MB02 - A Noble Groom (16 page)

If Carl hadn’t walked in when he did, she wasn’t sure what she would have done. She’d resisted signing the document until
Ward had finally wrenched her arm behind her back and forced her to sit in the chair. She didn’t want to think what the man would have done next.

“I didn’t thank you yet for what you did last night,” she said.

“I don’t need a thank-you.”

“I wanted to do something . . .” She glanced away from the intensity in his eyes. “You must hurry now, before the water cools.”

He started toward the stall, shedding his coat.

“Make sure you wash your hair with the lye soap.”

“Do you think it will kill the herd of lice that’s made a home on my head?”

“It should if you lather your hair well, rinse, and then apply the salve I’ve left for you.”

He began unbuttoning his shirt. She glanced away and focused on unbridling Bets. But heat spread to her face nevertheless.

“So I put the salve in my hair?”

“Ja. Smear it over all of your hair. Coat it well.”

“Then I’ll be cured?”

“Leave it on for a little while, then wash it out.”

“I’d wear it for a week if I needed to. Anything to be rid of the vermin.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “Just a little while. And then you’ll sleep in peace tonight.”

He was silent for a moment.

And when she chanced another glance in his direction, too late she realized he was in the process of tugging an undervest over his head, exposing the hard, smooth flesh of his back.

Mortified, she sucked in a breath and ducked her head behind Bets. Urgency prodded her to move faster, to take care of the horses, and to return to the house so that she could give Carl the privacy he would want.

When he gave a low, pleasurable groan that was accompanied by the sloshing of water, she forced herself to work quicker and not to peek into the dark stall.

As she finished the chores, she paused at the barn door and rested her forehead against the grainy wood. She didn’t understand the strange desire swelling in her chest. She’d never wanted to be near Hans. She’d always made a point of staying as far away from him as possible. What was it about Carl that made her want to linger?

“Carl?” she said softly.

“Yes?”

There was a hint of longing in his voice. Was he feeling the same pull? She shivered with the new sensation tightening her insides. But even so, she knew she must go. She couldn’t allow herself to think of him anymore.

“There are clean garments for you.”

“I see them. Were they your husband’s?”

They were the only extra pair Hans had owned, the ones he’d worn for their wedding. She’d almost burned them after his funeral. She’d wanted to get rid of every reminder of him. But thankfully she’d refrained from doing something so wasteful.

“I hope they’ll fit,” she said.

He was silent for a long moment, apparently focused on his bath.

She pushed the barn door open and stepped outside into the cool air. The darkness was broken only by the sliver of lantern light coming from inside the barn.

“Annalisa?” his voice trailed after her.

She paused and held her breath. “Ja?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” And this time the smile that formed on her lips went straight to her heart. He may have only uttered
two simple words, but she could hear in them his pleasure at all she’d done for him.

She carried his gratefulness with her as she warmed his supper and prepared Gretchen for bed.

“And then Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress climbed up to her.” Annalisa combed the silky strands of Gretchen’s hair.

“Is my hair like Rapunzel’s, Mama?”

“Yes, it’s getting very long.”

The girl sat in the middle of the bed in her nightdress with Snowdrop sprawled across her lap. The light of the fire spun her hair into a gold that turned even glossier with each stroke Annalisa made.

“More story, bitte,” Gretchen said, never seeming to tire of the same tales.

At times Annalisa wondered if she was doing the right thing by filling Gretchen’s head with fairy tales. She didn’t want the girl to believe a man and a woman could really live together in happiness and contentment. At least in her world and among the people she knew, affection was rarely mentioned or shown. If it happened in private, she couldn’t tell.

Annalisa swept the comb through the girl’s hair again and continued. “When the prince saw the enchantress climbing to Rapunzel by the braids of her hair, he decided he would try it too. So the next day, when it began to grow dark, he went to the tower and cried, ‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair to me.’”

“Rapunzel, let down your hair to me.” Gretchen echoed the words with rapture, just as she did every time Annalisa told the tale.

In several months the girl would turn three, around the time the new baby was due to arrive. And every day Annalisa held
on to the hope that at the end of October she would be able to pay off the loan, that with enough hard work, maybe someday, somehow she would be able to give her children more than she ever had.

She bent and kissed her daughter’s head.

“What about the prince, Mama?”

“The prince?”

The cabin door creaked open, and Annalisa glanced over her shoulder.

Carl stepped inside. His dark hair was slick from the salve and the bath. The edges curled up, in need of a trim. In Hans’s homespun garments he looked more like a farmer and less like a schoolteacher.

She started to rise from her spot on the edge of the bed, knowing it was past time for his supper and that he would be famished.

But he motioned for her to sit back down. “I’m sorry for interrupting your story. Please finish.”

She hesitated. “But your supper—”

“I insist.” He pulled the wobbly chair before the fireplace and lowered himself. His dark eyes fastened on her expectantly. “I can wait.”

Her stomach fluttered. He was usually gone by the time she tucked Gretchen into bed and told the nightly bedtime story. She wasn’t used to having an audience beyond a two-year-old.

“I promise I won’t say a word,” he said, as if sensing her shyness. He clamped his lips together, pretended to lock them, and then tucked his imaginary key into his pocket.

Gretchen giggled at his antics.

He grinned and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, looking too much like a schoolboy who was up to mischief.

Annalisa stifled a smile and turned her attention back to
Gretchen. “I’ll tell you just a little more, then the rest must wait for another night.”

Gretchen nodded.

“Let’s see.” Annalisa could feel the warmth of his gaze on the back of her neck, but she tried to ignore it. “The prince climbed up Rapunzel’s braids and came in through the window. At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened at the sight of the man.”

Annalisa tried to tell herself she didn’t care if he listened to her story, that she would act like he wasn’t there. But the strong scent of lye had accompanied him into the cabin, along with the sweetness of the elderberry plant that was one of the main ingredients of the salve.

How could she concentrate with her senses attuned to every detail of his presence?

“Rapunzel didn’t know what to think of the strange man,” she continued, “but he began to talk to her like a friend. He told her that his heart had been stirred by the sound of her singing and that he could have no rest until he saw her.”

“Friendship is always good, isn’t it?” Carl asked.

“Did you unlock your lips so soon?” She didn’t want to glance at him and instead focused on Gretchen’s hair and ran the comb through it.

“You’re right,” he said. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him pull out the make-believe key and lock his lips again, earning another giggle from Gretchen.

Annalisa pretended she wasn’t paying attention to him. “So, the prince and Rapunzel talked more and more. Until Rapunzel finally lost her fear of him. She began to actually grow quite fond of him, until one day he asked her if she would take him for her husband.”

“If it is the talking that helps develop
fondness
,” Carl said, “then I shall have to do it more often.”

“Shhh.” Gretchen put her finger to her lips and locked them as if to remind him of his game.

Annalisa’s belly quivered with fresh warmth. Did he crave her fondness? Was he likening her to the shy Rapunzel and himself to the prince? And did he really want friendship with her, a simple woman?

She told a little more of the story, tucked Gretchen under the thick woolen blankets, and kissed her forehead.

As Annalisa busied herself serving Carl his supper, she tried not to let him glimpse her face for fear he would see her interest there.

“Looks like I’ll be ready to start the planting soon,” he said between bites. “Uri said he’d come over the first day to show me how to do it.”

He wiped his bread across his tin plate, cleaning off every drop of the watered-down gravy left from the quail. He finished the last piece of crust, then pushed back from the table. “Thank you for the meal.”

She was finally getting used to his daily gratitude. She only wished she had the supplies to make him something really delicious—like one of her pies.

But it would still be many weeks, at least June before she would be able to find fresh berries. He’d be gone by then. And her groom would be sitting at the table instead.

Carl rose and reached for his hat and coat.

She gripped the comb she’d used in Gretchen’s hair. The thin wooden tines poked into her palm.

He slipped his arms into his coat and hesitated. “I don’t know how to thank you for your kindness tonight. Without the infernal itching, I’ll sleep as peacefully as Gretchen.” He nodded toward the little girl asleep in the middle of the bed.

Annalisa held up the comb. “We’re not quite finished yet.”

He took one look at the comb, shed his coat, and lowered himself back into the chair. “Ah, yes, I suppose we need to make sure all the eggs are out too.”

Her stomach quivered. Could she really comb his hair?

He ran his fingers through the damp locks on his forehead. Then he turned his gaze upon her as if waiting for her to get the deed over with.

She shoved aside her doubts and approached him. She lifted her hand above his head—above the dark, thick hair she’d admired. Her fingers trembled, poised and ready to dig for the remains of any lice or eggs that had escaped the bath. Did she dare touch him?

Even though the flames on the hearth flickered low and weren’t putting out much heat, she suddenly felt too hot.

She forced herself to lower her shaking fingers until the soft thickness grazed her skin. Then before she lost her courage, she plunged in deeper, letting his hair fall through her fingers.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

She jerked her hand back. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His voice was low.

Her stomach quivered again.

“I promise I’ll sit still and be a good boy.” He gave a lopsided grin.

She wasn’t worried so much about what he’d do as she was about her reaction to him. Tentatively she touched his hair again, this time starting at his scalp and working toward the ends.

His hair was much softer than she’d anticipated. She let her fingers linger on the feathery edges. She dragged the comb through again and followed with her fingers, searching for any signs of life. And although she knew she needed to concentrate to find the minuscule eggs, her mind wouldn’t focus on anything
except the fact that she was running her fingers through a man’s hair.

She couldn’t imagine having shared such an intimacy with Hans.

“So tell me about Hans,” Carl said, as if she’d spoken the name aloud. His voice sounded tight.

She paused. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“I’m in intense pain. But in a very pleasurable way.” He leaned back, folded his arms across his chest, and closed his eyes. “What was your husband like? He wasn’t the same kind of idiot as Idette’s husband, was he?”

“Nein. He didn’t hit me.” She combed again, and not even the worry for her sister that she’d harbored since the girl’s last visit could take her mind away from Carl’s hair. She let her fingers grow bolder and move deeper.

“Then he was a kind husband?”

“Not many men concern themselves over the feelings and opinions of a wife.” Carl had to know the laws that existed in the Old Country—the laws that gave men great power over their wives, that allowed them to keep a woman in her place in whatever way worked best. Hadn’t he heard the old saying:
Women and eggs, the more you beat them, the better they get
?

Hans hadn’t used his fists against her, but she couldn’t say that he’d ever been kind.

“He wasn’t an easy man to live with,” she said.

“So you didn’t have a loving marriage?”

“Ach. True love and happily-ever-afters are the stuff of fairy tales.”

“We don’t have to confine true love to stories.”

“That’s the only place I’ve ever seen such love and affection.” Sure, Herr and Frau Pastor seemed to have a more cordial and respectful relationship than most, but that kind of love happened in the stories and rarely occurred in real life.
“Just because many marriages aren’t loving doesn’t mean that’s the way God intended for them to be.”

“I don’t think God cares.” Her words came out more bitter than she intended. From what she’d been able to tell, God was like all the other men in her life. He wasn’t interested in her. She was too insignificant to deserve His attention.

“Sure, He cares.” He spoke with a confidence that made her pause. “God instructs husbands to love their wives so much that they would be willing to give up their very lives and face death for them. If that isn’t a passionate and deep fairy-tale love, I don’t know what is.”

Her fingers stilled, lost in the depths of his wavy locks.

“You remember the story of Jacob and Rachel from the Bible?”

She nodded.

“Jacob was so in love with Rachel that he was willing to work seven years for his uncle Laban to pay the bride price. And because his love for her was so strong, the seven years seemed like only a few days.”