“Your sister is worried about you.”
“And I’m worried about her.”
“Why?”
“Because of this.” Her eyes covered the room before returning to him. “And because of you.”
His brows arched. “Me?”
“Of course you.” She frowned. “You came out of nowhere and now she lives over a thousand years in her past. If you can’t understand my concerns, then you’re not half the guy she makes you out to be…or the king.”
Naðr studied her for a moment then nodded. “You have every right to be concerned.” He paused, gauging her response. “As I am concerned about my brothers when it comes to you and your sister, Amber.”
Amazed, she said, “You’re worried about your bloodthirsty six foot sevenish tall brothers with a few harmless women from the future?”
“Yes.” Naðr’s brows lowered, voice dangerously soft. “I am.”
Before she could respond, and it wasn’t going to be good, he cut her off. “There is nothing harmless about you, Veronica. The attraction between you and Raknar is obvious and—”
“And what?” Megan interrupted, her arms sliding around his waist from behind.
Naðr’s expression shifted and Veronica was again awed by the love she saw in their eyes as he shook his head. He stepped back and wrapped his arm around her sister’s neck until she was tucked against his side. His eyes softened about a thousand degrees when they met Megan’s. “Am I not allowed to worry about Raknar?”
“Sure.” Megan trailed exploring fingers down his leathered chest. “But not at my sister’s expense.” Then her voice became a whisper, an invitation. “You big bully.”
Veronica was about to add to their conversation when someone grabbed her hand and she was pulled into the crowd. The next thing she knew she was plunked on the head table and Kjar sat next to her. Relieved but cautious, she eyed him when he put another mug of mead in her hand and grunted, “Drink.”
When she hesitated, he nodded then took a swig from his horn.
She nodded as well. Drinking didn't sound like such a bad idea. So she did, overly aware of Raknar sitting on the other side of the table. Where she’d felt a strange safety with him, she had felt kinship, an absolute comfort with Kjar since the moment she met him. He might be the most vicious thing she’d ever seen but the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her put her mind at ease. He’d visited her several times since she’d awoken a few days ago and she genuinely liked him. Not only that but he seemed to be the only guy besides the king to have no physical interest in her.
Veronica cocked her head. “Any chance we can get out of here?”
Kjar glanced over his shoulder at Naðr’s brothers and chuckled. “I suppose that’s the least I can do for you, woman.”
He took her mug then grabbed her wrist, pulling her after him. There was no safer place to be than in the wake of this mighty Viking as all cleared a path before him. Some might say it was because he was the master shipwright and they respected him, but Veronica knew better.
Kjar was fierce.
The minute they stepped outside, she breathed deeply, amazed at how good it felt to be beyond all the confusion inside. Too much of a civilization she wasn’t ready for. Too close to a man she wasn’t ready for.
Wind howled down out of the mountains but it was temperate and though Kjar wrapped a fur cloak over her shoulders, she barely needed it. Veronica smiled when Megan’s Husky/Shepard mix, Guardian bounded over. She smiled, crouched and hugged her. “Hey there.”
Though Guardian had always seemed to favor Amber and Megan, she’d become a constant companion since Veronica arrived. “Good to see me up and about, huh?”
Guardian licked her cheek then tagged along as she and Kjar walked the nearly empty, torch lit dirt road leading down to the docks. Besides the horses whinnying from the stables, the night was calm and most people had joined the celebration inside.
“I haven’t asked,” she said as they passed the gates of the fortress. “What do you think of me being here? Naðr implied—”
“My king is overly protective,” Kjar interrupted, steering her out onto one of a dozen long docks. “He doesn’t like things he can’t control.”
She totally got that. Regardless. Veronica worried about how her arrival might affect Megan. “My sister shouldn’t need to stress over all this.”
“Your sister married my king,” Kjar informed. “Now she must worry as he does. It is what a queen does.”
Queen. Megan. That was a mouthful. But heck, her big sis had always been a queen in her book. “It’s a lot to take on.”
Kjar nodded. “It is.”
The Viking didn’t say another word until they reached the end of the dock. On one side was the massive longship she knew Megan and Naðr called theirs. The one that had apparently brought them together. But her eyes were drawn to the smaller boat on the other side. The Drekkar. She was less impressed with the stark, clean lines of the longer ship but more so with the painstaking detail in workmanship on the prow of her ship.
Veronica closed her eyes and shook her head.
The last thing she needed to do was relate the ship Raknar sailed as her ship. She knew how that went. Viking ship love plus modern day woman tended to mean marriage.
“Come.”
When her eyes snapped open, Kjar stood on the edge of the Drekkar holding his hand down.
She shook her head. “Not such a good idea returning to the scene of the crime.”
Kjar cocked his head. “There is no crime here, woman.” He curled his fingers. “Only good memories.”
Good memories? Seeing Raknar’s nude torso for this first time on this ship flashed in her mind. Okay, so that wasn’t such a bad memory. Relenting, Veronica climbed the ladder and took Kjar’s hand. She almost lost her footing, but he scooped her up then set her down. Guardian sat, tongue hanging out of her mouth as she watched.
Three-quarters full, the moon peeked out behind a curling cloudbank as she walked a few steps then turned to look up at the prow. The dragon head was so well carved that it almost appeared to rear its head beneath the moonlight. Smiling, she walked to the mast and leaned against it, again in awe of the stunning view.
Kjar handed her a mug and stood alongside.
Silence stretched cut only by the lapping of water against the boat.
“It’s all so beautiful,” she whispered.
Kjar held up his mug.
She tapped it.
They both drank.
Minutes passed as she sipped and enjoyed not only the gentle sway but the calm offered by the moon and a ship that shouldn’t even exist. Eventually she murmured, “You built this, didn’t you?”
“I did.” He stroked one of the braids in his goatee as he stared at the prow. “Though she’s not quite perfect.”
The corner of her lips curled up. “Looks pretty perfect to me.”
Kjar shook his head. “Not yet.”
“What else needs to be done to it?”
“Time will tell.”
Odd answer. Veronica frowned at him, opting for logic. “More benches maybe? Seems to have enough though.”
“Plenty of benches,” he drawled. “Not enough soul.”
Veronica shrugged. Okay. She’d chalk his opinion up to creative prerogative. After all, Megan had been a perfectionist when it came to building her boat so she assumed that must be Kjar’s deal as well. Like Amber, they were artists in their own way.
He nodded at her mug. “Drink.”
Woozy enough from the earlier mead, she shook her head and handed him the mug. “I’ve had enough. Thanks.”
Kjar eyed her for a long moment before he nodded. “You prefer safety. Control.”
She leaned heavily against the mast and eyed the moon. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
Kjar shrugged, set aside their mugs and munched on some nuts. “Why don’t we call it a need for clarity?”
Veronica yawned and nodded. “Yeah,
clarity sounds good.”
“So you think my ship is well made. What think you of my cousins Kol and Raknar?”
Just as well-made. But that wasn’t what he was asking. Overly drowsy but trying to stay with him, she shrugged. “Honestly? I’m not ready to think much about either of them.”
Kjar sat and pulled her down next to him so that their backs rested against the mast.
The seas were fairly calm and the rock of the ship slight.
He chomped his next question around a nut. “If you had to choose would it be Kol or Raknar?”
“I don’t have to choose.”
“If you did.”
“But I don’t.”
Kjar crossed his long legs over one another and sighed. “Kol’s the easier choice.”
Veronica couldn’t help it…she laughed.
“What?” Kjar grinned at her. “It’s true.”
Veronica eyed the tattoos wrapping over his head and down his arm. “Not sure you’re the one to give advice on who may or may not be easiest.”
He spit out shells before his heavily muscled arm shifted as he popped more nuts into his mouth, a look of pure confusion on his face. “Don’t let my appearance fool you, woman.”
Grinning, her head fell to his shoulder as she watched the clouds roll past the moon. “I know about this whole pact made with the seers. Three Viking brothers meant to be with women from the future.” Veronica made quotation marks in the air. “Of the same ‘bloodline.’” She shook her head and shot him her best ‘I’m sorry’ look. “Not happening this time.”
Kjar wrapped his arm around her shoulders so that she could more comfortably rest her cheek before he murmured, “Then no Kol, no Raknar.” He flicked his hand toward the prow. “Just this. A ship. Comfort.”
That sounded good.
Amazing.
Perfect.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Lulled by the gentle sway of the ship, her eyes slid shut.
“Veronica, are you awake?”
She blinked, confused when she heard Megan’s voice. It was light out and she was back in bed, Guardian curled by her side. Veronica sat up slowly. “What happened? I was just on the ship with Kjar a second ago.”
“You fell asleep so he carried you back,” Megan informed as she sat next to her. “Now it’s morning…almost noon actually.”
“Wow, I must’ve been out cold,” she murmured and frowned.
Megan looked at her, concerned. “You need to gain your strength. It’s been a rough week.” Then she held out her hand. “This was found in your pants before they were cleaned. Thank God it was returned.”
Veronica’s eyes widened as she took it. She’d completely forgotten about the object she’d felt in her pocket. It was a small sealed cylinder with little Norse symbols running up and down its length.
“What is this?” she asked, studying it.
Megan pressed her lips together. “I think you know. Well, as much as you can right now. You remember the cylinder I found under the Atlantic. The one that contained a means for me to return here from the future if I wanted to.” Her sister gave her a pointed look. “The gods provided this. A means to give you free will as to whether or not you ultimately return once you go home.”
Veronica bent her knees and braced her forehead in her palm, mumbling, “I really am meant to be here.”
“Sorry, Sis, there can be no doubt,” Megan said. “Now that you have that.”
She swallowed and looked at her sister. “So that means I’m part of the pact the brothers made with the seers…that I’m meant for one of them.”
Megan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and nodded. “I’d say so. But it’s not as bad as all that. Kol and Raknar are both great guys. You’ll see once you get to know them.”
“I believe it about Kol,” she muttered.
Megan eyed her, a little light in her eyes. “Yeah, you do seem drawn to the more difficult of the two but no worries. Once you get past his sometimes off-putting disposition, few if any men are as honorable and genuinely caring as Raknar.”
Veronica sighed. There might be a nugget of truth to that. After all, she saw how he was with his son. The minute she thought of Heidrek, old memories threatened to surface. Megan eyed her but said nothing. She wouldn’t be surprised if her sister followed her thoughts.
“I still don’t entirely get how I traveled back in time to begin with,” Veronica mumbled.
“Obviously something to do with those ravens.” Megan squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”
Veronica shook her head. “I’m not sure it’ll matter so much in the end.” Genuine pain met her words. “The thought of leaving you breaks my heart but I can’t ultimately live here. I don’t belong.”
A wistful glint flickered through Megan's eyes. “One thing at a time. Let’s not stress over any of that right now. I only woke you because the Thing will be starting soon and I know you wanted to attend.” Megan brushed Veronica’s long bangs out of her eyes, voice tender. “But there will be others. Why don’t you get some more sleep?”
She shook her head. “No, I want to go. Besides, I’ve yet to step outside during the day.”
Megan nodded and stood. “I had a basin of warm water brought in and more dresses and tunics made for you.” She held out a thin, leather strap with a delicate pouch attached. “The cylinder and stones will fit in this. You have to wear it around your neck at all times in case you end up back in the future.”
Right, because she needed the cylinder to return to ninth century Scandanavia.
Veronica took the pouch. “So I can’t look inside the cylinder?”
Megan shook her head. “Nope. Not until you’re home.”
Well, at least she had the certainty of knowing she’d be returning to the twenty-first century.
So, after a bath and being pampered by strangers, she pulled the necklace over her head and tucked the pouch into her cleavage. The odd clothing still threw her and she said as much when Megan returned. “Thanks for having dresses made for me, but I’ve always been more of a pants kind of girl. Or skirts.” She fingered the material. “Or any sort of dress but this.”
She nodded at Megan’s outfit. “You’ll need to hook me up with some of those leather pants.”
Megan grinned. “Already working on it.” Then she shook her head and laughed. “Not sure Raknar and Kol would survive it though.”
Veronica waved away her words. “Then they can look in the opposite direction.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what they’ll be doing,” Megan muttered. Then her eyes sparkled. “You’re here at a pretty cool time. The festival of Walpurgis starts tonight and ends nine days from now on Walpurgisnacht.”
When Veronica frowned in question, Megan continued. “It’s a holiday that honors AllFather's self-sacrifice upon the World Tree Yggdrasil. Apparently, it was on the ninth night or April thirtieth in our time, Walpurgisnacht, that he beheld the Runes, grasped them, and ritually died for an instant. When he did, all the light in the nine worlds was extinguished, and utter Chaos reigned. At the final stroke of midnight, the light returned in brilliance. Then the bale-fires are lit. On Walpurgisnacht, the dead have full sway upon the earth. It’s also the ending night of the Wild Hunt. May first is the festival of Thrimilci, the beginning of Summer. Thrimilci is a festival of joy and fertility.”
“Fertility, huh? Good thing I’m on birth control,” Veronica joked then cringed at her own lighthearted insinuation. “But interesting information.”
Megan nodded, a smirk ghosting her face. “After the Thing we’ll shop a little and see if we can get you all fashioned up for tonight.”
“That’d be wonderful.”
Anything to lose the long, draping dresses.
“Come on then.” Megan pulled her out of the cottage. “Time to show my lawyer sister Viking justice.”
Chapter Five
Seeing things at night was nothing like seeing them during the da
y. Impressed, Veronica stared up at the towering mountains behind the massive village, entranced by the fog-like clouds sweeping down them. Then her eyes were drawn to the buildings with their long slanted roofs that nearly touched the ground. The community was busy and as far as she could tell, thriving.
When they entered the largest building, the one she’d been in the night before, throngs of people lined the outer edges. The head table had been removed and Naðr now sat on a slightly raised dais. His brothers stood off to either side. All three wore fur cloaks and seemed relatively serious. But that didn’t stop Kol and Raknar’s eyes from finding her the moment she and Megan entered.
Megan shook her head and whispered, “Just ignore them.”
Easier said than done. Especially when her eyes were caught by Raknar’s. Damn if the air didn’t sizzle between them despite the distance.
“Six sheep and ten chickens were supposed to be part of my wife’s dowry, but her father Egil Aldafadr has yet to give them to us,” declared one of the two men standing before the king.
Naðr looked at the other, older man. “Is this true, Egil Aldafadr?”
The man lowered his head. “Yes, my king.”
“See there!” the younger man said.
Naðr remained focused on the older man. “Why have you not provided the entirety of your daughter’s promised dowry, Egil Aldafadr?”
"Because it would leave my family without enough to eat.”
“Then why commit to something you did not have?”
The older man’s shoulders slumped. “Because my daughter was in love with her new husband and there was nothing I would not do to fulfill her heart’s desire.”
Naðr contemplated him before his eyes swung to the younger man. “Gardar Jolnir, have you received the majority of the dowry and if so, what was it?”
Surprisingly defensive, Gardar said, “We haggled as we should have over the dowry—”
“What have you received so far,” Naðr interrupted.
Veronica didn’t know much about this society and its wealth but the long list of animals and food items the younger man started reciting seemed like a lot even to her. It appeared she wasn’t off because Naðr’s eyes narrowed and he put up a hand to halt Gardar. “This dowry is fit for a king’s daughter.” His eyes widened at Meyla, who stood off to the side of the crowd. “No, it’s more than my daughter received in her dowry!”
Viking Claim (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors Book 2) Page 6
