My Lord Viking

by Ferguson, Jo Ann

  “I have heard that Iceland is a very intriguing place,” Linnea said.

  “You are right, my dear young lady.” Dr. Foster chuckled again and bowed his head toward her mother as he went on, “Your description of the bleak land better fits Greenland. My stop there will be brief before going on to Vinland.”

  “Vinland?” asked Linnea, seeing Nils’s puzzlement, which he quickly hid. “Where is that?”

  “We believe somewhere in Canada or the coast south of there.” Locking his hands over his belly, he sighed. “Not that it is possible to go to the United States with the recent declaration of war between them and England. However, I hope to prove that the stories in the old sagas are true, and the Vikings reached the New World.”

  “The New World?” Nils asked quietly.

  “America,” Linnea murmured, hoping he had gotten that far in his study of the geography book she had seen him perusing several times in Papa’s book-room. “You believe the Norrfoolk went that far?”

  Dr. Foster tugged on his beard as his eyes narrowed. “I notice that both you and Lord Barrington speak that old Norse word in the way I have argued with other ancient history scholars is correct. Where did you learn to speak it so? Bradley at Cambridge refuses to acknowledge that my translation and pronunciation are correct.”

  “I am only pronouncing the word as I had guessed it would be pronounced,” Linnea replied, making sure she still was smiling. Dr. Foster must not suspect that she had learned to speak the word from the only living Viking. “If it is wrong, Niles has been kind enough not to correct me.”

  “No, no,” Dr. Foster said, “you are, in my opinion, quite accurate in the way you say it.” He turned to Nils. “You would do well to heed exactly how she says it, Barrington. Your pronunciation is a bit different.”

  Nils chuckled. “I have noticed that as well, and I can assure you that I make it a practice to heed everything Lady Linnea has to say. She has proven very insightful about various matters of the past here at Sutherland Park.”

  Randolph quickly changed the subject to the various events that would be held throughout the shire during the summer. When Mama enthusiastically discussed with him the upcoming fair at the parish church in the village just inland from Sutherland Park, Linnea relaxed back against the settee. She sipped her tea and hoped that the next discussion on this topic would end up as successfully. Dr. Foster seemingly accepted Nils as a colleague in the study of the Viking explorers.

  When Mama announced that it was time for the gentlemen to enjoy some wine before dinner, Linnea was glad to come to her feet and bid them adieu. She said little more during dinner and the conversation that followed, again in the parlor, but this time with Martin and his wife present. Noting how Minnie avoided speaking to Randolph, Linnea promised herself that she would talk, on the first possible occasion, to her sister-in-law about her unexpected antipathy toward their neighbor.

  It was nearly midnight when Randolph took his leave. Again he had to be satisfied with no more than a kiss on the cheek. She hurried up the stairs where her mother waited, watching to be certain nothing improper took place.

  “What an interesting evening,” Mama said as they climbed the stairs to the next floor. “I believe we should have another conversazione here soon. It is refreshing to speak of scientific discoveries and business matters.”

  “But you seemed so pleased to discuss the village fair with Randolph.”

  Lady Sutherland laughed. “You must learn to distinguish between being interested in something and being a good hostess.”

  “Mama!” She could not help laughing, too.

  “You will learn the skills when you have a home and guests of your own.” She paused where the hallway diverged toward Linnea’s rooms. Putting her hand on Linnea’s cheek, she said, “We shall speak more of this on the morrow, for I do not like how the light vanishes from your eyes at any mention of your future.”

  “Mama, if—”

  “Do not fret, my dear child. All will come about as it is meant to be. For now, I must retire. I have accounts to review for your papa tomorrow morning, so I must be clear-eyed.”

  “Yes, Mama.” She bid her mother good night, then turned down the quiet passage to her rooms. Once these hallways had been filled with conversation and laughter, but, one by one, her older siblings had left home, taking so much of the noise with them.

  Opening her door, she was amazed to see only a single lamp was lit. Olive customarily had the room ablaze with light. She walked to light another, but halted when a tall silhouette rose from the window seat.

  “Nils,” she breathed. She looked back at the closed door. “You should not be here.”

  “Jack is proving to be an excellent accomplice. He told me he would keep Olive busy in the kitchens for a few more minutes.” He held out his hand. “Come, unnasta.”

  She put her fingers on his wide palm and let him bring her to sit on the thick cushions of the window seat. With only a single lamp unable to chase away all the shadows, there was no worry that someone would see that she was not sitting alone here.

  “Nils—”

  His finger against her lips slid down to her chin to tilt it toward him. “Let me look at your face in the moonlight. I have seen your smile in the sunshine, but now I want to see now how you would look beside me during the night.”

  She breathed his name in the moment before his lips stroked hers. He leaned her back onto the cushion, and she welcomed the pressure of his strong body pinning her beneath him. Sensations she could not name rushed through her when his motion introduced her to his undeniable desire. The hard lines urged her to cede herself to him.

  With a groan, he drew back. Her protest was silenced by his mouth over hers before he whispered, “Jack cannot keep your maid away long enough for us to satisfy this craving.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  His laugh was tinged with regret. “You know how to drive a man to desperation, unnasta. I wanted these stolen minutes to reassure you that you need not worry so much about him.”

  “Randolph?”

  Linnea did not understand what Nils said, but she knew it was a curse. He released her and stood. When she feared he would walk out of the room, he faced her and spat, “Do not speak his name when you are in my arms.”

  “You know I do not love him.” Swallowing roughly, she halted herself before she could let the words as I love you escape from her lips.

  “But you have not told him to leave Sutherland Park with his futile dreams of marrying you.”

  “No.”

  When she added nothing more, he swore again. “I have no interest in speaking of Tuthill.”

  “So you must wish to speak of Dr. Foster. You are fascinated with him.”

  “As you would be fascinated by a poisonous snake.”

  An icy chill struck her as she rose and lit another lamp. “Do you think he is that dangerous for you?”

  “All of you are.” The back of his fingers grazed her cheek. “Dr. Foster has great interest about the past, and he is eager to learn more. However, the greatest danger comes from you, unnasta. You tempt me to forget my quest for anything but the sweetness that awaits me on your lips.”

  She was not certain if he or she was more surprised when she turned her face away from his. Leaning her hands on the wide window frame, she gazed out at the sea beyond the tamed gardens of Sutherland Park. “I do not know why you are staying here when Papa would give you a carriage to go to London.”

  “And where would I look? I need you to come with me to be my guide, Linnea.” He stroked her hair. “There is much we could learn from one another.”

  “I told you I cannot travel alone with you to London.”

  “And I told you that I think that is an absurd restriction to put on a woman.”

  “Would you allow your sister to travel alone with a man who...a man who wants more than kisses from her? I think you would slay any man who suggested that to your sister.” Linnea wanted to take back
the words that reminded him too poignantly of the family that he had left behind so far back in time, but it was too late. In the windowpane, she could see the reflection of Nils’s face as sorrow stole the rough edges from it. Whirling, she put her hands on his arms before he could walk away. “Forgive me for reminding you of your pain.”

  “You do not remind me of what I cannot forget.” His shoulders squared as he looked past her to the shore. “I will never forget it. Never.”

  Eighteen

  Nils heard the lighthearted voices from beyond the stable. Realizing that he had never explored in this direction, he walked around the paddock. The laughter grew louder as he approached a group of people clustered by another fenced area. There must be a half dozen people standing by the fence, but he could distinguish Linnea’s musical laugh from all other sounds.

  How long had it been since he had held her in her bedchamber? Six long days, but he would have guessed it was six years, for he had thought endlessly of that stolen moment when he had almost given into his longing for her. Since then, even when she had not been busy with tasks throughout the house, his time had been monopolized by Dr. Foster. Only Lady Sutherland’s invitation for the professor to join her for a visit to her favorite roses had given Nils this chance to escape.

  “Niles!” Linnea exclaimed as she turned to wave to him. “Do come and join us.”

  The slight emphasis she put on the last word was all the warning he needed. He had his smile firmly in place as he nodded to Tuthill, who was standing possessively close to Linnea. Trying not to glare at the hand Tuthill had on her arm, Nils added a greeting to Martin Sutherland and his wife.

  “‘Tis about time,” Martin said, chuckling.

  “For what?” Nils hoped his tone did not sound too cautious, but he did not want to assume the wrong thing from Linnea’s brother’s terse comment.

  “For you to elude Dr. Foster’s interrogation of you about everything Viking.” Martin laughed again and slapped him companionably on the shoulder. “You are too blasted polite, man.”

  Nils looked at Linnea. How she had lamented that he would never learn what he needed to enter the Polite World unnoticed. Her gentle smile told him that his amazement was too visible. A jab of an elbow in his side forced his eyes away from hers.

  Martin grinned broadly. “I was going to suggest that you tell him that not every thought you have is rooted in the distant past, but eventually his eyes are going to show him that, I would suspect.”

  “Martin, watch what you say,” his wife hissed. “You are going to embarrass him.”

  Nils was not sure if she meant him or Tuthill, so he said nothing as Martin put his arm around his wife. Something unanticipated pinched Nils. Jealousy? Not of Tuthill, who was drawing Linnea closer to the fence to put some distance between them and Nils, but of Martin, who could be so open with his affection for his wife.

  He went to stand by the fence as well and discovered it was a sheepfold. A wild bleating filled the air as a husky man tilted one of the sheep on its side and clipped the wool from it.

  Leaning his elbows on the wooden rail, he let his hands drape over the side. “You might find it an easier chore if you sit the sheep back on its haunches and shear it that way,” he called to the struggling man.

  “You know how to shear a sheep?” asked Linnea, her eyes wide.

  “I have...had—” He cleared his throat when he realized Linnea was not the only one listening. He could not tell her now of how the sheep-filled meadows had climbed the sides of the fjord where he had spent his boyhood. Nor could he share the tales of the festivals and how his father had taught him to take the wool from a sheep in a single piece with a few slashes of a sharp knife. The stories of that time must wait until they were alone. Quietly, he added, “I have had experience with many of the aspects of farming. When I have not been traveling, I have enjoyed tending to the husbandry on my lands.”

  “I did not realize that a Norrfoolk—”

  “Linnea, despite what you and Dr. Foster think, I have a life beyond my studies.”

  She stiffened, then smiled when Tuthill asked her what was wrong. The expression was so brittle he feared she would shatter. This subterfuge bothered her more with every passing day. So accustomed was she to being the pampered youngest child of her well-respected father that she had never needed to learn to hide her true thoughts from an enemy.

  Now she must learn and learn well.

  Tuthill asked, “Is something bothering you, Linnea? You know this does not harm the sheep.”

  “Yes, I know.” Her answer was meek, but her tone was not.

  Nils silenced his chuckle as Tuthill began to explain in precise detail the whole process of shearing. No wonder Tuthill was completely oblivious to her lack of interest in becoming his wife. He ignored everything she said and did, assuming she was more witless than a child.

  Linnea’s smile returned when Minnie Sutherland linked their arms, and the two women went to another pen where the lambs were bleating as they waited for the ewes to be returned.

  Martin arched a dark brow. “I do wonder what the two of them are plotting now. I hope it is nothing that will require more dancing.”

  “Dancing is not horrible,” Tuthill retorted. “There was plenty of it at your sister Dinah’s wedding.”

  “Enough for me for a while.”

  Nils could not restrain this laugh.

  Tuthill scowled at him and turned on his heel to go to where the women were stretching their hands through the fence to pet the lambs.

  Rolling his eyes, Martin said, “He assumes every comment is aimed at him and Linnea’s indecision.”

  “Rightly so, for she has been delaying that decision for some time it seems.”

  “That is a woman’s way.” He shrugged. “Tuthill is a fine man. I am not sure why she is hesitating. I know our father would be glad to be done with the whole of this marriage situation, so he can concentrate on the important concerns of his businesses.”

  Nils did not reply as Martin went to stand beside his wife. By Thor’s hammer! He had not guessed that Linnea’s brother was in favor of this match. The reasons Martin gave were practical, but the truth was that Linnea would be miserable with Tuthill.

  Wandering in the opposite direction, for he wanted to compose his thoughts before he said the very thing that would worsen the whole of this, he realized he could not let her be forced into this marriage that would make her miserable. She had saved his life. For that, he owed her his help in saving her from becoming Tuthill’s bride.

  “You are a man of honor, Nils Bjornsson.”

  The words, in his own language, halted him in midstep. He stared at the form in front of him. The muscular man in his middle years was dressed in simple clothing of gray and blue. A dark bird sat on each shoulder, and two large dogs stood on either side of him. Not dogs. Wolves. Nils choked back his shock when he saw the man had only one eye.

  “Odin?” he asked, not sure if he believed his own question. The greatest of all gods had traded one of his eyes at the well of wisdom for more knowledge.

  “I had thought to see what so interested Loki and Freya.” The god chuckled, the sound like a harsh winter wind in Nils’s ears.

  Nils started to kneel, but Odin’s raised hand halted him.

  “You can see and hear me, son of the Norrfoolk, but others cannot. They will question your mind’s strength if you prostrate yourself in these sheep droppings.”

  “As you wish, so shall it be.”

  “It is not as I wish. I had expected to see you at the table of the heroes in Valhalla.”

  “The shame upon my family must be cleansed.”

  Odin nodded. “That is true.”

  “My brother’s shame is mine and all my family’s. When I have returned the knife to my chieftain, then the shame will be forgotten as if it never existed.”

  “And will you meet your brother in a holmgänga?”

  Nils shook his head. He could not imagine slaying his own br
other in the one-on-one duel to the death beyond the reach of the laws of the Norrfoolk. “He has joined the others who were outlawed in seeking a place to live in Greenland to the far west. To chase him there will bring only more disgrace on my family. My blood-enemy here is the son of Korts. He and I will meet in a holmgänga if I can find him.”

  “You are a man of honor, Nils Bjornsson. That is why I am here. Your success so far—”

  “Success? I have done nothing.” He bowed his head. “Forgive me, Allfather, for interrupting you.”

  “You are my child.” Odin put his huge hand on Nils’s shoulder, the weight nearly driving Nils to his knees. An icy chill flooded out from the god’s fingers. “Your success so far is measured by the fact that you still breathe and that you are closing in on the treasure you seek. You should know that there are those in Asgard who believe you would fail. There are those who wish you to fail. There are those who wish to see the old battles fought once more, so that mortals know the old gods have not vanished, but only are waiting for the time to return. It is because of those many beliefs in how your quest should unravel that you remain alive. Loki dares not kill you when there are others intrigued by your experiences here in the land of the English. Be wary in all that you do, Nils Bjornsson.”

  “I shall.”

  Odin’s single eye narrowed. “This is not my time or my place any longer. Fare well, Nils Bjornsson. I shall not see you again until you sup at my table...if that is to be.”

  He was gone.

  Nils took a deep breath and released it slowly through his clenched teeth. Odin would not have brought him this warning as a jest. The Allfather, who ruled from his high throne, was not like Loki.

  How had his quest become entangled with the halls of Asgard? None of this made any sense, but that did not matter. He must do as he had vowed.

  His foot struck something that skittered across the ground. Picking it up, he saw it was a discarded ram’s horn. He drew his knife and slashed the blade across the narrow end, smoothing it. He blew through it. The low, haunting sound rushed from the wider section of horn. Turning to face the north, he saw everyone around the sheepfold had paused. He paid them no mind as he blew in the horn again.