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 brother, 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 —”