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

by Kris Tualla

  Dagny’s mind understood Martin’s statements one slow word at a time.

  And as it did, a fury like she had never known took her over. She yanked one hand from his and slapped Martin across the face with every ounce of her outrage. The stinging sound rang through the small space and the other three men cringed.

  Martin didn’t move.

  As the outline of her fingers reddened and swelled over his cheek, he held on to her other hand. His blue eyes remained fixed on hers, steady and imploring.

  Angered beyond measure at his lack of response, Dagny slapped him again. This time, she felt the pain in her own hand. Martin’s eyes watered and his jaw clenched, but his hands still held one of hers. His gaze never wavered.

  “How dare you?” Dagny croaked.

  Martin’s voice was steady, though Dagny felt his hands begin to tremble. “I couldn’t let you be punished for a crime that was not yours. You and I both know that you are innocent.”

  The horrific fate Martin was saving her from began to nudge into Dagny’s realization. If she was a man, they would have hung her from the yardarm two days ago. As it stood now, she was going to be placed in the hands of the Boston authorities—men who didn’t know her, weren’t on the ship, and had no reason to find her innocent.

  This man kneeling before her, with the violent imprint of her hand raised and red on his swelling cheek, was doing the unimaginable. Martin was offering his life to save hers. Her breath came in uneven gasps of disbelief. Her cheeks were somehow wet.

  Martin swallowed and drew a deep breath. “I had to confess to the misconduct of my own, Dagny, it was necessary. I deeply apologize for causing you such embarrassment. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  Dagny nodded, understanding the true meaning of his words. “I do forgive you, Martin. And I will be forever grateful, truly I will,” she whispered. “But you do not need to marry me.”

  Martin’s cheeks twitched in an awkward grimace of relief. “No, Dagny, I must marry you. I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to suffer the future consequences of my unbridled passion.”

  Dagny stiffened. “But the captain can’t marry us now that we are in the middle of the ocean.”

  Martin looked over his shoulder at Captain Gilsen. “Sir?”

  The captain nodded. “I have the authority to perform a marriage as long as we are in international waters. I cannot do so when we are within any nation’s jurisdiction.”

  “But, Tor—” Dagny bit off her words. Torvald’s claim to the opposite solidified her inkling that he would never have married her. Tears threatened again. She had been such a foolish child.

  “What if I don’t wish to marry you?” she challenged.

  He cast another look over his shoulders at the three men standing silent and focused. Dagny’s eyes followed. Captain Gilsen shifted uncomfortably and the first mate’s brow lowered with obvious displeasure. Martin faced her again.

  “Once you are released from your arrest, its reason—our misconduct—will become common knowledge. And while I understand, my dearest heart, that your gentle sensibilities have been sorely abused in this unfortunate misunderstanding, I know you to be of sufficient mind to realize the wisdom in accepting my proposal.”

  Dagny gasped.

  So that was it.

  Marry a man whom she barely knew, or face the ruination of her name. Or worse. If she denied his proposal, Martin might recant his story. Then she’d be locked back in the cabin and be punished for the thefts once they reached Boston; probably be hung by the neck. Or starve herself before the ship docked in America. Though in the face of what had occurred, the idea of her demise wasn’t entirely unpleasant, neither manner looming before her was particularly enticing.

  In fact, they were horrific and terrifying.

  Dagny looked at Martin and felt all the blood drain from her face. Torvald had already proven untrustworthy. She would be a fool to hope for her erstwhile fiancé to experience a change of heart and save her. Not after he had so completely convicted her.

  Perhaps she should consider Martin’s offer after all. In her many conversations with Martin, he had always treated her with respect. He was clean, intelligent, and had a sound sense of humor.

  And he was handsome.

  Very, very handsome.

  Dagny knew little of what occurred between a man and a woman in the marital bed, but she was nonetheless attracted to his long, solid body. Dagny pressed her lips together, these thoughts warming her face.

  She knew what she should choose to do. Yet that choice frightened her almost as much as the thought of hanging from a distant Massachusetts tree.

  “Dagny?” Martin asked softly.

  She pulled her attention back onto the ship, into the captain’s cabin, and she stared into Martin’s eyes.

  He squeezed her hand. “Will you have me?”

  Dagny nodded solemnly.

  “Yes, Martin,” she whispered. “I will.”

  ***

  Hot relief flowed through Martin’s veins followed by ice water. He had made his decision and his new path was set. His future, irrevocably altered.

  Now was not the time to think about that.

  He rose to his feet and turned to Captain Gilsen. “We are ready.”

  “Now?” Surprise defined Dagny’s outburst.

  Martin gave her a reassuring smile and held out his hand. “Why wait any longer to repair the harm I’ve done to you?”

  Dagny’s gaze darted around the room, frantic as a trapped bird. “I only—I mean—this is so sudden.”

  Gilsen cleared his throat.

  Dagny’s head swiveled in his direction.

  “Lady Haugen,” he said. “I do have other duties today.”

  Her face flushed, the ruddy color extending down her neck. “Yes. Of course.”

  She looked up at Martin and took his hand. The fear in her eyes tugged at his heart. His desire to protect her surged, warming his chest. Dagny stood, though the pull on his hand betrayed her weakened condition. He determined to feed her as soon as this deed was done.

  Martin tucked Dagny’s hand in the crook of his arm and they faced Captain Gilsen. The purser handed the captain a small book, opened to a specific page, and pointed. Gilsen nodded.

  “We have gathered here in front of these two witnesses to join Martin Hansen and Dagny Haugen—”

  “Sivertsen,” Dagny interrupted.

  All three men stared at her.

  Another violent rush of blood colored her skin. “My name is Dagny Sivertsen. Not Dagny Haugen.”

  Gilsen frowned. “I understood that Torvald Haugen was your brother.”

  “Half brother,” Martin retorted, hoping Dagny would follow his lead. “They have different fathers.”

  “That’s why we don’t look alike,” Dagny added, her voice quavering a bit. Martin squeezed her hand in approval. “Con—considering that,” she stammered, “he felt our situation would be eased if we shared a surname.”

  “Hmph,” Gilsen grunted. He squinted at Martin. “You are a Hansen?”

  “Martin Balder Gunnar Hansen, sir,” he replied with a dip of his chin.

  The captain made a tsk sound and consulted his book. “To join Dagny Sivertsen and Martin Hansen in the bonds of marriage. Do you both come to this ceremony by your own free will?”

  Martin nearly laughed at the irony. Instead, he squeezed Dagny’s hand again. “I do.”

  “I do,” she echoed softly.

  Gilsen nodded. “Martin Hansen, do you promise to honor, protect, and provide for this woman to the best of your ability for as long as you live?”

  Martin swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. This was real. His agreement would bind him until the day he died. He looked sideways at Dagny.

  She faced the captain, unbowed. Her light blonde hair framed her face like an angel’s. She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. When he hesitated, she faced him. Her pale blue eyes were as clear as glaciers. In that moment
, he knew this was right.

  “I do,” he murmured. She gave him a shy smile.

  “And Dagny Sivertsen,” Gilsen continued. “Do you promise to honor, obey, and be a helpmeet to this man for as long as you live?”

  “I do.” Her voice was surprisingly strong and clear.

  “Do you have a ring?” the captain asked.

  Martin startled. He didn’t. “I wasn’t prepared…”

  “That’s fine,” Dagny interjected. “Go on.”

  Gilsen lifted one brow in silent judgment.

  “With your agreement to these vows, I, Jurgund Gilsen, as captain of this ship, and by the authority of maritime law,” he read from his book without looking up, “do declare that you are husband and wife from this day forward, a legal union to be respected by all nations and principalities.”

  Purser Birk immediately tapped Martin’s shoulder and directed the couple to a side table where a document awaited their signatures. Martin signed first. Dagny followed and, though her hand trembled a bit, her signature was clear and strong. The first mate and purser signed next, and captain signed last.

  As they waited for the ink to dry, Gilsen grinned for the first time that day. “There is only one thing left to do.”

  Martin gave him a blank look. What else was expected of them?

  The captain clapped him on the back. “Why, kiss your bride, man!”

  Martin’s gut clenched. He turned to Dagny. Her eyes were big as platters, but she didn’t flinch.

  Martin cupped her face in his hands. They claimed to be lovers, so he knew he needed to kiss her in a way that proved their previous dalliances.

  Please, God, don’t let me frighten her.

  He lowered his mouth over hers. Her eyes closed first, then his. He started slowly, tenderly. Her lips were soft and pliant, and her breath warmed his cheek. She didn’t pull away. Martin opened his mouth and began to use his tongue to tease hers. She inhaled a little gasp, but responded. Tentatively at first, then eagerly.

  Her hands lifted to his waist. Her fists gripped his coat. A little moan escaped her.

  Captain Gilsen cleared his throat.

  Dagny pulled back, her lips reddened and her expression surprised. She stepped back and her gaze fell to the floor. She ran the back of her fingers over her mouth.

  Martin’s entire framed tingled and responded to the startling intimacy of that kiss. He was off balance and flustered by it. It was unlike anything he might have expected.

  “Clearly we have righted a grievous wrong here today,” Gilsen stated.

  Birk handed Martin the marriage certificate. “I’ll see you out,” he said, indicating the door.

  Martin, still stunned, rested his hand on the small of Dagny’s back. He followed her out of the cabin. Neither spoke until they were free of onlookers. Then she faced him, somber and intent.

  “What happens now?” she asked.

  Chapter Nineteen

  "First of all, you need to eat something.” Martin took her elbow and turned toward the dining space.

  Dagny resisted, holding her ground. “No. First you tell me why you called Torvald my brother.”

  One corner of Martin’s mouth lifted. “Thank you for going along with that, by the way. The interview might have become very awkward if you had not.”

  “I may be a fool,” Dagny admitted. “But I am not a stupid one. Now tell me.”

  All traces of mirth faded from Martin’s expression. “Because that is how he introduced you to everyone aboard. As his sister.”

  The ramifications of that statement pushed all the air from her lungs. She sucked it back, in a long slow gasp, and tried to recall hearing him say those words.

  “He said it in English,” Martin continued as if reading her mind.

  Her eyes flicked to his. “And you understood him. You knew.”

  Martin’s head gave a small shake. “He was very careful about his choice of words. In Norse he made it sound like you were husband and wife. Then in English he said you were siblings, emigrating after the death of your parents.”

  Dagny’s knees buckled.

  Martin caught her waist. Then he swooped her up into his arms with no apparent effort. “You need to eat, and you need to eat now.”

  “I ate a bit in my cabin,” she rasped.

  “Not enough, I’ll wager.”

  “You knew?” she ventured wondering if she could stand the humiliation of his affirmative response. It was fortunate he held her, because the next blow would most certainly fell her.

  “That you were starving yourself?” he said without looking at her. “Yes.”

  Dagny buried her face in his shoulder. “You have married an idiot.”

  “You are not an idiot, Dagny.” Martin’s baritone voice rumbled through his chest and vibrated against her cheek. “Nor are you a fool. And as your husband, I forbid you to refer yourself in those words, or any similar terms, ever again.”

  “What words may I use then?” she challenged.

  “Naïve. I’ll give you that one. You were raised by women who chose to flee from the company of men,” he stated in a tone that brooked no judgment. “You were unequipped to deal with a man the likes of Torvald.”

  “And he took advantage of that,” she whispered.

  “He did,” Martin concurred.

  “He was never going to marry me,” she continued, pouring out the full scope of her failure. “He might have abandoned me once we reached Boston.”

  Martin tightened his grip on her. “I expect that was his plan.”

  Dagny tilted her head back and met Martin’s gaze, so close to hers. “I made it all so easy for him.”

  Martin’s lips twitched. “Well not all. You didn’t bed him—and I’ll wager that was an unhappy surprise.”

  An unanticipated giggle burst from her lips. “He was none too pleased. That is the truth!”

  Martin shifted her weight in his arms and began to walk toward the tables. “I know you haven’t eaten for a couple of days, madam, but I do find you to be of a healthy weight.”

  “Then set me down,” Dagny demanded.

  “No, I rather like seeing myself as your savior,” Martin responded with a grin.

  Dagny’s mood sobered once again. “You have saved my life twice, Martin. I owe you two lives.”

  “You owe me nothing, Dagny. You don’t know what sort of life I’ll give you.” Martin set her down next to one of the tables. “Truth be told, neither do I.”

  Dagny steadied herself with one hand on the tabletop. She looked into Martin’s eyes, determined to know the truth.

  “But you believe me? About the bedding?” she asked.

  “I do. But we’ll have to put on a display, you realize,” he warned.

  Dagny frowned, confused. “What sort of display?”

  Martin leaned over and spoke in her ear. “We married because we were carrying on a torrid love affair. Confessing to such proved that you did not steal the jewels.”

  “Oh!” Dagny felt her cheeks warming. “Will the other passengers know that?”

  Martin straightened. “Yes. And they’ll probably hate you for it.”

  Dagny twisted her mouth. “More than they did when they thought I was a thief?”

  Martin gave her a non-committal shrug.

  Dagny sighed and sank into a chair. Martin went to ask for food since they were too late for breakfast and too early for the midday meal.

  Harlot or thief, she mused. She didn’t suppose it mattered. At the least Martin wouldn’t leave her to face them alone. Incredibly, he was as guilty as she in the scenario he created. When he tossed her under the carriage, he tumbled under it with her.

  Martin was a good man. Perhaps this arrangement—no, this marriage—could turn out well. If she could prove she deserved him, that is.

  He returned with a mug of coffee and a bowl of soup. He set them in front of her and took the chair facing her. “Eat it all,” he ordered.

  Dagny did as she was bid. The fi
sh soup, as always, was hot and fresh. She was so hungry now that everything was changed that she didn’t talk, but rather gobbled the food in an unladylike manner. When she downed the last spoonful, she looked up at Martin, finding him to be obviously amused.

  “I don’t believe you are the type of woman who should attempt to starve herself,” he quipped.

  Dagny stuck out her tongue at him. He laughed.

  “Thank you for believing me, Martin.”

  Martin leaned forward. “You told the truth. And I don’t have the tiniest confidence that you are able to lie with any effectiveness.”

  She dipped her chin. “Well, I thank you just the same.”

  His gaze shifted. “It’s time.”

  “For what?” Dagny wiped her mouth on a napkin.

  Martin’s gaze returned to her. “To face the other passengers. Are you ready, my dearest love?”

  ***

  Dagny sat up straight and attempted to appear unconcerned, but Martin felt the nervous bounce of her knee under the table. He reached for her hand and held it in a firm grasp, their entwined fingers resting on the tabletop.

  “Follow my lead again,” he said. “We’ll be fine.”

  She gave him a skeptical look. “And if not, we’ll be vilified together.”

  “Until death,” he reminded her.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Until death.”

  Since their wedding about half an hour ago, Martin and Dagny hadn’t talked about anything of import concerning their future. They hadn’t even discussed where they would sleep that night. He hadn’t called her wife, nor had she called him husband. So many new vistas lay ahead of them. Martin decided not to think about them and take these things on as they presented themselves.

  The midday meal bell rang, though several of the passengers had anticipated it and arrived early. Especially those with young children who needed to nap afterwards. The women Dagny spent her afternoons with looked her way. Some were obviously confused, others merely curious. But none of them approached.

  When Sara arrived, however, she walked straight to their table.