Page 52 of Willing to Wed the Rancher
Was she still talking to her ma, or was she now praying to God? Either way, she needed help.
For now, all she could do was bury her feelings for Franz. He’d only just come into her life. She hardly knew him. And soon he’d leave. As special as he’d become to her even in so short a time, she couldn’t throw away the special relationship and bond that she’d had with her twin for her entire life.
With a sigh, she stood, brushed the grass and soil from her skirt, then made her way outside the cemetery gate to her horse. The ride to the farm went quickly, and as she started up the lane, she spotted Franz with the children in the yard beside the cabin. He’d attached one end of a rope to a large, sturdy tree branch and tied the other end to an old wagon wheel. The children were sitting on the rim as he pushed them in a large, dizzying circle.
With their heads back, their laughter rang out, greeting her with bittersweetness. She’d grown to love the children dearly over the past weeks that she’d been their caregiver. But as attached as she was becoming, they belonged with Franz. They were his niece and nephew, and they needed him and the connection with family more than they needed her.
She slowed her mount, trying not to look at Franz but unable to stop herself from admiring his strength as he wound them around, the muscles in his arms straining against his shirtsleeves. He’d discarded his hat, and the rays of the evening sun turned his hair to a pale brown, making him more dashing than usual.
If only she’d never been attracted to him to begin with. But she was attracted. Very much so.
Her attention fell upon his smiling lips—those lips that had hungrily kissed her, giving her a taste of the pleasure she’d neverknown, a taste that had only made her realize what she’d been missing and that she wanted it again.
As his gaze homed in on her, his smile dimmed, became more forced.
She’d wounded him when she’d walked away from their relationship. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him any more than she’d wanted to hurt Clementine, but somehow she’d ended up doing it anyway.
Her heart ached, and a part of her wanted to avoid him and the awkward exchanges they’d had since their kisses. But the children had noticed her and began to wave and call out greetings, giving her no option but to ride toward them.
When she reached them and dismounted, they excitedly asked her to watch as Franz gave them another push. They begged her to try the new swing too. Reluctantly, she sat down and allowed them to push her. Franz just leaned against a nearby tree and watched with a soft smile—one that was finally genuine, that warmed her heart.
When only a few rays of the setting sun lingered, they finished the last of the nightly chores before heading inside the cabin. She helped Bianca wash up and get into her nightdress. All the while, the little girl began to tremble, the darkness of the night having somehow become her enemy.
Franz believed that, eventually, Bianca would outgrow the anxiety and be able to function more normally again. But the nights with her weren’t easy, and as Clarabelle tucked the child into her bed, she prayed that tonight would be better.
At a sudden loud rapping against the door downstairs, Bianca sat up with a start, her eyes rounding with terror. Thankfully, they hadn’t had any more scares or threats, but they’d still been fearful all week.
Clarabelle peeked over the railing to the sitting room as Franz approached the door cautiously, his revolver already out. Surely an attacker wouldn’t knock on the door.
He leaned against the door and spoke in a low voice. “Who is there? Please identify yourself.”
Whoever was on the other side spoke so quietly that Clarabelle couldn’t hear the name, but she did hear when he said, “May I come in?”
Franz glanced up at her, his brow quirked.
“Who is it?” she whispered.
“He says his name is Jericho Bliss, a Pinkerton agent.”
The name sounded familiar, and her mind scrambled to place it. Was Mr. Bliss the agent who’d helped her brother Weston out of a dangerous situation the previous Christmas? If so, Weston had nothing but positive things to say about him.
Mr. Bliss lived down in the Fairplay area. What was he doing up in Summit County?
Franz was watching her, seeming to understand without her explaining anything that she didn’t feel threatened. Did Franz know her that well already that he could read her emotions?
In the next moment, Franz opened the door, letting in a fellow wearing a dark coat and a Stetson over brown hair. Lean but muscular, he carried himself with assurance and a determined set to his shoulders.
He slipped inside and quickly closed the door behind himself, as though wanting to stay hidden, or at least not let anyone catch him coming into the cabin.
Something in the keen way he glanced around told her that he was seeing every detail and that nothing missed his attention. And something else told her that he was there for only one reason: because of Eric’s murder.
As she climbed down the loft ladder, Franz crossed to assist her the last of the distance like he always did whenever he waspresent. She didn’t need his help getting down, but he treated her like a lady, rushing to her aid, getting her anything she needed, and making sure she was comfortable.
She’d realized that he wasn’t acting or trying to impress her. No, he’d treated her kindly from the moment he’d met her and showed no signs of waning in his thoughtfulness. If anything, he’d only grown more attentive to her needs.
“Thank you, Franz.” She offered him a grateful smile as he steadied her.
Although he didn’t smile back, his eyes held an adoration that made her insides melt. Her insides had been melting more frequently when she was around him. At times, she almost felt permanently liquified, as if she’d never return to being solid again.
