A Viking For The Viscountess

by Michelle Willingham

  Arik stood up and continued down the path, intending to bring home fish to feed them. It did not appear that Juliana had stored enough to survive the rest of the winter. He walked down the narrow pathway toward the sea and saw her standing upon the sand, staring out at the gray water. Unhappiness cloaked her demeanor, the lines of worry creasing her face. She watched her son emerge from the house, and he laughed as he ran along the shore. Harry was chased by the older woman, who began scolding him. Juliana watched the pair, and the worry in her eyes was evident. She did love the boy. There was a gentleness there, her eyes softening while she watched him.

  He continued walking until he reached her side. “If you have nets, I will go and bring back fish for your family this night.”

  She nodded. “My father has some nets.” She told him where to find them, but then added, “But it isn’t necessary. I have bread and some vegetables. We’ll be fine.”

  He saw that she was still looking at her son. “Something troubles you about your boy. Is there a threat I should know of? Has an enemy attacked?”

  A rueful smile lifted her mouth. “In a way. But it’s not an enemy either of us can fight. My husband’s brother claims that my son is a bastard and has taken the lands that were entailed to Harry.”

  “Would you like me to kill him for you?”

  She laughed, though he’d been serious in the offer. “You can’t go and kill a man just because he stole an inheritance. I’ve been seeking help from solicitors, and—”

  “If he is dead, the land is yours for the taking.” Arik began to glimpse the possibilities. If he had to prove his bravery in battle, this might be the means. Once he had slain her enemy, the gods might grant him the right to spend eternity with the other warriors. His gaze settled upon the young boy. For a child, he had shown no fear. Harry was inquisitive and it was likely that the boy could be taught to be a strong fighter. Arik could understand Juliana’s need to guard him.

  “You will show me the lands your son has lost,” he demanded. “We will hire warriors to help us, and I will see that he is restored to what is rightfully his.”

  Juliana shook her head. “If you try to take Hawthorne House by force, you’ll end up in prison or hanged for it. I do appreciate your offer, however.” Her hands moved around her waist as if she could press the fear back inside her. “Still, this is my battle to face.”

  “By hiding in your father’s house?”

  “I’m not hiding. It’s just that…finding the evidence takes time. Once I’ve proven that my marriage was legal, I can be the viscountess once more.”

  From her tone, it sounded like she was trying to avoid her enemy. Arik preferred a more direct approach, but he didn’t doubt that he could achieve the same results. He would learn more about her enemy and later decide how to help her.

  “I will go fishing and take the boy with me,” he offered. “He’s old enough to learn.”

  As he’d predicted, Juliana was already shaking her head with refusal. “No. He can’t swim and he might fall overboard.”

  “I would never let him drown. My own father took me on his boat as soon as I could walk.” A sudden ache caught him at the memory, knowing that he would never see Valdr again. They had fought bitterly when Arik had left, and he wished he could go back and change what he’d said. He had thoughtlessly told his father that he never wanted to see him again—and now he never would. Regret curled within him at the thought.

  “You cannot take Harry with you,” Juliana insisted. “You’re a stranger to me, and I’m not about to let my son go off with a man who claims he is over a thousand years old.”

  His temper flared up, that she would treat him like one whose mind had wandered away. Words of denial rose to his lips, but instead of voicing them, he offered, “Then come with us to guard him as you will. What harm is there?”

  “Last night, I nearly drowned. There’s a great deal of harm.”

  “And I saved you,” he pointed out. His tone deepened as he thought of her bare skin against his. “I warmed you with my own flesh.”

  She paled at the memory, and her voice came out in a whisper. “What happened between us was a mistake.”

  “Was it?” He took her hand in his and drew it to his chest. “Or was it our fate?” Her palm was delicate beneath his, her gray eyes filled with doubt.

  Before she could protest again, he added, “We shall make a wager on it. You and the boy will go out on the boat with me, and we will see who brings in the most fish. If you win the wager, I am yours to command. If I win—” He let his voice drift away, letting her imagination conjure the rest.

  “I will not be yours to command,” she said emphatically.

  “Not yet, Juliana. But there will come a time when you will want what I have to offer.”

  Her cheeks flushed, though he’d been speaking of his protection. Though he did not know why the gods had summoned him into her world, he believed that helping her was necessary to winning his immortality. This woman was alone with no one to guard her, and her lands had been taken. If he conquered her enemies, surely that would be enough to lift whatever curse had brought him here. He could prove that he was a warrior of strength and bravery, one who deserved to be with the gods.

  “I want you to leave,” she said. “There is no need for a wager.”

  He made her nervous—he could see it in her eyes. But the wager was merely an excuse to remain at her side. “I cannot leave until I learn why I was brought to you. My afterlife depends on it.”

  He was convinced that he was trapped between worlds, between the immortality he wanted and the mortal world of a thousand years later. Somehow he had been found unworthy to enter Asgard to celebrate with the gods in Valhalla. And whether it was Odin watching over him or whether this was a trick of Loki, he was certain that he was meant to aid this woman.

  Disbelief clouded her eyes. Before she could voice another protest, he added, “You cannot force me to leave. But I am willing to put my trust in the gods. If you win the wager, then I will leave and not trouble you again. If the gods grant me the victory, then you will allow me to fight on your behalf.”

  Juliana didn’t look pleased about the wager, but she seemed to consider it. “If I win, do you promise to go?”

  “I will.” He had no qualms about the vow, for he had no doubt he would win. “But after I win, I will stay with you through the phases of this moon,” he said. “And I will get back the land that was stolen from you and your son. Be assured of it.”

  She shook her head. “You cannot kill Marcus.”

  He made no reply to that. “Tell your son of the wager, and I will prepare the boat.”

  The sea was calm, and Mr. Thorgrim helped Harry and her to climb aboard his ship. Her son chattered without ceasing, as he peppered the man with questions about sailing and fishing. Juliana did her best to translate, and was glad to see that not once did Thorgrim seem impatient about answering the child.

  As they traveled farther out to sea, she helped him adjust the sails, until the ship picked up speed. The look of excitement on Harry’s face made her wish she’d taken him out sooner. The wind whipped at his dark hair, and his eyes drank in the sight of the land skimming past.

  When at last Thorgrim gathered up the nets, he showed Harry how to cast them out. He guided the boy’s hands, and at the sight of them together, a sense of regret pulled at her heart. Harry had never known a father. He’d never had a man to show him anything at all, and even his grandfather had died before he was old enough to know him. But Arik Thorgrim had slid into the role seamlessly.

  For a man who believed he was over a thousand years old, he didn’t behave like a madman. And when he pulled in his net, filled with fish, the challenging look on his face dared her to beat him.

  She couldn’t believe her own net was empty while his was full. They were on opposite sides of the same boat. It wasn’t as if she’d never cast nets out before—her father had taught her to fish, when she was a young girl. She knew how
to do this.

  It was almost as if the ocean were conspiring against her. She tried. Oh, how she tried, racking her brain for every ounce of knowledge her father had imparted. But even the one fish she pulled in from her net was hardly large enough to keep. The smirk on Mr. Thorgrim’s face made her all the more determined to catch more, but every time she cast it out, there was nothing.

  “It’s not over yet,” she warned.

  “I’ve caught thirty-two fish.” He set the net down at his feet and rested his hands on his knees. “Do you want me to continue, so that you will have more to store for the rest of the winter?”

  The thought of cleaning all the fish made her wince. She didn’t want to admit defeat, but there seemed to be no other choice. Then, too, she feared living under the same roof as this man, for he tempted her in ways William never had.

  Raising her eyes to his, she lifted her hands in surrender. “Stop. We’ll never be able to eat all of these. We should release them.”

  “You will need most of them until spring,” he corrected, “but we may release some of them.”

  He placed a wriggling fish into Harry’s hands, and the boy beamed with delight. One by one, they tossed the smaller fish back into the sea, keeping half of the catch for their own. The sun had already drifted downward into late afternoon, and when they sailed back, Harry curled up to sleep on a fur resting upon the bottom of the ship.

  “He had a long day,” she murmured. “But it meant a great deal to him.”

  Thorgrim tied back the sail and came to sit beside her. “You should be proud of the boy. Even if you did indulge him and treat him like a girl all these years.”

  “I never treated him like a girl.” Why would he think that? She’d taught him his lessons each day, and Harry was wearing clothes befitting a five-year-old boy. He was well-mannered, though a trifle too enthusiastic at times.

  “He doesn’t know how to hunt, use a knife, or defend himself.” Thorgrim nodded toward the sleeping boy. “You might as well put a gown on him.”

  Oh, for goodness’ sake. She supposed this man would already be teaching Harry how to engage in fisticuffs.

  “He doesn’t need to know how to use a knife. I am raising him to be kind, intelligent, and polite.”

  “Like a girl.”

  She was about to make another retort, when she saw the teasing look in his eyes. “If you had your way, you’d be teaching him how to stab things.”

  “It is a useful skill.” He shifted his weight, sitting closer to her. “I might also teach him how to treat women.”

  “You had better not!” she said, thinking of the night he’d seduced her. “He’s only five.”

  “Women should be protected,” he said quietly. “Do you disagree?”

  Slowly, she shook her head. In his demeanor, she saw a man who believed in what he said. She didn’t doubt that if any enemy attacked his woman, he would fight to the death for her. No one would threaten her with this man at her side, and the thought was strangely comforting. Still, she told him, “You don’t have to fight my battles for me, Mr. Thorgrim.”

  “Arik,” he corrected. “And you are wrong.” He took her hand in his, bringing it to his face. Against her fingertips, she felt the rough texture of his beard, and she had to press back the flare of interest.

  “I know not what brought me here, Juliana of Arthur,” he said, kissing her fingertips. “But this world of yours is not so different from my own. There are enemies to fight, and children to guard.” He leaned in, his hands sliding around her waist. “Women to touch.”

  She had to remind herself that he wasn’t speaking the truth. He might believe he was from another era, but only a madman would speak as he did. And yet, there could be no doubt that he wanted to help her.

  When she stared into his eyes, she saw a man who would never stand down for a cause he believed in. No one had offered to help her before. But this stranger had promised to defend her and get back the lands she had lost.

  A blush spread over her cheeks. “Why would you want to help me?”

  “Because I believe, even if you do not, that I was brought here for a reason. If I give you the help you need, I may meet the fate I deserve in Valhalla. I will destroy any man who dares to take what belongs to you.”

  There was no doubt that he meant it. But she couldn’t have this man attempting to kill Marcus, even if William’s brother had taken Harry’s inheritance.

  “It’s impossible,” she argued. “If you stay with me, people will talk. They will accuse me of letting you into my bed.”

  “Your husband has abandoned you,” he pointed out. “It is your right to take another protector.”

  She didn’t believe that. William might have been gone for many years, but she could not set aside her marriage so easily. Especially after Marcus had claimed she was nothing more than William’s mistress. She wasn’t. She had spoken her vows before a clergyman and signed the register.

  Her husband had not yet been declared legally dead, and she could not risk bringing another man into her life—even if he was trying to help her.

  “I thought you were a woman who kept her word,” he said. “But I can see upon your face that you do not intend to keep the wager.”

  She said nothing, though the guilt began to take root. You cannot let him stay, her conscience chided. It was madness to consider letting him interfere with her troubles. This was her mistake, and she should be the one to find the answers. Not a man who claimed he was a thousand-year-old Viking. Any woman would be wary of accepting help from a stranger.

  But then, he had taken them sailing today and had shown her son nothing but kindness. Despite his overbearing nature, she sensed that there was honor in him. And the truth was, as a woman, her rights were limited, and she could only do so much.

  “I will keep my word to give you shelter for the night,” she said slowly. “But you cannot take William’s place.”

  “I already have.” He adjusted the sail and moved to sit beside her. “I am your protector now. In all ways.” The deep timbre of his voice reminded her of exactly how he had taken care of her…and the sensual way he’d touched her.

  Juliana couldn’t deny that she had enjoyed the night they’d spent together, though it had been sinful. “Being with you last night was a mistake,” she whispered. “It won’t happen again.” If she behaved immorally, it would only add weight to Marcus’s lies.

  “It might,” he answered. She was conscious of how close his body was pressed to hers, and she knew, too well, what it felt like to lie beneath him.

  “We were brought together by the gods,” he continued. “It is my fate to defend your son’s inheritance. And once I have slain your enemies, I will have my reward.”

  Her eyes widened at the horrifying image of him wielding a battle-ax against her brother-in-law. “Truly, you don’t need to slay anyone.”

  He ignored her words and reached out to one of the ropes, adjusting the sail. “Hold this with both hands.”

  She obeyed, the wind filling up the sail. Only then did she realize that he’d trapped her, making it impossible for her to release the ropes. His arm closed around her shoulders. “I will do whatever I must to win this battle, Juliana.”

  She grew still, wondering if he intended to claim her as his conquest. Already she knew the wildness of being in his arms and succumbing to his touch. Somehow she had to stay away from this man.

  As his mouth closed over hers, capturing her lips in another kiss, she realized just how difficult that would be.

  CHAPTER THREE

  He sensed her reticence as he tasted her lips again. They were as soft as cream, and he’d made no effort to resist the urge. Juliana was a beautiful woman, but she confused him. In his homeland, the women were forthright and honest. If they wanted a man, they told him so.

  But although Juliana claimed she did not want him, she released the ropes and rested her hands upon his chest. She appeared torn between resisting him and allowing herself th
e desires she craved.

  “I can’t,” she whispered. “Please don’t ask this of me.”

  He ignored her plea. “Do not protect you? Then who will, Juliana of Arthur?”

  Her hands were poised upon his heart as she stared beyond him at the sea. “I may have been seduced once. But that isn’t the sort of woman I am.” Closing her eyes, she admitted, “I’m ashamed of what I did. If anyone learns of it, it only makes their case against me stronger. Harry will suffer for it.”

  Her gaze centered upon her son, her face filled with worry. In her life, the boy’s needs came first, while she sacrificed all else for him.

  As his own mother might have done. Arik studied her with new eyes, wondering who this woman truly was and why he had been called to guard her. He released her, but her hands rested upon him a moment longer.

  Her face held regret as she spoke. “I apologize if I led you to believe differently.”

  She had, but he said nothing of it. “When we return to shore, your slave should clean a few fish for our dinner and preserve the rest for your winter.” At least he could ensure that they wouldn’t starve. Though Juliana might be capable of catching more fish, her earlier efforts had borne little fruit.

  “Grelod is not a slave. She helps me with Harry,” Juliana explained. “And she has been my companion for many years.”

  Arik continued guiding the boat back to shore, and Harry woke up just as they arrived. He chattered happily, and though he tried to understand the boy’s dialect, it was beyond him to make sense of it. Even so, just being around the child brought a warmth to his heart. He’d always wanted a son of his own.

  He gave the boy a smaller basket of fish to carry, and Harry proudly marched beside him. Arik hefted the remainder, holding his own basket on one shoulder. When they reached the dwelling, he took a closer look at the structure. The wood had aged, and no one had bothered to repair the holes. No doubt it was freezing at night with most of the heat escaping.