In the Norseman's House: Book 3: Rydar & Grier and Eryndal & Andrew (The Hansen Series - Rydar & Grier and Eryndal & Andrew)

by Kris Tualla

“Does it matter if we are welcome or no’?” He waved a dismissive hand. “We have come in order for ye to meet Rydar, and him to meet you. Ye’ll likely never see each other again after this, so make the best of the visit.”

  His reasoning made sense. Eryn nodded her understanding. “And learn what I might about the family, so Rolf and Daniel will know where they came from.”

  “Aye.” Drew sat forward again. “Write down anything that ye discover. Every bit o’ information ye can glean from your cousin, his wife—even the manor, the grounds, and the town itself.”

  Eryn felt her trepidation easing. “Yes. A modern history for our children.”

  Drew grinned. “Even the new ones.”

  Eryn felt her face heating. In spite of their cramped and semi-private space, Drew proved quite amorous under the cover of darkness. “I expect that before this journey is through, we’ll know.”

  He took her hand and kissed her palm. “Finish your hair. I’m curious to see how far we’ve come.”

  Eryn smiled and reapplied her efforts. The moment she finished, she tied a linen kerchief over her head to dissuade the wind from doing further damage, and followed Drew back up to the deck.

  The scene which met her made her gasp. Rocky outcroppings, uncountable in number, guarded Norway’s coastline. Beyond them, inlets reached between the mountains, curving and disappearing into their depths.

  “Oh, Drew,” Eryn breathed. “I’m home.”

  Chapter Six

  June 12, 1359

  Arendal, Norway

  “Stand still,” Drew growled from behind her left shoulder.

  Eryn clasped her hands at her waist like the nuns taught her and began to count rosary beads in her head. She kept her chin up, but her eyes downcast, not wanting to appear as eager as she was.

  As if the twist of my hands and the whites of my knuckles won’t betray me.

  The ride from the docks in the center of town to Hansen Hall took a quarter of an hour—after she stood on the docks for half an hour waiting for the carriage Drew procured. Eryn examined every man that passed by them, searching for any familiar feature in his face. Any trait which she might recognize.

  Once they reached the estate and she allowed Drew to hand her down from the carriage, she somehow managed not to sprint to the front door. Instead, she looked around as she walked forward, trying to press permanently into her mind what the manor at Hansen Hall looked like: the color of the stone walls, the slates of the roof, and the view to the sea which carried her here.

  Just as she wondered if anyone actually occupied the house, the door finally swung inward.

  “Kan jeg hjelpe deg?” the man asked.

  Eryn’s jaw fell slack.

  Drew stepped forward. “Lord Andrew Drummond and Dame Eryndal Drummond, for Lord and Lady Hansen.’

  A wash of understanding lifted the man’s features. “Et øyeblikk, behage.” And he disappeared.

  Eryn glanced at Drew, the magnitude of their language differences with the occupants of the estate only now striking her.

  “How will we—” She got no farther in her question before the door was yanked all the way open.

  Eryn spun around to face—her face.

  She gasped. Her hands flew to her mouth. The lean man towering in front of her was very close to her in age. His light-brown hair was further lightened with the same generous blonde streaks as hers. The planes of his face matched her broad brow, high cheeks, and straight nose.

  His eyes. They are the same color as mine.

  Clear pale green.

  “Rydar?” she managed, before sobs of unexpected recognition and indescribable relief stole her ability to speak.

  He nodded, clearly as surprised as she was to come face-to-face with another person so obviously connected to himself.

  “Eryn,” he said tenderly. “Welcome.”

  Then he held out his arms.

  Eryn launched herself into her cousin’s embrace, sobbing without control. Rydar held her close, his own breaths chuffing unevenly.

  For several minutes the two cousins who, until moments ago knew each other as only names scribbled on the bottom of their letters, gripped each other as if no one else in the world existed.

  Eryn didn’t know the weight of Rydar’s losses, but at that moment she felt every ounce of what she had just found.

  When her grip loosened, his did as well. They each took a step back. Eryn wiped her eyes. A pregnant woman with fiery red hair and bright sea-blue eyes stood to Rydar’s left, grinning broadly at her.

  “If there was any doubt that the two of ye are related, just looking at ye wipes that away, aye?” She stuck out her hand. “Welcome, Eryn. I’m Grier MacInnes Hansen.”

  The woman’s brogue was so like Drew’s that Eryn felt immediately at ease. She grasped the woman’s hand in both of hers.

  “Thank you, Grier,” she answered taking her cue from her hostess’s informal greeting. They were family, after all. “I am immeasurably happy to be here.”

  Grier’s lips twitched. “Ye’re English, then.”

  “I was raised at Elstow Abbey northwest of London. But I’ve lived at Castleton since I was fifteen. Over seventeen years, now.”

  She noted Rydar’s head tilting. His eyes watched her mouth. Of a sudden she realized that he might not speak English.

  “Can you understand me?” she blurted.

  “Aye, and ye talk slow,” he answered.

  His lilting Scots accent surprised her, until the obvious reason for it turned to face Drew. “Lord Andrew.”

  Eryn’s husband, uncharacteristically silent until now, stepped forward to take Grier’s hand. He pressed his lips to its back.

  “We are not only old friends, but family,” he purred. “Please call me Drew.”

  “Congratulations on your marriage. Drew.” She pulled her hand away and smiled softly at Eryn.

  “And yours.” Drew straightened and faced Rydar. “Lord Hansen.”

  Eryn knew without a doubt where her height came from; Drew had to tilt his chin up a bit to meet Rydar’s gaze.

  It wasn’t a friendly gaze.

  Rydar pulled a breath, his chest swelling, and extended his arm. “Andrew.”

  The men clasped forearms, both of their smiles tense.

  ***

  Rydar stared down at Andrew. The man still dressed to impress those who crossed his path, and his grip was strong as ever. Clearly being married and a father hadn’t softened the knight one whit.

  “Hansen Hall welcomes ye.” Rydar’s gaze moved to Eryn. He smiled gently. “And yer wife.”

  Rydar couldn’t say why he reached out to embrace Eryn when he saw her. Perhaps because she looked so much like one of his sisters. Or at the least, she resembled his memory of their likenesses.

  Or perhaps it was the stunned joy in her expression—as if she witnessed a happy miracle happening before her.

  I suppose she did.

  The discovery of their connection was nothing less.

  “Please come.” He waved toward the great room. “Sit. Be komfortabel.”

  Grier looped her arm through Eryn’s. “Follow me.”

  As his wife led their guests into the great room, Rydar waved to the men who were carrying Eryn and Drew’s trunks inside.

  “You know which rooms Lord and Lady Drummond will occupy,” he said, switching back to Norse. “See that all the arrangements that we discussed are completed.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Rydar turned to the man who answered the door. “Please bring the best wine and something for our guests to nibble on. We’ll have supper in three hours to give them time to settle in.”

  “Yes, Lord Rydar.” He spun on his heel and headed toward the kitchen.

  Rydar paused, mentally girded himself for battle, and followed the trio’s path.

  ***

  Grier sat on a bench facing Eryn and Drew, leaving plenty of room for Rydar to join her.

  “I am so glad ye were able to make
this journey, Eryn,” she said, beaming at the other woman. “I confess, we had no idea what to expect, but your resemblance to my husband is quite striking.”

  Eryn blushed, looking shy. “Forgive my outburst. I am afraid I was rather shocked by it myself.”

  Grier chuckled. “Dinna worry yourself. I’ll admit, I wiped a tear or two of my own. Of course,” she pushed the offending heel away from her ribs again, “I’m a bit emotional these days, as ye might imagine.”

  “Congratulations, Grier.” Drew casually rested his arm along the back of the bench behind Eryn. “When is the wee babe expected?”

  Grier met his eyes, trying not to stare at their unique golden color. “Almost two months, yet.”

  “Is this your first?” Eryn asked.

  Thankful for a reason to do so, Grier slid her gaze away from the knight’s piercing scrutiny and back to Eryn. “No. We have a son. He has four years, now.”

  Eryn grinned. “Our boys will be four this winter. They are quite a handful, I must say.”

  “Twins? I can imagine.” Grier looked toward the door as she spoke, her attention drawn by her husband’s approach. “Arne is having a hunting lesson, but should be back soon.”

  Rydar lowered himself onto the bench beside her and addressed the couple. “I see to your rooms. If ye want for aught, please ask, aye?”

  “Ye remember English?” Drew’s countenance displayed his skepticism.

  Rydar gave the knight a patient look. “I learn again.”

  Eryn’s eyes rounded. “You learnt English for my visit?”

  Rydar’s expression softened when he faced Eryn. “Aye. So, some words no’ always…” He waved his hands in front of his chest. “Best word, aye?”

  Grier laid her hand on his knee, beaming up at him. “Ye are amazing, even so.”

  Rydar patted her hand. “I have good learner.”

  Though he used the wrong word, Grier would never point it out in front of Drew. Instead, she bragged about him. “My husband speaks Latin and German, in addition to Norse. English has similarities to both.”

  “You are quite well educated, then,” Eryn said.

  Rydar flashed a crooked smile. “Aye.”

  “If he gets behind in our conversation at times, I’ll translate,” Grier added. “And I’ll thank ye both to remember to speak slowly.”

  Drew’s eyes narrowed. “Of course.”

  ***

  The sailor looked well, much better than Drew remembered. Rydar had put on weight, which made him sturdier. Dressed in well-made clothes which fit his lanky frame, the man did present an impressive figure—for a mere landowner. And tradesman.

  Drew wondered all along what sort of situation they might walk into. He had to admit, Hansen Hall was much grander than he expected it would be. Clearly the stone manor itself was hundreds of years old, but the interior was quite modern.

  The rugs on the stone floors were clean and colorful; the tapestries hanging on the walls were well-made. The ornate designs painted on the wooden beams overhead added to the grandeur of the room. The benches they sat on held comfortable cushions in expensive fabrics, none of which showed any wear. And everything was spotlessly clean.

  The idea that the Viking might be trying to impress him made the corner of Drew’s mouth curve upward.

  A servant entered the room carrying a large tray. He set the tray on the low table between the pair of benches where the two couples faced each other.

  “We’ll have our supper later, after ye have had time to get settled in your apartment.” Grier leaned forward to serve them. “In the meantime, I hope this offering will sustain ye.”

  “Let me, Grier.” Eryn scooted forward. “I am not impeded by a growing babe.”

  Yet. Drew rubbed his lip and smiled behind his hand. Soon.

  Grier sat back and massaged the upper side of her belly. “Thank ye, Eryn. This wee one objects quite strongly, and I don’t give him room.”

  Rydar poured a cup of wine and handed it to Drew. “Tell me and ye like it. Or ye want beer.”

  Drew lifted the cup and inhaled the scent before taking a sip. The wine was delicious. “This is excellent, Hansen,” he admitted. “Thank ye.”

  Eryn served the plates of cheeses and sausages, before accepting her own cup of wine. Then she faced her cousin with barely contained eagerness.

  “I want to know all about our fathers. Will you tell me?”

  Rydar dragged his fingers through his hair. “Aye. I say all I ken of four brothers.”

  “There were four of them?” Eryn shook her head “I didn’t know.”

  Rydar ticked the names off on his fingers. “Harald. Balder. Rolf. Petter-Edvard.”

  Drew watched his wife, her incredulous expression warming his heart. No matter how he might feel about their host, he knew at that moment that coming here was the best gift he could ever give her.

  “Take your time, Hansen.” He grinned at the man. “She’ll want to know everything.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Perhaps we should save much of the telling for supper,” Grier suggested, turning toward Rydar.

  “Aye,” he agreed. “You rest first?”

  “I’m too excited, I’m afraid,” Eryn admitted, trying not to let her disappointment show. “But you are most likely correct. It’s probably best not to start the story now.”

  A commotion in the entry pulled her attention. A young boy with curly red hair and green eyes ran into the room carrying his bow. The arrows followed safely in the hands of a man dressed for hunting.

  “Pappa! Jeg skjøt en kanin!” he shouted.

  Rydar held out his hand, beckoning the boy closer. “Godt gjort, Arne. Vi skal tjene det til middag i kveld.”

  Eryn turned to Grier, her brows raised in question.

  Grier looked at the boy with the sort of pride no mother could hide. “This is our son, Arne. He shot a rabbit, and Rydar says we shall have it for supper.”

  The boy turned a suddenly shy face toward the visitors.

  “Dette er min kusine, Dame Eryn,” Rydar said to his son.

  “This is my cousin, Lady Eryn,” Grier translated.

  “Og dette er hennes ektemann, Herren Andrew.”

  “And this is her husband, Lord Andrew.”

  “Det er de vi har ventet fra Skottland.” Rydar pushed the boy forward.

  “Welcome…to Hansen Hall,” the boy said softly. “We are…”

  He slid a glance toward his father.

  “Glad,” Rydar murmured.

  Arne smiled and stated confidently, “Glad ye are here.”

  “Thank you, Arne,” Eryn replied. “And thank you for bringing a rabbit for supper.

  Rydar translated her words.

  Arne turned to her, beaming at the acknowledgement of his accomplishment. “Takk du.”

  “You are very welcome,” Eryn replied, assuming what the boy said.

  Rydar said something else to his son, who then turned and walked back to the hunter. He followed the man from the room.

  “Arne will now help prepare the rabbit,” Grier explained. “In Norway, there is no’ the same sort of easy terrain as in the lowlands and England, so what we grow, we use to feed our sheep and goats over the winter.”

  Rydar was frowning as he stared at his wife’s mouth. “We hunt, aye? And fish. To eat.”

  Grier nodded. “What the men can bring in fills our larder.”

  Eryn was surprised by that. “No cows?”

  “No’ many.” She shrugged. “They require more flat land for grazing than we can spare.”

  “And eat more in winter,” Rydar added.

  Eryn turned to Drew. “It seems I know nothing about Norway.”

  He looked into her eyes, amusement pinching the edges of his. “And that is why we have come.”

  The warmth in his gaze flooded through her. “Thank you.”

  Drew gave her a lazy smile. “Shall we get settled, then?”

  Eryn suspected exactly what sort of sett
ling her husband had in mind. She had no objection. After all, they had been cramped in the bottom of a ship for nearly two weeks. Loving him on a bed would be delightful.

  “Yes, let’s do.” She turned toward her hostess. “So we might be refreshed for supper and hear all about the Hansens.”

  ***

  The table in the dining hall was covered with a linen cloth embroidered with gold threads. Pewter platters, glowing in the abundant candlelight, were placed in front of each chair. Green glass goblets sat at the ready, as did utensils made from silver.

  Grier folded purple linen napkins and laid one across each of the four platters. The aromas of bread and meat wafted in from the kitchen, making her mouth water.

  She was proud of Arne for shooting a rabbit. She was even more proud of Rydar for suggesting that it be served for supper. Not only did he make Arne giddily happy, but he showed himself a good father in the process—and anything Rydar proved himself adept at in front of Drew was helpful.

  Doing so should ease her husband’s need to make clear the knight’s mistake in underestimating the Norseman when they met in Scotland. That it bolstered Grier’s pride in her husband as well, only made it sweeter.

  As if conjured by her thoughts, Rydar stepped up behind her and slid his hands around her belly.

  “You smell so delicious, that I could eat you for supper,” he whispered. His lips against her neck gave her gooseflesh.

  “I’ll let you have me for dessert,” she murmured.

  He chuckled in her ear. “Agreed.”

  Fear that she might lose another babe had come between them in their marital bed. Rydar insisted that they find ways to enjoy each other that did not include penetration. Though Grier knew well that sexual activity couldn’t hurt the child, Rydar would not take any chances.

  The results of his stoic stance had proven quite surprising. And quite pleasant, to state it in the least of terms.

  She smiled and leaned into his strength.

  At the sound of approaching footsteps, he kissed her neck and moved away from her. He walked to the head of the table as Grier turned to greet their guests.