Page 43 of Willing to Wed the Rancher
Now he backed away carefully so that he didn’t awaken her. On the bed across from Bianca, Dieter lifted his head, giving Franz a grateful look.
Franz patted the boy’s arm before starting down the ladder. As his feet touched the floor, his gaze went directly to Clarabelle with the need to reassure himself she was safe.
She sat on the sofa beside the lantern and was sewing again. “Thank you,” she whispered, appreciation radiating in her expression.
“Does she have nightmares often?” he whispered back as he crossed to her.
“She was having them every night after Eric’s death, sometimes multiple times in one night.” Clarabelle whispered her reply too, obviously not wanting to chance waking Bianca again either. “But she was getting better, even slept through the night a couple of times recently.”
Franz could only imagine how frightening everything was for a little girl Bianca’s age. To have her father murdered was horrible enough, and now to have this attack on the home made matters worse.
Franz took his place on the sofa. Clarabelle had already removed the checkerboard, and although he wanted to close the distance between them, he was afraid that if he sat too close, he’d frighten her with his ardor, and she’d make an excuse to get up.
He’d liked holding her hand before and wished he could recreate that moment. But she didn’t put down her mending, and he knew he didn’t have a right to reach for her hand anyway. He hadn’t made a commitment to her or offered her a future—not that she’d asked for one with him.
But he couldn’t start facilitating closeness with her if he hadn’t decided upon his intentions. And after the marriage mix-up in town today, he wasn’t exactly sure what to do. While he’d told her he would clarify their situation with the townspeople, a part of him didn’t want to. He wanted to allow the misconception to become true and make Clarabelle his.
In fact, the desire to be with her had grown stronger over the evening. In telling Clarabelle about Luisa, something seemed to have loosened in his chest—something that made him feel freer than he had in a long time.
Clarabelle was a good listener and compassionate and wise.
More than that, however, he sensed his sharing about Luisa had helped him see more clearly that what he’d experienced withLuisa hadn’t really been love. Whatever it had been paled in comparison with the depths of his feelings for Clarabelle.
Maybe losing Luisa to Eric had actually been the best course. Maybe she’d ended up with a person she could connect with more than him.
Not that he wouldn’t have worked hard to have a good marriage with her. His father had set a fine example of what it was like to be a loving husband, and he would have done all he could to make his marriage to Luisa happy. Ultimately, they hadn’t truly been meant for each other.
“The rings you wear,” Clarabelle said softly. “Would you tell me about them?”
He didn’t realize he’d lifted his hands to his chest and the chain underneath his shirt until she looked pointedly at his fingers fidgeting with the outline of the rings.
“They were my parents’ wedding rings. Wearing them makes me feel like they are still with me. I know that sounds strange—”
“No, it makes you sound sentimental.”
He smiled at her kindness. “And sentimental is a good thing?”
“Yes.” She smiled back.
He loved everything about her, but he especially loved that he could talk to her about anything. He settled into the sofa, and for a long while they conversed about so many different things that he felt as if he’d known her months instead of days.
When Bianca woke up later with more screaming and crying, he went up again. It took longer to calm her, and by the time he finished and came down, Clarabelle was slumbering on the sofa under the knit blanket.
For a moment, he stood beside her and allowed himself to watch her, taking her in without having to hold back. Strands of her hair had come loose from her plait and curled over her smooth, pale cheek. He wanted to reach down and finger thatstrand and then make a trail over her face, around her chin, and up to her lips.
She was so beautiful his chest ached just looking at her.
She’d likely allowed herself to fall asleep there in order to force him to take the bed. But he wasn’t planning to let her win, especially since she’d been waking up with Bianca for so many nights. The least he could do was rest on the sofa and get up with the little girl if she had any more nightmares, giving Clarabelle the chance to sleep well.
Gently, he bent and scooped Clarabelle up into his arms. As he settled her against his chest, her lashes lifted, revealing her green eyes, hazy with sleep. “Franz, what are you doing?”
“Putting you in bed where you belong.” He headed toward the bedroom off the back of the cabin.
“No—” A yawn interrupted her protest.
He entered the dark room, two more steps already bumping him into the bed.
“Franz, please,” she said, but her voice was weary.
