The Legacy Read Free Page A

layout of the house. But all the doors that led off the hall were closed, and he couldn’t summon his usual excellent sense of direction. “Is your room on this floor?”
    “Yes, I’m a few doors down from the one I'm lending you, and Ramona’s room is at the end of the hall. Traditionally, the family’s private rooms are on this floor, but I’m planning on converting a series of suites on the fourth floor into rooms to be used exclusively for the family. That will give us more privacy, and well always have rooms available when we want to come and stay.”
    His strength dwindling rapidly now, Nico stared down at the Persian carpet, concentrating on putting one foot after the other. He had to learn the general arrangement of the place, he told himself, but later. For now, rest was the top priority.
    She stopped in front of a door and opened it. “I put this room in order in case my mother decides to drop in.”
    He threw an unseeing glance around the large room. “Are you expecting her anytime soon?”
    “I never know. Mother’s a restless soul, and she travels a great deal.”
    He noticed a slight edge in her voice, but he didn’t look at her face. He focused on the big bed, its tall headboard done in marquetry work of dark stained wood with inlaid ivory and mother-of-pearl. He crossed to it and eased himself down onto the cream-colored satin coverlet.
    She walked to the French windows and opened them. “I’m not sure where my mother is at the moment. She has homes in both Paris and Boston, but the last postcard I received from her had a picture of the Great Pyramid of Giza on it.” A tiny frown creased her forehead. “No telling where she is now.” She swept her hand in an arc before her. “Well, there it is. An ocean view, as ordered.” Turning, she found him sprawled on the bed, asleep.
    She stared at him for a moment. Against the pale satin coverlet, his features seemed harder, his skin darker, his whole being more sensual and masculine. Like granite against silk, the contrast brought out the best of both.
    She slowly shook her head, bewildered. She didn’t think she’d ever had such a strong reaction to a man, and she couldn’t explain it. But for some reason, she wasn’t particularly bothered.
    She pulled a blanket from the wardrobe. At his side, she started to bend over him with the cover but then stopped. His sweater had separated from the waistband of his jeans, and the lower part of a large bandage had been exposed. Immediately her heart went out to him. He hadn’t been lying when he said he’d been ill. Actually it appeared that he’d either sustained some sort of injury or that he had had surgery. Speculation aside, whatever had been wrong with him, he’d obviously been through the mill.
    With special care, she spread the cover over him, bringing it up to his chin. Straightening, she looked down at him. Exhausted though he obviously was, he still managed to maintain a certain wariness, a measure of control, even in sleep. There was no doubt about It. She was fascinated by him.
    To be held spellbound by a powerful attraction could be dangerous. But it could also be exciting, pleasurable, fulfilling.
    What was she going to do about it, she wondered.
    Still half asleep, Nico stretched. Pain in his side brought him wide awake to a dark room. A check of the luminescent dial on his watch informed him that he’d been asleep four hours. Damn. He had meant only to rest, not fall asleep.
    He tried to recall what had happened. He remembered lying down, he remembered Caitlin walking to the window . . . Her voice . . . Her graceful movements . . .
    He rubbed a hand over his face. He couldn’t allow her to distract him. Swiftly he went over what he knew about her. Since earning her B.A. from Harvard, she'd held an executive position with Deverell, Incorporated, the family business in Boston that was run by her cousin, Conall Deverell, a shark of a businessman. She had an uncle who was chairman of the