My Lord Viking

by Ferguson, Jo Ann

  “Even so, you know Lady Sutherland would not be pleased to hear you speak so.”

  “That is why,” Dinah interjected, “he saved the story until Mama went to Brighton to bring Great-Uncle Roger for the wedding.” She wafted her lashes at Lord Simmons, who smiled broadly in her direction.

  “Excuse me, my lord,” said a footman by the door. “Lord Tuthill is calling.”

  Martin winked at Linnea as he stood. “By all means, bring him up without further delay.” When the footman left to obey, Martin added, “It seems we shall be quite the party this evening.”

  Lord Simmons took a deep drink from his glass, his bright red hair gleaming in the lamplight with the motion. “I had noticed one was missing.”

  Linnea kept her smile from falling as they all looked at her. She wished she could please them by acting delighted that Randolph was calling, but the truth was that she had been glad he had not visited Sutherland Park for the past few days.

  Even so, she rose to her feet when Randolph appeared in the doorway. She was aware of five pairs of eyes gauging every motion she made as she went to greet him. This requirement to act as if she were glad that he was intruding on her evening was absurd.

  When she heard the echo of Nils’s laughter, her feet suddenly seemed to weigh as much as Sutherland Park’s gatehouse. How Nils would roar with laughter if he was privy to her rebellious thoughts! She had been careful not to let Nils discern—as she had taken care not to let anyone know—how often she found the constraints of the ton uncomfortable. She would not have been walking along the strand without her shoes and stockings the day she found him otherwise.

  “Good evening, Randolph,” she said, stopping far enough away from him that he could not kiss her as he had when she last saw him. She had to admit he looked handsome tonight, for his navy coat was unblemished by even a hint of dust, although his hair was tousled as if playful fingers had slipped through it.

  He drew a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. “These are for you, Linnea.” He lowered his voice. “I know they cannot atone for my crude behavior when last we spoke, but I wish you to know how sorry I am.”

  She looked from the bouquet to his earnest face. “Randolph, where have you been keeping yourself for the past few days?” She hoped her cheerfulness did not sound as false to the others as it did to her.

  His brows lowered, and she knew he had noted to her brittle tone. “I am pleasantly surprised that you missed me.”

  “Of course she missed you when you did not call for almost a week.” Martin, ever the genial host, came to stand behind her.

  “I have been,” Randolph replied in his most correct voice, “in London cleaning out my father’s house there, so it can be sold.”

  “Tedious work, I would wager by your expression.” Martin threw his arm around Randolph’s shoulders and squeezed them companionably. “You know Simmons, I trust.”

  “Yes, we have met.”

  Linnea glanced at the others, but no one seemed to hear the edge in Randolph’s voice. Was it simply because he was annoyed with her attempt to feign an effusive welcome or for some other reason? She was amazed to realize that she could not recall ever seeing Randolph and her sister’s betrothed in the same room.

  “Do sit down with us and enjoy a bit of the poker-talk that Simmons has brought with him from London,” continued Martin, his smile far more genuine than Randolph’s. “You may have more tales to add, if you are just back from Town.”

  “I had hoped to have a moment to speak with Linnea,” Randolph said.

  With a laugh and a slap on the back that sent Randolph forward a half-step, Martin winked at Lord Simmons. “You two will have time enough for whispering court-promises during another call. Come and sit with us and have some of this worthy port that Simmons brought.”

  Simmons chuckled as he snagged another glass and filled it with a generous serving. “I think the ladies were just about to excuse themselves so we might enjoy blowing a cloud.” He reached under his coat and pulled out another cigar. “Let them fill their heads with all the details of the wedding to come at week’s end.”

  “And toast Simmons while he is still free of the parson’s mousetrap.” Martin raised his glass. “To your last hours of your carefree bachelor days.”

  Linnea did not wait to hear the men’s response. Going with Dinah and Minnie out into the hallway, she let her sister’s chatter about the banquet to be held after the marriage ceremony ease her disquiet. Minnie gave her a sideways look, but Linnea was unsure what her sister-in-law was trying to say silently.

  Whatever it was, Minnie did not take the opportunity to tell her while Linnea put the bouquet in a vase, or during the two hours they listened to Dinah prattle in another sitting room farther along the gallery overlooking the entry. Linnea waited until she heard the clock chime ten times. Then, rising, she excused herself. She needed to go and check on Olive before going to bed as she did each night now.

  Check on Olive?

  Linnea almost laughed out loud, but not with humor. She might be able to fool others that nothing was different about her life in the past week, but she could not lie to herself. Going out to the pavilion to check that Olive was set for the night was only an excuse to see Nils again. She wanted to assure herself that he was not trying to sneak away, and she wanted any chance to be with him while she could. He had cast a spell over her like an alchemist, although she knew it was more likely that iron would be changed to gold than she could alter Nils from the outspoken warrior he was into the epitome of a fine gentleman.

  A form wove toward her as she walked down the stairs. Her heart contracted sharply, then she realized it was not Randolph, but her brother Martin.

  “Where are you off to at this hour?” he asked, his words blurred from the port.

  “I have an errand I need to tend to before I go to bed.”

  “What has Dinah talked you into doing for her now?” He put his hand on the newel post. “She has run this whole family ragged with her requests for her wedding. I hope you are not going to be the same if you are witless enough to let your girlish dreams of catching yourself a husband lead you to marrying Tuthill.”

  Linnea gasped in amazement. “I did not realize that you disliked Randolph.”

  “Dislike him?” Martin shook his head as he sat on the bottommost riser. He must have been more foxed than Linnea had guessed. “I do not dislike the man. He is just the most boring creature I have ever met. Even with the conviviality of fine cigars and good drink this evening, he insisted on being dolorous.”

  “Mayhap,” said Minnie, coming down the steps to stand beside him, “because he wished to call on Linnea tonight and not you old toads who were determined to sit and croak all evening.”

  “Is that a kind way to address your husband?” He set himself on his feet and held out his hand.

  When Minnie put her hand on his, Linnea could not mistake the love between her brother and his wife. She knew there had been much prattle about the earl’s heir marrying the daughter of the vicar in the next parish, but no one had been able to persuade Martin not to have the wife of his heart. Somehow, past the lump in her throat, she bid them good night. She doubted if they heard her while they went up the stairs together, as engrossed in each other as they had been on the day they wed five years before.

  This was the love she wanted. Not the quiet acceptance of Randolph as an inevitable part of her life. The thrill of Nils’s touch was intoxicating, but was that what she wanted, either? She had seen her older siblings fall in and out of love with quicksilver speed.

  She wanted this lasting love that brought a smile when loving gazes met. She wished she knew where to find it.

  * * * *

  “Nils?” Linnea called as she did each time she came up the stairs since she had discovered him half-dressed. She glanced at where Olive was asleep on one of the stone benches. Olive would not rouse to less than the roof falling in.

  “I am awake.” Nils motioned for her to j
oin him sitting where the moonlight draped across his chest like a luminescent cloak. When she hesitated, unable to see his face, as it was hidden in the shadows, he said, “Young Jack ran to the kitchen to get some cake for the two of us. He shall be returning any minute now, so you need not worry about being without a watchdog.”

  She smiled and rounded the top of the stairs. “You are learning the cant of the Polite World with great speed.”

  “I never thought I would need to learn English a second time.” He chuckled, and she saw the flash of the moonlight against his teeth. “Actually a third time because Jack has taught me some phrases that he has warned me not to speak in your hearing.”

  “Although he probably has.”

  “True, but he says a gentleman never speaks so to a lady.”

  “A gentleman?” She crossed the room slowly.

  “He recognizes that once many men acknowledged my leadership.”

  She halted in midstep. “He knows the truth?”

  Again Nils laughed. “No, but a servant learns young how to discern between his peers and those you would name the peerage.”

  Her lips twisted in a wry smile. That was true. Jack had shown respect to Nils from the day they rescued him on the shore.

  “Are you going to stand there staring at me as if I had just come in on this beam of moonlight?” Nils continued. “Or will you come over here and sit with me?”

  “I intended to ask Olive if she needed anything before I went to—before I went to sleep.” She hoped the shadows hid the heat on her face and that he had not noticed her hesitation over the common saying. Yet every word they exchanged seemed somehow so intimate that she feared saying “bed.”

  “She seems quite set if her soft snores are any indication.”

  “Yes.”

  Nils held out his hand. She could not resist the offer to discover if this was the direction her heart wanted her to go. Putting her fingers on his wide palm, she let him seat her beside him in the puddle of moonlight. She leaned back against the bench behind them and gazed up at the moon as he did.

  “The moon is one thing that is unchanged,” he said quietly. “I have watched the moon from this shore, and it looked as it does tonight.” Without a pause, he added, “Did you enjoy your visit from your Randolph tonight?”

  “Are you spying on me?”

  He laughed, his breath brushing her hair like the whisper of a caress. “I amuse myself by watching the comings and goings on this estate. Once, I would have watched to gauge the strength of the defenses of this house. Now I simply watch to keep myself from going mad with boredom.”

  “Mayhap I can find something to entertain you.”

  “I doubt you mean that as you said it, Linnea.” His finger twisted in her hair.

  “That is true.” She unwound his finger from her hair. When his finger crooked over hers, she looked up into his eyes, but they were lost in the darkness.

  He lifted her finger to his lips. When his tongue brushed its tip, she closed her eyes and swayed toward him. Being delighted by his bold ways was stupid, but she did not care. She wanted to enjoy this.

  Footsteps pounded up the stairs.

  Linnea pulled back as Jack came around the top of the steps. The lad’s grin broadened when he saw her sitting beside Nils.

  “‘Tis good that I took an extra piece of this excellent chocolate cake,” he said, setting a platter on the table. He handed Nils a piece of cake, then offered one to Linnea.

  She shook her head. “I am not hungry. I will leave this dessert to the two of you.”

  Jack took a hefty bite of his serving as he went back and sat on the top step.

  “What is that?” asked Nils, leaning forward. He pointed toward the window with his fork.

  “It is a fork,” Linnea replied.

  He tapped her nose with his finger and laughed. “I am quite aware of that after our lesson. I meant that.”

  Looking out the window, she saw a flash of light close to the ground. “I suspect it is night owls on their illegal errands.”

  “Owls with illegal errands?”

  “Night owls is the name given to the smugglers who bring brandy and other things from France.”

  “But England is at war with France!”

  “Yes, that is true, but that makes the profits for the night owls even greater.”

  He scowled. “Those men have traded their honor and their obligation to their leaders for gold.”

  “I have seen their lights for as long as I can remember, although Papa tries to keep them from coming ashore here. When I was a child, I believed that the lights came from fairies dancing along this shore.”

  “Fairies?”

  “They are but a legend. The stories describe them as small women with wings. They are tiny enough to hold in your hand, but they are exquisitely beautiful.” She leaned back against the bench again and smiled up at the moon. “On nights like this, they come out from beneath the flowers and fronds where they have slept the day away. They dance on the moonlight and drink cups of sweet dew. Elusive, they must grant anyone who captures them one wish.” Laughing, she added, “I used to hunt for them when I could sneak out of the nursery. I never caught one, needless to say, and Papa dressed me down for being out where I might have encountered a band of smugglers.”

  Nils took a bite of his cake, being careful to balance it on the fork. “But you still believe in the fairies?”

  “Not as I used to. Then I was certain all I needed to do was lift the correct leaf, and a fairy would be waiting for me. Now I only hope one might be.”

  “So you could have a wish come true?”

  “Mayhap.” Linnea smiled. “To be honest, I would be so astonished simply to find one that I doubt if I could decide what to wish.”

  “I know what I would wish for.”

  “To go home?”

  He nodded, his gaze growing distant. “Although I spent years in training in Jutland, I grew up along a fjord overlooking the northern sea. Those steep walls of stone were as much of a challenge to me as finding a fairy was to you.”

  “But I suspect you had better luck with achieving your goal than I did.”

  “I first climbed to the top of the cliffs when I was not quite eight years old.”

  “You must have been so proud.”

  “I was, but I also was not sure what I should do next to prove I deserved to be trained as a warrior. The summer days that far north lasted for more than a week. During that time, a boy could find all sorts of mischief to get into.”

  “As I nearly did here while searching for fairies.”

  “But now you know the lights on the shore are not dancing fairies, but smugglers.” He sighed. “And I know what I must do next.”

  “Find the knife.”

  “Find the knife and return it to my chieftain. Nothing must deter me from doing that.” His voice grew grim. “Nothing.”

  Ten

  Linnea paused on the steps when she heard wheels on the drive leading up to the house. Setting her basket down, she rushed to embrace her mother as she alighted from the carriage. She wondered if she had ever been so happy to see her mother. Papa might be an expert on financial matters, but Linnea needed her mother’s counsel now.

  Lady Sutherland wore her iron-gray hair in a tight bun, but a few strands always fell down along her cheeks as if to acknowledge her warm heart. Raising a household of boisterous children and succeeding in finding matches for all of them had added lines to her face, but all those wrinkles were forgotten when she smiled. She nodded to the tiger and motioned for the packages to be carried into the house.

  “Papa will be so glad you are back,” Linnea said, laughing.

  “I was gone but two days, and the staff know well how to handle all the preparations for your sister’s wedding.”

  “But Dinah keeps asking Papa questions he deems beyond his knowledge.”

  Lady Sutherland laughed. “That sounds like your sister. She cannot believe that anyone would consid
er anything else as important as her coming nuptials, for it is the only thing filling her head. You are like your father, so you find it difficult to let one thing become so important that it outweighs everything else you are involved with.”

  “I try.” She did try to think of other matters than Nils’s quest, but usually succeeded only in thinking of how she delighted in his kisses that she should not be enjoying.

  “I trust you will not be so witless when your turn comes to be wed.”

  “I hope not. Where is Great-Uncle Roger?”

  “He would not be budged from his hearth for what he said was just another wedding.” Her mother laughed. “That from a most confirmed bachelor who seems to be afraid that nuptials may be infectious.”

  Linnea chuckled a she picked up the basket she had been taking to the water pavilion. Olive had brought some clothes from the attics, so Nils would have something to wear when he went to London. They needed to be remade to fit him and updated so he would not look out of place.

  Lady Sutherland climbed the steps. “Let me calm your sister. Once her wedding is past, I believe you and I should talk about matters of your future.”

  “Yes, Mama.” Linnea did not let a frown form on her lips, although she had no interest in discussing any part of her future that might involve Randolph Denner. Her shoulders sagged as her mother went toward the door. Randolph had been pleasant enough to have as a friend, but she could not imagine him as her husband. To think of him kissing her with the fire that she had discovered on Nils’s lips...No, she could not imagine it. Randolph was too restrained. Something about Nils’s uninhibited determination to see his quest through to its conclusion was intoxicating.

  Telling her mother that was impossible. Lying to Mama was just as appalling an idea, however. She started to follow her mother, then paused when the sound of a fast-moving horse came up the road.

  “Will Martin ever learn any common sense? Riding neck-or-nothing is going to get someone hurt,” Lady Sutherland grumbled. “Oh, my! ‘Tis Lord Tuthill.”