My Lord Viking

by Ferguson, Jo Ann

  “I hope you do not come to regret making that rule.”

  “As you regret the rules that have been forced upon you?”

  She knew she should laugh at his question and call it foolish, but she could not. Not when he was looking at her with unrestrained desire in his eyes.

  “Yes,” she whispered, then turned and walked away before her own longings persuaded her that she should give free rein to them with a man who could not wait to finish his quest and leave her...forever.

  Fourteen

  “Right fancy, isn’t it?”

  Nils smiled as Jack came into the large collection of rooms that were set aside for the use of Lord Sutherland’s guests. This room alone was bigger than Nils’s cottage back in the land of the Norrfoolk, and three other chambers opened from it. One held a wide bed that sat in the middle of the room.

  He laughed to himself. Firepits had been moved into the walls away from the center of the room, and beds had come out of their cupboards. The winters here were not as unforgiving as those farther north, so there was no need to close doors to keep in the sparse heat.

  Another room was littered with hooks and shelves and drawers. He guessed they were for clothes. The final room, much smaller than the others, held only a metal container. Stains on the stone floor suggested it sometimes contained water, but he was not sure what its purpose was. It might be for washing himself or his clothes or both. He would have to ask Linnea.

  Linnea...

  She was his hope for success and the very reason that he might fail. She distracted him from his search, but he needed her help as he did no other’s.

  “Lady Linnea suggested I serve as your valet, sir.” Jack gulped, then said, “I mean, my lord.”

  Nils was about to tease the lad, but realized that Linnea may have let her servants believe that he truly was an English lord who had been left bewildered by the attack upon him. Again she was proving that she would keep her vow not to reveal the truth.

  He realized as well that he was unsure what a valet was or how one served. Something else he would need to ask Linnea.

  As if his thoughts had reached out to her, he turned at a soft knock and saw Linnea standing in the doorway. Beside her, Olive stood, frowning. He might be here in the house, but that had not changed Linnea’s maid’s opinion of any of this.

  “Jack,” Linnea said quietly, “Olive has brought some clothes to replace those that were stolen from Lord Barrington during the attack upon him. She will show you how to arrange them in the closet.”

  Before he could answer, Olive grumbled, “It isn’t right, my lady.”

  “What isn’t right?” he asked.

  Linnea took only a single step into the room as Olive motioned to someone else in the corridor. A parade of serving women came into the room carrying piles of clothing, and he was not sure what else. As soon as they went into the room with the hooks and shelves, he repeated his question.

  “Olive feels you should have been given your congé instead of welcomed into the house,” Linnea replied, her voice totally without emotion. “I reminded her that this house has always welcomed those who were traveling through the shire.”

  “I am glad you overruled her.” His smile gained him only another blank stare in return.

  “If you are set for the night, I shall—”

  “I have a few questions.”

  If she sighed, he did not hear it, but her expression suggested that she was anxious to be gone and done with him. He wanted to ask her why when she had been sweeter than the cake frosting this afternoon.

  “What are your questions?” she asked.

  “Jack tells me he will be serving as my valet. What is that?”

  “Your personal servant as Olive is for me.” She faltered, and her cool expression did as well. “Jack has never done such work, for he has always worked in the stable. However, I believe, under the circumstances...”

  “He will see my errors as a result of this so-called accident you devised for my past.”

  “Yes.” She rubbed her hands together nervously. “Anything else?”

  “The metal tub in the other room.”

  Color flashed up her face. “That is for bathing.”

  “Does this pretty shade of red suggest that you are thinking of washing my back for me?” He ran his finger along her cheek.

  “I shall leave your personal needs to be handled by you and Jack.”

  Before he could ask another question, Olive came back into the room, trailed by the other servants. “Lord Barrington’s things are all ready for him, my lady.” She fired him a glare that divulged how little she believed the web of lies that he had spun with Linnea’s help.

  “Thank you, Olive,” Linnea said. Stepping back out into the hallway, she added, “Sleep well, Niles.”

  The door closed behind her, and Nils smiled. He doubted he would find such a strange bed comfortable, but he had learned to fall asleep anywhere at anytime, for a warrior quickly discovered the importance of taking advantage of any chance to sleep.

  Jack peered out of the clothes room. Slowly he edged out. His normally cheerful face was long. “What do you want me to do now, my lord?”

  Tempted to tell the lad that he had been tempted to ask the same of him, Nils replied, “I think a good night’s sleep would be the wisest thing for both of us.”

  “Before you confront Lord Tuthill tomorrow?”

  “Tuthill?”

  Jack frowned. “I thought that was why you were wanting your knife back. To show that blackguard he should not assume Lady Linnea was his.”

  “I thought I would learn more before I made my demands.”

  “Oh.”

  Nils chuckled. If he told the lad the truth, that he was a Viking who had come to avenge his chieftain, Jack would have been thrilled. However, even a Viking warrior knew there was a time for attacking and a time for reconnoitering. Patting Jack on the shoulder, he said, “The time will come. I vow that to you.”

  “Another vow, Nils Bjornsson?” asked the too familiar voice from behind him.

  When Jack did not react, Nils knew the boy could not see Loki who was perched on a table by the window. Nils sent Jack to gather what he would need for the night. Waiting for the lad to leave, Nils faced the wizard.

  “I did not know you were keeping count of my vows, Loki,” he said quietly, hoping his voice did not carry to the clothes room.

  “I am keeping a close eye on everything you do or say. At the moment, there is no mortal more intriguing to me than you.”

  “Because at this moment, there is no other one who believes in the old gods.”

  “True.” Loki’s eyes glistened with mischief. “But that will change. The time will come when we are feared once more.”

  “Do you bring me a message from Freya?”

  His scowl was fearsome. “I am not her message carrier. I am here only to watch and enjoy the mistakes you make, Nils Bjornsson.”

  “The only mistake I am making now,” he said, knowing that he chanced bringing Loki’s fury upon him with his bold words, “is continuing this conversation when I wish to sleep.”

  “Sleep while you can.”

  “While I can?”

  Loki laughed again. “Some things mortals cannot know until time unfolds for them. But I can tell you, Nils Bjornsson, that you need to be wary.”

  “Why?”

  “If you knew, you might be willing to be more patient and enjoy this time of ignorance.”

  Nils’s hands closed into fists as the wizard vanished, leaving only the sound of his exultant laughter. Nils knew better than to disregard Loki’s taunts. Anyone who did learned the price of thinking that Loki had less pride than the other gods in Asgard.

  “Did you say something to me, my lord?” asked Jack from the doorway.

  “No.” Without looking at the lad, he added, “Get yourself some sleep.”

  If Jack answered, Nils took no note of him. Trouble was coming. He had not needed Loki’s warning o
f that. Too long he had lingered here. Walking into the bedchamber, he slammed his fist into the door frame. This luxury was not for a warrior. It was time to do what he had come here to do.

  * * * *

  “There is only one solution.” Linnea stood from the table.

  Nils came to his feet at the same time she did. They were the only two remaining in the breakfast-parlor, because her family had finished their meal minutes ago and gone to see Dinah and her new husband on their way to their honeymoon on the Continent. Nils suspected Linnea had lingered over breakfast in order to speak privately with him. Having this chance to be alone with her should not please him so much. Last night, he had spent hours focusing his thoughts on his task. Yet, a single glance from her this morning had threatened to undo his resolve to think only of finding that knife and returning to his own time.

  “And what solution is that?” he asked.

  “We need to get you enough information so that you will not make a mistake in London.”

  “I have not made a mistake here.”

  “Yet.”

  “I have not made a mistake yet, so you should have more faith that I will not make one.”

  “But London will be different. The ton does not forgive any mistakes. If you give them even a hint that something is not as it appears with you, they will seek any chink in your armor.”

  He frowned. “I do not have any armor, not to wear or as a shield.”

  “It is only a saying, Nils...I mean, Niles.” She glanced uneasily at the door.

  “The mistakes may not be only mine.”

  “That is why you need to learn more about London and the Polite World.”

  “That makes good sense.”

  She motioned toward the door. “I think my father’s book-room is where we can best speak without others listening.”

  “The room where he keeps the books like the ones you have shown me?”

  “Yes.” Linnea could not miss how Niles’s eyes glistened at the prospect of viewing more of the books that had fascinated him during his recovery. Her fingers reached out to touch his left arm before she could halt them. She snatched them back.

  “You cannot hurt it.”

  “I wish you would explain how your arm healed so swiftly.”

  “I know.”

  She waited for him to add more, but he walked to the door and looked back at her, clearly anxious for her to lead him to Papa’s book-room. He knew how this distressed her, and yet he was not going to ease her curiosity. Blast this man!

  Walking in silence with him along the hall did nothing to lighten her spirits. She should be glad that he was keeping this wall of half-truths between them. That gave her the very best excuse to ignore her yearning for his kisses, but she could not be unaware of the coiled strength in his easy walk by her side. Until yesterday, he had been injured. When he had appeared at Dinah’s wedding, she had been overmastered by his virile strength that had been hinted at even when he could barely sit on the shore.

  The book-room was deserted. Through an open window, she heard the cheerful voices from the road in front of the house. She went to the window and waved to her sister, who was getting into Lord Simmons’s elegant carriage.

  “Will they be gone for a full turn of the moon?” Niles asked.

  “Longer actually. They are spending a month in Rome before going on to Zurich. Those plans, of course, are dependent upon events on the Continent. If Napoleon tries to grab more of it to add to his empire, they will return posthaste to England.”

  “Rome? I know of that city. Zurich, I do not know.”

  She pulled a large book from a nearby shelf and opened it on a book stand. Flipping through the pages, she pointed to a map. “This is where Zurich is. In the Alps north of Rome.”

  “I have never seen maps this well drawn.” He sucked in his breath in astonishment as he ran his finger along the page. “And the ink stays on the page instead of smearing so that a navigator can be tricked into misjudging the shore.”

  “Most books are printed now rather than hand-drawn.” Linnea turned a few more pages. “Here is England.”

  Again he brushed his fingertip against the map. “I know this inlet and that one.” His finger rounded the bottom of the island and moved west. “I had heard of this area—”

  “Wales,” she supplied with a smile.

  “I had heard of it, but I never traveled that far. Do you have a map of the lands of the Norrfoolk?”

  She nodded and found the pages showing Scandinavia. Stepping back as he bent to look more closely at his homeland, she was struck by a sudden sorrow. It was easy to forget her compassion when he was being tiresome. Could she have been as eager to learn all she could to survive if their situations had been reversed?

  Instead of answering that difficult question, she pulled another book from a higher shelf. The massive book wobbled in her hands, and she cringed as she feared it would fall on her head. When broad hands steadied it, she whispered, “Thank you, Niles.”

  “My pleasure, unnasta.” His breath warmed her nape.

  “You should not call me that.”

  “I know.”

  “But you just did!”

  “I know.” When he laughed, she grimaced. He enjoyed hoaxing her far too much.

  Trying to pay no mind to how close he continued to stand as she opened the second book, she found the picture she wished to show him. “Look here.”

  “What is it?” He leaned over her shoulder to look more closely.

  In spite of her efforts to appear serene when he pressed so near, her voice was breathless. “It is a ship.”

  “The sails...” He traced the highest mast. “How tall is this?”

  She paged through to another drawing that showed the tars scrambling across the sheets, their forms silhouetted against the broad sails. Handing it to him, she said, “This should offer you some comparison.”

  “By Thor’s hammer!” He sat on the arm of the closest chair as he stared at the page. “This ship is huge. My ship could have sat in the midst of its deck and not touched either railing.”

  “The ship in the picture would be considered a medium-sized ship nowadays.”

  “Amazing! Where are the oars?”

  “They use only sails now, although there has been some work with creating a boat that runs on a steam engine.”

  “A what?”

  “I don’t understand it totally myself, but it has to do with steam turning paddles that move the ship through the water.”

  His eyes widened. “So even if the wind is calm, the ship could continue on its way.”

  “Yes.”

  “Amazing,” he said again, but with a sigh. Closing the book, he placed it back on the shelf. “This time of yours has many marvels, but it seems you have paid for all this comfort and those new inventions with a tranquil life that provides little flavor to a man who has been accustomed to many challenges in his life.”

  She set the other book on its shelf. “Your challenge now is to convince the Polite World that you are one of them.”

  “Polite World! Even the phrase reminds me how far I am from my own time.”

  “I never guessed.”

  “Guessed what?”

  “How lonely you must be.”

  He laughed. “Lonely? In this house with all your family and all their servants?”

  “I am not speaking of that.” She sat on the chair beside where he stood. “I was speaking of how lonely you must be for your own time and your own world.”

  His smile vanished. “I try not to think of it.”

  She ran her hands along his sleeves, but drew them back when she touched the arm band he still wore. “I see you standing here in this coat, looking like any man among the ton, but I cannot help thinking of you as one of the men in the picture I first showed you of the Norrfoolk.”

  “I was brought to this time to do what I have vowed to do.”

  “Leaving everyone you know a thousand years in the past.” She blin
ked back sudden tears. “I have given that very little thought. I have preferred to think only of the jumble you have made of my life. To think of never seeing my family or my friends or...” Raising her eyes to meet his, she saw the depth of his sorrow. She put her fingers lightly on his sleeve again as she whispered something she had not dared to let herself think before, “Did you leave a wife in that time?”

  “My viigi maka—”

  “That means wife?”

  “Yes.” Nils put one hand over Linnea’s on his sleeve, and he wondered if she needed that comforting touch as much as he did now. “My viigi maka died of a winter illness the year after we wed. With her died our unborn child, for it was not ready to be born.”

  “Niles—Nils, I am so sorry.”

  He ran his finger along her soft lips as she spoke his true name. Her odd accent held a musical charm in his ears that was sweeter than the first birdsong of spring. “I would say that her death was the choice of the gods, but I did not accept it well. I have carried the grief with me for the past five years.”

  “So it was easy for you to be willing to die for your chieftain.”

  “In hopes of joining Gudrun?” He shook his head. “I did not wish to die any sooner than I must. If I had wanted death, I would have given myself into the Valkyrja’s hands when I was marked for death on the shore. Instead I fought for life to do what I was meant to do.”

  “Which was to come here to this time and place.”

  “Yes.”

  “This is all so peculiar.”

  “On that we can agree.” He walked out onto the terrace beyond the book-room. “When I look across these downs, I can see what is now, but I also can see what was. There were more trees then, and the settlements were much closer to the shore.”

  “Closer to shore? I would have guessed that they would have moved inland to hide from the raiders.”

  “There were raiders from inland as well, and the sea provided food for the people living here and an easier way to travel than by foot across the marshes and bogs.” Facing her, he smiled. “Then there were those who believed the forests were filled with evil beings. Better to face human foes than demons sent by ancient gods.”