A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(85)

As if feeling his eyes upon her, she lifted her face to him and gave him a shy smile. Admiration gleamed in the bright blue of her eyes.

His stomach cinched, and he was powerless to do anything but return her smile.

Sophie gave a short cry. “Shhh,” he murmured against the baby’s fuzzy head, repositioning her so that she faced outward and could see Annalisa.

“She’s getting hungry.” Annalisa slid the bowls onto the table.

“She’s not as hungry as I am.” Her compliment from the dance came back to him, about how handsome he’d looked when he held the baby.

She approached and held out her arms to Sophie, who gave a squeal and began to pump her legs in excitement.

“I suppose I’m looking dashing again,” he said softly, ignoring the frown Dirk had shot him.

Annalisa’s smile widened. “Ja. Very dashing.”

He relinquished the baby, but not before his fingers met hers, the warmth of her hand begging him to caress it, hold it, and never let go.

“When she’s done eating, you must give her back to me.” He tried to make his voice playful. “I have my image to uphold.”

“This all looks very delicious,” Dirk called to Annalisa, in a way that demanded she turn her attention to him. “I can see you’re a good cook.”

She nodded at him, but her smile faded, replaced with cool politeness.

Carl couldn’t begrudge Dirk for at least making some effort with Annalisa. So far he’d been kind to her and polite. If she must marry a stranger, then perhaps Dirk would be sufficient. He didn’t seem to be the type of man who would harm her.



Even as Carl’s entire being rejected the thought of her marrying anyone else, he pushed aside the objection and lowered himself next to Uri.

Dirk’s eyes followed him and warned him. The warning was the same one Dirk had been holding over his head since they’d hoed the potatoes the previous afternoon—that he had the power to reveal his true identity to Annalisa and Peter and would do so if and when he wanted to.

The resentment in Carl’s gut had been growing until now it ate at his insides like acid. Instead of distancing himself from Annalisa, he reached for her hand as she stepped away from the table. He captured her fingers in his, preventing her from retreating with Eleanor to the cabin, where they would eat apart from the men.

She stopped short, sucked in a breath, and stared down at his hold on her.

He knew he was overstepping the bounds of propriety, especially in front of the others, but at the moment he didn’t care. He was tired of Dirk’s threats.

“Why don’t you stay and eat with us today?” Carl tugged her so that she had little choice but to move closer to him.

“Nein—”

“Please?” He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb, letting the smoothness of her skin ease the ache that had been in his chest since he’d decided he must leave on Monday.

She looked at the other men, as if to gauge their reaction to his odd request.

Her father was busy loading his plate with krautsalat and schweinsbraten, already mesmerized by the strong scent of the garlic and caraway seeds that rose from the pork roast. Uri was lifting the caramelized onions from the beer-soaked juices.

Only Dirk seemed to have noticed Carl’s touch and request. His thin face lost its pallor and turned a reddish brown like one of the baked apples.

Annalisa shifted Sophie. “I don’t know . . .”

“If you join us, you’d make me a very happy man,” Carl said with a smile.

Her expression softened. And suddenly Dirk’s threats and jealousy didn’t matter. All he could think about was having the chance to sit next to her, brush his shoulder against hers, and feel the loose wisps of her hair against his face.

“Ja. Join us.” Dirk’s voice was laced with annoyance. “Then Carl will be able to tell you about his plans to leave tomorrow.”

Annalisa jerked her hand away and stepped back. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

Carl shot Dirk a glare. He’d planned to tell Annalisa about his leaving, but not now, not in front of everyone.

Dirk’s lips curved into a smirk.

At the edge of the table with the bowl of apples, Gretchen froze. Sticky apple glaze surrounded her mouth, the telltale signs of her dipping her fingers into the sugary treat. “You can’t leave . . .”

Carl pushed down the sudden urge to get up and run away. If he had to choose, he would have taken the guillotine rather than having to try to explain to Gretchen why he must go.

“I thought you were staying to help harvest the corn,” Annalisa said.

What harm could come of him staying another week or two to help with the corn? He lifted his brow at Dirk.

But Dirk’s eyes remained dark with warning.

Carl sighed. He’d promised to leave on Monday. If he stayed, he’d only put off the inevitable and risk the possibility that Dirk or Ward would reveal his identity.

“Now that Dirk’s here,” he said, “you won’t need my help.”



“Ja, we will.” Gretchen spoke before Annalisa could. “We’ll always need your help.”

“Dirk’s a strong man.” Carl forced out the words he knew he must say. “And he’ll help you and your mama just fine.”