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 take 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.”
“Tell me, Sophie.” She had avoided him and now refused to tell him why. He leaned forward and took her hand, wondering if she would pull away from him again.
But she didn’t offer any resistance. Her small hand fit perfectly in his, and she clasped her fingers around his. She faced him, searching his eyes, as if she was trying to read his thoughts.
“I was afraid of what you were about to tell me when we were interrupted yesterday.” She sat down on the stool beside his bed, then swallowed, her eyes still fastened to his face, still searching intently.
“But you’re not afraid now?” He spoke softly, as if she were a skittish foal he was trying not to spook.
“I’m just as afraid, if not more.” Her lips trembled as if she were trying to smile but was too nervous. “But I had to see you, to see how you were.” She took a shaky breath, as if her next words were difficult to say. “And now I am ready to hear what you have to say.”
Now he wasn’t sure he should say it. They had been through a lot together, but they had only known each other a few days. She probably wanted to forget him so she could have the life she deserved. After all, she would gain so much more by marrying Valten.
It would be for the best if they could forget about each other. If he and Sophie tried to break their betrothals, many people would be hurt, including Valten. And though he and Valten had often fought and been angry with each other, Gabe realized, maybe more than ever before, that he loved his brother and desired his respect.
But looking into her earnest face, feeling her hand clasped to his … he wasn’t sure he could ever let her go. Not if she felt the same way he did.
“I was about to say …” He swallowed, afraid of saying too much and afraid of saying too little. “My family is important to me, but you are very important to me too. Truthfully, I don’t know if I could bear to … I don’t want to let you go.”
He held her hand tight and gazed into her blue eyes, the light of the candles dancing inside them. Her lips were parted and her eyes were wide, almost childlike.
He loved his brother, but he couldn’t let Sophie marry Valten if she didn’t want to. Please say something, Sophie.
She whispered, “I know.” Bowing her head, she squeezed his hand with both of hers.
They were quiet for several moments. Gabe soaked up her presence and the fragile touch of her hands.
“Let me see your arm,” he said softly.
She let go of his hand, reluctantly it seemed, and slowly inched up her fitted sleeve to reveal the bandage that stretched from her wrist to her elbow. Sophie unwrapped it. He took her arm in his hands and leaned over to examine it closer to the light. The wound was starting to close up as it should, but it was important that it be properly cleaned and wrapped.
“I think Bartel needs to look at it.”
“What do I need to look at?” Bartel stood in the doorway, his arms hidden under the folds of his brown robe.
He let go of Sophie as Bartel drew nearer.
“Sophie was wounded by an arrow.”
“I know. I have been bandaging it every night.”
“Thank you.”
“She didn’t want me to stitch it closed, but it is healing.” Bartel began rewrapping her bandage and tied it snugly in place.
Gabe perceived by his expression that Bartel didn’t approve of Sophie being in his room. All the more reason for Gabe to get well so he didn’t have to stay cloistered. If it killed him, and even if he had to defy Bartel, he would go downstairs tomorrow instead of letting Bartel force him to stay in bed.
“How is Lord Gabe faring?” Sophie asked Bartel.
Her calling him “Lord Gabe” reminded him that they would have to conform again to society’s rules. The other people around them would dictate how they addressed each other, and every other behavior. And once again, everyone would say how irresponsible Gabe was.
“He is improving,” Bartel said. “But I do not want him leaving his bed until I’m sure the fever is gone and he is stronger. And then he isn’t to leave this house or do any work.”
“Of course,” Sophie mumbled.
“You may go now.”
“Of course, Herr Bartel.” Sophie dropped a quick curtsy and started to leave.
Gabe wanted to call her back, but with Bartel standing there, he simply said, “Good night, Sophie.”
“Good night, Gabe. Good night, Herr Bartel.”
As soon as Sophie finished making breakfast the next morning, Bartel appeared at her side. He quickly took the tray she prepared for Gabe. She had hoped to take him the food herself.
“Come upstairs when you finish breakfast so I can change your bandage,” he ordered before he left.
She hurried through the meal and left the seven men to clean up. Her thin shoes swished up the steps, and she had to pause at Gabe’s door to catch her breath, even though running up one flight of steps had never made her lose her breath before.
She knocked on the door and Gabe’s rich voice bid her come in.
Sophie hurried in, her heart pounding at seeing Gabe alone. “Guten Morgen. How are you feeling?”
“Much better,” he said, pushing himself into a sitting position. “Will you open the shutters to let some more light in?”
Sophie turned to the window, hoping she didn’t have any smudges of flour on her face and that her hair wasn’t falling down. She opened the shutters and a flash of movement at the edge of the trees caught her eye. A man stared straight back at her, his face partially covered by a thick beard. There was something about his eyes that sent a shiver through her, and Sophie gasped. The man turned and disappeared into the trees.
“What? What is it?” Gabe sat up straighter, pushing the blanket back.
“Nothing, nothing. I just need to go tell Dominyk something.” Hurrying out the door, she said quickly, “Stay in bed. I’ll be right back.”
Sophie closed the door behind her and raced down the steps. She ran into Dominyk coming out of the kitchen.
“I saw a man.”
“Where?”
“In the edge of the forest, behind the house. He was slender and had a thick brown beard. He saw me.”
“Stay in the house. We’ll deal with him.” Dominyk disappeare
d back into the kitchen.
Sophie hurried back up to Gabe’s chamber, her hands shaking a bit as she remembered the malevolent look in the prowler’s eyes. But she had to appear calm when she faced Gabe. She didn’t want him to know about the man. He would only be upset that he couldn’t go out and search for him.
Sophie slipped back into the room and smiled at him. A day’s worth of hair growth on his face and chin gave him back that rugged, masculine look, the one that had made her heart skip a few beats the first time she saw him unshaven. Her smile faltered, and she swallowed the rock in her throat.
“What happened? Did you see something outside?”
“I just had to tell Dominyk something. Now tell me how you are feeling this morning.” Her hand shook a bit as she passed the open window and bent to blow out a candle on the bedside table.
“I am much better now.” Gabe smiled at her, making her heart flutter. His sun-darkened skin was a nice contrast to his white teeth. His russet-brown hair waved across his forehead and his dark eyes fixed on hers, drawing her closer.
“You’re beautiful, Sophie. I suppose you’ve heard that all your life.”
The duchess had always told her she was ugly. Sophie had always struggled to not believe the duchess, especially after her hair had been cut off a few years ago.
“Not everyone says I’m beautiful.”
“The duchess? She doesn’t count.”
He had read her mind. Or maybe he just knew her, knew her better than anyone ever could without seeing where she’d come from and knowing her mistress … or, rather, her stepmother. How could anyone really know Sophie without knowing what the duchess had done to her? But Gabe knew. He knew everything and still cared about her.
She rewarded him with a bigger smile. For now she would push back the worry. She simply wanted to enjoy whatever time she had with him and pretend she had all the time in the world to enjoy his company, his conversation … to enjoy looking at him.
“Have you come to get your bandage changed?”
She nodded, taking the tray from his lap and setting it on the table.
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