My Lord Viking

by Ferguson, Jo Ann

“Thank heavens we know better than to believe that nonsense now.”

  “It was not all nonsense.” He knew his retort had been too harsh when she pulled back from him, consternation blanching her face.

  “I did not mean to—That is, I am sorry if I offended you in any way.”

  He cupped her chin and smiled. “You cannot offend me, save when you deny the craving that has grown between us.”

  “Acknowledging it would be foolish.”

  “Acknowledging it would be luscious, unnasta.”

  “Don’t call me that! I cannot be your sweetheart, not when you are what you are and I am what I am.”

  His fingers rose to curve along her cheek. “We would have been enemies in another time, but here and now—”

  “There is no here and now that we share. Once you have completed your search for your chieftain’s knife, you will be returning to your time, and I will remain here. We have no past to share and no future to share.”

  When she drew away, he entangled his fingers in hers. She looked up at him, and he saw tears she fought to keep from falling. Slowly he released her hand, amazed by her strength of will.

  “Linnea...”

  “I shall return as soon as I retrieve some carte des visites and gloves to teach you how to pay a call when we are in London.” Her voice trembled, but her chin remained high. “There is much more for you to learn.”

  “And you, too.”

  He heard her breath catch, the sound tempting him to capture her lips. She spun on her heel and rushed out of the room, her skirt rising to reveal an enticing glimpse of her ankles.

  Nils glanced toward the closest window as he waited for the sound of Loki’s taunting laugh. If this was the lying wizard’s vengeance on him for defying the plans the gods had made, he could imagine no worse torment than wanting this woman and knowing that she was right when she said they had no future...together.

  * * * *

  “I should have guessed you could be found here.” Lord Sutherland smiled as Nils looked up from a book that had pictures of the other ships that sailed English waters.

  “Really?” He closed the book over his finger. “How so?”

  “You have spoken of your research into the Vikings. A man who enjoys learning about the past often finds the answers he seeks in books.”

  “True.”

  Lord Sutherland went to a table and picked up a stack of pages there. “I am glad that you are availing yourself of the books here. They do not get enough use.”

  “Linnea seems to spend much time here.”

  “I wish I could have inspired her love of learning in my other children. She possesses a curiosity about so much of the world around her. As you do.”

  “It is so obvious?”

  “I have taken note of you watching everyone around you as if you are trying to decipher the present instead of the past.”

  Nils kept his smile from vanishing. What a daari he had been. If this Lord Sutherland was even half as wise as the Suthrland in Nils’s time, little would his escape attention.

  “Making observations is a habit, I fear,” Nils replied when he realized his host was waiting for an answer.

  “You are not like other professors I have met.” Lord Sutherland laughed heartily. “You are not so lost in the past that you are unaware of what is around you.”

  “I have learned not to be blinded by the past or the present, for I might miss the very clue I seek to give me insight into both.”

  “An excellent point of view.” Shuffling through the papers, Lord Sutherland smiled as he rearranged them. He set them back on the table. Going to a sideboard, he drew out a bottle and two glasses. He filled each with pungent wine and held one out to Nils. “Please avail yourself of the books here, but do not miss the old ruins scattered throughout the estate.”

  “What sort of ruins? You spoke of Roman ones. Are there others?” He took a sip and smiled. The wine of this time was far superior to what he had known in the past. When Lord Sutherland gestured toward a chair, Nils sat and waited for his host to do the same.

  “This estate has many mounds that have been unexplored, although I suspect my sons have investigated several of them as I did with my brothers when I was a child.”

  “The mounds predate the excursions of the Vikings to these shores.”

  Lord Sutherland’s brows rose. “You sound very certain of that. There are those who believe great Viking ships are buried within the earthworks.”

  “It is possible, but unlikely. It was the way of the Norrfoolk to set their great chieftains’ corpses into their ships and set them afire. Some were dragged ashore before being fired, but many were sent burning off to sea, for a Norrfoolk’s heart belongs to the sea.”

  Lord Sutherland drank deeply before saying, “Your knowledge continues to impress me, Barrington. One would think you have lived with your subject.” He chuckled. “Of course when one has studied the Vikings as many years as you seem to have, I guess it’s the truth to say you’ve lived with your subject.”

  “Yes, I suppose one could say that.”

  “Then tell me—” He looked toward the door. “Ah, Linnea, do come in.”

  Nils came to his feet and offered her a bolstering smile. It was unnecessary, he realized, when she pushed past him to hug her father and laughed as he teased her about getting rid of yet another daughter. The affection in this house was something that he had almost forgotten since Gudrun died. Never before had he considered what he had given up when he took his sword-sworn oath to his chieftain.

  Or, he thought as Linnea turned to bring him into the conversation and he saw her warm smile, how much he must give up again.

  Fifteen

  “My lady, you must put an end to this with every bit of haste.” Olive reached for the hairbrush on Linnea’s dressing table.

  “An end to what?” Linnea asked, picking up the brush before her maid could. She already knew the answer, she suspected.

  “An end to this flirtation with this stranger who has been welcomed into this house like a long-awaited guest.”

  “By all that’s blue, Olive, you have taken a disagreeable dislike to Niles.”

  “Nils! His name is Nils Bjornsson. Giving him another name does not make him a fine lord.”

  “That is true. However, we should not speak of that where others can hear.”

  “Why not? When did the truth become the wrong thing to speak?”

  “Olive!”

  Her maid flushed, but Linnea guessed it was more with anger than with embarrassment for having spoken so. “Forgive me, my lady. I am deeply concerned for your well-being.”

  “You need not be.” She sat and ran the brush through her hair. Seeing Olive’s scowl reflected in the glass, she turned to face her maid. “You know he is staying here only until he can go to London and continue his work.”

  “Continue his mischief more likely.” She sniffed in disagreement. “The man must have taken a knock to his head while in the cradle. Jack tells me that he has heard Mr. Bjornsson—”

  “Please, Olive! You must not call him that!”

  Olive sniffed again, but nodded. “Very well, but you cannot ignore that the man is crazy. Jack has told me he has heard him speaking to someone who is not there. More than once since he moved into the house after your sister’s wedding, I might add.”

  “Niles was probably just talking to himself. We all do that at one time or another while seeking the answer to some problem.”

  “Talking to oneself is one thing. Waiting for a response from someone who is not there is another.”

  Linnea did not answer. Chiding Olive for gossiping with Jack would gain her only another sniff. She could not defend Nils from these accusations when she found so much strange about him herself. Was he crazy? If so, he had drawn her into his delusions, because she could no longer discern between what was possible and what was utterly fancy. The whole of Nils being here was impossible; yet he was here. She did not want to imagine how much more
bizarre all of this could get.

  A knock on the door kept Olive from adding anything else. Rising, Linnea smiled when she saw Minnie enter. She had not had much of a chance to speak to her sister-in-law since the wedding. Kissing Minnie on the cheek, she motioned toward a chair set into a sunny bay at one side of the bedchamber.

  “Martin told me,” Minnie began, then glanced at Olive.

  “Will you see if Cook has any lemonade prepared?” Linnea asked. She was rewarded with another glower from Olive who clearly wished to say more, but her maid nodded and left.

  “Olive seems to be in a most dolorous mood today.”

  “She still feels,” Linnea replied, glad to speak the truth, “that she must look after me to make sure I do not make a single misstep.”

  “She no longer is your governess.”

  “Mayhap you can persuade her of that. I fear I have failed utterly.”

  Minnie laughed and leaned back in her chair. “Oh, it is so nice to have the house to ourselves again.”

  “Yes, the wedding guests have left.”

  “Save for one.”

  Linnea could not keep from noticing the sideways glance her sister-in-law aimed at her. “Papa has asked Lord Barrington to stay as long as he wishes.”

  “Or as long as you wish.”

  “Minnie!”

  Wagging her finger, Minnie chuckled again. “Do not try to bamboozle me, Linnea. I have seen how you look at that good-looking man. Even though married women are supposed to take no notice of any man other than their husbands, I have to say you have chosen a fine one to look at.”

  “Minnie!”

  “Are you shocked?”

  “Yes...no.” Linnea relaxed in the chair and smiled. “I should know you well enough by now to know that you always speak your mind.”

  “So return the favor, Linnea, and tell me what you think of this unexpected visitor.”

  “I think he is quite charming.”

  “Quite?”

  “All right, very charming. He is also very focused on doing the work he came to this part of England to do.”

  Minnie’s nose wrinkled. “Studying old books and looking for old things in the mud. It amazes me that a man of his obvious vitality would be interested in such a sedentary pursuit.”

  “He does not seem to find it sedentary, for he has traveled far in his search for answers.”

  “Aha!”

  “Aha what?”

  “Linnea, you cannot hide that this man intrigues you when you jump so readily to his defense. That is wise of you when your only other choice may be Lord Tuthill.”

  “It sounds as if you are seeking an excuse for me not to marry Randolph.” Her voice trembled as she longed to confide in someone who would heed her...and understand that this flirtation had gotten out of hand, and she did not know how to fix it without hurting those she loved.

  Minnie became abruptly somber. “As you should be.”

  “You don’t even know Niles Barrington.”

  “But I do know Lord Tuthill.” Minnie grasped Linnea’s hands. “Take care in the choices you make now, for whatever you choose may change your life irrevocably.”

  * * * *

  Linnea shaded her eyes as she looked along the sand which reflected the brilliant sunlight. Clear days, when not even the wisp of a cloud marred the perfect blue sky, were so unusual. Most days, a low bank of clouds clung to the horizon as if trying to hide where the sea merged with the sky. Only a hint of a breeze ruffled the lace on the hem of her gown, but the waves surged up on the shore, crashing like a runaway cart.

  Coming here was exciting but offered no escape from Minnie’s words of caution. She had not expected Minnie to be so forthright. Yet it was no surprise. Minnie had already made very clear her opinion about a match between Linnea and Randolph. Also Minnie knew how difficult it was for Linnea to hurt anyone’s feelings.

  Linnea had not been much more than a toddler when she first brought a broken-winged bird to the house to be healed. Minnie had been there that day, for she had spoken often of how her heart had been touched by Linnea’s hope to save the bird and Martin’s determination not to let his baby sister know that it was impossible. He had found another fledgling and brought it to the house so that Linnea did not learn until years later that the first bird had not survived.

  Hearing a yip, Linnea bent to pet Scamp. The pup was happy to be with her today, for Scamp had been banished by Mama from the house for chewing a hole in the corner of a dining room rug.

  The puppy raced from beneath her fingers and down off the rocks. Streaking across the sand, Scamp barked in wild excitement. The sound of a whistle floated along the shore. The pup stopped, ears up, then raced toward a broad-shouldered silhouette farther along the strand.

  Jumping with care off the boulders, Linnea bounced from one foot to the other. The sand was hot, but she left her shoes tied together and hanging on either side of her shoulder. She moved closer to the water where the waves kept the beach cooler.

  Hearing another bark, she laughed as Scamp raced back to her before wheeling about in a spray of sand to rush to where Nils was standing by the water. She followed the puppy more slowly, pulling her bonnet forward so that her nose would not be reddened from the sun.

  Again Scamp ran back to her, paused only for a pat between his silky ears, then scurried back to Nils. The barking sent birds rising from among the rocks and along the cliffs that rose from the far end of the curved beach.

  Nils did not move, but she knew he was aware of her because he said as she approached, “There must have been a storm in the deeper waters.”

  “The waves are higher today than usual.” She watched him stare out at the sea. He had disdained his coat and waistcoat. His shirt was open at the collar, and its full sleeves caught even the slight breeze. His buckskin breeches accented the sturdy line of his legs. Sand covered his bare feet.

  “Have you always lived here?” he asked.

  “Yes. When we have gone to London, I miss the sweet songs of the sea. There is something so mesmerizing about it.”

  “Mesmerizing?” He faced her. “Another word I do not know.”

  She stepped forward to stand beside him. “It means something that is so compelling that one cannot pull one’s gaze from it.”

  “Ah, now I understand. You find the sea mesmerizing?”

  “Yes, for it is never the same two days in a row.” She took a deep breath of the briny air. “The waves can be dark or a brilliant blue-green. They can be thunderous or whispering to the shore. Sometimes, they are topped by bubbles which they offer to the sand like a gift. Other times, the foam is flung up onto the rocks.”

  “We of the Norrfoolk are not so poetic about the sea. For us, it is...” He frowned for a moment. “It was a tool, much as our boats and our axes and our swords were tools. We used it to obtain what we needed to survive.”

  “And as a route to conquest.”

  “That is true, too.” He turned to look at the rocks. “There is no sign here of the battle that took place so many years ago.”

  “That is good.”

  He arched a brow, then moved along the crescent-shaped cove toward the end where rocks were piled higher than his head. “If you had said that to me when we first met, I would have argued with you.”

  “But you have changed your mind?” she asked as she followed.

  “I have.” He leaned his elbow on one of the boulders and stared out at the undulating waves flowing toward the shore. “The battles that were fought here were brought about because of a loss of honor among the English, but those who attacked the Norrfoolk in the Danelaw are forgotten here. Their names and their evil deeds have been banished from history which paints the Norrfoolk as the villains. It is appropriate that there is no memorial here to a betrayal of trust.”

  “I am glad that you see the futility of trying to resurrect the past that has been forgotten.”

  “Not all the past has been forgotten.” His hand fisted on the s
tone. “I am here to remember what was left undone. It may be that I should keep some of those memories alive.” His fingers uncurled as they slipped along her arm. “I have shared the truth with you, Linnea, so that you might share it with others.”

  “But who would believe me?”

  “I would.”

  She laughed. “Of course, you would, for the tales are of your telling. I wonder if anyone else would.”

  “What of Tuthill?”

  “Randolph?” She shook her head. “He only believes what he can see and judge for himself.”

  “Yet he believes you love him.”

  “I doubt he believes that.”

  Nils started to answer, then paused as Scamp ran to him and leapt up against his leg. With a laugh, Nils pulled a small stick from where some storm had driven it into a crevice among the rocks. He flung it along the shore, and the puppy gave chase.

  “Why would a man wish to marry a woman who does not love him?” he asked quietly.

  “Were all marriages in your time only for love?”

  “Of course not. They created alliances between families and between chieftains, but you do not need to seek strength in numbers before going to battle. Your king has an army and a navy to fight for England.”

  Linnea sat on a boulder and drew on her slippers. “You have learned much from talking to Papa and Martin.”

  “They enjoy talking, and I enjoy listening.” He knelt beside her. “Now I am listening to how you are avoiding answering my question.”

  “I did not know you asked one.”

  “I asked why Tuthill would wish to marry a woman who does not love him.”

  She clasped her hands in her lap so she did not reach out to twist his golden hair around her fingers. “You have not been listening closely enough to Papa and Martin if you must ask that.”

  “I assume that you are speaking of the industries and trade that your father has invested in so profitably.”

  “Yes.”

  “Tuthill is in need of money?”

  She looked up at clouds that were rising inland in a race toward the sea. They were darkening to dim the perfect sunshine, but she did not move as she replied, “His father was a good man, but had the bad habit of gambling unwisely with men far richer than he was. Randolph inherited many debts with his title. He has paid many of them, but he wishes to regain the prestige for his title that comes from having plump pockets.”