Gabe was silent so long she took a peek at him. He looked a bit pale. “I didn’t even think of that.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and she wondered if his fever was coming back. “Of course Walther will tell Father about us being here. He could be here to fetch us in two weeks.”
He snatched her hands out of her lap, and this time he gripped them so tightly she didn’t bother trying to pull away. He stared hard into her eyes. Gabe’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Almost dying makes a man think about what’s important. My family is important to me. But Sophie —”
“I know, Gabe. Your family is important to me too. I’m glad you mentioned them, because I want you to know that I’m so happy you will be my brother after Valten and I are married.” She spoke quickly and didn’t look up at him, unable to meet his eye. “And if Walther comes back to the Cottage of the Seven on his way to Hagenheim, I will go with him. You can stay here with the Seven as long as you need to. You should be completely well before —”
“Sophie, wait.” She gazed up at him. He was looking at her intently, his brows drawn together in almost a pained expression. “That wasn’t what I wanted to … what I mean is …”
Heinric burst into the room from the kitchen. “Sophie, Sophie, Sophie.” Siggy and Vincz came in behind him, and Gabe let go of her hands, looking frustrated.
“Gabe,” Vincz said, “Dolf just saw a man lurking at the edge of the woods.”
“Do you know him?”
“Dolf had never seen him before,” Dominyk replied, having followed Vincz and the other men into the room. “No one else lives around here.”
“It could be someone the duchess has sent to ferret us out.”
“The rain has stopped,” Vincz said, grabbing a cloak and hood that hung from a peg on the wall. “Siggy and I will go search for him and force him to tell us what he’s doing here.”
Gabe stood. “I’ll go with you.”
Gabe glanced back at Sophie, his forehead creased in thought. He said softly, for her ears only, “We need to talk when I get back.”
Sophie was too numb to speak.
He turned back to Vincz and Siggy. “I’ll go get my crossbow.”
When Gabe started up the steps, Dominyk told Siggy and Vincz, “Don’t be gone long. He is still weak.”
Chapter 17
Soon they were gone and Sophie was left to wonder if the duchess had sent another man after them, someone who had tracked them to the Cottage of the Seven.
But mostly she wondered what Gabe had meant when he’d said, “Almost dying makes a man think about what’s important. My family is important to me.” What had he been about to say? That he couldn’t jeopardize his relationship with his brother? That he loved his family too much to fall in love with her? Then why had he grabbed hold of her hands? Why had he stayed in the kitchen and said kind words to her, held her in his arms, made her want him so much her heart felt as thought it were breaking in two? But she had done the right thing by saying what she did. She just wasn’t sure she could say it again and mean it.
Feeling very restless, she sat back down. She could still feel his hands, so warm and strong, holding hers, his rough callouses reminding her how he had held the horse’s reins the last three days, riding hard to save her.
He probably has no idea the effect he has on me.
Perhaps rich nobles behaved this way all the time. Men kissed women’s hands in greeting, Petra had once told her. Gabe had probably held a hundred ladies’ hands, held his sisters in his arms to comfort them. It meant nothing to him. She was only another woman to him.
Either way, she could never let him know how his holding her hands and embracing her made her feel. It was her duty to her dead father to honor his agreement with Gabe’s father. But more than that, she didn’t want to hurt Valten or his family.
Sophie jumped up to go start making some more pies, to take her mind off all these tumultuous thoughts, when she saw Dominyk come into the room carrying something across his arms. He brought it to her.
“I have here an underdress that belonged to my sister, one she left here many years ago,” Dominyk said. “I had forgotten about it, but you are welcome to have it.”
The long-sleeved white dress lay on top of Dominyk’s outstretched arms. Sophie picked it up and saw red underneath.
“I also have this red fabric. It’s too fine for us but it would make a lovely dress for you. Please take it as well.”
The fabric was a beautiful shade of red and very soft. Sophie had never seen such exquisite fabric, except on Duchess Ermengard. “It is more beautiful than any I’ve ever seen.”
Sophie held out her arms. Dominyk draped the cloth and dress over them. “At the fair, Siggy and Vincz traded our wood for it, but we never knew what to do with it.”
“It will make the finest dress I’ve ever worn. Thank you.” Ask and you shall receive. Jesus had said that. She hadn’t actually asked, only thought what she’d needed, and God had provided it. Thank you, God. If only he could give her direction, peace of mind, and a mended heart so easily.
Sophie went to work on the dress right away. Dominyk told her she didn’t have to cook, that the men could take over while she sewed her dress.
Sophie had often been praised for being good with a needle and thread, and had often been chosen to sew the other servants’ clothing. She had an idea of how she wanted to make this dress, patterning it after one of the duchess’s recent dresses, and she set to work with single-minded energy.
Gabe, Vincz, and Siggy returned saying they found tracks from a man and his horse. They’d tried to track him but finally had to come back when it started raining again. Sophie only got a glimpse of Gabe, but he looked tired and pale, sending a tremor of worry through her. He certainly wasn’t recovered from his wound yet, but she trusted Bartel and the other men to make sure he rested while Sophie went to her room and sewed — and prayed, asking God to tell her what to do about her feelings for Gabe. The only solution she could think of was to avoid him until his father’s men came to take her back to Hagenheim. God, I wish you would tell me what to do. Sometimes God gave her answers to questions she put to him in prayer. But this time, she heard only silence.
Sophie was summoned to supper. When she sat down at the table, she noticed a missing chair. “Where is Gabe?”
The men glanced up at her, then nervously looked away, their eyes coming to rest on Bartel.
Sophie instantly felt sick. Was he hurt? What had happened?
Finally, Bartel cleared his throat. “He was tired.”
“Is he all right?”
“His fever has returned.”
“Oh.” She felt the blood drain from her face, but she didn’t want anyone to think she blamed them for letting Gabe go with them. Nevertheless, Siggy and Vincz looked sheepish.
“Does he need anything? Can I take him something?”
“It is best to let him sleep,” Bartel said. “He asked me to tell you to stay inside the cottage until they find the man who was lurking about the woods. We all think it best.” He was speaking kindly to her. Did that mean her life was in danger? That Gabe’s life was in danger?
“Of course.” Several pairs of eyes were on her now, and she looked down to keep them from seeing how concerned she was for Gabe. God, please help him get better.
After supper, Sophie watched Bartel go upstairs. She prayed silently, then followed him so she could retrieve the material for her dress. While sewing downstairs, she imagined how beautiful the dress would be when it was finished. But mostly her mind was on Gabe. What had he been trying to tell her this morning? The more she thought about it, the more she was afraid she didn’t want to know. Either he loved her, which was a terrible, unsolvable problem, or he was going to tell her that his family was too important to him and that she could never be more to him than a sister. That they needed to stay away from each other from now on.
That would be best, she told herself. It wasn’t what she wanted, but since when did she
get what she wanted? Just as a servant had few rights, a girl born to a duke quite possibly had even fewer. She must marry whomever her parents chose. Even if the man they chose never came to love her. Even if she loved someone else.
Siggy began to play his lute again after supper. Vincz, who usually fell asleep within moments of sitting down, walked over to Sophie.
“Would you dance with me, my lady?” His brown eyes reminded her of a dog that belonged to the village baker. Droopy and sad, but sweet. He smiled and held out his hand.
“Oh no, thank you. I don’t know how to dance.”
He tried to persuade her but she shook her head and smiled apologetically. Her unfinished dress was still in her lap, and she wanted to finish it tonight. Besides, she would likely mess up every step. So she worked her needle in and out of the fabric while she listened to the songs.
It should have been a very pleasant evening. She wasn’t accustomed to the pleasure of listening to music, not to mention the pleasure of creating a new dress from beautiful fabric for herself, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what Bartel was doing to Gabe in the room upstairs and why he lingered there so long.
Finally, the men started yawning — Vincz had long since fallen asleep in his chair — and they all started getting ready to go upstairs. Sophie gathered up her dress, since she needed to try it on before finishing it, and headed back upstairs as well.
Bartel was coming out of Gabe’s room as she was walking down the corridor. “How is he? Is it bad?” She surprised herself by sounding breathless and scared.
“I think he only made himself too tired. He needs to stay in bed for a few days.”
“How is his fever?”
“I hope it will be gone again by morning.”
“And his wound? Does it look all right?”
“It has been oozing a lot of water and blood, but I think that is normal.”
Her heart was in her throat as she told Bartel thank you. She wanted to see Gabe, to feel his forehead to see how bad his fever was, but she was afraid. What if he told her to leave him in peace?
Besides, Bartel was taking good care of him. Gabe didn’t need her constantly running in.
At least she could finish her dress tonight.
Sophie got up early and pulled on the white chemise Dominyk had given her, followed by the new red overdress, tying the laces under her arms and down the front of the bodice. She had also made a matching red sash to wear in her hair; after weaving the sash into her two braids, she wrapped each plait so they rested atop her head, tied in place by the end of the sash. She liked the effect of the crimson against the black of her hair, which she could see in a small looking glass in her room.
She longed to knock on Gabe’s door and ask how he was feeling and see if he’d notice her new dress, but that was foolishness. Besides, he was probably still asleep. She continued down the corridor and down the stairs to make breakfast for everyone, carefully putting on the largest apron to protect her new dress from stains.
When the seven men came for their morning meal, she had already taken off her apron. The men stared at her, and she realized they were looking at her gown.
“Do you like it?” she asked them, glancing down at it.
“You look as b-b-beautiful as a s-s-s-s-sunrise,” Siggy said.
Dolf pointed to her dress, smiling and nodding. The others all complimented her as well. It had turned out quite lovely. The bodice was fitted to her waist and the full skirt flowed all the way to the floor. Perhaps it was almost as fine as the dresses Gabe’s mother and sisters wore. She wished he were here to see it.
But Gabe did not come downstairs for breakfast. Sophie was disappointed, even though Bartel had warned he needed to stay in bed for a few days. She asked the stoic monk how Gabe was doing, but his reply was vague, saying Gabe was about the same and just needed rest. At midday it was the same response. When she went upstairs to get something out of her room, she told herself if no one was around, she would knock on Gabe’s door. But Bartel was just coming out when she entered the corridor. He stood with his arms folded across his chest as she approached.
“How is he?”
“The same.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask to see him, but Bartel’s serious, rather disapproving look stopped her and she moved on. It was for the best, anyway. She needed to keep her distance.
That night, Gabe didn’t join them for supper.
After the meal they sat down to listen to Siggy and Dominyk play, as usual. This time Dominyk also sang, revealing a wonderful baritone voice that woke up Vincz, who added his deep bass.
Sophie had offered to do some mending for the men, partly to keep her mind busy. Between the rhythm of the stitches and the melodies the men created, her mind was fairly occupied, until she heard a dull thump from upstairs followed by another, louder one. She looked around the room to gauge the others’ reactions, but they were all occupied with the music. She stood up, laid her work in her chair, and hurried out of the room and up the stairs, no longer caring how Bartel would react to her going to Gabe’s room. She hadn’t seen Gabe for more than an entire day and she couldn’t bear it any longer. Besides, she reasoned, he may need help.
Her heart was in her throat as she reached the top of the stairs. She stared at his door. Her hand shook as she reached out to knock.
The door opened just as her knuckles were about to touch the wood. Gabe stood there, his face troubled.
“Gabe. What are you doing up?” Her voice sounded breathless. She made an effort to calm her breathing. She couldn’t tell if the look on his face was anger … or hurt.
Chapter 18
Gabe stared down at Sophie, propping him self against the door frame. How good it was to see her face. He reached out and touched her arm. From the look in Sophie’s eyes, she was glad to see him too.
“Where have you been?” he asked softly. “Why did you stay away?” He tried not to let her hear the emotion in his voice.
“Bartel said you needed rest.”
“He’s worse than a prison guard.”
“Are you all right? Is your fever gone?” She stood on tiptoe and touched his forehead, bringing her face very close to his.
As her hand lingered on his forehead, their eyes met. He tried to read what was hidden there. Her hand was so cool and pleasant on his forehead.
“You still feel warm,” she whispered.
He leaned closer. Her deep blue eyes, which appeared almost black in the dark corridor, held a little bit of fear. Her thick eyelashes curled delicately against her skin. A strand of black hair had worked loose and lay against her cheek. He was tempted to brush it back just to see if her hair was as silky and her skin as soft as it looked now.
Hair and skin that only Valten should ever be allowed to touch.
He stifled a groan and clenched his jaw instead. Why do I have to have such a loud conscience, God? It was beyond frustrating. Sophie took a step back.
He pulled on her arm. “Come inside for a moment. Before Bartel comes back.” I only want to talk to her, God. Can’t I just talk to her? He effectually ignored his conscience’s answer.
She flinched and he let go, staring down at her arm. He had forgotten all about the long arrow wound. She followed him inside, and he shut the door behind them.
“I want to see how your arm is doing. Have you let Bartel look at it again?”
“My arm is well. You’re supposed to be resting.” She nodded toward the bed. “Bartel would not be happy if he knew you were out of bed, would he?”
“No, probably not.” Gabe knelt in front of the fireplace and stirred up the smoldering fire.
“You should let me do that.”
He added more wood. She pulled on his arm, trying to make him stand up. When he finished, he straightened, then stumbled and almost fell, propping himself against the wall. Sophie put her arm around him and helped him to the bed.
He hated letting her see him this way. He wanted to be strong, to ta
ke care of her as he had when they’d been running from the duchess’s guards. He wanted to find the man who might be stalking them, trying to hurt Sophie. And he wanted her to trust him.
If it wasn’t for this cursed fever …
She started to pull the blanket up to his chin, but he held out his hand to stop her. “I want to see your arm.”
“As you wish.”
“Will you light the candles?”
She lit the pillars on the table by the bed, and he was finally able to see her better. He noticed she was no longer wearing her old servant’s garb or the men’s clothes Dominyk had provided. Instead, she wore a beautiful red dress.
“Sophie,” he breathed, looking her up and down. He pulled himself into a sitting position. “You’re beautiful.” He had never seen her wearing anything so exquisite. Her clothes hadn’t detracted from her natural beauty, but he’d always had to imagine what she’d look like in the clothes of the nobility. Now, in the elegant gown that, with its perfect shade of red that accentuated her flawless skin and ebony hair … she took his breath away. Before him stood a woman who could grace any dance floor in the Holy Roman Empire and make all the other women look plain.
She blushed as she glanced down at her dress. “The men gave me the fabric.”
“So that’s why you didn’t come to see me. You were busy.”
“Gabe, I —” She hesitated, using her finger to smear a dribble of hot wax on the side of a candle.
He held his breath, waiting for what she would say, wondering why she was so hesitant.
“I wasn’t that busy,” she said, still picking at the candle. “I was afraid to disturb you and afraid of …” She bit her lip, her brows drawing together.
“Afraid of what?”
She pulled her hand away from the candle and started rubbing her finger, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, and refusing to look him in the eye. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”
The Fairest Beauty Page 18
