Ingrid nodded. “If she’s not back at the house in ten minutes, I’ll come with you.”
He went back to frying bacon, listening intently for Anne’s return. When he heard the door to the porch open and saw her enter the kitchen, he let out a relieved breath.
She accepted a cup of coffee from Astrid with a smile and moved closer to the stove, glancing up at him.
“It’s very cold this morning,” she said, her hands wrapped around her cup for warmth. “I found your cane buried under the snow. It’s in the porch.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your finding it for me.”
She smiled shyly before taking another sip of her coffee. Erik stared at her. She was so beautiful. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, a contrast to the rest of her pale complexion. Long, thick lashes fringed luminous brown eyes that regarded him with a mixture of humor and shyness. Her long straight nose should have been too big for the more delicate features of her face, but for some reason it suited her perfectly.
She was beautiful in every way possible.
“Erik, the bacon is burning,” Astrid called.
He was brought crashing back to earth by the smell of the burning meat. Grabbing a potholder, he moved the frying pan onto the warming shelf above the surface of the woodstove and mentally called himself every kind of stupid. Anne would be going back to England soon, so there was no point waxing poetic about her beauty.
His appetite deserted him at the thought of Anne leaving. He pushed away the hollowness of his future without her and concentrated on slipping the eggs into the boiling water. A few minutes later he brought the eggs to the table and, after saying grace, they ate. When she was done, Astrid poured herself more coffee.
“Ingrid, would you excuse us for a moment? I’d like to speak to Anne and Erik alone.”
Ingrid exchanged a surprised glance with Erik before getting to her feet.
“Sure, Ma. I’ll be upstairs in my room.”
Erik waited until Ingrid was out of earshot before speaking. “Ma, what’s going on? Why do you need to talk to us in private?”
Astrid set down her cup and took a deep breath. “I don’t like to meddle in my children’s personal lives, but I feel I have to say something. I don’t see any reason why Anne must leave.” She held up her hand when they both tried to interrupt her. “It seems to me that since the two of you are both unattached, you could marry each other.”
For a moment, Erik couldn’t find his voice. He watched as a blush crept up Anne’s throat and stained her cheeks. After being engaged to his brother, with his blond good looks, why would she marry him?
“Ma—”
“Hear me out.” She took Anne’s hand. “You said yourself you have nothing to go back to England for. Erik’s a good man. He’d be a good provider, and I know he’d treat you and any children you have like gold. And, unless I miss my guess, you two like each other.”
Erik pushed himself to his feet, wanting to escape. “Ma, please, stop. She doesn’t want to marry me.”
Anne lifted her chin. “How do you know what I want?”
He stared at her. “What do you mean?”
Anne turned to Astrid. “You’re right. I have no family back in England, no one to go back to. More than anything I want to be part of a family again.” She faced him, her eyes searching his. “But I would only consider marrying Erik if it’s what he really wants. I would never want to make him do something he’s not comfortable with.”
Erik sat once more, his legs unable to support him, his powers of speech deserting him.
Astrid continued.
“You’re nearly thirty years old, Erik. It’s high time you took a wife, and I think Anne would make a fine one. We could teach her everything she needs to know about being a farm wife. What do you say?”
“What will people say? This is a small town. You know how people talk.”
Astrid fired a disappointed look at him. “Do you really care what people will say?”
“I don’t give a damn what they say about me, but I won’t have anyone gossiping about Anne!”
“If you hold your head high and look everyone square in the eye, they won’t be able to say a thing. Other than that, do you have any objection to marrying Anne?”
He couldn’t believe this was happening. He loved Anne and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her. “No, I have no objections.”
She turned to Anne. “What do you say? Are you willing to give marriage with my son a try?”
“Yes, I’m willing to marry Erik.” Anne lifted her gaze to his. “If you’re sure this is what you want.”
He held her gaze, his heart racing, soaring, stumbling in his chest. Did she mean it? He searched her face, and saw only happiness in her beautiful brown eyes. He tamped down on the elation filling his heart. He knew full well he was her second choice. But he’d be her husband for however long she’d have him.
No matter how short that time might be.
“I’m sure.”
His mother smiled, pleased with their answers, and said, “Looks like I have a wedding to plan.”
Chapter Eight
The banns were read for three consecutive Sundays in the Emerald church. Each time they were read Anne held her breath, half expecting someone to object to her forthcoming marriage to Erik and snatch away the happiness growing in her heart. But after the third reading, when no one had risen in the pews to say Erik could certainly do better than his brother’s former fiancée, she began to let herself believe it was actually going to happen. In one week, just five days before Christmas, she was going to marry Erik.
Anne whistled a happy tune as she walked to the barn. Life could be so unexpected and so wonderful.
Then she opened the door and saw Erik gripping the side of a stall, his face white with pain as he gasped for breath. Anne ran to him, her heart in her throat.
“Erik, what’s wrong?” She ran her hands over his face, her gaze scanning the rest of his body as she searched for the injury that caused him such distress. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. “Hit my leg against the manger when I was cleaning the stall. I’m fine.”
“Yes, I can see how fine you are.” She wrapped her arm around his waist to support him. “Put all your weight on me.”
She helped him hobble a few steps to a large wooden tack box with a sturdy hinged lid. Anne gently lowered him to a sitting position and sat beside him.
“Is that better?”
He nodded, not looking at her. “A little. It’s starting to subside.”
“Good.” She took a deep breath. “Your mother told me the doctor thinks you need more surgery on your leg to remove shrapnel.”
“She shouldn’t have said anything to you.”
“In seven days I’m going to be your wife. Don’t you think I have a right to know about my husband’s health?”
He glanced at her from beneath his lashes. “Maybe, if you knew, you’d decide not to go through with the wedding. I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“I’m not going to call off the wedding.” She took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. “You’re stuck with me, so you might as well get used to it.”
For a moment he stared at her. Then slowly a smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“I could think of worse things than being stuck with you.”
“Me too.” She could no longer imagine living without Erik. “But I’m worried about you. Tell me about the surgery. Why don’t you want to have it?”
The smile disappeared. “I just don’t want to go through all that pain again.”
“Instead you’d rather let the pain get progressively worse until at some point you’re completely bedridden.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Maybe not, but is this how you want to live? At least with the surgery you have a chance of being free from pain.”
He turned his face away, avoiding her gaze. “Or maybe the surgery will make things worse. I’m sure you don’t want to be married to a man with one leg.”
Anne had nursed several people who’d lost limbs, and all of them had worried about how their spouses and sweethearts would react. Would they look at them with pity or recoil in disgust? Would they stop loving them?
She put her finger under his chin and made him look at her. “Like I said, you’re stuck with me. In sickness and in health. Will you promise that you’ll talk to your doctor about the surgery and keep an open mind?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Has anyone ever told you you’re very bossy?”
“Many people. Will you do it?”
He nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to him. But I’m not promising anything.”
“Good. That’s good.” She blinked back tears that caught her by surprise.
He touched her cheek, his brow furrowed with worry. “What’s this? Why the tears?”
She swallowed and brushed away a tear that escaped down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I just… I hate seeing you suffer so.”
He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, his eyes wide with shock. Finally he reached for her and pulled her against his chest.
“I promise I’ll talk to my doctor the first chance I get. He’s in the city, so it might take me some time. But I promise I’ll listen to what he says.” He stroked her hair. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be all right.”
She looked up into Erik’s face, into the startling blue of his eyes. In just a few short weeks his face had become very dear to her. She loved his strong chin, so often set at a stubborn, defiant angle. His long straight nose and the sculpted cheekbones spoke of his proud Norse heritage. Anne barely noticed the scar on his face anymore, and when she did it reminded her that her future husband was a survivor, someone tough enough to withstand all that life could throw at him. It only made her love him more.
She loved him.
She knew without a doubt that whatever she had felt for Anders, it wasn’t love. She’d never suffered his pain as if it were her own the way she did with Erik. She’d never wanted his happiness above all else. She’d never experienced this overwhelming need, this all-consuming desire, for any man before.
What she felt for Erik was deeper and stronger than anything she’d ever experienced. She loved him. Her emotions whirled in a confusion of ecstasy and fear. Did he feel the same for her?
Erik gently touched his lips to hers. They were soft and firm and sweet. He cupped the back of her head with his hand and brought her closer, deepening the kiss. Anne sighed against his mouth, her body trembling with need. No kiss had thrilled her like this before. Winding her arms around his neck, she molded herself against him. She loved his solidness, the strength she could feel in his body and in his spirit. Erik would always be there for her, just as she would be there for him.
He broke the kiss and, with a trembling hand, traced the outline of her face. His gaze held hers captive. She had to believe he couldn’t kiss her the way he did, wouldn’t have agreed to marry her, without some affection on his part.
“I can hardly wait for the wedding,” he said with a grin.
“The wedding, yes. That’s why I came to talk to you.” Erik’s suffering—and his kiss—had pushed everything else from her mind. “I want to send Anders and Signe an invitation, but your mother thinks I should talk it over with you first.”
He dropped his hand from her face, his grin disappearing. “I don’t want Anders at the wedding.”
“But he’s your brother.”
“And your ex-fiancé. I don’t want him there.”
“I don’t want to be the cause of this rift between you two. If you invite him, perhaps you can mend fences.”
“It’s not going to happen.” He raised his hand to silence her when she would have continued to argue. “I’d better get back to work.”
Disappointment made Anne turn away. They couldn’t ignore the fact that she’d been engaged to Anders. Just when she thought they were growing closer, that he felt the same way about her she felt about him, he closed down and shut her out.
Would he ever let either of them forget she’d once been engaged to his brother? Anne vowed to someday bring the two brothers together.
****
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Erik lifted Anne’s veil and looked into her eyes.
His wife.
He could scarcely believe this beautiful woman was his. That she had consented to marry him still humbled and amazed him.
He leaned on his cane as he reached for her, bringing his mouth to hers for a kiss to seal their vows. He lingered over the kiss, holding her when she would have pulled away. This moment was too precious to rush.
Finally he let her go, and she smiled radiantly at him, happiness glowing in her eyes. How long would she look at him with such joy, like he was the only man in the world? He prayed their time together wouldn’t be too short.
****
The three-piece band, consisting of an accordion player, a fellow on drums, and another on guitar, played an energetic version of “The Beer Barrel Polka.” Erik tapped his foot to the beat of the music as he watched his neighbors and friends get up to dance. He couldn’t keep a small note of bitterness from creeping into his thoughts. Here he was at his own wedding reception and unable to dance with his wife. He’d give anything to be able to take her into his arms and whirl her around the floor.
Anne sat beside him, clapping in time to the music and singing the words of the old song along with the rest of the crowd. Carl Bjornson, their closest neighbor, approached their table and, after introducing himself, extended his hand to her.
“Would you care to dance?”
Anne glanced at Erik, and then smiled at Carl. “That’s very kind of you, but no, thank you.”
Erik touched her arm. “Just because I can’t dance doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course. I’ve heard Carl hardly ever steps on his partner’s toes.” When she hesitated, he squeezed her hand. “Go. Have fun.”
Excitement lit her eyes. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Erik.”
With that she accepted Carl’s offered hand, and together they navigated the crowded dance floor. Erik watched as they began to dance across the floor, the voluminous skirts of Anne’s borrowed wedding dress swirling around her legs. She laughed up at Carl, and Erik experienced a painful pang of jealousy. It should have been him dancing with her.