The Fairest Beauty

by Melanie Dickerson

  “My betrothal was not written down or blessed by a priest,” he added.

  Bartel gave him another hard, long look. “So you feel comfortable breaking it for that reason?”

  Gabe glared back at him, then looked away, not wanting to have hatred of a monk on his conscience — along with all his other sins.

  “I am not trying to anger you, Gabe. I only want to make sure you’ve thought these things through and asked God what he would want you to do. You must think about whether you are doing the right thing for Sophie.”

  A physical pang went through his chest as Bartel continued cutting the string into the correct length, looking as tranquil as a woodland pond.

  Was Gabe doing the right thing for Sophie? How could Bartel know this was the very thing that plagued him, that stirred guilt inside him?

  Perhaps he was being selfish, but he simply could not bear to lose her.

  Gabe continued working, pretending to ignore Bartel’s words.

  “You say Sophie’s parents are dead.” Bartel cut two more strings before continuing. “But her father is not dead. He is alive.”

  Gabe laid down the string. “What did you say?”

  “Sophie’s father lives.”

  Chapter 21

  “Where? How?” Gabe stared at the monk sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him. “Her father is Duke Baldewin. Are you telling me Duke Baldewin is alive?”

  “I am.”

  Gabe clenched his teeth again at the monk’s reticence. “How do you know this? And where is he?”

  “I know it because he lives at Gemeinhart Monastery, where I lived for ten years before I came here.”

  “If Sophie’s father is alive, then why did he leave her all alone with the evil duchess? No father could be that cruel.”

  “He thought she was dead. Everyone believed she was dead, including me. In fact, how do you know this woman, Sophie, is his daughter? I admit she looks like she could be his daughter, but do you have proof?” Bartel unraveled the spool a bit more and snipped off another wick.

  “Well, no. Though Petra the cook, who was there when Duke Baldewin was still there, says she is. The duchess also told me Sophie was the duke’s daughter.”

  “Duke Baldewin told me he came home from a trip to find his daughter lying dead in a casket. Supposedly dead of a fever at two years old. He left without a word to anyone and came to the monastery. The duchess then told everybody he was dead as well.”

  Gabe stared at the flickering candles that were casting light and shadow on the picture of Mary and Jesus. He wasn’t even seeing the candles or the picture when Bartel spoke again.

  “If she is Duke Baldewin’s daughter, he needs to know that she’s alive and try to validate her parentage himself. The duchess may have lied about this scullery maid being the duke’s daughter as part of a sick ruse. His daughter may truly be dead.”

  If that were true, they wouldn’t have to break her betrothal to Valten. Because if she wasn’t Duke Baldewin’s daughter, she wouldn’t be betrothed to Valten. Gabe would only need to find a way to break his betrothal to Brittola. And Brittola might not even want to marry him anymore. He hadn’t heard from her in months.

  His spirits lifted considerably as he continued the monotonous task of cutting candlewicks. He began planning what he needed to do. He would have to go talk to this man at Gemeinhart Monastery and determine if he truly was Duke Baldewin. If Sophie found out about him, she would want to go too. But that wouldn’t be wise.

  He remembered how much she had enjoyed hearing about Gabe’s family. She’d wanted to hear story after story about what it was like to belong to a loving family. He didn’t want her to be disappointed if this man at Gemeinhart turned out to not be her father, or if he had died or didn’t care about her. Gabe didn’t want her heart to be broken.

  “Don’t tell Sophie about this.”

  “Don’t even think about riding out yet. Your shoulder isn’t healed enough.”

  Bartel had read his thoughts again. But Gabe would only wait a day or two, no matter what Bartel said. Then he’d go find Duke Baldewin himself.

  Duchess Ermengard paid her new huntsman and watched out of the window as he left the castle and headed toward the stable — and reminded herself to tell him to shave that bushy beard. Then she stepped to her mirror to gaze at herself.

  Sometimes it seemed as if the mirror was her only friend. It always told her the truth, comforting her by showing her that her nose was still perfect and straight, her teeth were still pearly white, and her lips were still plump and red.

  But Sophie was still alive and living with Gabe and seven men — seven misshapen and abnormal men. At the thought of these seven, the duchess shuddered delicately, then smiled at her reflection. The men were misfits who needed to hide away in order to keep the superstitious rabble from persecuting them as men accursed and afflicted by the devil. And now they were harboring Sophie, as well as that foolish boy, Gabe, who appeared to be injured.

  If her guards had done their job, he’d be dead.

  Her lip curled as she thought about how she would make those seven men sorry for helping the little twit and her foolish savior. But she corrected the scowl and turned it into a smile. There, that’s better. The mirror smiled back at her, revealing the demure expression of an enchanting duchess, beautiful and desirable.

  She could contemplate her revenge without ruining the fairness of her face or creating scowl lines on her lovely skin, couldn’t she?

  She could not have Sophie and Gabe running around telling people that she had mistreated the lovely daughter of Duke Baldewin, that she, the duchess of Hohendorf, had faked the poor girl’s death. They would speculate that she had murdered Duke Baldewin. Sophie and Gabe must die — keep smiling — and so must their new friends, the seven who lived in the cottage in the woods. Yes, once she disposed of Sophie, she would have them all killed. And she would have to accomplish the task herself, naturally. If a beautiful duchess wanted something done, especially revenge, then that clever, beautiful duchess must do it herself.

  Yes, she still had a lovely smile. Much fairer than the smile of a dead girl. Much fairer than the grinning skull of a poisoned … rotting … miserable dead girl.

  Keep smiling.

  Sophie kept busy cooking and cleaning for the Seven and enjoyed the sense of family around her.

  But Sophie thought about Gabe almost every moment, wondering where he was and what he was doing. It seemed that Dominyk and Bartel had conspired to keep him busy. For two days she and Gabe hadn’t spent any time alone, and she had only seen him at meals and after supper, when he played with Siggy and Dominyk. Sophie found herself looking forward to that time when she could sit in the corner and watch Gabe play and listen to him sing. She loved music, but she loved his voice even more.

  Gabe’s skin seemed to glow tonight. He had worked outdoors quite a bit in the garden lately, giving him a healthy complexion, and he seemed at ease and happy with the other men. They all seemed to like him too. Sophie sighed happily as she settled into her corner, Gabe’s gaze frequently finding her there.

  Gabe didn’t pick up his lute. Instead, he walked over and whispered something to Siggy, who winked at him and started playing. Then he turned and strode purposefully toward Sophie.

  She held her sewing in her lap, her heart thumping hard against her chest. He looked so handsome, with the cocky half grin. Yet there was a vulnerability in his warm brown eyes that twisted her stomach. She longed to throw her arms around him and be embraced by his warmth and his scent, but she was much too aware of the seven pairs of eyes watching them.

  Gabe held his hand out to her as he approached. “Dance with me.”

  Sophie shook her head. “I don’t know how.” It would have been embarrassing in itself if she hadn’t been afraid of embarrassing herself worse by being in Gabe’s arms in front of the seven men.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll show you.”

  She placed her hand in his, and he
pulled her to her feet. Grabbing her sewing as it slipped from her lap, she laid it on the chair.

  “Gabe, I can’t. We really shouldn’t.” Her face grew hot.

  But he was smirking, pulling her toward the middle of the floor. He took her other hand, and with their arms tucked to their waists, holding hands side by side, he stepped in a circle. Sophie followed his lead, her eyes captured by his.

  They stepped in time to the lively music, then Gabe reversed their direction by pulling her arm over her head and spinning her around. Sophie let her limbs stay loose as she tried to anticipate his next move. They moved fluidly over the floor, as if they had planned every step. She concentrated on looking him in the eye and following his lead. Her thin leather shoes glided over the smooth wood floor. What did the Seven think of the intimate way Gabe was looking at her? Her face burned, but she was afraid to look away from him.

  Soon it would become obvious that she had no idea what she was doing and did not know how to dance. But Gabe continued to spin her around the floor. He made her feel pretty, like she truly was the daughter of a duke.

  Questions swirled inside her head the way her skirt was swirling around her ankles, but she smiled at Gabe anyway. It was impossible not to.

  The music stopped. Gabe and Sophie stopped a few moments later. They both looked over at Siggy, who gave them a sheepish glance before looking at Bartel.

  Bartel stood, his arms folded underneath his robe, and stared at them from beneath lowered brows. He did not look happy.

  Silence reigned. Sophie made two attempts to swallow the lump in her throat.

  “Men,” Bartel said, glancing around the room, “it is time for bed. Gabe and Sophie need to talk.”

  What was Bartel implying? Gabe did not look happy either. His expression mirrored the one on Bartel’s face. She tried to pull her hand free of Gabe’s, but he held on and squeezed, as if to reassure her.

  The rest of the seven men were already hurrying up the stairs. When they were gone, Gabe said, “Thank you for giving us a few moments of privacy, Bartel.”

  “You know why I’m giving you this time. You and Sophie must talk, to ask the hard questions and be honest with each other. I will be back in a few minutes.”

  Without another word, he turned and stumped out of the room with his slightly lame gait.

  Ask the hard questions? Be honest with each other? Suddenly the room seemed devoid of air.

  Gabe turned to her, taking her other hand and bringing them both to his lips, looking as though he was still struggling to replace his scowl with a happier expression. “Come, we’ll sit.” He led her back to her chair. She set aside her sewing while he pulled another chair up next to hers.

  “Bartel wanted to know what my intentions were toward you, Sophie.” His thumb caressed her knuckles in a way that sent shivers across her shoulders. She tried to concentrate on his words. What would he say? That he loved Brittola more than her? That he couldn’t betray his brother?

  “I told him my intention is to marry you, as soon as possible, if you will have me.”

  His words stopped her breath as she gazed into the overwhelming intensity of his eyes.

  “Will you marry me, Sophie? Give up the rank and status and wealth of marrying Valten, a man who will someday be a duke?”

  She opened her mouth to say yes, but he pressed a finger over her lips.

  “Don’t say anything yet. I have to get this all out.” He paused, as though forgetting what he was about to say as he stared at her lips. “I love you, Sophie. Bartel thinks I should unselfishly let you marry my brother, that I’m wrong to try to break the betrothal. Perhaps I am wrong. I know I’m selfish. I want you for myself. Say you love me. That you don’t want my brother and don’t care about his money and power and prestige.”

  His tone was fierce, but by the time he finished, his brown eyes were pleading. Before she could answer him, he grabbed her shoulders and drew her to him, kissing her. Sophie’s arms went around his waist, almost by themselves. His kisses made the whole world disappear until she felt as though she’d stepped into a cocoon of warmth and love.

  He loved her. He wanted to marry her. She was surely dreaming.

  His lips moved to her cheek. She couldn’t bear any more happiness or pleasure, it was too wonderful. Sophie buried her face in his shoulder.

  “I love you, Gabe. I love you so much.”

  “If I find a way to break our betrothals, do you truly want to marry me?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “I will marry you, Sophie. I will find a way.” He stroked her hair, then her back. “Please forgive me for wanting you for myself —”

  “Oh, Gabe, thank you for not giving me over to Valten. I love you, and I can’t imagine feeling the same way about him. Please don’t ever leave me.” She squeezed him tighter, pressing her cheek against his good shoulder. Why did the pressure in her chest feel so intense, even painful? This love was wonderful and frightening at the same time. She’d never felt so vulnerable, never laid her heart bare this way, and it was exhilarating.

  “I won’t give you over to Valten. I’m just not that good.” He pulled away and she saw the tender smile on his lips. He stroked her cheek with his fingers, sending tingles of pleasure through her. “I am selfish, but you make me want to be a better man. You make me want to be married, to have children, and to be responsible for your well-being and theirs. I want to make you happy.”

  He bent and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “But we must wait a little while,” he said, his warm breath caressing her forehead. “I have to work things out so that I don’t disgrace you.”

  “Do you think your family will forgive us?”

  “Of course.”

  “Won’t Valten be angry with you?”

  “Let Valten save his own damsel in distress. I’m sure there are other maidens he can fall in love with.”

  “What about Brittola?” She felt a pang of pity for the girl who had lost Gabe and didn’t even know it yet. “Won’t she be heartbroken?”

  The smile disappeared from his face. “She couldn’t have loved me much. She rarely wrote to me, and we had hardly spent any time together. Now stop worrying. All will be well.”

  He tucked her head under his chin and squeezed her tight. She could have remained there all night.

  But Bartel had only promised them a short time. He would be back at any moment.

  “What will you do now?”

  “I have to leave in a day or two, to try to work some things out.”

  “Can I go with you?”

  He sighed, then pulled away and pressed his palm against her cheek. “It will be best if you stay here with the Seven. They will take care of you and keep you safe.”

  “Why can’t I go? Please take me.” How could she bear to watch him leave?

  “I need to do this alone. Besides, it isn’t proper for us to be traveling alone together.”

  “You will be safe, won’t you?”

  “Of course. But I may not be able to be back before my father, or at least his men, come looking for you.” He began to pull away from her slowly, as if reluctant to let her go. “If they insist on you going with them, go ahead and go, and I will follow you to Hagenheim Castle as soon as I can.”

  “You will make me face your family … alone?”

  He gently squeezed her shoulder. “You are a brave girl. My family is not frightening. They will love you, just as I do.”

  Facing his family alone would not be as difficult as other things she’d done in life. After facing the wrath of Duchess Ermengard, she could surely face Gabe’s family.

  “He’s coming.” He kissed her hand just as Bartel came through the kitchen door.

  “I trust you have admitted the truth between you.” Bartel still had the somber look on his face, as though he was admonishing criminals.

  “Yes, we have.” Gabe stood but kept his hold on her hand.

  “Sophie?” Bartel pinned her with a serious stare, eyebrows raised
in question.

  “Gabe and I are going to be married.” Sophie glanced up at Gabe. The look that passed between her and Gabe made her blush. Poor Bartel, having to see them like this. She felt a little sorry for him, for anyone in the world who wasn’t as happy as she was, and she figured that was everyone.

  Gabe headed for the stairs, still holding her hand, and they walked up together. Surprisingly, Bartel didn’t follow them, and they were able to share a kiss before Gabe whispered, “Good night, Sophie.”

  “Good night, Gabe.”

  The next two days, Bartel didn’t watch them as closely as he had previously. Gabe was grateful for every minute with her. His shoulder was healing, and it was almost time for him to leave. His time was running out, as his father — and maybe even Valten — would be coming for Sophie as soon as Walther told them where they were.

  The Seven had left Sophie and Gabe to clean up the breakfast dishes while they went about their various jobs. As he stood beside her at the sink, smelling the flowery soap she used, the memories of their first kiss washed over him. She had been so sweet and warm and … he had better keep his mind on the dishes.

  While he was finishing the last dish, a wet sensation on the back of his neck made him spin around, slinging water in a wide arc. Sophie squealed and laughed as the water droplets sprayed her face, and he realized she’d put a wet cloth down his shirt. He wriggled until he was able to extricate the cloth from his shirt.

  His hands were dripping water onto the floor. Instead of drying them on a towel, he held them up threateningly and backed her against the wall. She was still laughing, her blue eyes dancing in the rays of light coming through the kitchen window. He placed his wet hands on her face and she giggled hysterically, holding her hands up in an ineffectual attempt to keep him away.

  Staring her in the eyes, he lifted the apron and wiped her cheeks. Her radiant blue eyes focused on his lips. Dropping the apron, he pulled her close. She came willingly, pressing her lips to his.