The Legacy Read Online Free PDF

rest of us, you know.”
    The man then turned to Sabina. With her ill-fitting garments, Sabina was hardly worthy of any man’s attention, yet he managed a flirtatious smile.
    “I am Peter,” the man said, “this big oaf’s younger brother. Much younger, I might add.”
    Sabina returned Peter’s smile. He brightened and put his hand over his heart as though struck with an arrow.
    “Ye gods, what a smile! Where have you been hiding so this brother of mine found you first?”
    Sabina stiffened. “It is a long story.”
    “I have the time,” Peter said with a wink.
    “And the impudence, apparently,” Sabina answered with a raised brow. That drew an even wider smile from him.
    Wolf spoke up. “I think Fya would not be pleased to hear of such impudence. She believes you have an understanding.”
    Peter tugged on one ear and looked almost sheepishly at Wolf. “Fya understands little that doesn’t have to do with the most current fashions in gowns or jewelry. However, since she has the face of an angel, I make allowances.”
    The elderly man came forward at that moment. “Welcome, Frau Behaim. I am Franz,” he said, as if no further introduction was necessary. He turned to her husband, glancing pointedly back at her where she sat on the horse.
    It was improper for her to remain seated, astride Master Behaim’s horse, but what was she to do? Particularly when the ground seemed to be getting farther away by the moment.
    Wolf frowned, wondering why the manservant’s gaze held a faint note of censure. He scratched his head. What the devil have I done now?
    Well, at least Lady Sabina’s gaze had finally turned elsewhere. She’d done nothing but scrutinize him since they had mounted Suleiman. Unnerving, to say the least. One would think she’d never seen a man before.
    He almost laughed. Of course. She’d recently come from nine years in a convent. It was very nearly the same thing.
    Franz cleared his throat. “Master Wolfgang, I have sent the young Fräuline to the nursery to break her fast.”
    “The young Fräuline?” Lady Sabina asked.
    Wolf looked up at her. “My daughter.”
    “Oh. I see,” she said, though it was clear she did not.
    Peter’s glance slid to Wolf, a question in his raised brows Wolf chose to ignore. If he hadn’t yet informed his new bride she had a stepdaughter, it was his business alone.
    Lady Sabina shivered atop the horse and only then, did Wolf notice her white-knuckled grip on the pommel. He was being unforgivably rude, even for him. She looked a little green. The best thing to do would be to get her inside, quickly.
    “Let me help you down,” he offered, and went to her side.
    At that precise moment, the clouds opened up, drenching them all in a matter of seconds. Lady Sabina glanced up in surprise, and the motion seemed to do her in.
    “Excuse me,” she said, closed her eyes, and for the second time that day slid off a horse—straight into Wolf’s outstretched arms. He caught her deftly and stared down at her limp form.
    “Lady Sabina!”
    She did not respond. The driving rain flattened his hair into a sleek cap and dripped down his nose onto Lady Sabina’s face, though he tried to shield her. He gazed at the soot-colored eyelashes that swept down over white flesh, now deathly pale.
    “What the devil is wrong with her?” Peter asked, and reached for her. Wolf pushed past him.
    “I haven’t a clue, but whatever it is won’t be cured by standing out here freezing our backsides off in the rain. Franz, open the door.”
    Franz leapt to obey, and Wolf hoisted his new bride over the threshold.
    “Well, at least we shall abide by one tradition,” Peter observed sardonically, and followed them into the house.
    Just inside the doorway, Wolf removed his sodden cloak from Lady Sabina’s shoulders, dumped it by the door, and carried her into the withdrawing room, where he laid her down before the hearth. At least this room still held some semblance of the comforts the house