Page 16 of Willing to Wed the Rancher
She clasped both hands together in her lap. “I need to confess something, Franz.”
“You do?” His heart was still racing with his desire for her. He wanted to find a scientific, logical explanation for what he was experiencing. Was it possible there was an electrical charge, even magnetic fields that existed between people? Maybe those charges—currents—grew stronger and more intense around a person with a similar current? Was it even possible certain magnetic fields meshed, as if they were meant to fit perfectly together?
She hesitated, staring down at her hands. “You should know...”
“Yes?” Was his voice breathless? He inwardly gave himself a mental shake. He had to stay in control of himself, or he would scare her away.
“I’m not—” She twisted at her skirt, then finally looked up at him with an apology in her green eyes.
A warning went off inside him. She was about to deliver bad news. He sucked in a breath and tried to brace himself, but a thunder of all the worst scenarios rolled through his head.
She seemed to force herself to speak. “I’m not Eric’s wife.”
She wasn’t Eric’s wife? That was all she had to say? He expelled his breath. “Thanks be to Gott.”
Her brows rose.
Clearly, she hadn’t been expecting his relief. But he couldn’t tell her that he wanted her for himself and was glad that she didn’t belong to Eric. “I was worried you were giving me bad news.”
“That’s not bad news?”
“It is good news.” Very, very good news.
7
Clarabelle studied the man standing before her. Franz Meyer was certainly not turning out to be anything like she’d expected him to be.
Not that she’d had any expectations of him. When he’d arrived, she’d been too surprised to think beyond the simple fact that Eric’s brother was here in Colorado.
Franz towered above her. He had the same light-brown hair as Eric—short, straight, and combed back. He was leaner than Eric and taller, and he had more-defined facial features that made him handsome. Not that Eric hadn’t been good-looking. But Franz had a charisma and a manly appeal that likely drew women far and near.
She couldn’t deny that she’d been feeling a pull toward him. It was difficult not to with how he held himself—the cock of his head, the lift of a brow, the curl of his lip—all of it directed at her as if he genuinely saw her and liked her.
And he was nice. Really nice. She’d been watching out the window when he’d started down the lane toward the house. He’d taken Dieter’s capture good-naturedly. And he’d interacted with both children, not because he was obligated or because he wanted to impress anyone but because he was friendly and comfortable around children.
When she’d burned herself with coffee just a moment ago, he’d rushed to get a cold rag to put on her skin. Now he waited with the rag, as if he wanted to find another way to help her if he could.
To top it all, he’d taken the news that she wasn’t Eric’s wife better than she’d imagined. In fact, he didn’t seem upset about the mix-up at all. He seemed relieved.
She had to clarify her role, though. He would surely want to know why she was staying with the children. Maybe once he knew that Eric had given her everything—the house, the land, his bank account, and the children—he’d be angrier. After all, Franz was a brother and uncle and deserved to have all of it more than she did.
She sat up straighter and willed herself to have the courage to tell him the whole truth about the living situation. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”
He gave a slight shrug as if to say it didn’t matter to him.
But it mattered to her that she was honest with him. “Eric proposed marriage to me several days before he died.”
Franz’s brow furrowed, and he lowered himself to the bench beside her. “Then you did care for Eric?”
She hesitated in answering. She didn’t want Franz to think she hadn’t cared about Eric. Then he would surely wonder why she was there with the children. But she couldn’t allow him to believe that anything had existed between her and Eric. Not when they’d been mostly just neighbors.
She hated these kinds of conversations and having to be bold and possibly make someone angry, but she forced herself to continue. “I wanted to care about your brother. I really did. He was a very kind man. But I’m sorry, I didn’t have feelings for him.”
“This is nothing to be sorry for.” Franz reached out a hand, almost as if he intended to hold hers, but then he pulled back.
“I don’t think he cared about me like that either. I truly think he just wanted me to be a mother to Dieter and Bianca.”
Franz was watching her face, listening intently. “So you told him no, that you would not marry him?”
