Page 6 of Willing to Wed the Rancher
“We can help you.” Dieter turned around now completely and was peering up at her with his serious gaze. “We’ll go over to your home right now, pack your bags, and bring all your stuff over.”
Bianca nodded. “I’m very strong now that I’m five, and I can carry heavy bags.”
Clarabelle’s slow amble came to a halt, her mare nudging her from behind and then nickering, as if to complain.
She had to say something to correct the children regarding marriage to their father. She couldn’t allow them to think she would go through with it. But how could she disappoint them when they were so obviously excited about having a new mother?
“You’ll make Father happy.” Dieter’s eyes held a sadness that Clarabelle had seen there more and more often lately. Was he worried about his father? Maybe he wanted his father to have a new wife more than he wanted a new mother.
“I think you’ll like sleeping with Father,” Bianca said as solemnly as Dieter.
“Oh dear.” The girl’s comment was likely innocent, and she probably didn’t mean to insinuate anything, but heat flared into Clarabelle’s cheeks anyway. “We mustn’t talk that way, sweetie.”
“It’s true,” Dieter added. “Mutti loved snuggling—”
“Even so, it’s not polite to talk about fathers and mothers sleeping together.”
“It’s not?” Bianca’s eyes widened.
What happened in the bedroom between married couples was certainly not anything to talk about, much less think about,which had been difficult over the past weeks since Maverick had married Hazel and they often disappeared into their bedroom at all hours of the day.
When they weren’t in their bedroom, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, and Clarabelle had lost count of how many times she’d come upon them and found them kissing.
She loved seeing them so happy together and thought they were undeniably romantic. Their love was tangible—so much so that it made Clarabelle all the more certain that was the kind of love she wanted some day: the kind her parents had always shared, the kind that was so deep and selfless that nothing else compared.
Which meant she couldn’t marry Eric. She absolutely couldn’t.
She needed—passionately wanted—to love and be loved so thoroughly that she wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off her husband or vice versa. She wanted others to lose track of how much she and her husband kissed. And she wanted to disappear with him into their bedroom.
If that kind of romance could happen for others, it could happen for her too. At least, she hoped so.
But for now, in front of Bianca and Dieter, such notions were best left unspoken. Instead, she had to let them know she wouldn’t be sharing a bed with their father—not to sleep or to snuggle. “I know you want your father to be happy, but—”
“He likes you a lot, Miss Oakley.” Dieter was watching her face as though he was reading all her thoughts. “He said you’re very pretty and kind.”
Very pretty and kind. Well, that was something. The compliment was flattering, especially because Clementine was the one who usually drew the attention from the men, along with the compliments.
Men were always more attracted to her bubbliness, laughter, and friendliness. She was lively and knew how to have fun, and the fellows liked that better than Clarabelle’s serious, reasonable nature.
“He wants to marry you very much,” Dieter continued. “And he’ll make you happy, too, if you give him a chance.”
The child was persuasive. If Clarabelle wasn’t careful, she’d find herself giving in to him the same way she had to Eric.
She opened her mouth, trying to find the words to respond. But before she could say anything, Bianca tugged on her arm while pointing down the lane in the direction of the strawberry patch where the plants were beginning to flower. “Look, Father is sleeping.”
Dieter followed his sister’s finger and then frowned.
Bianca glanced up at Clarabelle with remorseful eyes. “I’m sorry, Miss Oakley. I shouldn’t have saidsleepingsince it’s not polite.”
“You should have saidresting.” Dieter sounded like he was sixteen instead of six. “Orslumbering. Right, Miss Oakley?”
“I didn’t mean that you couldn’t ever use the wordsleeping.” Clarabelle’s mind scrambled for a way to explain what she’d really meant in regards to marital intimacy. But as her gaze found Eric in the strawberry patch, her every thought came to an abrupt halt.
He was lying face down in the dirt, one arm stretched above his head, the other bent at an awkward angle at his side. He wasn’t sleeping. Or resting. Or slumbering. No, he’d clearly keeled over and appeared to be unconscious.
She tossed the reins of her horse around the nearest tree branch, then she started running down the lane toward him, her heart drumming an ominous warning with each step she took.
When she reached the field, she tried to dodge the fragile strawberry plants. She didn’t want to crush any of them or theflowers and ruin the hard work the Meyers had put into their strawberry crop. But urgency propelled her, so that by the time she dropped to his side, she was nearly frantic.
