Fairy Tale Romance Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  “It is very beautiful. I should think everyone would want their houses decorated in such a way.”

  “Dolf and Siggy spent a year in foreign lands east of here, painting these sorts of murals for people. Everyone there loves them, and it is very fashionable, Siggy says.”

  “How did they end up here, at the Cottage of the Seven?”

  Vincz shrugged. “The same way we all did. People become frightened of people who are different and then start rumors, accuse us of being demon-possessed or cursed.” He turned a sheepish smile on Sophie and shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter. We are happy here.”

  Sophie smiled back. “No one who knows you could say such things. And I am happy that you’re here too.”

  All the men were eager to help, so she put Siggy and Gotfrid to work mopping the floors. And Dolf and Dominyk were soon clearing the cobwebs from the massive wooden rafters. Dolf would pick up Dominyk, holding him over his head, and Dominyk would sweep the ceiling with his broom.

  Bartel was out in a nearby chapel — his usual place, she was told — praying and meditating. She didn’t want to disturb him, but she thought it was a shame she didn’t have his help when Dolf’s arms got tired.

  Sophie, in the meantime, began preparing their midday meal. She washed and peeled what fruit she could find — apples, plums, pears, and grapes — for custard, and used what was left of some recently harvested venison for mince pies. She chopped the meat until her hand was numb and her arm was aching. Then she added egg, lots of spices, a little red wine, cider vinegar, some currants, and dried grapes. She mixed it up with her hands, squishing it between her fingers like she’d seen Petra do, and placed it in stiff pastry shells. Then she covered it with another pastry and rubbed egg whites over it before putting it in the oven with some loaves of bread that had been rising all morning.

  When Sophie came out of the kitchen to check on the men and their cleaning, they seemed to be making great progress. Most of the walls were clean and Heinric’s sleeves were soaked all the way up to his armpits. But he was smiling, and he waved at Sophie. Dolf and Dominyk were cleaning the thick glass window in the front of the cottage. Outside, the rain was still coming down, lending a pleasant, drowsy hum to the day.

  The house was nothing like Hohendorf Castle. The cottage was snug and cozy and warm, while the castle had been drafty and cold and unwelcoming. And no one there had ever let her boss them around. Most of the servants liked her and were kind to her, but they also knew the duchess hated Sophie, so they treated her cautiously. She was just another servant.

  But Gabe didn’t treat her that way. Although he had seen how she lived, seen how the duchess treated her, he treated her well. He treated her with kindness and respect, as if she were a member of his family. Which she nearly was.

  She realized she was staring out the window at nothing, not even seeing the rain dripping down the pane. She hurried back into the kitchen to make sure nothing had burned and to finish her fruit custards.

  Gabe joined them for their midday meal. Bartel didn’t even have to help him down the steps. He’d also shaved and looked more like the fresh-faced man she’d first met. Well, almost. When he looked at Sophie, there was a strange expression on his face, almost a look of sad longing or uncomfortable awareness. It made her feel … unsettled and confused. But she concentrated on how happy she was that he was strong enough to come downstairs.

  All eight men sat around the table, with Dominyk at the head, leaving the opposite end for Sophie. For the first few minutes, after Bartel said a prayer thanking God for the food, no one spoke as they were too busy eating. Sophie glanced around the table, surprised at how much she enjoyed watching the men enjoy the food she had cooked. But after a few moments, the compliments began, just as they had at breakfast, each man complimenting her in his own way.

  “It’s wonderful, Sophie,” Gabe said. He looked clean and well-rested now, and yet, the first thought that came to her as she looked down the long table to where he sat at the end next to Dominyk was that she wished they were alone again on horseback, running from the duchess and her evil guard.

  What an irrational thought.

  The men all agreed Sophie’s mince pie was the best they’d ever tasted. She smiled graciously at them, but the bleakness of the gray day, which earlier made the cottage seem so cozy, now seemed to weigh on her like the dreary, unrelenting rain beating down on the thatch roof of the cottage. Now that Gabe was better, would he leave her to go visit his betrothed, Brittola? And Walther, if he traveled hard and didn’t stop back by the Cottage of the Seven, could arrive in Hagenheim in ten days, where he would tell Gabe’s brother Valten where they were. Then Valten might send men to fetch her immediately. Or he might come for her himself. Instead of giving her a feeling of anticipation, as it had when she first left the duchess, the thought of marrying Valten filled her with dread.

  Valten might not even believe she was the duke’s daughter and his betrothed, and therefore might never send for her. Perhaps then she could stay here and take care of the Seven’s house and cook for them. And Gabe would marry Brittola.

  She was so engrossed in her thoughts she hadn’t noticed everyone had finished eating and was now beginning to stand and clear off the table. She stood too quickly and knocked her small bench to the floor behind her with a crash, drawing every eye to her. Ducking her head, she righted her chair, then picked up the pitcher of milk, along with the leftover custard, and carried them to the counter. She knew, without looking, that all eyes were still on her as tears pricked her eyelids.

  As she set the pitcher and pie down, a tear tracked down first one cheek, then the other. She didn’t even know why she was crying. She should be happy. Gabe was better, his fever was gone, and he looked like himself again. The seven men were happy with her cooking and treated her well. She was safe from the duchess. She was free. She may soon be getting married to her betrothed, the oldest son of a duke …

  Her tears came faster. She placed her hands on the edge of the rough wooden counter, leaned over, and stifled a sob, glad the others had left the kitchen.

  Sophie brushed the tears away with the back of her hands. She hated crying. It did absolutely no good and was embarrassing. Stupid. That was what the duchess called her sometimes. Now, she wondered if perhaps the duchess was right. She was stupid, too stupid to force herself to stop loving —

  “Sophie?” Gabe’s voice came from behind her.

  Quickly, she rubbed her face to get rid of the tears.

  “Do you need something?” Her voice shook. She cleared her throat and kept her back to him.

  “Are you all right?” He laid his hand on her shoulder and she jerked away instinctively. But she regretted her reaction when Gabe took his hand away.

  But she had to protect her heart.

  “Are you all right?” he asked again. “Did one of the men say something wrong?”

  “Of course not. They are nothing but kind.” Sophie still refused to turn around and face him. She continued trying to look busy, stacking dirty dishes and putting away spices. She wondered what he was doing behind her, what he was thinking … if he had left. But then his hand touched her shoulder again. She didn’t flinch this time, but stopped what she was doing.

  Gently, he placed both hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. She looked up into his eyes. He wore a strangely intense, pleading expression in his brown eyes. His gaze traveled down to her lips, causing her to shiver inside. Terrified he would kiss her — and wanting him to anyway — she slipped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest, realizing too late that doing so only made her heart ache more.

  His arms immediately wrapped around her and pulled her close. He laid his cheek against the top of her head, bringing back memories of their riding together, the three days they’d spent in the same saddle.

  He felt so solid, so strong, warm, and wonderful. Was he thinking of her as a sister? Because she certainly wasn’t thinking of him as a broth
er, and feared she might never be able to again. She could feel him taking a deep breath as he hugged her more tightly, could hear his heart beating, pounding almost as hard as her own.

  Chair legs began scraping across the floor of the front room. Were the Seven coming to check on her? Of course they were. They always did. Just as the footfalls reached the door, Sophie broke away from Gabe and spun around to the counter.

  “Help Sophie,” Heinric said in his usual loud voice, as they surveyed the dirty dishes and few leavings from their meal.

  “That’s all right,” Sophie said, “I can clean up today. You go —”

  “You and Gabe need to rest,” Dominyk said firmly. “Now go.”

  Before she could say another word, Gabe was untying the strings of her apron and pulling it off of her. He placed his hand on her back and guided her from the kitchen into the large main room at the front of the cottage. He led her to a chair and sat beside her.

  They sat in silence. Then Gabe reached over and took her hand in his. She pulled it away. Why was he doing this to her? “What’s wrong, Sophie?”

  She might have been imagining it, but she thought she heard pain in his voice.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” She angled her body away from him so that he couldn’t see her face.

  “Talk to me,” he pleaded.

  Why did he have to make this so hard? She fidgeted, toying with the edge of the sash she had tied around her waist. Such ugly clothes. She was ashamed for Gabe to see her in this. How she wished she had something pretty to wear. But what did it matter? She shouldn’t be trying to look pretty for Gabe.

  “I suppose your father will come to escort us back when Walther tells him where we are. Or perhaps Walther will stop here on his way to Hagenheim and I can go back with him.” She held her breath as she waited to see how he would respond.

  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 though 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.