My Lord Viking

by Ferguson, Jo Ann

  She stared at the pool, which had become as smooth as the looking glass in her room. Not even a leaf moved on any of the bushes or the trees. The night sounds were evaporating into silence. She stared about her. Nothing seemed amiss, but why was everything so still?

  A hand settled on her shoulder, and she jumped to her feet. Whirling, she saw a woman standing behind the bench. The woman’s hair was the silver of a newly minted coin. Not even the moonlight could dim its rich sheen. Dressed in loose robes that were more suited for private chambers than a garden, she was smiling. In her hand, she held a round crystal globe. She let it roll over her fingers and back and forth.

  “Who are you?” Linnea asked.

  “Do not be fearful. I mean you no harm.” She balanced the clear ball on her fingertips as she held up her hands, which were a ghostly white in the moon’s glow. “I was walking this way and saw you sitting here. I thought I might stop to speak with you.”

  “Are you lost?” It would be beyond ironic that Linnea had created the story of Nils being set upon by highwaymen and wandering—lost and seeking help—onto Sutherland Park’s lands when this woman might have suffered the very same in truth.

  “No, I am not lost, although this is far from my home.” She smiled. “You need not fear me, because I wish you no harm.”

  “I did not mean to suggest that. I only meant to offer you a place to rest and food to eat if you are lost and in need of shelter.”

  “Your kindness to another stranger is laudable.”

  “Another stranger?” Linnea asked with studied caution.

  The woman’s smile broadened. “It is well known that you asked your father to open his home to a wayfarer who had lost more than his way.”

  Linnea nodded. That fact was probably known in every household throughout the shire by this time. Every guest who had ever come to Sutherland Park was the source of much interest among their tenants. “It has long been a tradition that Sutherland Park opens its doors to those in need.”

  “But it has been far longer that your guest has been lost.”

  Linnea stiffened. This woman’s words were vague, but too close to the truth that no one knew, save she and Nils. “If you are not lost—”

  The woman smiled. “There are many ways to be lost. One can lose one’s way on a path or upon the sea or in the journey of life. The stranger who has come to you is not the only one lost.”

  “I do not understand you. You are making no sense.”

  “No?” She laughed. “Maybe I do not, but I do know one thing. You love him.”

  Linnea stared at the woman, whose hair glowed more brightly silver in the moonlight as she came around the end of the bench. Somehow, Linnea must have betrayed herself when someone was watching. Somehow? She almost laughed. Minnie had seen her affection for Nils. Randolph had, too, she feared. And Nils...Had he seen it? She closed her eyes and recreated the intensity on his face when he had asked her to come back in time with him. He must know as well.

  Yet she could not speak of the truth in her heart to this woman. “How can you think that you know?”

  “I know it as you know it.” The woman smiled and put her hand in the center of her chest. “You know within you. Here.”

  “Even if I did love him, what does it matter? I cannot tell him.”

  “Because he must be free to seek what brought him here?”

  Linnea took a step away from the pool. “Who are you that you have so much knowledge that no one else should have?”

  “I am someone who wishes to see the pain within two hearts eased.”

  “Thank you, but...” She backed away another step. “If you are hungry, go to the kitchen door, and someone will be there to give you something to eat. I bid you a good night.”

  Linnea whirled and bumped into a hard form. Nils put his arm around her to steady her. When he asked if she was all right, she nodded. She started to ask him what he was doing out here in the garden, then saw he was staring past her at the woman with the wondrous silver hair.

  “Sit here, and I will be right back,” Nils said, seating her on the bench.

  “But—”

  “Wait here, unnasta. I will...I will be right back.” He went to where the woman was still standing by the shore of the pool.

  The woman said something, but the only thing Linnea could understand was, “Nils Bjornsson.”

  Linnea gasped, horrified at the sound of his real name on someone else’s lips. Both Jack and Olive had been careful not to use it when others might hear. How did this stranger know it?

  Nils continued to stare at the woman before him. He had left the house, hoping to find a place to be alone. Something had drawn him to this garden by the pavilion that once he had despised as a prison. Then he had seen Linnea here, and he had guessed she was the reason he had found himself summoned here...until he saw she was not alone.

  “Vjofn?” he asked.

  “You recognize me, which bespeaks well of your knowledge of the ways that were yours.” She held up the crystal globe, which reflected his face back to him. “I see your questions. I will answer one by telling you that I am here because it is as you have feared.”

  He bowed his head toward Vjofn as he asked, “Do you speak of Loki?”

  “He is very angry that you have tried to gainsay him,” she replied.

  “I know that, for he has told me so himself.”

  “Loki is a daari, but a powerful one. Take care what you do, Nils Bjornsson. He believes that a mistake was made when Freya allowed you to survive. He has stated openly in Asgard that such a mistake must be rectified.”

  “Odin has spoken to me of—”

  “There are ways that Loki can outsmart even Odin himself. You know well the old tales. You know Loki’s vengeance is as horrific as his arrogance. He has been playing with you for his own enjoyment.”

  “But he has not slain me.”

  “No, but only because he suspects you have a powerful ally.”

  “Freya is not my ally.”

  “There are many in Asgard who have reasons to keep Loki from slaying you instantly. Maybe even Loki himself, for he knows you would be granted a seat at the highest table in Valhalla.”

  Nils sighed. “My quest to regain honor is not yet completed. That place at Odin’s table might not be mine.”

  “Whether it is or not is for the Allfather to decide. However, Loki is wily, and he is determined to have his way. He cares little who suffers when he is determined to prove that he is right.” She turned her icy blue gaze toward Linnea. “Take care with all decisions you make, Nils Bjornsson.”

  She put the crystal in his hands. It was not icy cold as he had expected. Instead, it was warm as if she had been holding it for a long time.

  “What is this?”

  “There are those who acknowledge your bravery and your sacrifice in denying yourself a hero’s welcome in Valhalla. I was asked to bring this to you.”

  “By Frigga, Odin’s wife?”

  Vjofn smiled. “Your allies are as powerful as your enemies, Nils Bjornsson, but you cannot always depend on their help. That is why I have brought you this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Whatever you want it to be. It has been sent to you as a reward.”

  “A glass ball?” He was confused. Searching his mind, he tried to recall when he had ever heard of one of Frigga’s handmaidens carrying such a thing. He could not remember, and he wondered if there were stories that even mortals were not privy to about the world of the gods. “If Loki sent you with this—”

  Her smile did not change, but he sensed her fury. “I do not come here for Loki. I never do his service.”

  “Forgive me.”

  “You have reason to be concerned, Nils Bjornsson, but you should know that the treasures Odin possesses are not only made of gold.”

  “Why are you talking about Loki and Odin?” Linnea asked, as she put her hand on his arm, startling him. “I don’t know what else you are saying, but I recognize
their names.”

  “Hush, Linnea.” He patted her hand, but he continued to stare at the woman whose robes swirled around her even though the night breeze was gone. “I must think.”

  “About what? What can be more important than the fact that this woman knows your real name?”

  “You can see her?” He stared at Linnea in disbelief. “You can hear her?”

  “Of course.” Linnea was tempted to put her hand up to discover if Nils was suffering from a fever. “Why shouldn’t I see someone who is right there?” She gestured toward the woman, then gasped. The woman was gone! She looked both ways along the pool. “Where is she?”

  “Not here.” His voice was grim again.

  “Niles!” she gasped, careful not to speak his true name, although she was certain she had heard the woman use it.

  “That is not my name.” He gripped her arm and brought her to him. “By Thor’s hammer, that is not my name. I tire of this charade of pretending to be someone I am not. When I saw Vjofn here...”

  “Who?”

  “Vjofn, one of Frigga’s handmaidens.”

  Linnea struggled to speak past her shock. “Frigga? Odin’s wife? Like in the myths?”

  “How can you call the truth a myth when Vjofn was here speaking with you?”

  “You are making no sense.” Her vexation focused on him. Nothing had been the way it should be tonight. Mayhap he was frustrated with hiding the truth behind his façade of being an English peer, but she hated the lies, too.

  His hand slid up from her shoulder to cup her cheek. He held it so his gaze locked with hers. “I want to know why you can see Vjofn when you do not believe in the old ways.”

  “I don’t know. I was sitting on the bench, thinking, when she walked up to me and began talking.”

  “Thinking? Of what?”

  She hoped the moonlight hid the flush climbing her cheeks. “Of all that has happened since I found you on the beach.”

  “So you called her.”

  “Called her? I told you. I was thinking. I did not call to anyone. I...” She stared up at him as he slowly nodded. “What you are suggesting is impossible. Even if the old gods ever existed, why would one of them come here to speak with me? I am not of the Norrfoolk.”

  He smiled. “Your accent is becoming less intolerable, Linnea.”

  “How kind of you to notice!” She walked away from him along the pool. Did its serene surface hide many raging storms like the ones whirling about inside her head?

  “Are you going to ignore the truth?” Nils asked from behind her.

  “I know I was sitting here, and I know a woman I did not recognize came to speak with me. The rest is skimble-skamble.”

  “Call it silly, if you wish, but the truth is before you.” He paused, then said, “It was here before you.”

  “But what you are suggesting is simply impossible.”

  “As it is impossible for me to be here?”

  Linnea walked back to where he was standing by the bench. “Yes,” she whispered. “I still am not sure I believe you are here.”

  “Sometimes, I wonder about that myself.”

  “And other times?”

  “Other times, I do this.” His mouth captured hers as his hand holding the crystal globe swept around her waist, enfolding her to him. Her hands tightened on his back to keep from being swept away by the tempest of her longing.

  He kissed her until she melted against him. He held her, teasing them both with the passion neither could deny. Without his arms around her, she doubted if her unsteady knees could have supported her. She wanted to touch him, to have him caress her.

  With his lips grazing the skin along her neck, she admitted the truth she had been hiding from herself. She had let him lure her into his arms so she could encourage him to love her like this. No longer could she pretend to be oblivious to the need which had kept her from sleeping.

  All yearning to push him away vanished along with her foolish belief that she could halt this love from devouring her in its need to be satisfied. So long she had hidden her longings behind the screen of propriety while she fought his easy assumption that their love was inevitable. She had not wanted to admit he was correct, but he was. In defeat, she found the sweetest victory she could imagine.

  “Nils...”

  “Do not speak, unnasta. Let me savor your lips against mine.”

  It took every bit of her strength to push him away when she wanted to pull him even closer. “I must. I must know. Why did she come here?”

  “To give me a warning.”

  “About what?”

  “Loki. He is angry with me.”

  “Why?”

  Nils wanted to tell her that it was not important, that all he wanted now was to make love with her. He could not lie to her now, not when lying with her was what every inch of his body craved. “My blood-oath was heard by Freya, who would have sent the Valkyrja to carry me to Valhalla. It apparently was also heard by Loki.”

  “The god of mischief.”

  He smiled. “You have been studying the old stories, I see.”

  “But they are only stories.”

  “Maybe now that is all they are, but when I first stepped foot on this shore, the Norrfoolk knew well the names of their gods and feared what each of them could do to a careless mortal who did not respect their power.” He stroked her back in slow circles. “Then the gods lived much closer to mankind.”

  “You have seen and spoken with them before now?”

  “No, but that did not keep me from believing the sagas of those who had seen the gods.” His fingers closed into a fist against her back. “Now I know why those who had seen the gods were frightened. The games played by those who live in Asgard are not for us here in this world.”

  “Nils,” she whispered, “are you frightened, too? I cannot believe that some story would scare you.”

  “It is not a story when Loki is looking for someone else to amuse him, because my adventures here in this century no longer do. He has had every chance to kill me with his magic, but he has not. I have been wondering why, but I suspect it is because he is enjoying the chance to taunt me and threaten those around me.”

  “You have seen him, too?”

  “When Jack was worried that I was talking to myself—”

  “You were talking to Loki?” She could not believe her own words. Shaking her head, she whispered, “This is all impossible.”

  “I believe it is possible, for Loki has visited me often since I awoke to see your face, unnasta.” His voice grew hard. “Loki tires of my refusal to offer him the amusement he seeks.”

  She grasped his shoulders. “But that is good! He will not come back here to taunt you.”

  “You have learned the old sagas well.” A reluctant smile could not ease his taut lips. “But the truth is, unnasta, that he has not left this time, either.”

  “So he wishes to cause trouble for someone else here?”

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes widened. “Me?”

  “I believe that is why Vjofn came to speak with you. There is no other reason that makes sense.”

  She clasped her hands in front of her. “None of this makes any sense, Nils. I am not of your time. I am not of the Norrfoolk. I am of my time and of this place. Why would Loki take an interest in me?”

  “Because I have angered him.”

  “You seem to have the most intolerable luck with your journey here,” she murmured.

  “It has not all been intolerable.” He tipped her face up and brushed her mouth with a gentle kiss.

  “What is this?” she asked, pointing to the crystal globe that reflected the light as if it had pulled the moon within it.

  “Vjofn gave it to me.”

  “But what is it?”

  “She said it was a reward, and it was whatever I wished it to be.”

  Linnea laughed. “Your gods and goddesses are furtive about what information they will share.”

  “It may be simply t
hat we mortals cannot understand what they know.”

  “Whichever it may be, this is very beautiful.” Her hands rose toward his fingers that held the globe.

  At the moment her fingers touched his, bright light flashed around her. She screamed his name. Had lightning struck right where they were standing? Out of a cloudless sky?

  “Linnea, I am right here.” He pulled her to him, and she pressed her face to his chest.

  When scratchy wool scored her cheek, she put trembling fingers up to touch the intricate embroidery decorating the front of the gray tunic he wore. The pattern of the silk threads of brilliant reds and whites and golds were identical to what had been on the tunic that had been stained with blood when she had discovered him on the beach.

  She pressed her hands over her mouth as she edged back to see his legs were encased in cross-gartered leggings and brightly polished boots. A sword that was more than half her height was lashed to his belt. Raising her gaze higher, she moaned when she saw the conical metal helmet with a nosepiece that gave his familiar face a savagery she had never imagined.

  He put his hand up to his head, then scowled. “Linnea! What are you wearing?”

  “Me?” In disbelief, she looked down at her simple gown. It was made of light brown wool. Belted at the waist, it had the same bright decoration at its neckline as his tunic. On her feet, soft slippers covered thick stockings. She touched an embroidered band tied across her forehead and over her hair, which fell past her shoulders.

  This must be a dream. She must have fallen asleep in the garden. The woman, the crystal globe, this place...It must all be a dream.

  Nils ran his hand along the hilt of the long sword at his waist. “This is my sword Jagar.”

  “It has a name?”

  “Yes, it means the hunter.” He looked around them. “I recognize Jagar. I know this is my sword. Just as I know this is not Britannia nor the land of the Norrfoolk.”

  “How do you know...?” Linnea slowly spun around, realizing that the flash of light was not from lightning, but from dazzling sunlight. Her eyes widened when she saw a huge rainbow touching the ground not far from where they stood. She never had seen the end of a rainbow, only its arc across the sky. When she saw the far end was visible as well, and dropped to the ground on the far side of a wide chasm, she whispered, “Where are we?”