A Viking For The Viscountess

by Michelle Willingham

  And she was. Arik’s presence gave her the strength to face what lay ahead. With him, she could stand straighter, knowing that he would allow no one to speak out against her.

  “You look beautiful,” he said in a low voice. The instinct rose up in her to argue that she was not at all beautiful. Her gown was the nondescript color of pastry, for there had been no time to order a new one. And yet, the look in his eyes was appreciative, causing her to hold her tongue. Then he leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I liked what you wore the other night even more.”

  Heat burned through her at his voice, and she nearly stumbled. But when he smiled at her, she felt the warmth spread through her skin and deep into her heart.

  “Are you not enjoying yourself, kjære?” he asked. “You seem unhappy.”

  “I’m nervous,” she admitted. “When I look at William, he makes me feel like such a fool.”

  Arik took her hand and started to pull her toward the dancing. “Come. We will join the others, and leave him for the moment.”

  Juliana held back. “But you don’t know how to do these dances.” She wasn’t at all certain this was a wise idea. How could a Viking take part in a quadrille or one or the country dances?

  “You will show me.” He drew her among the other ladies and stood across from her. And though her mind was reeling at the thought of dancing with this man who had a battle-ax hidden in his waistcoat, a part of her did want to make William aware of what he’d lost when he’d abandoned her.

  “All right,” she agreed. “Then you must do as I do.”

  The music began, and she curtsied deeply. Arik mimicked her curtsy, bending his knees. Juliana barely held back her mirth, but she shook her head. “You’re meant to bow, my lord. Like the men.” But she reached out for his hand, and they stepped toward one another.

  To his credit, Arik did keep up with the dancing, and more than one of the ladies eyed her with envy. Once, he spun her too quickly, and she stumbled. Before she could fall, Arik lifted her up, setting her down on the opposite line.

  But when one of the gentlemen reached out to take her hand during a partner switch, Arik moved between them. “She is with me.” The dark look in his eyes warned the man that he was not going to relinquish her.

  His hand reached for the battle-ax, but Juliana intervened, “There is no need for that, my lord.” The last thing she wanted was for him to begin fighting the other guests. As a distraction, she asked, “Would you like a glass of lemonade? Or something to eat, perhaps?” There were long tables set up with refreshments, and it was likely the best means of avoiding conflict. She also wanted more time before she faced William.

  Arik eyed her as if he could read her thoughts. But he shrugged. “If you are hungry, I will join you in food and mead.”

  She led him away from the dancing, through the billiards room, and toward the food. When they reached the assortment, he stared at it as if he’d never seen such an array.

  Likely he hasn’t, a voice inside her suggested.

  Juliana selected a piece of cake and put a spoonful of plum preserves beside it. “Try this,” she said, offering him a plate and a fork.

  Arik ignored the fork but picked up the piece of cake in his hand and ate it. The wide smile on his face provoked a desire to laugh. He dipped his finger in the plum preserves and licked it. “I like this.”

  “You—you’re supposed to use the silver,” she said. “To keep your hands clean.” She glanced around to see if anyone had noticed them. It did seem that most of the bystanders had seen him use his fingers. “Didn’t His Grace give you gloves to wear?”

  “I did not want to wear them,” he countered. Nodding toward the cake, he handed her his plate. “I will have another.”

  “Only if you use silver this time,” she warned. “And you can try the strawberry preserves or perhaps some cream as well.”

  She chose another slice of cake and added strawberry preserves with a generous helping of clotted cream. Then she used the fork to slice a bit of cake, dipping it lightly in the strawberries and cream. “Try this.”

  Instead of eating it himself, he lifted the fork to her mouth. “You have not had anything to eat.”

  She had no choice but to taste it, and her cheeks reddened as she thought of all the people watching him feed her. It was quite improper, but she tasted the sweet flavor of the cake. Arik never took his eyes off her, and he was staring at her as if he wanted to kiss her in front of everyone.

  Juliana handed him the plate. “Here, take this. I have to return to my grandmother.”

  “Have I frightened you?” he asked, beneath his breath. He caught her hand to prevent her from leaving.

  The truth was, he had. Everything about this man terrified her, making her feel more deeply than she’d felt before. Emotions that had gone dormant were now reawakened.

  In a low whisper, she admitted, “I’m afraid of what I feel when I look at you. I’m afraid of what everyone is saying about me now. I should not even be here.”

  “Have you spoken to him yet?” He switched to Norwegian, keeping his voice low so that only she could hear.

  “No. I need to, but I’m afraid of the answers I’ll learn.”

  His palm pressed against her spine. “Then I will speak to him as your new protector.”

  She knew he should not touch her thusly, especially not in public. But for unknown reasons, she allowed it. He guided her away from the table of refreshments, back toward the billiards room, where she had seen William earlier.

  Juliana steeled herself for the confrontation that was inevitable. All around her, she saw the gaze of the ton watching them. In their eyes, she saw their disapproving looks. They believed that she had been William’s mistress, and that now she had become Arik’s.

  The Duke of Somerford had allowed them to think his son had returned from being lost at sea, though why he’d agreed to the deception, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was because of the treasure they had given to the man. But whatever the reason, she was grateful that he had given Arik a means to be here this night.

  “You’ve nothing to fear from your husband or anyone else,” Arik said to her. “I will see to it that you and Harry have your lands and home returned to you. If he dares to speak a word against you, I’ll gut him.”

  She did smile at that, against her will. “It might be messy if you use a battle-ax.”

  “I don’t care.” His possessive tone held a hint of violence, as if he was anticipating a fight. But she didn’t want one—this was her battle to face, regardless of what he believed. “It isn’t necessary for you to be involved,” she said softly. “I can face him on my own. I need to.”

  “Then you deprive me of the joy of killing him.”

  Juliana turned to face him. “Why do you want to harm him? William did nothing to you.”

  “You don’t believe me when I tell you why I was brought here. Do you think yourself unworthy of having someone to fight for you?”

  “No one has ever fought for me,” she admitted.

  His eyes met hers, and in them, she saw an intensity that humbled her. “You are worth fighting for, Juliana. And not once have I lied to you about who I am.”

  She felt her defenses weakening. Right now, she wanted to rest her head against his heart and feel his strong arms around her. But she could not do anything at all. Instead, she tried to make light of her feelings, saying, “If you fight William, you’d get blood all over Lady Spencer’s floor. I don’t think she would appreciate that. And the servants might not want to remove a dead body.”

  His hand moved up her spine to the buttons of her gown. “I could kill him outside.”

  This time, she understood that he was indeed teasing her. She turned to look at him and saw the warmth in his eyes. “I’ll think about it.” She forced herself to step away from his touch, though she liked having his hands upon her.

  In the Norse tongue, he murmured, “Are you well, Juliana? Has she taken care of you?”
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br />   He was referring to her grandmother, and Juliana gave a nod. “Well enough, I suppose. Though I miss Hawthorne House.”

  “We will return there, when this is finished.” But the grimness in his voice suggested that he believed his time was running out. “And when I go, you will have all that you need to take care of your son.”

  “What about you?”

  His expression held a hint of regret. “If the gods are willing, I will die with honor and take my rightful place in Valhalla, kjære.”

  “You won’t die,” she insisted. The idea of not seeing this man again bothered her more than it should. She had grown too accustomed to being with him each day.

  He gave her no answer, but returned his hand to her spine. “Look, Juliana. He is watching us.”

  She glanced across the room and saw William staring at them. From the confused expression on his face, it was clear that he’d not expected her to be here.

  Her instinct was to flee, to walk out of this ballroom and avoid the truth. But when he turned his back on her without approaching, she knew. The truth had been there all along. They had never been married. He’d seduced her and left her behind, making a mockery of her virtue. Once again, the ill feeling returned to her stomach.

  “Have courage,” Arik said. “Come.” He gripped her hand, leaving her no means of escaping this. The people of the ton were watching them, waiting to see how this scandal would unfold. But before they could reach William, Marcus stepped forward.

  “Miss Nelson,” he interrupted. “I know that you believe my brother has wronged you. But I would ask that if you wish to speak with him, that you do so in private. Not here.”

  She agreed with that, but Arik pressed her behind him. “You are the man who forced Juliana and her son to leave Hawthorne House.” He spoke the words with a thinly veiled anger. Marcus eyed him, then Juliana.

  “Lord Thorgraham, it has been many years since we’ve met. I am glad that you have safely returned to England.” Marcus extended his hand, but Arik ignored it.

  Instead, he stared down at the man, his eyes holding coldness. “What kind of a man forces a woman and child out of their home?”

  “I allowed them to stay for six years,” Marcus answered calmly. “It was not a decision I made lightly, I assure you. She and her son had no right to be there.”

  Juliana stared back at the man. “Did you know that William was alive? And that he tricked me into a false marriage?”

  Marcus stiffened. “I will not speak ill of my brother. But yes, I suspected as much. He has been known to do as he pleases. As for whether he was alive, no, I could not be certain until I saw him with my own eyes.”

  The haughty tone in his voice made her aware that the man hadn’t actually wanted his brother to return. Undoubtedly, the estates were under better care beneath Marcus’s guidance.

  “William never wrote to anyone in all those years,” he continued. “I suspected he was unable to travel back to England, owing to the war.”

  “If you knew that he never married me, why did you wait so long to make us leave?” It startled her to realize that this man was not the villain she’d made him out to be. The true villain was across the billiards room, flirting with a young debutante.

  “I did not know it for certain until recently.” He met Juliana’s gaze and answered, “But you remained far away from London society, and you were wise enough to keep to yourself. As you said, what kind of man would force a woman and child out of their home? I had no choice, once I became engaged to Miss Whitemore, for she would not approve of another mistress in residence at Hawthorne House.”

  Juliana’s throat tightened with emotion, and she now understood that Marcus had been more than lenient with them. He might be a cold-hearted man who rarely spoke with kindness, but he could have forced them to leave far sooner—especially since she had never married his brother.

  She sighed and admitted, “Let him be, Arik. William bears the blame.”

  Her Viking stared hard at Marcus and pushed his way past the man. He reached beneath his waistcoat for the battle-ax, revealing the deadly blade as he crossed through the billiards room.

  Oh dear. This was not going to go well.

  Juliana hurried forward. “Arik, not here. Not in this place.”

  But he ignored her and went to stand directly in front of William. Seeing him again brought back all her feelings of insecurity. Of how he’d kept her hidden from the rest of London at Hawthorne House. How he’d visited her a few times, only to take her to bed and teach her what he wanted.

  Humiliation burned through her cheeks, but she forced herself to stand before him. “You’ve been gone for many years, William. I thought you might have sent word that you’d returned to England.”

  He didn’t look at her at all, his attention focused on Arik. There was a flash of fear in his eyes when he spied the battle-ax. “Lord Thorgraham, I believe.”

  His utter disregard for her, as if she were invisible, was a blow she should have expected. But it hurt to know that her worst fears were true—that he had never cared at all for her. That he’d used and discarded her.

  The rage in Arik’s eyes was staggering. He looked as if he was ready to take off William’s head with the weapon. Instead, he spoke only two words. “Outside. Now.”

  “Is there a problem, Thorgraham? You seem rather upset about something.”

  She could hardly believe what he’d said. Upset? As if she were nothing but an afterthought? And what of their son? She had written letters to him, telling him of her pregnancy. Had he ever received them?

  Arik took a step forward, staring down at the man. “You abandoned Juliana and your son, leaving them barely able to survive. It does make me angry, yes.”

  His tone was so calm, it held an edge like a dagger’s blade. And worse, Lord Hawthorne didn’t even react to the news of Harry. Instead, he met Arik’s gaze openly. “I don’t believe you have anything to do with this. Miss Nelson and I were acquainted for a time—”

  “Don’t you mean your wife?” Arik corrected.

  At that, William risked a glance toward her. He shrugged and admitted, “That was simply a farce. She was a fetching young girl, several years ago. Even so, I would never stoop to wed a fisherman’s daughter—even if her mother was once the daughter of a baron.” He shrugged, not even deigning to look at her. “Juliana and I had our bit of fun. It was never serious.”

  A hot flash of anger swept over her. Never serious? She’d given up years of her life waiting for this man, remaining true to him. She had raised their son and had let Harry believe that one day his father might return. And yet William intended to turn his back on them?

  Murder was too good for the man. His betrayal affected not only her own future, but also that of their son. Her maternal protective instincts were raging with the full-fledged need for vengeance. He could not walk away from them without providing for Harry.

  Juliana stepped forward and said, “Our marriage was serious to me. And I agree with Lord Thorgraham. We should take this discussion elsewhere.” Before she seized the battle-ax from Arik and used it to release her own frustration.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” William argued.

  At that, Arik seized the man by his cravat, half choking him. He lifted the man off the ground and began dragging him outside the billiards room. There were audible gasps from the onlookers, and Juliana didn’t doubt that this scandal would be talked about for the rest of the night.

  Was it bad that she found it gratifying to see her so-called husband hauled away like a sack of grain? Really, he deserved it.

  She followed them out of the room, and Arik continued pulling William by his cravat, as if it were a dog’s leash. The footman opened the door for them, and soon enough, they were standing on the stone steps.

  “I say, Thorgraham, what’s got into you? She was my mistress, nothing more, and not a very good one at that.”

  Juliana saw the clench of Arik’s jaw and took a step backward.
He hadn’t released William, but he was studying the man as if determining how he wanted to kill him.

  “I suppose she’s your paramour now,” William remarked. “But you’ve no reason to concern yourself with me. I finished with her a long time ago, and you are welcome to her.”

  Arik slowly tightened his grip around the man’s cravat until William began turning purple. As her former husband began grasping at his throat, clawing for air, Juliana stepped forward. “I cannot believe I wasted so much of my life with a man like you. You deceived me with our marriage and left me to believe you were dead.”

  “I could make that happen,” Arik suggested.

  It was more tempting than she wanted to admit. But instead, she shook her head. “Let him go.”

  He released his hold on the man, and William staggered to his knees, gasping for air. There was no mercy in Arik’s eyes as he stared down at the man. “You will provide for Juliana and your son. Enough that they will live their lives in comfort.”

  “I have no son,” Hawthorne gasped. “If she bore a child, he’s not mine. I owe her nothing.”

  She couldn’t speak a word, for his denial wounded her in a way she’d never expected. Harry was an innocent boy who had never harmed anyone. His eager nature brought joy into her life, and he did not deserve to be ignored by his father or treated as a bastard. Her anger was staggering, and she clenched her fists, struggling to control the rage.

  “He is a child of your blood, and you will not cast him aside,” she insisted. “He deserves the life he should have had.”

  “He’ll get nothing from me,” William remarked. “Not a bloody farthing.”

  She swung out her fist and connected with his jaw. The blow hurt her hand, but before William could strike her in retaliation, Arik caught the man’s hand. “I should break all the bones in this hand, for what you did to her.”

  Her rage was not merely for the way William had nearly hit her—it was also for the way he’d broken her during the months of their marriage, making her believe that she was not good enough for him.

  “You will give her the lands and the dwelling at Hawthorne House,” Arik demanded, tightening his grip.