Page 1 of Willing to Wed the Rancher
1
Summit County, Colorado
May 1879
Drats. Mr. Meyer was going to propose to her today.
Clarabelle Oakley pressed a hand to her racing heart as she peeked out the parlor window and watched Eric Meyer open the front wrought-iron gate.
Not only was he wearing his best suit with his face scrubbed and beard trimmed, but determination was written in every line of his expression as he closed the gate and started up the flagstone path.
She let the lacy curtain fall back into place. For heaven’s sake. What should she do?
Her muscles tightened with the need to flee, and she spun to face the dozen or so children milling about the room. Her gaze darted past them to the side parlor door that led to the breakfast room and the kitchen. From there she could slip out the back door of the house and hide until he was gone.
Or she could hide under the desk. It was situated against the far wall, past the benches that filled the center of their makeshift school. She’d knock the tin of pencils to the floor, then duck down behind the desk and pick them up until Eric collected Bianca and Dieter and left.
Yes, that would work.
She took a step toward the desk, but a tug on her skirt halted her.
Bianca stood in front of her, peering up with wide blue eyes. “Miss Oakley, my shoe is unlaced again.” At five years of age, the little girl was a waif, only reaching Clarabelle’s waist. With dainty features and silky dark hair, Bianca was as pretty as an angel. If only her behavior were just as angelic.
But the child, like her brother Dieter, was more than a handful and in much need of a woman’s—a mother’s—guidance. And if Eric Meyer had his way, he intended to make Clarabelle the mother of his two children.
As the door opened in the front hallway, a fresh burst of panic shot through Clarabelle. She wasn’t opposed to becoming a mother to Bianca and Dieter. That wasn’t the issue. She’d grown to love the pair over the past year of helping in the schoolroom as the teacher’s assistant.
The problem was that she didn’t love Eric. He was such a nice man—earnest, hardworking, and even a little handsome, but she didn’t feel a spark of interest in him, not even the slightest flicker.
She couldn’t—wouldn’t—wed a man she didn’t absolutely adore with all her heart. She was simply too much of a romantic to marry out of convenience rather than for love.
Maybe if she mussed her hair or made herself unappealing, she could dissuade Eric. She tugged at her coil of hair and pulled some of the strands loose. Then she untucked part of her simple blue brocade blouse from her matching skirt. Finally, she rubbed the chalk dust covering her hands onto her cheek.
A peek into the mirror above the mantel showed her to be slightly frazzled, looking more like her twin sister Clementine, who was always less put together. Though they were identical, with willowy bodies, slender faces, wide green eyes, and blond-red hair, Clarabelle had fairer skin, mostly because Clementine refused to wear her bonnet outside half the time.
Clarabelle tugged another strand of hair loose, then sighed. Messy hair wouldn’t distract Eric from his mission. No, she needed to hide.
She side-stepped Bianca, but the girl clung to Clarabelle’s skirt like a vine to a trellis. “Would you show me again how to make the bunny ears?”
As much as Clarabelle wanted to pry the child loose and race out of the room, she forced herself to respond calmly. “How do you ask politely, Bianca?”
“Please?” The little girl’s eyes were expectant.
How could anyone refuse such a look? Especially knowing the child didn’t have a mother at home to care about her or train her or shower her with love.
Of course, Eric was a good father. There was no doubt about that. Since emigrating from Germany six years ago, the Meyers had been one of the Oakleys’ neighbors, and though they’d kept mostly to themselves, they’d always been friendly. Clarabelle wasn’t sure what had lured Eric and his wife Luisa to Colorado initially, but they’d come to the fertile Blue River valley, settled on a small spread, and started farming the land.
Dieter had been a newborn when everyone had rallied to help the Meyers build a log cabin and barn that summer. Clarabelle had only been a girl of thirteen at the time, and at twenty-four, Eric had seemed so old.
Now that she was nineteen, his thirty years didn’t seem quite so distant. Even so, she had a hard time thinking of him as an eligible suitor, especially when the memories of him with Luisa, particularly from those early days when the two had been obviously in love with each other, were so vivid.
Clarabelle felt sorry for Eric. She really did. He’d lost the woman he loved and his youngest child during an outbreak of scarlet fever last year. He’d almost lost Bianca, too, butClarabelle’s ma, who had worked tirelessly to help the family, had managed to save the child.
Before Clarabelle could wrestle herself free from Bianca’s hold on her skirt, Eric’s broad frame filled the parlor doorway. He scanned the room, his gaze coming to land upon her forcefully enough to knock the air from her lungs.
The determination on his face was even more intense now that he was inside. Yes, he was most definitely planning to propose today. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d called out to her above the hubbub of the children and asked for her hand in front of everyone.
Mrs. Grover, who was talking with several of the older children near the door, paused and stared at Eric, as though she, too, recognized that something was different about him today.
