The Legacy (26 page)

She commanded everyone to begin sleeping in their clothes with a knapsack full of necessary items set beside the pallets and beds, in case a swift exit proved necessary. They stored up food, supplies and bandages; buckets and extra water were diverted from the well to be poured on the house should anyone try to burn them out. The horses were brought into the yard, and everyone took a turn at guard duty throughout the day to watch for signs of suspicious activity around the property. They kept the gates locked, and a few of the older men from neighboring homes who had not been called to fight had agreed to periodically walk the grounds. No one was allowed to go anywhere alone or unarmed, and even Sabina carried a dagger hidden amongst the folds of her cloak.

She was familiar with such preparations, as in times of upheaval the cloisters often used the same techniques to protect their property and inmates. The servants seemed happy to obey, and Sabina realized with a shock, that even though she had not yet decided what her role in this household should be, they took for granted she was their new mistress.

For the first time in her life she had authority over others and worked hard to insure she was worthy of their trust. They were all grateful to have something to do besides worry about the absent brothers.

Sabina looked at the peacefully sleeping child again. It had been impossible to lie to her about all the preparations—Sabina did not believe in lying to children anyway. She had told Gisel the bare minimum, however: her papa and uncles were being very brave for them and would be home soon, but until then they needed to keep Sanctuary safe, which all the big people intended to do. Gisel was not to worry, because everything that could be done, was being done. Sabina secretly hoped it would be enough.

A light tapping sounded on the nursery door, and she went to investigate. Outside stood Franz, more excited than she had ever seen him.

“The townsmen return,
Frau
Behaim! A lad saw the masters among them and ran here to inform us.”

Sabina’s heart soared and for a moment, she could not speak. “How long until they arrive?”

“Not long. Minutes.”

How was he? What had he endured? Had he thought of her at all while he was away?

She immediately dismissed the thought as foolish and self-centered. The men had probably been fighting for their lives. Wolf did not have time to think about a silly goose like her. Why worry about such foolishness when she should be preparing a welcome for him—he would be home soon!

“Tell someone to open the gate. Have a hot meal prepared, right away. And a bath! We must give him—them—a hero’s welcome,” she said, clasping her hands tightly.

“Yes, my lady, at once.” Eagerness made Franz’s old bones swift.

Should she wake Gisel? Nay, better to wait and see how Wolf felt. He might be so tired he would just want to collapse into bed. She realized the eerie parallels to her own arrival at Sanctuary, and wondered at how far she’d come.

She felt better now. Her bruises had faded and she had gained several pounds. She knew she looked healthy, at least. She looked down at her dress and groaned.

She wore the old gray servant’s gown from her first few days at Sanctuary. She had developed the habit of dressing this way to work about the gardens rather than ruin one of the beautiful new dresses and caps the seamstress had made for her. However, she had no desire for Wolf to see her this way; it was hardly impressive. And, with an annoying burst of honesty, she knew she
did
wish to impress him. With a squeak of distress, she rushed to her chamber to change.

Though she had not forgotten her disappointment over Wolf’s bargain with the baron, and subsequently the delay—not loss, she was determined—of her haven, she must find a way to put her bitterness aside. For better or for worse, this was the man she had married. She must find a way to make it work.

She put on her finest gown, white damask edged in embroidered scarlet over a nearly transparent chemise trimmed in gold. She tugged on the full sleeves, tying them on as best she could without assistance. Two red petticoats, a matching red vest, and gold lace ties completed the ensemble. She had an urge to show off her new finery, since Wolf had generously paid for it.

She stuffed her hair into an embroidered white and gold cap, hoping the locks wouldn’t tumble out. She looked in the mirror, pleased with the effect. She rushed downstairs to meet the men; she could hear from the servants’ shouts of greeting, they must be entering the house.

There he was, rough, weary, but laughing in the midst of them, a full head taller than anyone else. Her heart pounded with a sudden joy, her relief flooding through her like cool waters over parched earth. Wolf was here, he was home, and he appeared unhurt. If God answered no more of her prayers in this lifetime, she would be content.

He looked up, as though he sensed her presence, and she felt unaccountably shy. She hung back, uncertain. Surely he would want to greet his family first, and he thought of these people as his family, not just his servants, she knew now. She regretted the decision not to wake Gisel and started back up the stairs to get her.

“Sabina!”

She stopped, turning slowly to face him. Everyone parted on either side of him and watched curiously to see how they would behave toward one another.

His eyes seemed to devour her. They searched her from head to toe, and she wondered when she had seen that look before. Then she remembered—when he had brought her home the first day, he had looked at Sanctuary like this, as though he checked it against an image in his mind to assure himself all was well. She found it pleased her.

“Welcome home, Wolf.” Going to him, she offered her hands. “You are well?”

“None the worse for wear, though I’m glad to be back. And you?” He took her hands, enveloping their coolness into his own warmth.

“I am glad you are back, too,” she said softly.

She lifted her head and kissed him lightly on the cheek. His fingers tightened on hers, and something about the sudden intensity of his gaze when she drew back made the women titter and the men clear their throats. Bea nodded discerningly and poked Franz in the ribs with her elbow. Franz began to usher everyone away with admonishments of work still needing to be done, posts needing attendance. Quickly, everyone melted away, leaving the two alone together.

Alone. She realized belatedly Peter was not with him.

“Peter—is he well?” she asked anxiously.

“He’s fine,” Wolf said, smiling. “Probably half drunk by now with a willing wench in his lap at the tavern.”

“Oh.” She was a little nonplused, but glad nonetheless Peter was healthy. “Well, we do not have such fine inducements here, but we will have a meal prepared for you, and your daughter is happily asleep in her bed. I am certain Franz is drawing a bath, as well. But if you like, I will wake Gisel first and bring her down.”

She removed her hands from his as she walked toward the stairs. He stopped her with a hand on her sleeve.

“Nay, don’t wake her. Let her sleep. I’ll look in on her later, though. And I’m not so certain the inducements here aren’t as fine as they at the tavern.” He stared at her mouth. “Finer, even.”

She knew by his look he was not referring to the meal or the bath.

She colored, shy again, and looked away. She twisted her hands together. “Please, do not let me delay you—perhaps if you are up to it, you may tell me something of your adventures in the morning.”

“Sabina.” His voice held a husky timbre she was coming to know so well. The sound of it vibrated in the pit of her stomach. She looked up at him in inquiry, pretending not to understand.

“Would you attend me at my bath?”

Sabina knew her expression must mirror her consternation, as he hastened to explain. “I, uh, did in fact receive an injury. My collarbone is bruised and it makes it hard for me to lift my arms over my head. I may need help. It’s not an unusual request, is it?”

“You would be surprised,” she said, remembering Günter’s similar request. “Remind me to tell you about your brother’s visit.”

Wolf was instantly alert. “Günter was here? When? What did he say? Why didn’t he stay?”

She held up a hand. “Wait. I will explain everything later. Right now, I am considering your request.”

That silenced him right away.

She did consider all the reasons why she should say nay. Franz could do it for him, she thought. The last thing she needed was to be alone with him while he was wet and naked, she argued.

“Very well,” she agreed.

His eyebrows flew up. Then, as though not wanting to lose the advantage of the moment, he rushed her upstairs. She hid a grin as he nudged her up the steps from behind.

“You move quite well for a man with an injured collarbone,” she said over her shoulder.

“There is nothing wrong with my legs.” He threw open his chamber door.

Chapter
20

S
abina had never been in his chamber before, she realized. It was as masculine as he was. A simple blue damask bedcover decorated the wide tester-bed, with a heavy curtain blocking the drafts suspended above. Also in the room were a commode and screen, a trunk for clothes, and a table laden with the hasty meal prepared by Bea. However, hints of femininity, she noted in a quick glance about the room, appeared here and there: a flowery embroidered pillow, an ivory-handled brush, a lacquered oriental jewelry box. They seemed oddly out of place, as if they had been brought here only recently. She assumed they were Beth’s, or perhaps his mother’s possessions. Either way, they served as subtle reminders that Sabina was not the first woman to love the man who occupied this room. And love him she did.

She had worried about him ceaselessly while he traveled—was he warm, did he have enough to eat, was he injured or even dead? She had fretted over his child because she knew he cared about Gisel most in the world. She had set about protecting his home because he had told her it was important to him. She could not ignore the joy she felt upon his return, or pretend it was something other than happiness at seeing the man she loved home unharmed. She knew even as she argued with herself as to whether or not she would become his wife in deed as well as word, she already was his wife in her heart. Tonight, she decided, if he still wanted her, she would be his in every way a woman could be. Let tomorrow take care of itself.

“A
pfennig
for your thoughts.” Wolf watched her as she stood in the doorway, musing.

“Oh, they are worth far more than that,” she said with a secretive smile.

He took her hand and drew her into the chamber. “Tell me.”

She touched her fingers to his cheek. The beginnings of a beard made him look untamed, like his namesake, and dangerously appealing. She shook her head.

“Later.”

She saw sensual heat flare in his eyes and felt nervous again. She dropped her hand, looked at the bathing tub steaming in front of the fireplace.

“Your bath is ready,” she noted, twisting a lock of her hair nervously around one finger.

Wolf watched Sabina as she shyly looked away. While a part of him wanted to fall on her like a ravening beast, he forced himself to go slow. She seemed to need that, and he could be a patient man when the occasion warranted it. At least he hoped he could. He wanted her to become accustomed to him again, to being near him, to the feel of him. He hoped he would survive the next few hours if what he thought was going on inside her was true.

Somehow, something had changed her. He didn’t know what, but she had agreed to come to his chamber with him, and he suspected she knew the consequences of such an agreement. He would take nothing for granted, however, and
would
go slowly. He hoped he proved right, though, or it was going to be a very long and lonely night.

“Help me,” he said softly, and turned so she could help him untie his sleeves.

He felt her hesitation, and then her hands clumsily searched for the bindings.

“Here,” he offered, and placing his hand over hers, he directed her to the fastenings. He felt her hands tremble as she began to undo them.

Suddenly, he understood. This was what he wanted, more than he wanted to breathe. But it wasn’t what she wanted. She only did it for him. He couldn’t allow it. She was no tavern wench, and he thought too highly of her to use her in that way.

“Sabina, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he said gruffly.

She looked up at him. Their eyes met and held.

“I want to.” Her hands steadied now as they went back to their task. Still, he pulled away and turned to face her, gently tracing his fingers over her soft cheek while she gazed up at him quizzically.

He heaved a reluctant sigh. “I haven’t been fair to you in this. I’ve been selfish. I wanted my own way with you.”

“Wolf, I—”

“Nay. This isn’t right. You hardly know me. How can I expect—”

She placed a gentle hand over his mouth, stilling his recriminations. “I know you well enough. Better, in some ways, than you know yourself.”

He stared at her doubtfully.

“How so?”

Her fingers trailed over his lips, his beard, his face. “I know you cannot turn your back on the helpless. You lend your strength to the weak. You fight for neither honor nor glory, but because a cause is just. You are devoted to your family. And you feel, much too deeply. Sometimes so deeply, you are not even aware of it yourself.”

The long silence echoed his shock at the truthfulness of her words. Finally, he cleared his throat, which he was afraid would otherwise be husky with emotion when he spoke. “You’ve observed all of this in the short time we’ve come to know one another?”

She pulled his head down, and pressed a gentle kiss to his brow. “All this I know. Do not ask me how, I just do,” she whispered. “Besides, you are my husband. It is enough.” She returned to her task.

She helped him pull off his jerkin and the shirt beneath it. She had to stand very close to do it and he leaned down in order to provide her easier access, bringing his mouth to within inches of hers. He stared at her, and though he did not kiss her, his lips warmed from the thought.