whispered.
“Evidently, you’re loved and well-respected here.”
“Please sit.” Herr Bruhn gestured to the two chairs hugging the hearth. “I shall go and find the children.”
Leo watched him scuttle out. “How many children live here?” He glanced around the room smaller than the cupboard he reserved for his boots.
“Five,” Ivana replied from the seat opposite. “Matilda is the eldest and will be ten next month. Christoph is three and the youngest here.”
A sudden wave of panic passed over him. It had been three years since he’d visited the village.
“Christoph is not your son, if that is what’s worrying you,” she said reading his thoughts. “He will be four next week.”
She gave a weak smile upon hearing his audible sigh of relief. While some men were preoccupied with furthering their bloodline, Leo had never wanted to be a father. Indeed, Elliot would probably argue that he couldn’t even look after himself. But it had more to do with seeing his father die at such a young age. The responsibility of a marquessate proved too much for him, his heart too weak to withstand the burden.
“You can’t blame me for thinking the worst,” he said.
“Frau Lockwood. Frau Lockwood.”
Two boys ran into the parlour, and he recognised them as the ones she had chastised the night before. They stood to attention before her as though she was a naval captain and they were lowly cabin hands desperate to make a good impression.
“What have I said about running?” Herr Bruhn hurried in behind them, carrying a small boy who appeared rather sleepy. “If you trip over the rug, you’re sure to lose your teeth.”
Two girls entered the room; the younger one carried a tray while the older girl guided her to the small table. “We’ve been baking bread,” the younger girl said, her excited eyes twinkling.
Ivana smiled. “And it looks wonderful, Martha.”
Despite Ivana’s cheerful countenance, Leo could sense her anxiety. She could not eat the bread.
“It smells delicious, too,” he added. “I can hardly wait to try some.”
After introducing herself as Matilda, the older girl cut a slice, buttered the surface with care and handed it to him.
“A plate, you need a plate,” Herr Bruhn said in a mild state of panic as he put the younger boy, Christoph, down.
Matilda jumped and almost sent the tray crashing to the floor.
“It doesn’t matter about the crockery,” Leo said taking a bite of the bread.
Ivana sucked in a breath as her fearful gaze bore into him.
The bread was moist and being freshly-baked was consequently easier to swallow than Leo had anticipated. His stomach did spasm once or twice, but he managed to finish it without gagging.
“It was delicious,” he said, and they all cheered for him as they had done for Ivana when she’d nibbled on the sweet biscuit.
Ivana’s shocked expression was quickly replaced with one of utter joy. The muscles in his abdomen grew taut as his desire for her flared. He would eat a whole loaf just to witness such a breathtaking sight, just to see a smile touch her lips.
“Would you care for something to wash it down?” Herr Bruhn asked, appearing a little more relaxed in Leo’s company.
“What do you have?”
Herr Bruhn’s eyes lit up. “I have a new beer. It is clearer, not as murky as the ale they serve in the tavern.”
“Very well,” he nodded, “But just a small mug as I must see Frau Lockwood safely home.”
“Of course, of course,” he said nodding to himself as he rushed off.
For a moment, the room fell silent. They stared at each other, oblivious to the children’s gapes. Leo felt her gratitude explode in his chest, mingled with something else, perhaps respect, perhaps something more undefinable.
“Would you care to try the bread, Frau Lockwood?”
Ivana turned to look at Matilda’s eager face. “Could I take mine home with me?”
“You’d best hurry and wrap it up,” Leo said in an attempt to ease the girl’s
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