My Lord Viking

by Ferguson, Jo Ann

  “Papa!”

  “You are old enough to understand.”

  “I do understand.” She chuckled. “I wish you had offered some to Mama.”

  “Or to you?”

  “I am fine, Papa.”

  “Are you? It is not like you to linger on the edge of any gathering when there is music for dancing.”

  She patted his arm, but did not meet his eyes as she asked, “Did you ever consider that no one asked me to stand up with him?”

  “Then the young lads are widgeons. If they had a single reasonable thought in their heads, they would be flocking around you like bees about a flower.” Setting his glass on a nearby table, he said, “Then dance with me, Linnea.”

  “I would be delighted, Papa.”

  Linnea enjoyed a quadrille with her father, then another with her brother Martin. Wine was handed to her. The glass was refilled each time it was empty, and soon she was laughing along with the rest of her family. She had gotten so caught up in taking care of Nils that she had forgotten how much fun she had had at other family weddings. When Lord Simmons asked her to waltz with him, she twirled about on the trampled grass and waved to her sister who was now dancing with her husband’s younger brother. If their steps were a bit uneven and did not match the tempo of the music, no one noticed.

  As she thanked him at the dance’s end, she turned and almost stepped into Randolph. “Where have you been hiding?” she asked, weaving on her feet as if she still were dancing.

  “I have been sitting with Lady Quinlan.”

  Linnea laughed out loud. That dowager was well-known for knowing every bit of gossip from Dover to Penzance. “Your ears must be ringing, Randolph.”

  “She does enjoy her own prattle.” He took her hand. “Stand up with me, and I shall share it all with you.”

  “I think not.”

  “Stand up with me, then, or I shall share it all with you.”

  Realizing that Randolph must have been sampling generous servings of her father’s wine, Linnea chuckled again. “How can a lady resist such an invitation?”

  “That had been my hope.”

  Deciding that Randolph was far more interesting when he was not being his usual arrogant self, she walked with him back to where the guests were dancing. She was amazed to hear the strains of a waltz. Randolph had denounced waltzing as barbaric at the assembly to announce Dinah’s betrothal.

  She wondered if he could hear her thoughts when he said, as they spun among the other dancers, “I think we should wed before summer’s end.”

  “That is only a few weeks from now.”

  “It is time enough.” He laughed. “After all, your father’s household has garnered much practice in the preparation of a wedding. They need only do just what they did for your sister and her new husband.”

  Linnea wondered if the high spirits brought on by the wine could vanish between two heartbeats. She tried to keep her shudder from bursting forth. “Randolph, today is not the day to speak of this.”

  “But what better day to speak of our wedding than upon this day of your sister’s wedding?”

  “I want to enjoy Dinah’s wedding.”

  He scowled, once again the Randolph she was familiar with. “Does that mean that you do not enjoy talking of our upcoming nuptials?”

  “I need to remind you that I have not agreed to marry you.”

  He stopped in the middle of the dance. When someone hissed a warning at him, he ignored them. “Your father—”

  “Said it was my decision, and I have decided not—”

  “Is there another?”

  “Another what?” she asked.

  “Another man you wish to wed. Is there another?”

  Nils’s image burst into her head. Arrogant and rough-edged, a single-minded warrior with a poet’s soul, a man to fear and a man to respect. But was he a man she would wish to marry?

  No! She was not sure whether that word had rung only through her mind or she had said it aloud. To be certain, she repeated more softly, “No. No, Randolph, there is no one else I wish to marry.”

  “So you will marry me?”

  “I did not say that. I wish you would listen to what I say instead of what you want me to say. Will you stop being such a gaurr?”

  “A what?”

  Linnea knew she blanched, for her face was frigid. How could the words that Nils spoke be coming from her mouth? She was not of the Norrfoolk!

  “Linnea? What is a gaurr?”

  “You must have heard me wrong. I am certain I said boor.”

  His face flushed. “I hope I heard you wrong again, Linnea. It is unseemly of you to speak so to a man who has professed his devotion to you.”

  “And it is unseemly of you to try to force me into marriage like this.”

  “I am not trying to force you to do anything but be reasonable. This has gone on long enough.”

  “You are correct. I am done with this conversation now.”

  “Linnea!”

  Hearing the consternation in his voice, she did not pause. The only thing that would be proper for her to say now would be an apology. That she could not do, for to apologize could mean acquiescing to Randolph’s demands that they wed. She wished he had not gotten serious. She had liked dancing merrily about with him, but that did not mean she wished to marry him.

  Just as she had enjoyed his calls...until he decided to propose. The idea of romance had delighted her, for she had looked forward to the chance to share an evening with Dinah and Lord Simmons.

  Walking into the house, she left the sounds of merriment behind her. Blast Randolph! Why couldn’t he spend more than a few minutes with her without bringing up his wish to marry her? She so wanted to tell him the truth, but she feared that he would create a scene today that would ruin Dinah’s wedding.

  Linnea sat on the bottommost riser of the front stairs. All the footmen must be serving outside, because the entry was deserted.

  She pressed her hands to her eyes. What was wrong with her? She had been rude, and she had no excuse for her behavior. Randolph might be acting with too much enthusiasm each time he broached the subject of marriage, but she could not allow Nils’s rough diamond ways to become hers.

  “Linnea?”

  She looked toward the front door and slowly came to her feet. The man standing there was dressed in prime twig, as if he had recently enjoyed the attentions of a fine London tailor. His black coat was unmarred by even a mote of dust, and his breeches were of a remarkable gold that was nearly the shade of his hair. Those strands still brushed his shoulders, but the sling had vanished from his left arm. It was impossible, but the remarkable purple of his eyes told her the truth. This fine gentleman was...

  “Nils!” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

  Thirteen

  “What are you doing here?” Linnea repeated, wondering if she could hear Nils’s answer through the clanging of alarms in her head.

  “What I vowed to do.”

  “But I urged you to wait until after Dinah’s wedding before you left the pavilion. Until things had gotten back to normal.”

  “Normal?” His laugh was barbed. “None of this is or can be normal for me.”

  “Where did you get these clothes?”

  “Olive brought some from that trunk in your father’s attics, if you will recall.”

  “But they did not fit you so well...” Heat scored her face.

  He chuckled. “Any man who sails on the sea learns quickly the skill of using a needle and thread, because sails need constant attention. You sent Jack with the basket of sewing tools.”

  “For Olive.”

  “Jack delivered them to me.”

  “Along with your knife?”

  He patted his side. “The boy has proven to be a worthy ally.”

  “That alliance may get you in hot water.”

  “Then my face will be about the same shade as yours.” He laughed. “Can I assume by the lovely color of your cheeks that I meet your hi
gh standards?”

  Linnea looked away. She should not be staring at him like a common harlot seeking a customer. Yet her gaze shifted back to him.

  He had exuded a raw maleness when he had been dressed in his rags on the beach. In the castoffs Olive had brought from the house, he had appeared rather rakish, but now, he could have easily gained entrée to the Polite World. When he took her hand and bowed over it with a grace that astonished her, she knew he had been practicing every motion she had taught him.

  He started to raise her hand to his lips, but her soft cry stopped him. “What is wrong, Linnea?”

  “Your arm! It’s healed.”

  “Yes.”

  “But how?”

  “The bone is knit together, so I rid myself of that sling.”

  “It has been little more than a fortnight since I found you on the shore. A broken arm should not heal so readily.”

  His eyes became the shade of a stormy sky in the moment lightning flashed. “But you see the truth in front of you.”

  “Nils, please explain.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Cannot or will not?”

  Before Nils could answer, she heard, “Ah, here is where you are.”

  Linnea stiffened at her father’s voice. A curse that would have caused her mother to swoon rushed through her head and battered at her lips. She did not give it voice as she looked over her shoulder to see her father and mother behind her. Extricating her hand from Nils’s and hoping that her parents had not seen how tightly Nils held it, she struggled to smile.

  There was no need. Papa was looking past her to Nils. A puzzled expression widened her father’s eyes. “Sir,” said Papa, as always the gracious host, “I do not recall us meeting before. If we have, I hope you will forgive my lack of memory.”

  “You have been very busy today with your daughter’s wedding,” Nils replied with a smile.

  Linnea wondered if her parents realized his smile was a challenge to her. He was daring her to denounce him, knowing that if she did, she betrayed herself as well. Or would her folks consider him queer in the attic for believing he was a Viking from the distant past?

  “Weddings are always a hectic time...” Papa paused.

  “Niles Barrington,” he supplied with a smile, “6th earl of that title.”

  “Barrington?” Mama frowned in confusion. “I do not recall such a name on our guest list.”

  “I was not invited.”

  Linnea drew in her breath, sure that all was about to unravel because Nils had chosen this moment to be honest. “Mama, let me explain how I found—”

  “While in the midst of all the preparations for your daughter’s wedding, Lady Linnea found me early this morning after I was set upon by thieves. They took everything I had, save for these clothes upon my back. She arranged for me to rest in one of your gardens while I took stock of my situation.” His smile dared her to contradict this story he had devised without her.

  “She found you?” Mama asked.

  “Actually I chanced upon her while she was busy working in the gardens. I had seen the house from the road and thought I might find something to eat here before I continue on my way.”

  “Where?” Papa asked.

  Linnea looked back at Nils. “Yes,” she said. “Where?”

  Nils’s smile did not waver, but the good humor vanished from his eyes. “I am originally from Norfolk. I have been traveling about England for several years now.”

  “For what reason?” asked Lord Sutherland.

  “To enjoy my studies.”

  “Do your duties allow you so much time to wander about?” Linnea asked.

  “My wanderings about are my duties. I have been making a study of the past, the times before William the Conqueror claimed the throne that had been won by Canute and his Jomsvikings.”

  She clasped her hands behind her back as she bit her bottom lip to keep from blurting out her questions. How had he learned so much about the English history that had happened after he should have been dead? Mayhap he had persuaded Olive or Jack to tell him that. He had not asked her any such questions, seeming to prefer instead to ask her about the quest...and to beguile her with fiery kisses.

  “You are most fortunate, my lord,” she said curtly, “to have the lack of other obligations that grants you the time to pursue your studies.”

  “Daughter,” her father replied sharply, “it is not like you to be so discourteous.”

  Linnea had no answer. She had been acerbic to Nils. Not meeting her father’s eyes because she did not want him to know she was lying, she said, “Forgive me, Papa.”

  “You know that the doors of Sutherland Park are always open to those in need.” Papa put his hand on her shoulder and smiled. “It makes me proud that you have learned that lesson well, Linnea.”

  “Thank you, Papa.”

  She was not sure if he heard her mere whisper as he turned back to Nils. “Tell me,” her father said, “what you are doing here in this part of England, Barrington. I fancy myself somewhat of a historian, but only as an avocation when I can take the time from my work.”

  “As I was starting to say, I have come in search of the past.” He arched a tawny brow in Linnea’s direction as if to dare her to tell the truth.

  She clenched her hands at her sides. He knew she could not speak it, for it would condemn her along with him. If her parents guessed that she had hidden a stranger in the pavilion in the water garden for the past fortnight, they would be horrified. The dark pall it might create over her sister’s wedding with a recitation of her shameful actions might never be forgiven.

  But how had he healed so quickly? As she watched him bow over her mother’s hand, using his left hand to hold her mother’s, Linnea could only stare. This was impossible! No one could recover from a broken arm with such speed.

  Was she as mad as he must be? She was concerning herself about his arm when her father was conversing with a man who should have been dead centuries before.

  “What specifically are you searching for?” Papa asked, drawing her attention back to what they were discussing. “There are ruins scattered across the downs, some that are believed go back to the era when the Romans conquered this island.”

  “Is that so?” Nils smiled at Lord Sutherland, although he would have preferred to continue to look at Linnea. She was undeniably an Englishwoman, but she possessed the heart of a Norrfoolk woman, brave and as willing as a warrior to do what she must to protect those she had a duty to. She had vowed not to reveal the truth to anyone, for he could not guess where his enemies might lie in wait. Now she had proven that she would not, although his appearance here clearly was trying her resolve.

  But it was not just her courage that appealed to him. He had become accustomed to her ethereal beauty during her visits to him in that accursed building overlooking the lake, but he had not been prepared for how beautiful she would be when dressed in such a delicate silk gown. The white blossoms twisted through her hair were like stars in its midnight-dark glory.

  He would gladly allow his eyes to feast on the way the gold lace followed the curve of her breasts while he imagined the beauty of her skin as he lowered her puffed sleeves along her arms. Then he would explore her with his fingers and his mouth, leaving no part of her untasted. The craving ached through him more fiercely than the pain when his arm had been broken.

  “The Romans settled in this area and called it Britannia,” Lord Sutherland said.

  Nils started when the earl used the term Nils had known before he was swept forward into this century. Pulling his eyes from the ethereal Linnea, he replied to her father, “I am specifically interested in the journeys of the Norrfoolk through this area.”

  “The what?” asked another male voice.

  Linnea’s eyes widened. Her shock warned Nils of who must be standing behind him. Turning, he appraised the man he had seen only from a distance. Lord Tuthill’s gaze, which was even with his, was the opposite of Sutherland’s open and welcomin
g smile. Tuthill edged between Nils and Linnea, making it quite clear that he considered he had a claim on her.

  Nils laughed, although he was irritated with Tuthill’s posturing. It made Linnea very uncomfortable, if he was to judge by her now brittle smile. “Forgive me. I have become so accustomed to my studies that I let the terms I have learned slip into my everyday speech. I am speaking of the Norse.” Without a pause, he said, “I am Niles Barrington.”

  Lord Sutherland said with a broad smile, “More properly, Lord Barrington. This is Randolph Denner, Lord Tuthill, a neighbor of ours here at Sutherland Park.”

  “Ah, yes,” Niles replied. “I thought you looked familiar.”

  “Familiar?” asked Randolph. “Have we met before?”

  “I know of you. Others have spoken of you in my hearing.” He was rewarded for his comments with a hastily masked glower from Linnea.

  “In Norfolk?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Didn’t I hear you say you were from there?”

  Nils continued to smile. He had to admit that Tuthill was focused on finding out everything about him.

  “Yes, but what I study is the Norrfoolk. The Norse who came to this island before the conquest.”

  Randolph did not lose his puzzled expression for a moment, then brightened. “Ah, you mean the Vikings.” He grimaced. “I cannot understand why anyone would find such ill-mannered thieves interesting, but I suppose each man’s interests are different.” He put his arm around Linnea’s shoulders. “Shall we go back outside and dance again, my dear?”

  Linnea murmured, “Yes.” She wondered how Randolph could not see the dangerous gleam in Nil’s eyes when he had spoken with such contempt about the Vikings. It would have earned Randolph a torturous death if they were in Nils’s time. Then, these two men would have faced each other with bare swords in their hands instead of glasses of Papa’s best wine.

  Papa continued to talk about the many historical sites near the house as Linnea went out into the sunshine with Randolph. As she followed the steps of the country dance, she wondered why Papa and Mama had come into the house. Had they seen her go inside? And Randolph? Why had he come into the house, too? Mayhap he had thought she was ready to apologize to him.