending, you do it with me.”

The man’s eyes sparked with anger, the kind that said he didn’t like Carl’s interference—not in the least.

“I don’t know who you are or where you’re from,” the man said, picking up an official-looking document from the table and folding it, “but I don’t have too many enemies around these parts.”

Annalisa sat frozen in the chair, her face pale.

“My enemies don’t seem to stick around for very long.” The man tucked the sheet into the inner pocket of his coat. Then he leveled a deadly look at Carl. “If you get my meaning.”

Carl was tempted to tell the stranger he wouldn’t be around long anyway. Instead he snorted, the way his father always did when he was scoffing someone, and then he stepped back and nodded toward the door. “I don’t let my enemies stick around very long either. If you get my meaning.”

The man glared at Annalisa and once again spoke in stilted German. “Don’t think this is over.”

She didn’t move.

Carl’s grip on the gun tightened with the urge to do something to the stranger now—before he left, while he had the chance to teach him a lesson. If he didn’t do something more forceful, he had the feeling the man would likely come back to torment Annalisa.

Yet what could he do besides shoot him? And the Lord knew how much he wanted to avoid doing that. He might want to punch the man in the face, but he didn’t want to kill him.

“This is over,” Carl said, wishing he were a stronger man so that he could physically pick up the stranger and toss him outside. “Get out now before I change my mind and decide to put a few pieces of lead into you.”

Carl didn’t breathe until the man stepped outside into the darkness that had pushed away the last traces of daylight. Carl shoved the door closed and locked it. Then with urgent footsteps he crossed to Annalisa.

“Did he hurt you?” He lowered himself onto one knee beside her.



She rubbed her shoulder and the arm the man had wrenched behind her back. “Nein.” But her face was drawn.

“Are you sure?”

The blue of her eyes was laced with the dark purple hues that came after sunset.

He couldn’t keep himself from reaching out for her. Something deep inside him needed to protect her and make her world better. He brushed his fingers against her shoulders and then ran them down her arms.

She trembled.

He started to pull back, but she leaned closer, her eyes darkening. Gratefulness swirled in the depths. But there was something else too—something that stopped him and tightened his gut with warmth.

His fingers lingered on her arms.

“Danke,” she whispered.

Before he could stop himself, he circled his hands around her and drew her against his chest, gathering her as close as her rounded abdomen would allow.

She hesitated and held herself rigid as if she’d never been embraced and didn’t understand what to do.

“I don’t know who that man was,” he whispered against her hair, “but I was tempted to murder him when I saw the way he was hurting you.”

“He’s E. B. Ward, and he was trying to force me to sign my land over to him.” She shivered.

Was she afraid of E. B. Ward, or of him? She had to know by now she had nothing to fear from him, that he wasn’t the kind of man who would hurt a woman.

He gently brushed the light feathery strands of her hair that had come loose from the long plait she wore.

Her body remained stiff.



“Why does this Ward want your land?” He pressed his face into the silkiness of her hair and took a deep breath of the lingering sweet scent of maple syrup. “I cannot imagine him out plowing the land anytime soon.”

“Nein. He wants to build a sawmill, and the land along the river provides a perfect spot.” She didn’t move, as if she hardly dared to breathe.

He knew he should let go of her, that he was making her uncomfortable. But he couldn’t—not without attempting to show her she didn’t have to be afraid of him. “And he thinks he can just take the land from you because you’re a woman?”

She nodded. “He offered Hans money, but it wasn’t enough. And Hans didn’t want to move. He thought maybe he could build the sawmill for himself. . . .”

Her voice faded with an edge of bitterness. Carl couldn’t help wondering how Hans had treated her and if she had loved her husband. What had their relationship been like?

She never spoke of him. And she carried with her an air of sadness. He’d assumed she was still mourning her husband’s loss.

But maybe he’d beaten her down and driven the joy of living from her, like Idette’s husband.

Annalisa started to move away from him. But he gently tugged her closer. “You’re safe now. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” He relished the soft tickle of her hair against his jaw and the warmth of her body so near his.

For an eternal moment, she didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. But then she released a soft sigh and with it her shoulders relaxed. She sagged against him as if she’d finally breathed out all of her resistance to him.