Leaving Norway: Book 1: Martin & Dagny (The Hansen Series - Martin & Dagny and Reidar & Kirsten)

by Kris Tualla

  Torvald’s lips descended over hers. Dagny tried to keep her eyes open, but as always her fiancé’s kiss was compelling and consuming. She wanted to hold herself away from him, to make him feel her disappointment and heartache, but found she was unable to do so. At least she kept her hands off of him, tightly twisting the linen towel around them.

  When he ended the kiss and pulled back, she opened her heavy-lidded eyes and looked into his.

  “Why don’t you lie down and rest, dearest,” he said. “You had a terrible night and you look tired.”

  The suggestion was more appealing than Dagny would have thought. Perhaps the inclement weather was also dampening her energy. “Yes. I believe I shall,” she answered.

  “I’ll leave you alone and come fetch you before supper, then,” Torvald suggested, his solicitous tone making her agreement mandatory.

  Dagny dropped the towel beside the basin and looked longingly up at her pallet. Torvald pushed her back into the chair and removed her boots. Then he held her elbow while she climbed into her bed. He kissed her hand, patted her cheek, and left the cabin.

  The day outside the little round window darkened and the ship rocked her to sleep.

  ***

  Dagny opened her eyes when light from their oil lamp brightened her eyelids. Torvald was changing his clothes, so Dagny squeezed her eyes shut again, afraid to see more than she should. He wasn’t yet her husband, after all.

  “Dagny? It’s time to awaken, darling,” Torvald said after several minutes of activity.

  She pretended to be awakening, stretching and rubbing her eyes. “Has the supper bell rung yet?”

  “No, but it should presently,” Torvald answered. “Did you rest well?”

  Dagny smiled. “I did, yes. I feel quite renewed.”

  “Wonderful.” Torvald patted his pockets and glanced around the floor. “I’ll leave you to your preparations and return presently.”

  He left the cabin in a bit of a rush, pulling the door solidly closed behind him.

  Dagny climbed down from her bed, fluffed her pillow and straightened her blanket. She washed her face in the cold water, appreciating how the chill chased the sleep from her mood. Turning over her hands, she looked at the two tiny curved cuts at the base of each thumb.

  “I really must get control of my emotions,” she chastised. The nuns would be horrified by such an undisciplined display. It seemed that since the day she left the abbey and walked onto this ship she was continually acting in a way that would bring down the nun’s wrath. Hopefully, she wasn’t offending God in the same way.

  She sat on the chair and reached for her boots which, as casualties of Torvald’s careless movements, had been kicked under his bunk. She retrieved one and leaned over further still for the other. When she did so, a dull and unexpected glint of metal pulled her attention.

  Dagny slid off the chair and knelt on the cabin’s wooden floor, scrabbling for the glistening trinket. It slid around her fingers like a tiny gilt snake, smoothly scaled and cool to the touch.

  “Where did this come from?” She untangled the gold necklace. A tear-shaped emerald, half an inch across and surrounded by rays of marquee diamonds, hung from its finely wrought links.

  The cabin door banged open. Dagny looked up at Torvald, uneasy for a reason she couldn’t name.

  A serpentine smile spread his cheeks and his brows lifted apologetically. “Ah. There it is. Thank God. I was worried.” He held out his hand.

  Dagny clambered to her feet and laid the necklace across his palm. “Is it yours?” That didn’t seem right, but no other explanation came to mind.

  “Well, not exactly.” He unclasped the hasp and stepped behind her. His cool fingers brushed her skin as he draped the pretty thing around her neck. “I meant it a wedding gift.”

  Dagny gasped and her hand flew to the jewel of its own volition. “For me?”

  Torvald chuckled, an oddly dry sound. “And who else, my love? Turn around and let me see.”

  Dagny faced her fiancé. Her heart pounded and she blinked back tears. All of her doubts receded in the face of this unexpected generosity. He did love her after all.

  “How do I look?” she whispered.

  He tucked a knuckle under her chin. “Beautiful.”

  She gave him a shy smile of gratitude. “Shall I wear it to dinner?”

  Torvald’s expression shifted. “I don’t believe that would be wise, considering.”

  “Considering what?” Dagny fought to keep disappointment from her tone. She hated the way Torvald always seemed to make her feelings ricochet from elation to despair like an errant tennis sphere.

  Torvald waved at the wooden door. “Considering that our humble chamber cannot be secured. Showing the world that you are in possession of such a valuable piece would only be tempting the less savory among us toward theft.”

  Dagny huffed her disbelief. “No one could steal anything and get away,” she pointed out. “We are on a ship. Once the missing piece was discovered, a search would surely reveal both the item and the guilty party.”

  “Don’t be so assured, dearest.” Torvald lifted his fingers to unfasten the necklace. “There are ways.”

  As the necklace slid down her breast and floated away from her skin, Dagny grasped the pendant. “Let me hide it,” she pleaded over her shoulder. “I want to be able to enjoy its beauty in private if I cannot yet show it to the world.”

  Torvald hesitated, still holding the ends of the chain between his fingers. His brow lowered and his mouth opened, but no words escaped.

  “Please, Torvald,” she continued. “This gift will reassure me when, in my inexperience, I find your actions puzzling.”

  With a heavy sigh, Torvald acquiesced in the face of his own words. “Promise me that you will keep it someplace secure.”

  A grin spread her cheeks. “Yes. I will,” she promised.

  “This necklace must remain in the cabin. No one else on the ship can know it exists, do you understand?” he pressed.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Dagny gushed.

  Torvald clasped the ends of the chain together and let go. Dagny held the bauble up so the lamp’s light shone through the emerald, fractured into hundreds of fiery green flashes. The beauty of the stone stole her breath. Never in her life did she expect to own something of such value.

  The supper bell rang. With palpable regret, Dagny wrapped the necklace in a linen towel and, under Torvald’s fiercely evaluative gaze, buried the shrouded jewel and its golden leash deep inside her little trunk.

  Chapter Fourteen

  June 17, 1749

  Martin avoided Dagny for the next two days while he and Oskar waited without success for the weather to clear so the races could begin. Martin stripped down to his trousers and spent time on deck, barefoot and running from bow to stern and back again until his sweat mixed with the rain. Oskar ran with him some of the time—but only between cloudbursts. Mostly he watched Martin’s efforts and gleefully predicted how much money they would make when Martin beat all the other competitors.

  One lovely wager at a time.

  When he wasn’t running in the rain or avoiding Dagny, Martin was down in what he had come to think of as his nest. His pallet of fabrics, where he could lie down and stretch out, was the perfect spot for a quick nap or a long afternoon designing the perfect house. One with all the modern conveniences. One he hoped to build for himself someday.

  It was too bad that none of his family would ever see his work. His older brother Gustav should officially be heir by now, if Martin had been taken at his word. Once his letter arrived detailing his plans to emigrate to America, it would have been too late for his father to either ride or sail from Arendal to Christiania to stop Martin’s departure.

  And if someone had decided to make that journey, they most assuredly would have gone to see Brander. Martin sent his uncle a letter as well, one with a more personal explanation. He knew his uncle Brander would understand better than his father, Jarl, why Martin
was compelled to make the choice he did. Martin didn’t doubt his own decision; but that didn’t make the loss of family contact easier to bear.

  Martin had stopped hanging his oil lamp from the nail above his head. It was too difficult to turn the lamp down quickly enough when footfalls sounded on the steps. While he doubted anyone would care that he spent time there, he didn’t wish to test that theory. Remaining invisible was a better plan. So on the rare occasion when boots began to clomp down the ladder, Martin reached toward the lamp at his feet, turned down the wick, and dropped a bushel over it.

  The boots today belonged to Torvald.

  Martin stilled and watched, though his view was a little obscured. Torvald dragged a heavy trunk forward, then stepped behind it. He squatted between the chests and fiddled with the second one. After a few minutes he stuck something in his pocket and opened the lid. Torvald rummaged around for a few minutes, set something aside, and then seemed to be setting the contents of the chest to rights.

  Martin ducked his head when Torvald stood and turned around. He waited until he heard the sound of another trunk being opened before he dared look again. This time, Torvald had Dagny’s trunk open and he was putting something inside. Was it the same something he had taken from the other coffer? If so, he must be moving something from his own trunk to hers. That was the only explanation that made sense.

  After he closed and locked Dagny’s trunk, Torvald shoved the first chest back into place. Then he climbed the steps and was gone. The early supper bell rang. Martin tucked his plans away, doused the lamp, and made his way to the decks above.

  ***

  Dagny heard the early supper bell. She stood in front of the small mirror in her cabin and unclasped the emerald necklace. With a sigh, she wrapped it in the linen towel and tucked it back inside her little chest. While she understood Torvald’s point about the door not being locked, it seemed a shame to hide the beauty of the faceted stone in a dark place where its glory was so muted.

  Latching the chest, Dagny opened the cabin door and stepped into the hall. Mothers with children greeted her as they passed by, taking their young ones to supper. Dagny turned and walked in the opposite direction toward the back of the deck. She didn’t have a destination in mind, she simply felt like getting out of the confined space.

  When she reached the steps to the open deck above, she looked upward through the hatch. Surprised to see the dark gray and purple clouds turning yellow, she climbed up to see if the storm had truly broken.

  The wind that tossed her hair was fresh, no longer heavy with moisture. Bits of blue sky were visible overhead as the clouds began to scatter. The sun angled beneath them and splashed them with buttery, late afternoon light. Dagny smiled and walked toward the bow of the ship, anticipating the promise of a beautiful sunset.

  When she rounded a lashed pile of crates, she stopped as suddenly as if she had walked into a wall. On the other side of the ship, Torvald stood with Anna Solberg, deep in what looked like an intimate conversation. His possessive hand held her arm. Her palm rested against his chest. Her eyes looked directly into his, unwavering and intense as he spoke to her. The way the pair of them stood, Dagny expected a kiss might soon follow.

  She knew she should do something, not just remain there like a coward, spying on them. But her choices seemed limited to walking up and interrupting their private exchange, or walking away as if she had seen nothing in the first place.

  Dagny couldn’t make herself intrude. Instead, she spun on her heel and retraced her steps. All the way back to her cabin she berated herself for being so weak. Just once in her life she wished that—when faced with a difficult situation—she would respond with the sort of courage that would enable her to say or do the right thing to thoroughly quash her enemy.

  When the late supper bell rang, the door opened and Torvald entered the cabin. Dagny was still sitting where she landed, on the small wooden chair beside the little table.

  “Are you ready for supper?” he asked as he prepared to wash his face and hands.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “Good, because I’m starving,” Torvald stated, his voice muffled by the linen towel. He lowered the cloth and faced her. “I believe the storm is clearing. Perhaps tomorrow we can run our first races.”

  Dagny decided not to mention that she had, in fact, been outside and seen the weather for herself. Her succinct reply was merely, “I noticed.”

  “Did you?” Torvald dropped the used towel beside the basin. “How?”

  Dagny pointed at the thick round window on the outer wall of their cabin. Sunlight skipped across the crests of the endless waves. Torvald’s eyes followed the indicated path and the tension her statement prompted disappeared.

  “Of course! I wasn’t thinking.” He offered an elbow. “Shall we?”

  Dagny rose and wordlessly accepted the polite gesture. As the couple walked toward the dining area, Dagny caught a glimpse of Anna Solberg, dressed in a shade of green that Dagny knew made the other woman’s eyes look like emeralds. And that was when she made her decision.

  “Pardon me, Torvald, I need to go back to the cabin for a moment,” she said, letting go of his arm.

  “Is something amiss?” he asked.

  “No,” Dagny called over her shoulder. “Go on. I’ll be right there.”

  Dagny ignored whatever it was that Torvald said after that and hurried into their room. She flipped open her chest and dug out the emerald necklace. Her fingers shook so hard that she kept fumbling with the clasp. When she finally got the ends of the chain connected, she stood in front of the mirror, smoothed her gown, and pulled a long steadying breath.

  “I’ll show you, Miss Solberg, who truly holds his heart,” she said with more confidence than she felt. And yet, her decision remained firm. She would deal with Torvald’s annoyance later.

  Dagny closed the cabin door and affected a regal gait as she entered the dining area. Unhurried, back straight, hands clasped in front of her at her waist.

  Anna acknowledged her first. The other woman’s eyes dropped to the emerald pendant hovering above the cleft between Dagny’s generous breasts and widened with surprise. When they lifted to meet hers, Dagny gave Anna a triumphant smile before turning to join Torvald.

  She slid her arm under his and rested her hand in the crook of his elbow. Torvald faced her and smiled. But when his gaze dropped to the necklace, a flush of rage washed away any hint of cordiality.

  “What have you done?” he growled through a clenched jaw.

  Dagny froze. She glanced in Anna’s direction. “I’m letting her know that I am the woman who holds your heart.”

  “You little fool,” Torvald spat. “I told you—I ordered you—never to wear that on this ship!”

  Dagny withdrew her hand from his arm. “The necklace is mine to do with as I wish,” she declared, angry to hear how thin and tremulous her voice sounded. “And I wish to wear it.”

  She turned toward their accustomed table but Torvald grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

  “Go, put it away now. Before anyone else notices it,” he demanded. He began to push her toward the doorway.

  Dagny didn’t want to create a scene in front of Anna, so she didn’t resist. But her own burgeoning anger threatened to destroy her façade of composure.

  “Stop, you’re bruising me!” she hissed.

  Martin stepped in front of them. Dagny was so occupied with her own situation she hadn’t been aware of his approach. She gasped and halted, stiffening the arm Torvald gripped.

  “I do believe you are causing Lady Haugen some discomfort,” Martin said in a low tone that bordered on threatening. “I am certain that is not your intent, Lord Haugen.”

  Torvald’s fingers relaxed, but his hand remained in place. “This doesn’t concern you, Hansen.”

  Martin’s gaze fell to the emerald pendant. “That is a stunning piece of jewelry, my lady,” he said loudly enough for those nearby to hear.

  Dagny glanced at
Torvald. His face was so red she thought her fiancé might suffer an apoplexy. He glared down his nose at her and his fingers tightened on her arm once again.

  “Thank you, Mister Hansen,” she replied in kind. “It was a gift from Lord Haugen.”

  Martin gave Torvald a stiff bow. “You have excellent taste, my lord.”

  Torvald bounced a nod. His lips were pressed together so hard they lost all color.

  Martin waved in the direction of the tables. “Supper service has begun. Shall we take our seats?”

  Dagny gave him a grateful smile before she addressed Torvald. “Didn’t you mention that you were starving?” she asked sweetly. “I believe I am famished myself.”

  ***

  Martin followed Dagny and Torvald to their table, struggling all the way to keep from challenging the man to a fight. In a bout of fisticuffs, Martin would best him; of that he had no doubt. Martin was clearly in better physical condition. Combine that with his scrapping for most of his life against a brother five years his senior, and Martin was a formidable opponent. Unfortunately, he was too much a gentleman to knock the scoundrel flat here in the dining room.

  Torvald held Dagny’s chair, one where her back would be to the room. Martin waited until Torvald took a seat to Dagny’s left before he sat across from her. Stig and Astrid Thomassen, who had shared their table almost every evening since the day they sailed, were already in their seats and enjoying the soup course.

  “Have you seen the sunset?” Astrid asked without preamble. “Glorious! Simply glorious!”

  Dagny shook her head. “I haven’t been up on the deck for a few hours.”

  “Well the storm has finally broken, it would seem,” Stig effused. “Perhaps we might enjoy a brandy up top before our evening games. What do you say to that, Haugen?”

  Torvald grunted.

  Martin clapped Stig’s shoulder. “Count me in. That sounds refreshing.” He swung his regard to Torvald. “Perhaps we might walk the men through the race course.”