A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(63)

Was it possible that Carl didn’t seem to mind holding her new child?

She wanted to go on watching him and marveling at the sight of him with her baby, but his eyes lifted. And when he saw that she was awake and perched on her elbows, he sat up straighter and pushed the errant lock off his forehead.

“How are you?” he asked shyly.

She didn’t blame him for feeling awkward with her after all he’d seen and what he’d had to do to help her, the kinds of things only a woman should see and experience. At the time, without Mutter or a midwife, and with only him available to help her, she hadn’t thought about the embarrassment of the situation. The pain had blocked any thoughts of modesty. But now . . .

She lowered her head, and her long tangled hair fell into her face.

The baby gave a grunt. Longing swelled in her chest for the tiny infant she’d labored to bring into the world. “The baby?”

As if sensing her desire, he held out the bundle. “My lady, your princess awaits you.”

He tucked the blanket under the baby girl’s chin. Her face was wrinkled and red, but also sweet and feminine much like Gretchen’s.

Annalisa hadn’t known whether to be disappointed or happy when she’d first realized she’d had another girl. Hans would have stormed out of the cabin, punishing her for not giving him a son. And she wouldn’t have blamed him. She knew the importance of having sons—especially for the strength they would lend to the survival of the farm.

“She’s beautiful.” Carefully, Carl lowered the baby into her arms.

“She’s not a son. . . .”

“Who would want a son when he could have a houseful of pretty girls who look like their mother?”

At his words of praise, a flush stole over Annalisa.

He stroked the baby’s head and gazed down at her. His eyes sparkled with something akin to pride.



“As much as I hated seeing you in pain,” he whispered, “I think I’m beginning to understand why so many people are willing to go through the hardship.”

Thin roots of joy tunneled around the ever-softening soil of Annalisa’s heart. She hadn’t had much joy in her life, but she was certain this feeling was very close to it.

She trailed her fingers across the baby’s cheeks, earning several squeaks that would soon turn to hungry wails. The baby was beautiful. But even more beautiful was Carl’s fascination. He’d shown more care for the child in the past couple of minutes than Hans had done for Gretchen in the first two years of her life.

“Do you think you’ll ever want sons?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t anticipate having any children—sons or daughters.”

“Of course you will. Someday you’ll forget all about the pain of the child birthing and you’ll be ready to do it again.”

“Perhaps.” A cloud crossed his features, and with a sigh he gave the baby one last caress before standing. “Remember, I’m a wanted man. I’ve been convicted of murder. I’m not in a position to have the responsibility that comes with having children.”

He’d never spoken of the events that had forced him to leave the Old Country, and she’d never asked. “But my uncle Matthias’s letter said the duke unfairly convicted you.”

“Unfair or not, I’m running from the law. The duke might still be looking for me.”

“He’ll never find you here.”

“I wouldn’t say never.” Carl rubbed a hand across his eyes. His face had taken on a haggardness that hadn’t been there before. “Even so, I cannot consider bringing my troubles upon a wife and family.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.” She couldn’t keep a thread of desperation from edging her voice.



He took a step back from the bed.

She fought the urge to reach for his hand and prevent him from leaving her side. Was he thinking about his teaching job in Chicago? Was he ready to leave now?

He shuffled away with slow, weak steps and stopped when he reached the door. With a heavy sigh he leaned against the doorframe and looked outside.

From the brightness of the early morning light and the warmth of the air, she could tell they would have another hot, dry day without the rain they needed.

“I don’t have anything to offer a family,” he went on. “My future’s uncertain. I don’t know where I’ll end up, what I’ll be doing, or even if I’ll have the means to support myself, much less a wife and children.”

She willed him to turn around and look at her, and see that none of that mattered to her. She didn’t care that he was running from the law, that he was wanted for murder, and that he didn’t own anything but the clothes on his back.

The baby squirmed, then let out a wail.

With as much discretion as she could manage, she shifted her blouse to give the infant access to her milk. After a few attempts, the baby latched on and began to suck with greedy gulps.

When the newborn’s eyes opened and squinted up at her, Annalisa stroked her fuzzy head. Deep motherly love sprang up, fresh and clear and forceful. “Ach, my littlest liebchen,” she whispered, slipping her finger into the baby’s hand and relishing the tiny grip.

But at the same time the passion for her newborn rose, she couldn’t shake the sorrow that rose with it. This little girl would never get to meet her grandmother. And she would likely never get to know the sweet man who had helped bring her into the world.