A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(64)

The sunlight grazed Carl’s head, turning his hair the color of freshly baked rye bread. He was unlike any man she’d ever known, and she longed to slip behind him, wrap her arms around his waist, and lay her cheek against his solid back. She wanted to plead with him to stay and be the papa of her new baby.

He would be a good papa. In fact, she couldn’t imagine a better papa.

After the weeks of their being together, would Vater demand that Carl marry her? Maybe the neighbors had spread rumors about all the time they’d been here together, alone. Ja, Carl had been deathly sick. She hadn’t been able to move him. And Frau Pastor had been unable to find anyone else willing to come and help, as everyone else had been too busy taking care of their own sick.

Still, wouldn’t everyone expect them to get married now? And wouldn’t a man as honorable as Carl do the right thing if he’d compromised her reputation?

Perhaps they could find a way to make a marriage partnership work. If they tried hard enough, couldn’t they figure out how to overcome all the barriers that loomed between them?

As if sensing her silent pleas, he pivoted until he faced her. With one shoulder against the doorframe he folded his arms across his chest. His eyes were tender upon the baby. “What will you name her?” he asked softly.

She lifted the baby to her shoulder and thumped her back. “I think I’ll call her Sophie. After my mutter.”

“I like that. I think your mother would be pleased too.”

Her throat constricted with the realization that Mutter wouldn’t get to see her new grandchild and that Sophie would have to grow up without an oma.

“I’m sure your new husband will take one look at both Sophie and Gretchen and be completely won over.”



Her new husband? She shook her head.

But Carl spoke quickly—before she could. “Besides, you’ll eventually give Dirk many sons.”

A rebuttal formed on her lips. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t want to give her cousin any sons. That she didn’t want to be with him. That after meeting Carl, she didn’t want to ever be with anyone else.

Before he’d walked into her life, she’d accepted her fate, had determined to make the best of her children’s lives no matter who her husband was.

But now . . .

After experiencing respect and decency and kindness from a man, how could she go back? How could she be happy with anything less?

The darkness of Carl’s eyes had turned murky, and once again he spun away from her, but not before she saw the frustration that creased his forehead.

“I think I’ll go tend to the animals,” he said.

Before she could stop him, he disappeared outside. She knew he wasn’t strong enough yet to resume chores, but he’d obviously decided he needed to get away from her.

She brought Sophie’s tiny hand to her lips and kissed the thin fingernails. “I’ll need to be careful, liebchen,” she whispered, “or I’ll scare him away for good.”

And that was the last thing she wanted to do.

He was making plans to move to Chicago and teach after Dirk arrived, but could she do anything to make him reconsider? The thought had sprouted some time ago and was now developing roots.

She cradled Sophie against her chest.

Already sated, the baby’s eyes had closed. “Maybe if he falls in love with you, he’ll decide not to leave.”



A soft scuffing sound near the door sent hope fluttering through Annalisa. Was he back already?

But when she glanced up to the sight of a strange man standing in the doorway, she sat straighter and quickly pulled the sheet over herself and the baby.

“Frau Werner?” The man peered over his shoulder in the direction of the barn before squinting into the dim interior of the cabin.

Was this Dirk? Had her groom finally arrived? A wave of disappointment crashed against her, leaving her breathless, almost as if she were drowning.

She’d known he was due to arrive anytime. She’d just been hoping . . .

What had she hoped? Had she really been foolish enough to think Dirk wouldn’t come and that she could have Carl instead?

Annalisa couldn’t get her voice to work.

“Frau Werner?” the man said again, but his accent was decidedly English.

She took a closer look at the man’s face and the sawdust covering his hat and wide shoulders. Had she seen him before? Was there something about him vaguely familiar?

Again he glanced over his shoulder before narrowing his eyes upon her. “Ward told me to give you a message.” His words were half Deutsch and half English, but she was able to understand him.

And suddenly she knew who he was—the manager of Ward’s Forestville sawmill. She’d seen him on occasion when she’d gone to town but had never had the need to speak with him or seek him out.

She wasn’t sure if she should feel relief that he wasn’t Dirk or fear that he worked for Ward.

“Ward wants to thank you”—the man continued in terrible Deutsch and English combined—“for taking good care of his land.”

Before Annalisa could make sense of the words, the man tipped the brim of his hat and sauntered away.

Thank her for taking good care of his land? His land?

She stared at the emptiness of the doorway, at the bright morning sunshine and the clear blue sky beyond. Already she was warm from the heat of the day, but a cold shiver slithered up her backbone.