Page 30 of Willing to Wed the Rancher
The troll released a cackling laugh.
Clarabelle had to fight back a laugh of her own. “Please, Mr. Troll. I am willing to sacrifice anything for my little goats. Ask whatever you wish, and I will give it to you so long as from now on you will never harm anyone who wants to cross the bridge.”
“Anything?” Surprise tinged Franz’s question, so much so that he forgot to use his pretend troll voice.
“Yes. Anything.” She wanted to show the children that sometimes sacrifice was the greatest gift of all, no matter how hard it might be. She glanced behind her to find them peering over the rock they were hiding behind, their faces filled with worry and anticipation.
She smiled at them to reassure them that everything would be all right.
The troll was silent, probably trying to figure out what to require of her.
“Well, Mr. Troll?”
He cleared his throat almost nervously. “I have decided what I’d like.”
“And what is that?”
“You must marry me and come live under the bridge with me.”
She laughed and then quickly cupped a hand over her mouth.
Franz ducked out, his brows quirked. “And why are you laughing at my demand?”
“I expected that you might require me to give you my riches or make me your slave. Not that you’d marry me.”
“I want a wife,” he said, using his gruff voice again. “Because I am lonely and despised by all. Maybe love is what I need to change my ways.”
Dieter and Bianca were smiling now too.
She began to walk toward Franz. “Very well. I’ll marry you, Mr. Troll, if you promise to change your ways.”
He was sitting beside the bridge now. As she approached, his gaze made a slow perusal of her body. Something in his expression spoke of just how much he liked what he was seeing.
Her skin flushed under each touch of his eyes, and warmth spread low in her abdomen, making her crave more just like it—more of his appreciation, more of his attention, more of his desire for her.
Because that’s what it was. Desire flared in his eyes, and he was making no effort to hide it.
As she neared the creek bank where he waited, her steps slowed, her legs trembling with something she didn’t quite understand but that also felt a lot like desire.
His jaw was taut, his lips pressed tight, and the blue of his eyes had grown darker until it was almost the color of midnight.He’d left his hat back on the blanket in the field, and now his light-brown hair was wavy and wind-tossed, as carefree and unhindered as he was.
She’d been fighting a strange attraction to him all week, but she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge anything—hadn’t wanted to think about it and set it free inside her. Not with the way Clementine was gushing about Franz every time she came over.
Clarabelle pressed a hand to her chest to halt the wild pounding. Surely Franz was only playacting, didn’t really desire her, and she was making more out of the storytelling than he intended.
He stood and held out a hand toward her. “Come to me, my bride.” He used his large booming acting voice.
The children giggled.
Franz fought back a smile, clearly drawing life and inspiration from his audience. When she didn’t put her hand in his, he wiggled his fingers in an exaggerated motion, making it abundantly clear she had no choice but to put her hand into his.
As she did so, his fingers immediately closed around hers as though he feared she might pull away. But as soon as his flesh was against hers, she couldn’t think about anything else but the feel of him—the strength in his hand, the pressure of his hold, the warmth of his skin.
He didn’t seem to be as affected and was nodding at the children. “Who would like to perform the ceremony of marriage?”
Dieter jumped up. “Me! I’ll do it!”
Bianca was on her feet in the next instant. “No, me!”
