A Viking For The Viscountess

by Michelle Willingham

  “And I warned you not to bother her again.” Her Viking seized William’s arm, his hand still gripping the handle of his battle-ax. “You hold no claim upon her.”

  “Take her,” her former husband insisted. “She’s nothing to me and never was. All I want is my share of the gold.” He tried to pull back but could not free himself from Arik’s grasp. “Let go of me.”

  There was not a trace of mercy upon the Viking’s face. “Come near her or the boy again, and I will kill you.” His voice was low, but his words held an unbreakable vow.

  A sudden flicker of distaste passed over William’s face. “I said, let me go, Thorgraham.” The viscount reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small flintlock pistol. He pressed the barrel toward Arik’s throat. “I will not be treated like this.”

  Juliana froze in place, uncertain of whether it was an idle threat. Her Viking didn’t appear at all concerned, no doubt because he’d never seen a pistol before.

  “Am I supposed to be afraid?” He stared back at William as if he were nothing more than an irritating insect.

  “Be careful, Arik,” she warned. Though she didn’t truly think William would fire the weapon, a sudden premonition ripped through her that he was going to die. Hadn’t Arik said that he would only be here until the moon grew full? The cold fear settled over her, and she tried to regain command of herself.

  “I will use this, if you don’t let me go,” William insisted. “I swear I will.”

  “No, don’t shoot! Leave Mr. Thorgrim alone!” Her son rushed forward, and unsheathed the knife, as if to defend Arik.

  No. Not Harry.

  Juliana watched in horror as the boy lifted the blade. In that split second, she saw him trying to save the man who had taught him how to fish and sail a boat—the man who had stood by Harry’s side and shown him how to repair the house. They had been covered in mud together, and afterward, Arik had washed the boy’s hands. He’d been patient, listening to her son’s conversation and treating him with kindness. In truth, he been more of a father to Harry than William had ever been.

  And in that same moment, she saw the barrel of the pistol pointing all too close to her son.

  Juliana ran forward to pull him back, not caring about anything else except protecting him. “Harry, don’t!”

  Arik released the viscount and grabbed Harry, pushing him to the ground as the gun exploded. Her son struck the floor, and blood pooled upon the marble.

  Juliana’s scream of anguish ripped from her throat, her soul tearing apart as she dropped to her knees. Harry was unmoving, and his shirt was covered in blood. She couldn’t hear the words she was saying, couldn’t grasp the horror of what was happening.

  Tears blinded her as she prayed with all her might. Please be all right. Oh dear God, please let him live. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the way William had treated her…not the shame she would suffer for his deception…not even the night she’d spent in Arik’s arms. All that mattered was knowing her child would survive.

  She gathered him into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Harry’s eyes were wide, and he struggled to breathe. “Mama,” he murmured, before he closed his eyes. Terror filled her that her baby, the joy of her life, was dying and there was nothing she could do to save him.

  The viscount stared at both of them, before he bolted toward the door, pushing his way past the servants who had come running at the sound of the gunshot. Juliana let him go, too worried about Harry to care about the man who had shot him. There was time to find William later. Her son was all that mattered now.

  “Juliana,” came Arik’s voice.

  She glanced up at him, and saw that he was on his knees beside her. His face held a gray pallor, and it was only then that she saw the raw flesh and the hole that had torn apart his chest. Dear God, no.

  She stared with dawning realization. The blood all over Harry was not his own. It was Arik’s, from when he’d tried to save the boy’s life. Her son was moving in and out of consciousness, and it soon became clear that he’d struck his head on the marble floor when Arik had pushed him away.

  “Fetch a doctor!” she called out to the servants. “Please, he needs help!”

  Arik couldn’t die. Not like this. Yet, there was an eerie stillness present, almost as if time had ceased. There was no bustle of activity, no sounds of anything at all. The room began to blur, as if she was losing consciousness. Juliana fought to remain alert, dimly aware that the Viking was holding her hand.

  “Is Harry…all right?” he asked.

  “Y-yes. He hit his head when you pushed him out of the way.” Already her son was opening his eyes, crying as he rubbed the sore spot on his head. She couldn’t stop her own tears, both relief that Harry was unharmed, but agony that Arik had been shot.

  “A doctor is coming to help you,” she insisted, though it was not true. Juliana untied his cravat and tried to stop the blood flow from his wound. “We’ll fix this, I promise you. You—you won’t die.”

  But he reached out to touch her cheek, wiping a tear away. “I do not belong in your world, and I never did. I was already dead when I came to you.” He reached out to touch her face, but the caress was so light, she could barely feel it.

  She was going to lose him. And the dawning realization turned her heart into ice. “Stay with me, Arik.”

  “The nights I spent with you were worth an eternity.” When Juliana took his other hand, she saw that it was becoming transparent. “And I will never regret giving up the time I had left to save your son.”

  Arik lay down beside the boy, and Harry sat up, his expression sober. “I don’t want you to die, Mr. Thorgrim. I want you to be my father.”

  He took the Viking’s hand in his small one, and Arik tried to venture a smile. “When I pass from this life, I will remain with you,” he swore. “Here.” He touched the boy’s heart and Harry stared back, his countenance stricken.

  “Don’t leave me,” she pleaded. But already she could see that it was happening. Arik’s presence grew more ghostly. Within moments, he would be gone. She was losing the man she had fallen in love with…but in return, he’d given her back Harry’s life.

  “I will always be with you,” he said. “You will never forget me.”

  “You have to stay,” Juliana told him, her voice breaking with the pain that devastated her. “If not for me, then for our child.” She was searching for any means of binding him to her, of giving him a reason to hold on.

  A faint smile creased his mouth. “Tell him about me, when he is grown.” Arik stroked her hair, and she thought of Grelod’s warning, that a child born from two moments in time could not live.

  A thousand prayers came to her lips, but she couldn’t voice a single one. Instead, all she could say was, “I love you.”

  Arik pressed his hand to her womb and murmured, “When one life ends, another begins.”

  And after the last breath left him, her Viking’s body disappeared in her arms.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Juliana didn’t know how long she wept, but her knees grew numb and her heart had turned to stone. When the footman returned, he appeared startled. “My lady, are you unwell?”

  Juliana raised her tearstained eyes to his. Her emotions were bruised and raw, and she hardly knew what had happened anymore. Arik had died to save her son, and she felt as if someone had torn her life apart. It was then that she noticed Harry was gone. “Have you seen my son?”

  “Harry is upstairs in the nursery,” the man answered. “I saw him only a moment ago.”

  She didn’t understand what he meant by that. How could her son be here one moment and upstairs the next?

  “What about Lord Hawthorne? Where is he?” she managed to ask. The blackguard deserved to be arrested for what he’d done.

  “Lord Hawthorne?” the footman appeared confused. “I have not seen him, my lady. Were you expecting him to pay a call upon you?”

  Confusion muddled her mind at that. The man was acting as if noth
ing at all had happened. Hadn’t William’s gun gone off? Or did no one remember that he’d been here?

  “Are you certain? He was just here a moment ago.”

  The footman shook his head slowly. “No, my lady. He was never here.”

  She stilled at that and looked around. There was no blood upon the floor, no fallen pistol. It was as if nothing at all had happened.

  Her heart began pounding, and she didn’t at all understand what had happened. It was as if a single moment in time had vanished. If William had never been here, then had he truly killed Arik Thorgrim?

  The footman reached out a hand to help her up. “Are you certain you’re all right, my lady? Did you fall, perhaps?”

  In other words, he believed she was seeing and hearing things. Which was entirely possible, given that she’d just watched a Viking disappear before her eyes.

  “I—I don’t know.” Juliana got to her feet and mumbled an excuse about going to see Harry. She ascended the stairs, turning over the events in her mind.

  She didn’t know what was real and what was not. It was as if Arik had disappeared without a trace, as if he’d never existed. And if that was true, then William could not have killed him.

  When she reached her son’s room, she found Harry playing with his tin soldiers. “Hello, Mama,” he greeted her.

  Hearing his voice brought a rush of thankfulness, and she hurried forward to embrace him. “Are you feeling all right, Harry?”

  He nodded in answer to her question and continued to arrange the tin soldiers, making battle noises.

  Juliana forced herself to sit down. “Did you…happen to see Mr. Thorgrim a little while ago?”

  “No, I haven’t seen him in weeks. When is he coming back?”

  A rush of relief filled her. She hadn’t wanted him to remember watching Arik die. If, in fact, he had. But at least Harry remembered him—that was something. She rested her palm against her stomach, praying that their unborn child was still alive.

  “I don’t know if he will come back,” she said honestly. “But I hope he can.”

  Tears blinded her, and she turned away from her son, trying to control them. The past few days had awakened her from the shadowed life she’d lived. With Arik, she had found the strength to fight for what she wanted. No longer did she care about scandal or what others thought. She had fallen in love with a man who was bold, passionate, and fiercely loyal. He would not want her to lose her courage now. Not after the sacrifice he’d made.

  “It will be all right, Harry,” she told her son. “I will take care of us.” She intended to speak with Lord Hawthorne and demand a settlement for them. After the deception he had pulled, he owed her compensation for the years he’d stolen. Then, too, she wanted to know whether he had played any part in the Viking’s death.

  Juliana started toward the door, and she suddenly spied Arik’s blade resting upon a nearby desk. The sight of the dagger, back where it belonged, made her falter.

  She had been certain her son had brought the knife down with him, planning to attack the viscount. Yet now, it was back in his room, untouched. She took the blade, feeling the wooden hilt against her hands. It was heavy, with runes carved upon it. When she gripped the weapon, she felt a connection, as if there was something she had to do.

  The duke, she realized. The duke should know what had just happened.

  The urge to leave was so strong, she excused herself from Harry and exited the room. The moment she did, she nearly collided with Grelod.

  “Could you watch over Harry?” Juliana asked. “I need to speak with His Grace, the Duke of Somerford.”

  “Of course,” her maid responded. The old woman’s expression held sympathy, and it was enough to bring back the rise of tears she was fighting back. “My lady, I am sorry for all of this. I should never have invoked what wasn’t meant to be. It was a prayer, that’s all. One I never thought would be answered in this way.”

  Juliana nodded. “I don’t regret any of what happened between us. Arik Thorgrim was a gift I never expected. I only wish there was a way to bring him back.”

  Her maid shook her head with sadness. “Such magic is far beyond me.” She moved forward to take Juliana’s hand. “I believe in many things, my lady. Fate. Magic. Second chances.” She squeezed her palm. “But he was never meant to dwell in this time.”

  Juliana knew that. And yet, she couldn’t quite let go of hope. Prayers had brought Arik Thorgrim across time to love her. Her hand moved down to her womb, and she prayed that there was a reason to keep him here.

  One strong enough to pull a man from eternity.

  Juliana waited for hours at the duke’s town house before he returned, just after sunset. She rose when he entered the parlor, and a moment later, he closed the door behind him.

  “What has happened? Is it my son?”

  She unwrapped the blade and held it out to him. “Arik disappeared in my arms. One moment he was there, and the next…” Fresh grief washed over her, as she told him of the gun firing, of Arik dying, and of his disappearance. As strange as it all sounded, she felt the need to confess everything to the duke.

  “I know that he’s gone,” Juliana finished. “But I can’t quite let go of him.”

  Arik had spoken of the moment of his death, a thousand years ago…and of how he’d been caught between worlds. She knew it was impossible for a man to die twice, and a part of her desperately wanted to believe that he could somehow still be near.

  The duke crossed the space and took the knife from her. “You said he died to save your son?”

  She bit her lip hard. “Yes. He pushed Harry away and the bullet took him instead.” A tear escaped her and she admitted, “He spent his last days trying to help Harry and me.” A bitter smile crossed her face. “He said it was his way of earning a place in the afterworld. I suppose he’s done that now.”

  Duke Somerford held the blade in his hands, testing the weight. It was as if he hadn’t heard a word she’d spoken. “You need not worry about providing for your son. I will help both of you.”

  She sank into a chair. “I don’t care about that anymore. I would give up every last farthing if I could have Arik back. I just…can’t believe he’s dead.” She couldn’t stop her tears, and her fists dug into her skirts. It hurt so much to know that she would never see his handsome face again or feel his arms around her.

  The duke said nothing, but let her weep. In his hands, he turned over the ancient knife. “My son and I fought with bitter words on the night he left. I never saw him again. But somehow, a part of him returned to me in Arik Thorgrim. He had…some of my Eric’s memories. I have no way to explain it.”

  When she studied him, he seemed far older in that moment. It was as if time had ravaged his face, leaving him to grieve. “I knew he wasn’t my son,” the duke continued, “but in the days I spent with him, I felt as if I had Eric back with me.”

  “Arik was not of this world,” Juliana confessed. “He was a Viking. Somehow he crossed through time to be here…and I think your son crossed back.”

  It sounded like madness to say such a thing, but the duke appeared to accept it far too easily.

  “He told me that,” the older man agreed, “and he knew things that only Eric knew.” He rested his hands against the back of a chair and met her gaze with grief that mirrored her own. “I don’t think either of them will ever return.”

  Juliana crossed the room and took his hand. “A part of his spirit does live on.”

  She touched her stomach lightly and it took a moment before understanding dawned in his eyes. There was a faint gleam of hope that transcended the sadness between them. “Bring your son back to Somerford. I will give both of you a home with me, if you wish to stay there.”

  His generous offer was something she’d never expected. “I would be grateful.” She moved to stand beside him. Outside the parlor window, she saw the full moon casting its beams over the house.

  “If I could bring him back for you, I would,”
the duke said quietly.

  But both of them knew it was impossible.

  Arik drifted upon the sea for endless hours, leaning back within his longship. The sky was gray, like Juliana’s eyes. And though he believed he was sailing on to Asgard, that this was truly the end, he could not stop thinking of her.

  She haunted him in a way he’d never expected. Her quiet smile, and the way she’d stood up to William, showed a courage that he admired.

  By the gods, he’d been so wrong. Asgard was not the afterlife he sought. He cared nothing for the glory of battle or bringing honor to his ancestors. An eternity of happiness lay in Juliana’s arms, not in a kingdom of Viking warriors.

  But that choice was no longer his.

  The mists encircled him, and in the distance, he saw the faint glimmer of lights. The echo of voices crossed the sea, and he saw the face of a goddess rising from the mists. He did not doubt it was Freya.

  Do you seek to join us here?

  He could not answer that. What he wanted was to remain at Juliana’s side, to watch her body grow round with his child. To hear his son’s newborn cry and raise Harry as another son.

  I want to stay with Juliana, he answered honestly.

  Such is not possible. Your body perished in battle and your soul must join ours. You asked for more time, and that was given to you. Now, you must join your brothers in Valhalla.

  The answer was exactly as he’d expected. But then, the gods were known to weave mortals’ lives in unexpected patterns. If they had granted him time once before, they could do it again.

  I would give up my eternity for a lifetime with her.

  The voices of his ancestors seemed to fade away, the lights growing dimmer. He might have angered the gods by rejecting his chance at immortality, but it was the truth.

  The love of a woman is not a reason to turn your back upon immortality. The goddess’s voice held unveiled fury, and he waited for an invisible blow to strike him down. Freya was not known for mercy.

  I am bound to her in the life of our unborn child. Even this afterworld cannot part us, he told her.