The Fairest Beauty

by Melanie Dickerson

Sophie shook her head as more tears dripped from her eyes. Finally, she controlled herself enough to rasp out, “Don’t talk like that.”

  His eyes were closed again. She took several deep breaths to calm herself and make the tears go away. If she didn’t, she feared his whole shirt would be wet, from her tears and his blood.

  “Thank you for coming to our aid, Walther,” Sophie said.

  Walther grunted, still pressing the blanket to Gabe’s wounds. “I couldn’t let that foul man kill our little Sophie. The duchess, she ordered all of us guards to find you both and kill you. I convinced some of them to leave with their families under cover of night instead — after I told them what she was planning to do to our Sophie, they were happy to leave the duchess’s service no matter what the risk. Lorencz had already gone, and I was able to thwart most of the other guards before they got too far from the castle. But there was one man determined to do her bidding, and that was Malger. After I sent my family to safety, I came after him.”

  It had become so dark Sophie could barely see Walther’s face.

  “I don’t think we would still be alive if you hadn’t found us when you did.”

  “I don’t like to think about it myself.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Gabe said. “I owe you my life.”

  And I owe my life to both of you.

  The three of them stayed unmoving and silent for several more minutes while Walther continued to apply pressure to Gabe’s wound. Had the bleeding stopped?

  In her mind, Sophie listed all the things Gabe would need. They had to find him water, food, bandages to cover the wound, and a warm blanket, now that his was soaked in blood. He would also need to relieve himself, since they’d been riding for some time.

  Walther will have to help him with that.

  “I’ll stand guard tonight,” Walther said, shifting his weight to his other knee, still pressing Gabe’s shoulder and the blanket between his hands. “There may be wolves in the area. They’ll smell blood and come hunting.”

  “You need sleep. I’ll stand guard.” Sophie had seen Gabe shoot his crossbow and was sure she could do it.

  Walther grunted as he shifted his weight again. “No maiden is going to watch over me while I sleep.” His voice sounded angry so she didn’t argue. “Besides, old men like me hardly need any rest.”

  Sophie stared down into Gabe’s face. She could see it was scrunched in pain, but he didn’t move or open his eyes. “Gabe?”

  He emitted a small sound from his throat.

  She wanted to say she was sorry — sorry for getting him shot, sorry for causing him pain. It was all her fault. Instead, she said, “Is there anything I can get for you? Can I get you some water?”

  “When he stops crushing my shoulder,” Gabe rasped.

  “I’m only trying to stop the bleeding,” Walther said peevishly. “Let’s have a look.” Walther sat back and lifted the blanket from the front of Gabe’s shoulder. He leaned close, and Sophie tried to see too. All she could see was the dark spot on Gabe’s shoulder where the arrow had gone in and the stain on his shirt around it. She watched and waited for the blood to start seeping out, but it didn’t come.

  “Praise God and all his saints,” Walther said. “Help him sit up. Slowly, now. Don’t want to jostle his shoulder too much.”

  Sophie helped push Gabe into a half-sitting position. “Should we wrap it?”

  Gabe winced and nodded.

  Sophie hurried to his bag, which contained the roll of bandages he had used to wrap her arm. When she got back, Walther was helping Gabe remove his shirt.

  Sophie tried not to look at his naked chest — not that she hadn’t seen a man’s torso before. The men servants often stripped down to their waists when they were working outside during the summer months. She’d always thought it was disgusting. But somehow, it was different with Gabe — not disgusting at all.

  Forcing herself to concentrate on her task, Sophie knelt beside him and started wrapping the bandage around his shoulder so that the cloth covered the entry wound in front and the exit wound in back. She wrapped it over his shoulder and under his arm several times. Then she tied it securely in place.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. She looked into his eyes. His face was mere inches from hers.

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered back. “I’ll go get you some water.” Sophie jumped up, but then realized he was sitting there without a shirt, and the night air was cool. She retrieved his shirt from the ground and pulled it over his head. She helped him put his right hand through the sleeve, then moved to his other side, noting the way his shoulder muscles bulged and rippled with his every movement. Pulling her mind, and her eyes, away from his bare shoulders, she tugged the shirt over his injured shoulder, letting the sleeve dangle. Gabe groaned. “Sorry.” She pulled the shirt the rest of the way down.

  He must be in terrible pain. Instead of complaining, he whispered, “Danke.”

  “Bitte.” His lips were so close … but she shouldn’t be looking at his lips. She jumped up again and ran back to his saddlebag, grabbing a cup she knew he stored there, then hurried to the river. Making sure to get the water upstream from where their attacker had fallen in, Sophie hurried back with the full cup.

  Walther helped Gabe to his feet, careful not to jostle his left arm, which was pressed against his side under his shirt.

  “Here’s your water.”

  Gabe took it from her hand and drank. His throat bobbed three times, she noted in fascination, as he swallowed. His chest filled out his shirt in a very appealing way, and she recalled how he had looked without it.

  Stop being ridiculous, she scolded herself, taking the cup from him. The man had nearly been killed protecting her — she still could hardly believe what he had done — and she shouldn’t be ogling him. She was behaving like Darla, who ogled every man under fifty who still had most of his teeth.

  “We’ll be back, Sophie,” Walther said, as he and Gabe walked away, heading to the trees.

  Sophie busied herself with building a fire. Unless Walther had brought supplies, they would all have to sleep on the ground. She picked up Gabe’s crossbow, checked to make sure it was loaded, and set it down where she planned to sleep. If danger lurked, she would be ready.

  When the two men came back, the three of them sat around the fire and ate. Walther shared some bread, which he toasted over the fire, and some nuts, apples, and strips of dried venison. Sophie’s eyes stayed on Gabe nearly the whole meal. She watched how much he ate — which was very little — how he moved, and when he flinched or winced, and she felt wretched about the sacrifice he had made for her. Thinking about it stirred up something inside of her she was terrified to examine.

  She got him more water when they finished eating, then he curled up next to the fire.

  Walther patted Sophie’s head as if she were a small child. “Don’t you worry about him, Sophie. He’s young and strong. He’ll be fine. I’ll keep watch and let you both get some sleep, and he’ll be as good as new in a few days … or weeks.” He scratched his head as he turned away, then mumbled, “If he doesn’t catch the fever and the wound doesn’t putrify.”

  Sophie felt the blood drain from her face. Putrify? Fever? When she was younger, a fellow servant had had a deep gash that had become horribly infected. He’d burned with fever for several days, his knee oozing foul-smelling pus. And then he’d died.

  God, please protect Gabe. Please don’t let him die.

  She lifted the wooden cross that hung around her neck and held it against her lips while she silently prayed.

  After pleading with God to heal Gabe, Sophie walked over and sat beside him. “Are you cold? I can ask Walther if he has another blanket.”

  Walther came up beside her and handed her a blanket. “Take mine,” he said gruffly. “I don’t need it.”

  She spread it over Gabe before sitting by him again.

  “You need to lie down and sleep too, Sophie,” Gabe said. “You take the blanket.”

/>   “I’ll sleep over there on the ground. I’m not cold.”

  Walther was back again, hovering over them. “We’ll all stay close tonight. Sophie, you share the blanket with Gabe. He’s a duke’s son, isn’t he? Petra said he was.”

  Sophie stared at Gabe, wondering if he would tell the truth.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “I am.”

  “Good.” Walther nodded. “Sophie is a duke’s daughter. You can marry her when this is all over.” He turned and stalked toward his horse, as if he’d just settled an argument.

  Gabe stared after Walther’s retreating back, and Sophie gazed at Gabe with her mouth open and her eyes wide.

  Seconds passed and she didn’t say a word. Neither did he.

  Gabe should probably tell Walther that Sophie couldn’t marry him, but Sophie was in no danger from him tonight. He couldn’t even move without the excruciating pain in his shoulder intensifying like a red-hot knife stabbing him. And to be honest, he was cold and wanted Sophie near.

  Sophie lay down next to him, the crossbow beside her.

  “Planning to use that?”

  “Only if we’re threatened.” She had a plucky, defiant look on her face that made respect well up inside him.

  “Do you know how?” he goaded her.

  “Yes, I do.” She pulled the weapon around to show him. “I have to press this metal thing here to shoot the arrow. And I have more arrows right here. If I need to reload, I step on this to put in the arrow.” She showed him that she had retrieved his leather quiver.

  “I have no doubt that you can defend us all.”

  “I can.” She seemed to think he was teasing her.

  “I believe you.”

  She looked satisfied and placed the crossbow and quiver of bolts back on the ground on her other side.

  They lay on their sides, facing each other in silence. Gabe wasn’t sure of Walther’s exact whereabouts, but he was probably close enough he could hear their every word. See, God? We have our own personal guard. There’s no impropriety.

  She broke the silence by whispering, “Are you in very much pain?”

  “I would like to lie and say no, not very much.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s all because of me. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t say that, Sophie.” He could barely see her face, but he had too many sisters not to know that she was crying. There was the telltale hitching breaths and slight sniffling. A bit of starlight reflected off the wetness on her cheeks.

  “You never should have taken that arrow for me,” she said fiercely. “You should have let it strike me instead.”

  He snorted. “Don’t be silly. I would never have done that.”

  She sniffed.

  “Sophie, please don’t cry.” He wanted so badly to comfort her, to comfort her as he would his sisters. What could be wrong with that? He reached out with his left hand — which hurt less than he thought it would — and wiped the tears from under her eyes with his thumb. “I’d do it over again. I’d take a hundred arrows for you.” His chest expanded at the truth in his words.

  “But why? I’m just a servant girl.”

  “You’re not just a servant girl. It would have hurt me far more if the arrow had struck you.”

  “Because of your manly pride.”

  “Because you’re worth protecting, Sophie. So worth it.” God help me.

  She made a small sound, like her breath catching in her throat, and closed her eyes.

  He should shut up before he said something irresponsible. Pain was clouding his judgment. He’d think more clearly in the morning. Besides, her betrothal to Valten was legally binding, and he couldn’t betray his own brother.

  Chapter 14

  You’re worth protecting. Gabe’s words sank into Sophie’s heart. That he would take an arrow for her and then say that he would do it again, that she was worth it … Then he had wiped the tears from her eyes.

  She tried to stop crying and calm herself, to think of how she should behave. What would Petra say?

  Petra was always telling Sophie how a lady should conduct herself. Apparently Petra had lived in the homes of wealthy nobility — although she never spoke of her life before she came to Hohendorf. Petra would probably tell Sophie to pretend she wasn’t crying, pretend she didn’t want to put her arms around him. Pretend she felt what she was supposed to feel, and then the proper feeling would follow.

  Petra would certainly tell her that she should pretend her heart didn’t feel as if it were breaking. How could she possibly pretend she only felt what a sister would feel for her wounded brother? “I’m sorry,” she said yet again.

  “Please stop saying that. You didn’t do anything to apologize for.”

  She mustn’t have feelings for Gabe. He cared about her as a brother would a sister, and she would think of him as a brother and no more.

  “I shall tell your family of your bravery. They will be so proud of you.” There. Her voice sounded perfectly calm.

  “And they will love you, Sophie. You’ll never feel unloved again.”

  Did he know that to have a real family that loved her was her greatest longing? His words made the tears come back, but she didn’t want to cry again. So she closed her eyes and said, “Good night, Gabe.”

  “Good night, Sophie.”

  Sophie woke up just as the sky was lightening with the coming dawn. She looked at Gabe, who appeared to be sleeping, although she knew he hadn’t slept well. She had woken several times during the night and had seen that he was awake. Once she’d heard him mumbling in his sleep. His shoulder must have been paining him severely. And now his cheeks looked flushed.

  She reached over and laid her hand against his forehead. His skin was unnaturally hot.

  Fever.

  She got up and retrieved his cup and what was left of his bandages. She ran to the river, dipped both the cup and the cloth in the cold water, then ran back. She sank down beside him.

  He blinked up at her.

  “Drink this. Then I’m going to bathe your face,” she explained, “to try to bring down your fever.” She had cared for many adults and children with fevers. But she’d never felt quite so desperate before.

  He didn’t say anything, only used his right arm to push himself into a sitting position. Then he took the cup from her and drank. Walther was watching them from where he stood saddling the horses.

  Sophie began to wipe Gabe’s forehead and cheeks with the cloth. He closed his eyes, and she could tell he was not well. O God, please don’t let him die. Her stomach clenched in fear. Was his fever a precursor?

  She applied the wet cloth to his stubbly jaw as Walther walked up beside them.

  “Fever, eh? It won’t likely turn putrid for a few days yet.”

  A few days? Is that all the time he had? But perhaps it wouldn’t become diseased at all. Sophie held on to that hope.

  “Are you able to ride?” Walther asked Gabe.

  “Of course. I am well.” To prove it, Gabe stood up on his own.

  Sophie hovered close beside him in case he needed any help.

  He glanced down at her and gave her a slight smile. “Thank you.”

  She pretended not to notice the warmth she felt at his smile and busied herself with folding the blanket and packing everything away so they could get back on the trail.

  “Where are we headed?” Walther asked.

  Gabe’s voice sounded a bit strained. “Hagenheim, straight north.”

  “Petra said there was a safe place about a day’s ride from here, called the Cottage of the Seven.”

  “She told us the same.”

  “She gave me some idea as to how to get there. You’ll need to rest there until you’re well again.”

  Walther came toward Gabe and Sophie, who were standing next to Gingerbread. Sophie was about to ask Gabe if he needed help mounting his horse, but she didn’t want to insult him. He looked pale, though his cheeks were flushed.

  Walther didn�
��t hesitate, merely knotting his fingers to offer Gabe a step up while saying, “Up you go.” He grunted as he gave Gabe a helpful boost into the saddle. Next, he did the same for her, saying, “Pardon me, Little Sophie,” as he grabbed her about the waist to lift her.

  “Thank you,” Sophie said, feeling grim as she settled into the saddle in front of Gabe. Since Gabe only had use of one arm, she held the reins for him. “Are you all right?” she whispered, while staring up at him.

  “I’ve felt better, but I’m well, Sophie. Or should I call you Little Sophie?” He grinned at her, seeming more like himself.

  “I know you don’t feel well. A fever, along with having an arrow go all the way through your shoulder, does not make for a pleasant morning.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. At least I have pleasant company.”

  She shook her head at his humor and didn’t dare to peek at him again, afraid of what she would see — or not see — in his eyes.

  They traveled through more rough terrain, interspersed with flat valleys and meadows. It was cloudy all morning, and Sophie shuddered at the thought of rain.

  She paid close attention to Gabe. His head hung lower than normal, almost resting on her. Extra heat radiated from his body, but he didn’t complain. He held on to Sophie with his right hand and held his left hand against his body. Fortunately for Sophie, Gingerbread didn’t seem to need much guidance.

  She wanted so much to help Gabe, but she didn’t know how. He’d insisted on strapping the crossbow to his back.

  When Sophie glanced back at him at midday, his eyelids were drooping and his face was red. She reached back and touched his forehead, then his cheek. His skin was hot, much warmer than the last time she’d checked.

  “Are you feeling very bad?”

  “I am well. But I forgot to check your arm this morning.” He spoke haltingly, pausing to take quick breaths. “You probably need … a new bandage. Let me see.”

  “My arm is fine.” But she obediently held it up so he could see that there was no blood seeping through the bandage.

  “At least it’s not … bleeding.”