The Legacy by T. J. Bennett Page B

it in Nürnberg. I had no idea the tracts made it so far north.”
    She nodded. “Sister Katie and I wrote Dr. Luther two years ago and asked him about some of the ideas he raised—such as, if you were a monk or a nun being held against your conscience in the cloister, would it be right to leave and find another way to serve God?”
    She hugged her arms around her against the cold. “He eventually wrote us back, urging those who felt they could no longer serve the convent to leave. He even agreed to help us if we found a way. And we did. Through an intermediary, we arranged with a local merchant to smuggle us out of the convent one night.”
    He moved in front of her, blocking the worst of the wind. “Dangerous. And not altogether wise. Why didn’t you contact the baron to release you?”
    She looked at him with an expression which said, Surely, you jest.
    He acknowledged this with a nod of his head. “Bad idea. Very well then, why not contact friends to remove you?”
    “I had none,” she said simply. It was true.
    He seemed not to know how to respond to such a revelation. Finally, he asked, “So how did you manage it?”
    She grinned. “You will never guess. The merchant sold barrels of herring. Well, one day he came in with twelve barrels full of smoked herring, and the next day he went out with twelve barrels full of nuns!”
    Wolf threw back his head and laughed unselfconsciously for the first time. “You were right. I never would have guessed.”
    She liked his laugh; it was deep and strong, like brewed ale on a winter’s day. She looked down, scuffing her feet in the hard-packed earth, and tried to remember where she had left off her tale.
    “It was very dangerous for us all, so we had to stay in the barrels until we reached Wittenberg,” she continued. “Katie nearly suffocated. But much of the travel occurred in Ducal Saxony, and Duke George had just had a man executed for trying to rescue a nun from a convent in his region.”
    “You hid in the barrels the whole time?” He let out a whistle. “But it must have taken you some time to travel to Wittenberg from Nimbschen.”
    “Where there is a will, sir, there is always a way,” she said fiercely. “For the first time in many years, I had the strength of character to take my courage in hand and escape the destiny designed for me by another. I swore never to allow myself to be placed in such a position again.” Her jaw clenched when she remembered how quickly she was forced to break her oath.
    He moved nearer, and she felt his rough hand on her cheek. She looked up at him.
    “I had no idea what the baron had done to you before we met,” he said quietly. “I hope you believe me.”
    She considered him for a moment, and nodded. She did believe him. The temptation to place her trust in him was strong, but she denied it. Experience had proven a better teacher than temptation. This close to him, however, she again inhaled the combination of citrus, sandalwood and maleness so identifiable with him. The sun shone like a halo behind his head, highlighting the coppery tones of his hair.
    “I dreamed about you last night.”
    He reddened and dropped his hand.
    What in heavens name had made her say that? “Forgive me. I did not mean to embarrass you.” She must learn to keep a muzzle on her mouth.
    “I’m … not embarrassed.” He remained silent for a moment. “Was it a good dream?”
    It was her turn to blush. She cleared her throat. “I do not remember the details.”
    His shrewd glance skewered her. “Nay?”
    “Nay.” She held his gaze, refusing to look away lest he brand her for the liar she was. She would confess it in prayer tonight.
    A knowing gleam flickered in his emerald gaze. “What was your impression of it, then? Or is that another one of those things a gentleman wouldn’t ask?”
    Now she was the one who tried not to smile. “That falls into the general category, yes.”
    The look he gave her clearly said, Coward.
    “But,”