Page 35 of Willing to Wed the Rancher
Bianca shook her head. “No, the reverend said he doesn’t have to be there.”
“It’s true,” Dieter added, sitting up but still looking guilty. “He told us that since 1877, common law marriages are legal in Colorado and don’t need a license, documents, or anything else to be real so long as the couple agrees on the union.”
“And you said your vows and agreed.” Bianca smiled up at Clarabelle. From the innocence in her eyes, the little girl obviously didn’t understand the repercussions of all that had happened.
“We were only pretending, sweetie.”
“That’s what I told her,” Dieter said. “But she insisted you and Uncle Franz were really married.”
“They are.” Bianca’s lip jutted out stubbornly.
Clarabelle expelled a breath. “What’s done is done. Now we’ll just have to figure out a way to clear up the confusion.”
“Do you think Uncle Franz will be mad at us?” Dieter was peering ahead, his gaze fixed upon the man in question, who was kneeling next to the garden fence and fixing a loose spot where rabbits had been squeezing through and eating the newly sprouted beans.
At the sound of the wagon lumbering down the lane, Franz sat back on his heels and glanced in their direction. He didn’tseem happy or eager to see them. Maybe he’d already heard the news. And maybe after last night with Clementine, the rumors about being married had been difficult to hear.
Clarabelle gripped the reins tighter, wishing she could turn around and go the opposite direction, but she was on a collision course with disaster. She couldn’t prevent the inevitable crash and could only pray no one would get hurt.
13
He had to tell Clarabelle the truth.
Abandoning the hammer and fence, Franz pushed himself up from the ground and dusted his hands on his trousers.
He didn’t want to confess that he’d had dinner with her sister the previous evening, but all throughout the time at High C Ranch, guilt had nagged him. With every horse and rider that had passed by the house, he’d imagined Clarabelle and the children stopping by and finding him at the table alone with Clementine, having dinner by candlelight.
Although Clarabelle was gracious, she would wonder why he hadn’t mentioned it. Maybe she would even be hurt and suspect he was sneaking around behind her back.
The truth was, he wasn’t interested in Clementine.
Of course, Clarabelle’s twin was a lovely young woman. She’d gone to a great deal of effort for the meal. And she’d been pleasant.
He might have even had a decent time if he hadn’t been worrying about Clarabelle’s discovering what he’d done. He hadn’t intentionally hidden the plans from her, but he also hadn’t spoken of them.
Now what would she say when she found out?
The wagon rattled down the lane, drawing close enough that he could see the tension in Clarabelle’s body and the firm press of her lips.
What if she’d gone to her family’s ranch or crossed paths with Clementine already this morning and learned of his deception? Was it even deception?
He released a puff of air, but at the same time couldn’t stop from straightening his bow tie and then his hat.
The irony of his predicament wasn’t lost on his sensibilities. He’d spent the past six years denying he wanted a woman or marriage. He’d convinced himself he would remain a bachelor. He’d even believed himself to be entirely content with his life and work.
But within moments of meeting Clarabelle, everything he’d thought he’d known had been turned upside down. Now, honestly, the only thing he wanted was her.
Holding her hand yesterday and kissing her cheek hadn’t helped in the least. His thoughts and his dreams last night had been filled with the sensations touching her had evoked—the softness of her skin, the scent of her hair, the intake of her breath. He kept reliving the moment his lips had made contact with her and the sweet yearning that had filled him and seemed to have taken up residence inside him.
He didn’t know what to do about all that he was feeling for her, but he did know he had to tell her about the dinner with Clementine. He just hoped he was able to inform her first before she learned of it elsewhere.
As the wagon rounded the cabin and lumbered toward the barn, he ambled in their direction, his feet slower than usual.
“Hi, Uncle Franz.” Bianca waved at him, her face wreathed with her usual smile.
Dieter, however, focused on the barn ahead, his forehead creased. Although Clarabelle shot Franz a glance, she, too, seemed to be avoiding him.
This wasn’t what he’d hoped for.
