My Lord Viking

by Ferguson, Jo Ann

  “You must be prepared to answer the questions Dr. Foster is bound to ask you.”

  “Questions?”

  “About your research, about what intrigues you about this subject so much that you are willing to leave the comfort of your home to tramp across the marshes and fields to learn more about people who became a part of England so many centuries ago.”

  “Wise questions.”

  She smiled. “And he will expect intelligent answers from you.”

  “I do know a few things about the Norrfoolk.” He chuckled.

  “But you know too much about the Norrfoolk.”

  “What?” His brow furrowed.

  She clasped his arm. “Nils, he will expect you to prove how you know what you know.”

  “I cannot do that.”

  “No, but...” She raised her fingers and began counting on them as she outlined the questions Dr. Foster might ask, along with the answers that might protect Nils. As Nils started to smile, she hoped he would heed her words.

  A tentative knock on the door interrupted her. As Jack walked in, she mumbled something before she hurried out into the corridor. She released the breath she might have been holding from the moment she had come to Nils’s door. Nils would heed her urging to be sensible, but she feared her heart would not any longer.

  Seventeen

  Linnea was pleased to come into the parlor and see her mother there. No one else was in the comfortable room where Mama was checking the flower arrangement set on the lyre table near the tallest window.

  “Ah, Linnea, just the person I had hoped to see.” Mama motioned for her to come to her side. “I trust I do not have to repeat the scold your father must have given you about failing to keep a close eye on the weather this time of year when we have so many thunderstorms brewing.”

  “No, Mama, you do not need to repeat that scold.” She kissed her mother on the cheek, not wanting Mama to guess that Papa had been too eager to introduce Dr. Foster to Nils to think of anything else.

  “Good.” Wiping bits of leaves from her hands, she said, “I understand you were with Lord Barrington.”

  She flinched, then realized Mama was not talking of Linnea being in Nils’s rooms. “Yes, we met on the shore. We were playing with Scamp when the storm crashed down upon us.”

  “With Scamp?” Mama’s right brow rose sharply. “I would not like to hear that anything else untoward had been happening.”

  “I know, Mama.” It was all she could say without resorting to falsehoods, and she already was being false with her family about Nils’s origins. That dishonesty ate at her, twisting her stomach, each time she spoke with Mama or Papa.

  Mama’s smile returned. “I know you do, child. You have always been the most prettily-mannered of all the children. If it had been Dinah...” She shook her head and chuckled. “Your coquettish sister is now wed, so she is her husband’s problem.”

  “Mama, when we came back from the shore, Papa introduced us to a friend of his.”

  “Actually Dr. Foster went to school with my brother,” Mama said as she stepped aside while a maid set the tea tray on the table in the middle of the parlor.

  “I never heard you speak of him before.”

  Lady Sutherland laughed merrily. “I doubt if I ever have had the need to speak of him. It was quite out of the blue that he sent a request to pay us a call at Sutherland Park. Your uncle has visited him at his home in Oxford on several occasions, but I have not seen Dr. Foster since your father and I wed.”

  “Did he say why he wanted to come here now?”

  “I am sure that your father must have mentioned to you that Dr. Foster is in the midst of a project of some sort of historical research.” Her mother’s smile faltered. “Linnea, you sound disconcerted by Dr. Foster’s visit. Is there something that bothers you about it?”

  “Having a friend of my uncle’s calling is no reason for disquiet, is it?” She tried to copy her mother’s cheerful laugh.

  “Then what is amiss?”

  “I hope nothing is.”

  Sitting, Lady Sutherland patted the cushion beside her. “I believe you are more distressed than you wish anyone else to know. Olive told me that you had received a note from Lord Tuthill.”

  “Yes.” She sat, but promised herself that she would speak to Olive as soon as possible. Olive needed to recall that she was no longer Linnea’s governess, but her maid.

  “Are you bothered because Lord Tuthill is pressing his suit?”

  “It is not a comfortable situation.” It was glorious to be able to be forthright at last.

  “You have inherited your father’s gift for minimizing your problems.”

  “Mama, if you were to speak to Papa about my uncertainty, he might listen.”

  Lady Sutherland’s fingers grazed Linnea’s cheek gently. “My dear child, if you were to share your uncertainty with your father on this, he will heed you. I think you have a greater problem.”

  “Getting Randolph to heed me when I speak of my mistake in letting him think I wish to marry him now?”

  “No. I am speaking of—” She abruptly stood. “Lord Barrington, you are always so punctual.”

  Linnea’s hands clasped more tightly in her lap as Nils gave Mama his most charming smile. The way her mother had reacted to Nils’s arrival suggested that she had guessed quite rightly that Nils was the reason why Linnea was unsettled.

  He bowed gracefully over Mama’s hand. Again he was dressed in the perfectly tailored coat he had worn when he appeared at the house during Dinah’s wedding. “It behooves a gentleman who is about to enjoy the company of two lovely ladies not to miss even a moment of any such opportunity.”

  “I suspect you are a man, Lord Barrington,” Mama returned, “who seldom misses any opportunity that is to your favor.”

  “You are right, my lady.” He looked past her and smiled more broadly. “You look much drier than when I last saw you, Linnea.”

  Although she knew Mama would guess that he meant when they had parted ways in the foyer on their way to get their baths, fire slapped Linnea’s face. How had she gotten so caught up in protecting Nils that she forgot to protect herself from ruin? Yet, as his smile warmed his eyes—and her— she knew she would gladly risk anything for the chance to taste his kiss once more and once more after that and once more after that...

  “Lord Tuthill, my lady,” came a footman’s voice from near the doorway.

  Linnea’s stomach cramped, but she kept a smile on her face as Mama went to greet Randolph. As always, Randolph was in prime twig, although she considered the bright green stripes of his waistcoat a bit garish. She guessed he had assumed a preference for such colors during his last visit to London.

  Rising, Linnea also went forward to greet him, pausing while he bowed over Mama’s hand. His motions were even smoother than Nils’s, but his greeting did not sound as sincere. That was absurd, for Nils was deluding everyone with his tales. Or was Randolph trying to hide his true emotions as well? That was a most unnerving thought.

  Only when Randolph raised his head and scowled did she realize that she had stopped next to Nils. She started to step away, but Nils’s hand at the back of her waist kept her beside him.

  “He shows his determination to break your heart quite clearly,” Nils murmured.

  She did not answer him as she stepped forward and offered her hand to Randolph exactly as her mother had. When he grasped her shoulders and bent toward her, she turned her head at the last moment to keep him from kissing her on the mouth. She was almost certain she heard him mutter a very crude phrase under his breath as his lips brushed her cheek.

  “Randolph!” she gasped, hoping she had misheard him. A strong odor of something more potent than wine came from him, and she wondered how much he had been drinking before he had called.

  He ignored her scold as he turned to greet her father who was coming into the room. Randolph’s cheerful smile would offer Lord Sutherland no hint that anything was bothering him, but Linnea
knew only if Randolph was deeply distressed would he speak so in her hearing.

  Linnea started to label Randolph a hypocrite in her mind, but halted herself. She was no better than he was, for she played such a huge role in this lie that had taken over her life. When broad fingers touched her back, the sensation as light and fleeting as a butterfly’s passage, she smiled.

  Nils.

  With no one else would she have been as aware of such a feathery caress, the mere passage of his fingers across her skin. She would have dismissed anyone else’s touch as a chance contact. While Papa introduced Randolph to Dr. Foster, just entering the parlor, she savored Nils’s touch. She was courting danger to let him be so bold, but she wanted to enjoy this for as long as she could.

  Randolph held out his arm to her in a silent order. Knowing that any hesitation might create the very scene she wished to avoid, Linnea put her fingers on it. He clamped his hand over hers and gave Nils a cold smile. She did not look at Nils as she let Randolph lead her to where the tea waited. Her one effort to select a chair failed when Randolph seated her next to him on a small settee.

  Nils crossed the room, chatting with Dr. Foster as if they already were the closest of tie-mates, and sat across from her. When the toe of his boot brushed her slipper beneath the table, she wanted to smile. He might be trying to fortify her for this disquieting gathering, or he might simply be attempting to disconcert her with the reminder of how much more intimately he wished to caress her.

  “Linnea?” Her mother’s tone suggested she was repeating herself.

  “Yes, Mama?”

  “Will you pour?”

  “Thank you. I would be delighted to.” Anything to keep her fingers busy so no one could see how they quivered with anxiety—and anticipation—of Nils’s touch.

  Linnea concentrated on serving the tea as she listened to the conversation around her. It was cordial, but careful. Randolph asked Dr. Foster about his journey to Sutherland Park and commented on the weather. Mama expressed her delight that a storm had not come during Dinah’s wedding. Papa accepted Dr. Foster’s congratulations on a good match for yet another daughter. It was all exactly as it should be.

  She held out a tea cup to Nils, and he gave her the scintillating smile that always stirred something deep within her. The cup rattled against his saucer as her fingers trembled. When Mama gave her a disapproving glance, Linnea steadied the cup.

  “Thank you,” Nils said, his fingers stroking hers gently as he took the cup from her.

  “You are welcome.”

  There was nothing out-of-the-ordinary about their words, but she heard Randolph grumble something under his breath. She stiffened. If he was going to react so to everything said between her and Nils, this gathering was going to be even more discomfiting than she had feared.

  “Did you say something, Tuthill?” asked Nils, his smile tightening. “You must speak up if you wish all of us to hear.”

  “I—I—” Randolph’s ears grew crimson as he turned to Dr. Foster, who was listening with a benevolent smile. “Lady Sutherland mentioned you were here for a very special reason, Dr. Foster. May I inquire as to what it is?”

  “I am here to do some research out on the downs.”

  “Research for what?” asked Randolph.

  Dr. Foster shot Nils a wide grin before replying, “Any traces I can find here of Viking settlement.”

  “Vikings?” Randolph laughed tersely. “Has everyone in Sutherland Park suddenly become obsessed with those ancient thieves?”

  Linnea looked hastily at Nils, hoping he would endure yet another insult fired at him by Randolph. This one was not even intentional, but it could be more hurtful than any of the other remarks Randolph had made out of spite.

  “Thieves?” asked Dr. Foster before she could think of words to ease the tension that her parents and Dr. Foster might not even be aware of. “I suppose you could call them that, my lord. Many of them were.” He laughed, the sound showing that he enjoyed life in all its aspects, even arguing with Randolph. “However, you would have to say the same of many of the folks in our own century. Not just the pickpocket or the highwayman, but the businessman who cheats his partner and the bakery worker who absconds with an extra biscuit at day’s end. I believe we would find unscrupulous sorts in every era.” His smile broadened as he added, “Lord Sutherland has told me repeatedly, Lord Barrington, that you are a renowned expert in this field. Odd that I have not heard of you before now.”

  “My work has not yet been published.” Nils smiled at Linnea, whose shoulders drooped with relief. Did she think he would not recall all she had told him upstairs? Or was she just pleased the conversation had taken this turn that she had anticipated?

  “No?” Dr. Foster ran his fingers through his beard. “Why not?”

  “I have been busy in recent years with the obligations that came to me when my uncle died and left me his title and his debts.” Nils’s laugh sounded sincere. “You understand that, don’t you, Tuthill?”

  “I prefer,” Randolph said in his sternest tone, “not to speak of business in the presence of the ladies.”

  Lord Sutherland chuckled. “Then you fail to understand the women of this family, my boy. I can assure you that Lady Sutherland has great insights into any discussion of the current economic situation in England. Her knowledge is superior to most men I have met.” He patted his wife’s hand with a rare public showing of affection. “A man is fortunate to have a helpmeet who shares his interests.”

  Not to be put off, Dr. Foster asked, “So you are planning to publish the results of your research, Lord Barrington?”

  “As soon as I complete some other business.” He looked again at Linnea.

  When Tuthill bristled like a hedgehog, Nils wondered if Tuthill would have been so belligerent had they met a thousand years in the past. His fingers brushed the haft of the knife he kept hidden beneath his waistcoat. It was intriguing to see Tuthill squirm in this exchange of polite words, but there would have been greater gratification in meeting him across bare swords where the prize granted to the winner was Linnea.

  Seeing distress blossom in her expressive eyes, Nils let his favorite curse rumble through his head. She was distressed. Why? Because he was playing Tuthill for the daari he was? She professed to have no interest in marrying this man; yet she was pained by his humiliation. This made no sense. Women in his own time had been straightforward, although oft-times baffling to a man. In this time, far too often, he could not comprehend why Linnea reacted as she did. Except when she was in his arms. Then there was an honesty in her innocent caresses that spoke plainly to him.

  “Lord Barrington?”

  Nils looked back at Dr. Foster. “Forgive me. What did you say?”

  “I was asking what the hypothesis of your research is?”

  He hesitated. Hypothesis? That was one word that Linnea had failed to mention to him.

  Linnea laughed and tapped his arm playfully. “Do not be anxious that Dr. Foster will appropriate your theories about the Vikings.”

  “Of course not!” huffed Dr. Foster. “My lord, if I gave you any idea that that was my intention, I beg you to accept my apology.”

  “No, no.” Nils wanted to thank Linnea for saving him yet again, but knew that would have to wait. A quiver raced through him, reacting in every part of him, as he imagined them alone when he showed her just how grateful he was for her help, and for her alluring touch. Forcing himself to concentrate on the conversation here, he added, “That was never in my thoughts, Dr. Foster. I was simply trying to think best how to put this.” He laughed. “Now you can see why my results have not yet been published. My thoughts are too scattered.”

  “I can understand why.”

  Nils wanted to snarl an oath when Dr. Foster smiled at Linnea. By Thor’s hammer, setting off Tuthill again would only succeed in hurting her.

  As if he had not discerned anything amiss about Dr. Foster’s smile, he said, “One thing that is often overlooked in the annals of
that time is that the Norrfoolk were following in the footsteps of the English.”

  “How so?”

  He was able to smile more sincerely when he saw Linnea was listening as intently as Dr. Foster and her father. “Almost as many years before the time of the Norrfoolk excursions here as have passed since them, the Roman armies conquered this island and named it Britannia.”

  “That is true, but I do not see how that connects with your statement.”

  “Patience, Dr. Foster.” Nils glanced at Linnea, and she was relieved to see amusement in his eyes. She hoped Tuthill would notice it as well, so he would realize that he should not read more into this conversation than the words spoken.

  “I am simply very curious, my lord.”

  Nils’s amusement was hidden when he looked back at the professor. “When the Romans were recalled to Rome to protect it from invaders, they did not have time to take all their valuables with them. Much gold and jewels were left in the retreat. The English took those items for their own use or remade them to fill their churches and homes. As they stole from the Romans, so the Norrfoolk stole from them.”

  “A most interesting theory.” Dr. Foster grinned. “I would enjoy witnessing you sharing this with my colleagues. You must pay me a call in Oxford, so I might savor that moment.”

  “Oxford is not far from London,” Linnea said. “When we next go to London—”

  “Ah, that will not be possible,” Dr. Foster said. “I will be going in the spring to oversee an excavation in Iceland.” Again he released one of his enthusiastic laughs that shook his belly. “Let others be fascinated with what Napoleon’s soldiers uncovered in Egypt. While they are arguing about ancient mysteries that may never reveal their secrets, I shall enjoy learning more about the Norrfoolk that traveled the northern seas from Scandinavia to the far reaches of the western Atlantic Ocean.”

  “Iceland?” Nils asked. “You are very fortunate, Dr. Foster.”

  Mama shook her head. “To go to a place filled with volcanoes and ice and cold winds? I doubt if I would say that anyone who goes there is fortunate.”