The Legacy by T. J. Bennett Read Free Book Online Page A

might wish to have some privacy.”
    “Not necessary, given the condition of my bride.” He glanced at the woman in question, more troubled then he cared to admit. “Besides, I’m not exactly certain what I intend to do with her at this point.”
    “Hmm, I can think of a thing or two.” Peter wagged his eyebrows in an exaggerated leer.
    Wolf uttered a long-familiar refrain.
    “Shut up, Peter,” he sighed, and went to see to his bride.

    As the two brothers quietly conversed in the corner, Sabina sensed their friendship. Even though she could not hear their exchange, she could feel the love binding them together. She remembered Carl, long dead, and a lump formed in her throat. She lowered the bread and blinked back silent tears.
    Peter glanced her way, gave her an encouraging—if hesitant—smile, and left them alone. Master Behaim—Wolf, he called himself—returned at once to her side.
    “Don’t be afraid,” he said quietly. “No one will harm you here, not while you’re under my protection. No one will force you to do—anything you don’t wish to do. Do you understand?”
    She nodded. “Thank you, Master Behaim. I believe I do.”
    He may have misunderstood her melancholy, but his message was clear. He was saying he would not force her into the marriage bed, at least not tonight. That was kind of him, since he now had complete authority over her, and he had to know she was no longer a maiden deserving of such gentle care. Then she remembered the searing gaze they had exchanged, and knew she must keep her wits about her. He was a man. She could not trust him.
    And yet … he had a rough kindness about him; he seemed to demonstrate it against his will, as if it came from a deep well inside of him from which he only occasionally drew.
    Without thinking, she blurted out, “Why did you marry me?”
    She could have kicked herself at the shocked expression on his face for her blundering question.
    After a moment, he answered warily, “For the usual reasons, I suppose.”
    What did that mean?
    She remembered the baron’s hints about having to “persuade” the man to marry her. She knew his sort of persuasion.
    “What hold does he have over you?” she asked now.
    He raised a dark brow. For all his roughness, it was a smoothly elegant gesture. “Who?”
    She blew out a breath. “The baron, who else? How could he make you do something you so obviously disliked?”
    He crossed his arms. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
    “You did not wish to marry,” she pointed out.
    “Didn’t I?”
    “It was obvious.”
    He cocked his head. “Was it?”
    “Will you cease answering my every question with a question?” she moaned.
    “Was I?” Humor glimmered in his gaze, but he turned away, no doubt to avoid the daggers she now shot at him from her narrowed gaze.
    He paced in front of her while she, having been frustrated into silence, stared at him. Her eyes followed him of their own accord. She was embarrassed to be caught staring when he suddenly turned and looked at her with a penetrating gaze.
    “I’ll ask you the same question. The baron threatened you at the church. Why? What hold does he have over you?”
    “That was two questions,” she said, trying to think how to respond. His eyebrow winged upwards again, but he did not press.
    She could not confide in him. She had her copy of the marriage contract stuffed among the folds of her bodice. What had Master Behaim thought of the agreement when he had seen it? Did he know of the extent of the legacy? He certainly mustn’t know her plans for it. Better to avoid the topic altogether.
    Sabina rubbed her temples as though her head pounded, which was not entirely untrue. “Perhaps we can discuss this later. I am very tired.”
    He nodded, though his eyes held a knowing gleam. “Franz is preparing your room. It will be ready shortly. Eat the rest of your bread,” he ordered, motioning to the forgotten loaf in her hand. She gnawed on it silently while