Her life had been tragic before Gabe, and it would be tragic again if he left. She held on to him as if she could keep this moment from ending.
Gabe gently ended the kiss, and she buried her face in his chest. Trying to quiet her breathing, to get back some control over her emotions, she breathed in the scent of him, a warm, comforting, masculine smell of outdoors and clean skin. Memories rushed over her, of riding with him on Gingerbread through the woods and beside the river, her head against his chest.
“Sophie.” His deep voice caressed her ears. He held her close, stroking her braid, then her shoulder. She was afraid to move, afraid to loosen her hold around his neck for fear he would pull away.
What are we going to do now? The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. She didn’t want to ruin the moment, especially if Gabe had no lasting intentions beyond this kiss. It was too good, this feeling of being loved and wanted.
She would pretend it would last forever, pretend no one would ever find them. They would hide forever right here at the Cottage of the Seven, happily ever after.
Thank you for this moment, even if it doesn’t last.
“I’ll be right back.” Gabe’s deep voice rumbled through her, his stubbly chin rubbing her temple.
Sophie let her hands slide away from him as he kept one arm around her shoulder, pressing his lips to her forehead before turning away to pour the water from the pan into a bucket. He hefted the bucket with one hand and carried it outside.
She watched him go, her heart thumping happily in her throat as she admired the breadth of his shoulders and their obvious strength. Even with an injury, he was capable of taking care of her.
He came back inside and set down the bucket, then held out his hand to her.
She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. Just the act of reaching out and taking his hand, that tiny act of trust, made her heart trip. Her hand shook slightly as she let him enclose her small fingers in his larger, more powerful hand. She gazed at his gently smiling face, his eyes sparkling as they stood in the kitchen together.
Gabe felt as if he were dreaming when Sophie squeezed his hand and let her cheek brush against his sleeve as they walked to the front room. The beautiful spring day, visible through the windows, smelled of flowers and sunshine and wet grass. He would always love this smell, from this day on, and it would remind him of Sophie …
He was in love. What he had felt for Brittola was nothing compared to this. He had kissed Brittola once, the day they had parted over a year ago now, but he’d felt none of the overwhelming emotions that were going through his mind and heart at this moment. Sophie filled his senses.
The urgency to break both their betrothals pulsed through his brain. There had to be a way, and he had to find it.
He pulled Sophie to him, inhaling her scent as she threw her arms around him, pressing her face against his good shoulder. They were alone. There was no sound in the house except their own breathing — and the pounding of his heart. Sophie seemed shy, not wanting to look up at him. He pulled her to a bench against the wall and they both sat down, her back resting against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her waist and played with the wisps of hair that had broken free from her thick braid. If they were married, he would have the right to pull her black hair from its braid and run his fingers through it …
He had to do this the right way, to find a way to annul their betrothals, to show he was responsible and honorable, and to preserve Sophie’s reputation and dignity, not to mention his family’s good name. Valten would be incensed, but if Gabe handled this correctly, he could stave off any lasting consequences, to his family’s name, and to Sophie’s.
Sophie took his hand from her waist and began stroking his fingers in a way that was too stimulating for comfort. She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it.
She didn’t realize how beguiling she was in her innocent gestures.
Perhaps he was selfish to want her for himself. But he could love her, and somehow, Gabe would create a decent — a more than decent — life for his wife and children. Somehow he would make sure Sophie was never without anything she needed or wanted. He swore to himself that he would never be irresponsible again.
He stroked her rose-petal-soft cheek with a fingertip, marveling at the feel of her skin, and laid his cheek on the top of her head. He couldn’t stop thinking about their kiss and wanted to kiss her again.
“Are you happy?”
She hugged his arm and leaned her head back against his good shoulder. “Yes … but what are we going to do?”
He sighed. His father would come and find them. “I’ll figure out something, I promise.”
“You will?” she asked in a tremulous voice.
“You want me to, don’t you?”
“More than anything in the world. But … do you love me?”
“More than anything.”
She pulled his hand to her lips and kissed his palm, then his fingers. His chest ached with the desire to turn her around and kiss her again, but he forced himself not to.
“What if your family is angry and never accepts me?”
“My family is not like that. I’ll tell them it was my fault, and they’ll believe me. I will find a way. Trust me, Sophie.”
She kissed his hand again and he twined her fingers through his.
For the first time, he noticed a pale brown mark on her neck below her ear. The mark was about the size of his thumbnail and was in the shape of a flower with five rounded petals. Some day he would have the right to kiss that spot on her neck. But in the meantime, he would figure out a way to make her his.
“I’ll make a way.” Somehow.
Chapter 20
Gabe stayed in bed a couple of hours that afternoon because Bartel ordered him to and Sophie begged him to do as Bartel asked. He pretended to drink the wine Bartel gave him, but when Bartel left the room, he poured it out the window.
At supper he tried to concentrate on what Siggy was saying to him but found his mind wandering to Sophie and the wonderful hour they had spent alone together, how sweet it had been to kiss her … He forced himself to look at his food, at Siggy, at the other men, but it was difficult when she was sitting on his other side looking like perfection from heaven and everything he wanted on this earth.
After supper the men cleaned up the dishes while Sophie collected the mending and sat in a corner. Heinric captured Gabe and all but dragged him outside to look at a root he had found that was shaped like the crescent moon. Heinric had been talking about it all through supper. Gabe clapped him on the back and assured him it was the most wonderful root he had ever seen.
“Thank you, Gabe. I let you touch it.”
“Thank you, Heinric. You’re a good man.”
Heinric grinned his impossibly wide grin.
When they came back inside, Siggy and Dominyk were getting their instruments and everyone was settling down to listen.
“Gabe, Sophie told us you had to leave your lute in Hohendorf. Can I go upstairs and get another lute for you?” Vincz asked.
Gabe nodded. Vincz leaped up the steps two at a time.
Sophie was smiling at him, but when his eye caught hers, she looked down.
Gabe was glad to be invited to play. He’d been mentally rehearsing the song he’d written in Hohendorf, the song that was supposedly for the duchess but that he’d actually written with Sophie in mind. Now he could sing it just for her and tell her how beautiful he thought she was.
When Vincz got back with the instruments, Gabe and Siggy discovered a couple of songs they both knew, and they began to play.
There was something about music, the way it flowed through his body and mind and spirit all at the same time, that felt like an intimacy between him and the person listening to it. Never had that feeling been so strong in Gabe as now, when he was staring straight into Sophie’s eyes and playing for her. It was almost as if they were one, the same thoughts flowing from him to her and back, as the music fil
led the space between them.
Sophie tried to concentrate on her mending, but her stitches were going all awry. Finally, she simply gave up and watched Gabe play the lute with Siggy and Dominyk. He played as if he was born with the instrument in his hands. And his look of absorption made him even more handsome. She didn’t want to miss a single moment of his playing.
During the next song, he sang with Siggy, their voices blending harmoniously.
He kept his gaze on her while he sang, and her heart lodged in her throat, his warm brown eyes trapping hers. No one else seemed to exist, and he seemed to be singing the words directly to her. It was a song about a hunter in love with a dove who changed into a woman when the moon was full. It was as if they were the only two people in the room, as if he was strumming her soul, seeing straight into her heart with his penetrating brown eyes.
She couldn’t tear her gaze away until he finished the song and looked at Siggy. They spoke quietly. Then Gabe looked around at all the men who were sitting around the room.
“This next song I wrote a few days ago. For Sophie.” His gaze found her and he winked, his lopsided grin stealing her breath.
He started playing, looking down at his lute as he found the right notes. His head was bent, but she could see his concentration in the pursing of his lips and the slight crease of his forehead. When he began to sing, he looked up at her. His deep, clear voice was more beautiful than anything she’d ever heard before, so real and true, and the words of his song made her wish she could keep this moment in front of her forever.
Gabe’s eyes stayed locked on hers as he sang about her blue eyes and her heart of love, her grace and innocence. He compared her hair to ebony, her skin to a dove’s white feathers, and her lips to a rose.
Her face grew hot with self-consciousness at the words of his song, and tears welled in her eyes to think that he had written these verses about her. He couldn’t have meant them, because she was sure he hadn’t loved her when he’d written it. He’d surely been writing it for the duchess. But the look in his eyes as he sang the words told her that he meant them for her.
How was it possible for her to experience so much happiness? Her heart swelled inside her until she could barely breathe. Gabe loved her. Or at least he seemed to. He went on to sing more words of adoration, flowery declarations of her beauty and his helplessness to stop loving her.
When the song was over, Sophie’s face was still burning. She wanted to place her hands over her cheeks, but her hands were shaking and she didn’t want anyone to notice. She stared into her lap and took up her mending, trying to get her breathing under control. But she only pretended to sew. Her hands were too shaky to make a stitch.
Gabe and Siggy played more songs, but Sophie kept her eyes down as much as possible.
When the music was over, the men began clapping Gabe on the back and talking. Bartel came over to her to rewrap her bandage.
“Your arm is healing quickly,” Bartel said, “but it needs a bandage for a while longer.” She felt his eyes boring into her, staring at her face like he’d never done before. What was he thinking?
The men were going their separate ways and Sophie lost sight of Gabe. Would she see him again before she went to her room? Nervously, she gathered up her mending, put it away, and hurried upstairs. Bartel was right behind her. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed that he would prevent her from having a private word with Gabe.
When she reached the top of the stairs, Gabe was coming out of his chamber. His eyes met hers in the dark corridor, then he saw Bartel over her shoulder. He stepped forward and took Sophie’s hand. He kissed it reverently, his eyes closed. He held on as she moved past him, his fingers caressing hers as long as possible.
“Good night, Gabe.”
“Good night, Sophie.”
Gabe squatted next to Dolf as they pulled weeds from the large vegetable and herb garden behind the cottage while Sophie cooked in the kitchen. Every now and then he couldn’t resist looking through the window to catch glimpses of Sophie. Sometimes she was sneaking looks at him too.
Bartel stalked up to him. “You shouldn’t be working at this.”
Dolf continued to work, glancing up at Bartel, while Gabe stood. “I’m only using my right hand.”
“You’ve done enough for today. You must rest and get well.” He started walking toward the tiny chapel a few feet away before saying over his shoulder, “You can come with me. I have some easier work for you.”
Gabe looked down at Dolf, pointed to his wounded shoulder, frowned, and pointed over his shoulder at Bartel, rolling his eyes to the sky.
Dolf chuckled, then shooed Gabe away, nodding and smiling.
Gabe followed the monk.
Inside the stone chapel, an altar glowed with several lit candles in front of a picture of Mary and baby Jesus. Both men looked up at the portrait of Jesus on the cross on the wall behind the altar and genuflected, crossing themselves and bowing to say a quick prayer.
“I am trimming candlewicks,” Bartel pointed to two large spools of string. He sat on the hard floor, folding his legs and malformed feet underneath him before covering them with the hem of his robe.
Gabe sat in front of him and watched as Bartel measured a length of string about two feet long, then cut the piece from the spool. Gabe did the same thing with the other spool. In a few minutes, they each had a stack of wicks by their sides.
“We’ve all become quite fond of Sophie, as you can see. Walther said she is rumored to be the daughter of Duke Baldewin, alive and well. Is this true?”
Gabe shifted slightly. What was Bartel aiming at? “That’s true. Sophie didn’t even know she was the duke’s daughter until a few days ago, when I arrived to rescue her.”
“I must thank you for your heroics in saving her. Though the men and I have been wondering what your intentions are toward Sophie. A few of us recall hearing, years ago, that as a baby, Sophie was betrothed to a duke’s son — Duke Wilhelm’s oldest son, Valten.” Bartel didn’t look at Gabe as he spoke, but his voice was unyielding and purposeful. “Are you her betrothed?”
Gabe’s face flooded with heat. “No, I’m not. But I intend to find a way to marry her.”
Bartel sat stone-faced, cutting wick after wick. Finally, without looking up from his task, he said, “Betrothals are legally binding. Her betrothed may not like you trifling with his future wife.”
“I am not trifling with her.” Gabe wanted to tell Bartel it was none of his business. He wanted to argue that she belonged to him because he had risked his life for her, taken an arrow for her. He was the one who loved her. Valten didn’t love her, could never love her the way he did.
But he stopped himself. He had to handle this responsibly.
“I never intended to fall in love with Sophie.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She is betrothed to my brother Valten, the future duke of Hagenheim.”
Saying the words aloud seemed to have a dampening effect on Gabe’s spirits. When he looked at the facts, they were stark indeed.
“I even tried not to fall in love with Sophie.” He squeezed his eyes shut. Please help me, God. “But I believe it was God’s will that I be the one to rescue her from Duchess Ermengard. Valten had broken his leg and was unable to go to her when we found out she was still alive. If I hadn’t gone when I did, Sophie might be dead now.”
Truthfully, he thought his presence at Hohendorf had probably hastened the duchess’s deciding to kill her. But hadn’t he felt a supernatural urgency to go and rescue her? He’d sensed the danger she was in and had felt compelled to go and save her. Perhaps she would be dead now if it hadn’t been for Gabe.
“If God had wanted Valten to rescue her, would he have allowed Valten to break his leg?” Gabe asked, turning to face Bartel. “It was God’s will. He knew Sophie and I would fall in love, that we were meant to be together.”
“If God intended you two to be together, then why did he allow her to be betrothed to your br
other?” Bartel fixed a hard eye on Gabe.
“Maybe God wanted to show his power by making a way for us to now break our betrothals.”
“Betrothals? You mean you are also betrothed?”
Gabe winced. It sounded bad when Bartel said it in such a shocked and appalled tone.
“So you are betraying not only your brother but your own betrothed as well?”
Gabe’s heart sank. This conversation was not going well. He continued to measure out the string and cut it, the pile of wicks growing.
“How do you know Sophie loves you? She is very young. As are you, and it appears you have not known each other long. Perhaps you will both change your minds.”
Was Bartel right? Didn’t she deserve to marry the good brother? The one who always did everything right, who was admired and respected, who would inherit wealth and power? The one she was supposed to marry?
Gabe stopped his work and stared at Bartel. What could he say? The more he defended himself, the more foolish he would appear. But two things he knew: Sophie was not married, and his love for her was real. It would not die no matter how long he lived.
“You may ask her yourself,” he said softly.
“Have you asked her? Have you asked her if she prefers to marry you and not your brother?”
“Not in so many words.” He wasn’t sure how much longer his patience and self-control would hold out. He felt like hitting this cold, self-righteous monk.
Not a very Christian thought.
“How do you plan to break your betrothals? Will you tell your betrothed, ‘I’m sorry, but I fell in love with someone else. Can you and your father kindly let me out of our agreement, on which I and my parents staked our good name?’ ”
Actually, that was very close to his plan. “There will be a way. Sophie’s parents are dead so they can’t complain. My parents and brother will agree.” They won’t like it, but they’ll eventually agree when they see that Sophie loves me and that I love her, and how she has changed me. Sophie had done what all his parents’ cajoling and his older brother’s goading had been unable to do. She had made him want to be responsible, made him want to make his own way in the world and have a family.