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

by Kris Tualla

  She opened her legs just enough to make space for his fingers. Not splayed wide, as if she was wantonly attempting to entice him, but not clamped together in denial either. This seemed the most moderate response. Martin was obviously interested in continuing, and Dagny knew a good wife never denied her husband his pleasure.

  As Martin’s fingers moved over her quim in a tight circle, a lightning storm began to tingle through her body. Heat and moisture gathered at the point of his touch; the air of their cabin must crackle with the electric sparks he was generating. She wondered if this was a storm which could break.

  She felt Martin’s heat and hardness against her hip. She still had no idea what that organ looked like, but this seemed an opportune time to discover what it felt like. Before she lost her nerve, Dagny slipped her hand between them and wrapped her hand around him.

  Martin moaned in her ear.

  Dagny pulled her hand away, certain she had somehow hurt him.

  “No,” he breathed. He grabbed her retreating wrist. “That’s good.”

  He rolled aside just enough to give her room to gain a proper grip before easing back against her and sliding his fingers back into place.

  Though the linen of his shirt still shrouded the mystery of his manhood, Dagny explored his length and thickness with temerity. The end of it had a ridge that made her think of an arrow. She was shocked that this thing had fit inside of her with so little difficulty.

  Martin tugged at his nightshirt, and Dagny realized he was going to remove the barrier. Her eyes flew open and she froze.

  He stopped.

  His mouth moved over hers and he began to kiss her in the manner that both melted her and set her aflame. As his fingers resumed their scintillating circles Dagny felt a tiny ball of energy gathering in her belly. When his tongue invaded her mouth, the little ball burst.

  Her body stiffened, unsure of what just happened. Her eyes flew open again. She gasped and held her breath, waiting as the energy dispersed pleasantly through her frame.

  Martin pulled away from their kisses. “Dagny?”

  Air rushed from her body.

  “Are you well?” he asked, his concern evident.

  No. “Yes. I’m fine,” she whispered. How could she explain what just happened to her? She had no idea what that was.

  Martin withdrew his hand.

  Dagny concentrated on disciplining the rhythm of her breath.

  “I—I suppose it’s best that we sleep now,” he stammered.

  She turned on her side and faced the wall.

  Martin curled around her again, but this time he put his hand between her breasts on his own. Dagny felt his heart pounding in his chest. He kissed the back of her neck. She got gooseflesh.

  “Sleep well,” he whispered.

  “And you as well,” she answered in kind.

  Dagny had already made her decision. No matter what excitement occurred on the morrow, she must speak with Astrid.

  June 24, 1749

  Dysentery.

  Dagny’s head whipped around, looking for the source of the whisper she thought she heard. She nearly knocked over her coffee mug doing so.

  Martin touched her hand. “What is it?”

  Dagny didn’t answer him. Her gaze skimmed the morning crowd finding only averted eyes or hostile stares. Even so, her belly revolted with fear and threatened to toss her breakfast on the floor.

  Dysentery was not a subject for idle speculation nor casual rumor. The disease was highly infectious and more often than not, deadly. If dysentery broke out aboard a ship, the final result could well be a ghost vessel drifting without direction until it either sank or achieved landfall as a graveyard wreck on some distant shore.

  “Dagny?”

  She pulled her attention back to her husband. “Yes?”

  His expression showed his bemusement as well as his concern. “What has claimed your attention so violently?”

  “I thought I heard someone say something,” she replied with an awkward shrug.

  “What sort of something?” he pressed. Dagny decided in that instant that there was no reason to raise her husband’s concern without need.

  “It’s not of any importance,” she demurred and changed the direction of their conversation. “Will Captain Gilsen open the item in the hold or his cabin?”

  When Martin’s calm look screamed his skepticism at her, Dagny realized of a sudden that she was beginning to recognize the subtle changes in his mood.

  “In the hold, I believe,” he responded after a long moment of silence.

  She offered a sweet smile. “May I come?”

  “If that was my choice, yes.” Martin drained his coffee mug and set it on the tabletop hard enough to emphasize his point. “But it’s not my choice.”

  Dagny leaned forward. “If I mention to Captain Gilsen that I want to witness the complete clearing of my name, and smile at him the way I just smiled at you, what do you think he will say?”

  Martin laughed. “The man hasn’t a chance.”

  Dagny settled back in her chair, a satisfied grin lifting her cheeks. She was surprised at how much her husband’s compliments warmed her core.

  Martin blinked slowly and shook his head.

  Dagny’s brow twitched. “What is that about?”

  He shrugged. “I see many lost arguments in my future.”

  ***

  Martin followed Captain Gilsen down into the hold. He turned and offered Dagny his hand as she descended the ladder’s steps. Purser Birk followed after her, carrying a lamp. Torvald was not informed of the search, as Gilsen promised them yesterday. If nothing was found, there was no reason to confront the man.

  Dagny bit her lips between her teeth, a habit Martin now recognized. He guessed she acquired it to keep from blurting heretical thoughts to her keepers in the abbey. In this case, he would bet she had hoped to see Torvald squirm.

  And yet, as certain as Martin was that Torvald Heimlich and Tor Valdheim were one and the same, that didn’t mean the man had any of the pilfered jewels with him.

  “Which trunk is his?” Gilsen asked, pulling Martin’s attention.

  Martin pointed to a brown, curve-topped chest near the back, the one he saw Torvald fiddling with. “That one, there. Isn’t that right, Dagny?”

  She shook her head. “No. Why do you think that? It’s the flat one beside it.”

  “And why do you think that?” the captain repeated. He waved at Birk to bring the chest forward. The man hung the lamp overhead and moved to obey.

  The truth sent a surge of satisfaction through Martin’s veins. “Because I saw him open that trunk and remove several items. He put those items in Dagny’s chest.”

  Dagny met his gaze, her mouth in the form of an O.

  “Though I had no way of knowing it at the time, I now realize that I witnessed one of his thefts,” Martin added.

  Gilsen didn’t respond, but Martin could practically see the wheels turning in that man’s head. The sound of scraping filled the muted space as the purser struggled to move Torvald’s heavy chest. Martin jumped to help him, finding the delay intolerable.

  He wanted to know, and he wanted to know now, if his instincts were correct.

  Once the trunk was under the light, Birk pulled a set of keys from his pocket. He made several unsuccessful attempts at fitting one to the lock before he began to poke and prod with some sharp bits of metal. Martin looked at Dagny, wondering why the obvious question had not been asked.

  She shook her head and held up empty palms. She did not have a key. Furthermore, she understood his unspoken question. His wife must have been thinking the same thing he was.

  A different type of satisfaction surged through Martin’s veins. If early indications proved true, his marriage was going to work well. All that remained was to guide her fully into his bed. Martin sighed; movement was slow, but he believed he was making progress.

  The thunk of the opened trunk jerked his mind back to their purpose.

 
“Have a care when you remove things,” Gilsen warned the purser. “You may need to put them back as you find them.”

  Dagny pushed past Martin and the captain. She knelt beside the purser, smiled, and held out her hands. His shoulders relaxed. He began to lift the clothing from the coffer and pass it to her. Dagny made neat piles on the floor as he did.

  Martin watched, waiting with scant patience for the final items to be removed. When a month or two passed and the task was completed, Dagny and Birk made space for Martin. Squatting between them, he closed his eyes and began to slide his palms over the inside and the outside of the chest, looking for differences in thickness.

  Panel after panel, he felt for clues. Nothing.

  He was disappointed, but he was saving the most likely prospect for the last. Martin turned the trunk on its back and began to examine the bottom. He looked up at the three pair of eyes focused on his movements.

  He grinned. “Have you a crowbar?”

  The purser was dispatched straightaway to fetch one. Dagny struggled to squelch her smile of vindication. She did not succeed.

  “False bottom, eh?” Gilsen asked. “How deep?”

  Martin held up his fingers about two or three inches apart. “I’d say only an inch of that is actually the hiding space. The rest is the trunk’s construction.”

  “But that would be plenty, wouldn’t it,” Dagny declared.

  “You could stash quite a few jewels in that amount of space,” Gilsen concurred. “Could set a man up for the rest of his life, I suppose.”

  Birk jumped past the last steps of the ladder. He held the crowbar out and Martin took it. Martin felt for a seam between the bottom boards and began to wiggle the small end of the crowbar into it. Little by little, the iron tool gained purchase. Martin pushed, twisted, and pushed again.

  The wood objected with tiny grunts before giving way with a loud crack. Martin continued to pry away the panels, at the same time he tried to avoid injuring his crowding onlookers with the other end of the bar.

  Behind the boards were several soft brushed-leather pouches. Martin handed one to Captain Gilsen. He stood as the captain began to unwrap the treasure.

  When the lamplight caught the shine of pearls, Dagny gasped. “It’s true!” she yelped. “Get another one!”

  Martin obeyed, nearly giddy in his relief and excitement. The next pouch held a diamond brooch, set in gold and accented with black onyx. The third, diamond earrings. The fourth, a ruby and diamond pendant.

  “There is a fortune here,” Dagny said with authority. “We had better write everything down now, before anyone else discovers this.”

  Birk was dispatched again.

  Captain Gilsen crossed arms over his broad chest and faced Martin, his eyes narrowed. “You have done a great thing today.”

  Martin shrugged. “Any honest man would have done the same thing.”

  “There are not that many honest men in this world. Believe me, I know.” Gilsen rubbed his jaw. “And I’m guessing that you married the lady here to save her life. The pair of you weren’t really involved, were you?”

  Before he answered, Martin glanced at Dagny to discern her preferred response.

  “No,” she answered for herself. “We were not.”

  Martin kept his silence, wondering where this conversation was taking them.

  Gilsen faced Dagny. “I can tear up your marriage certificate and throw it into the sea if you wish me to,” he offered. “Your innocence is clear. You haven’t need of the alibi any longer.”

  Martin felt as if he had just been hit with the crowbar.

  He had not expected anything like this. The ramifications of Gilsen’s offer made his knees weak. He sat on the upended trunk and stared at Dagny, although she appeared to be at the end of a dark and furry tunnel.

  Don’t leave me.

  The idea that he might not remain married to her was not one he entertained. There was no reason for him to do so. What was done, was done. Or so he thought.

  Dagny seemed to be taking far too long to answer.

  For the first time in his life, Martin realized he might be in love. Not the volatile rushes of a first attraction. Nor the gut-tearing angst brought about by spurned affections. Not even the bawdy sort of appeal that meant he couldn’t keep his hands off her. But the sort of love that surpasses emotion and moves into action.

  Actions such as sacrificing one’s own plans for the sake of another.

  Martin closed his eyes. Please don’t leave me.

  “That is a very kind offer, Captain Gilsen, and I do appreciate your concern,” she said. Her soft voice screamed through Martin’s frame. “Our marriage did begin in a rather unconventional manner.”

  Martin’s eyes popped open. Her pale blue gaze leveled on his and held it as she continued.

  “And yet, I am satisfied. I have no wish to dissolve our vows.” She paused. Her gaze pulled away from his and dropped to the floor. “Unless he does, of course.”

  Gilsen turned to Martin. “Do you?”

  Relief sucked the strength from Martin’s limbs. “No I do not,” he croaked. “I, too, am satisfied.”

  Dagny’s body relaxed. She looked at him from under her lashes. A shy smile lifted her pinkened cheeks.

  The captain rummaged through the jewels they had not opened in the purser’s presence. He lifted another strand of pearls, these an unusual shade of pink.

  “Here,” Gilsen held them toward Martin. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

  Martin started to object, but the expression on Dagny’s face stopped him. She wanted him to accept the offering. In an instant he saw all of her reasons.

  He told her his funds were limited. These pearls—and all of the other jewels—would have been successfully spirited away if it wasn’t for his connecting Torvald to the crimes. They were not, as yet, accounted for. And their value would give him a chance to begin his own architectural firm.

  Martin lifted his hand. The pearls were cool and smooth, sliding between his fingers.

  “My wife and I thank you,” he murmured. He tucked them into his pocket as the purser’s boots clattered down the steps.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Dagny waited in Martin’s hiding spot as Torvald was brought down into the hold. She wanted to see his face when his deceptions were laid out before him, uncovered. She wanted to watch him squirm, unable to wiggle his way out of guilt. His smooth conversation and wily ways would be of no use to him now.

  He didn’t disappoint.

  At first he denied everything, his lies and accusations growing more outrageous each time one was uttered. He threatened Martin and had to be held back by the sailors brought down to arrest him. He shouted that Martin was the thief, and had placed the jewels there to ruin him.

  You ought to know that scheme well.

  Dagny clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing her revenge.

  It was not until Martin mentioned Brander Hansen that Torvald’s expression shifted. Clearly, Torvald knew at that point that he was done in. His face paled. His knees buckled.

  The soldiers dragged him up the narrow steps and out of her sight.

  Gilsen and Martin collected the jewels as Dagny worked her way forward, out of hiding. The ledger had already been signed and was tucked inside Martin’s jacket. The captain carried away the wrapped jewels.

  “What about his clothes?” Dagny asked. The piles still sat on the floor beside the damaged trunk. “Shall I put them back?”

  Martin looked as if he didn’t care. “I suppose so.”

  Dagny knelt down and Martin righted the trunk. Dagny quickly placed the apparel inside the chest and closed the lid.

  “I wonder where he’ll be locked,” she mused. “I expect Miss Anna Solberg will be quite put out.”

  Martin helped her to her feet. “We still have time for the midday meal. Are you hungry?”

  “Quite,” she answered.

  Dagny climbed the steps first and waited on the crew’
s deck for Martin to join her. She noticed a cluster of activity in one corner. The breeze shifted. The stench of sour bowels hit her nose like a club. She knew that stink.

  Martin reached her side. She spun and hurried up the next ladder to the passenger deck.

  “What’s your hurry?” Martin called after her.

  Dagny didn’t slow down. She rushed into their cabin, poured water into the bowl and proceeded to scrub her hands with a sliver of soap. When Martin entered, she looked into his face and prayed that her terror was not as evident as his puzzlement. She tipped her head, indicating he should shut the door. He did so.

  Martin closed the space between them. He looked down into her eyes. He didn’t voice his question, but she understood it just the same.

  “Dysentery,” was her answer.

  ***

  Dagny ate her meal without speaking, listening for any indication that the stomach infection had spread beyond the crew. Most of the snippets she caught concerned Torvald’s arrest. She caught several of the passengers looking at Martin with awe. Yet when they saw Dagny watching them, they turned away.

  Of course they would. They still thought Torvald was her brother. Perhaps it was time to float a truthful rumor, she mused. One which should travel quickly because it was equally scandalous.

  “What do you think, Dagny?”

  She faced Stig Thomassen across the table. “I’m sorry. What were you asking?”

  “The races,” Martin offered. “Tor only ran a few and with limited success. Stig believes I should take them over.”

  Dagny smiled softly at her husband. “Well, you are a bit of a hero now. And you are known to be an honest man. Do you want to do it?”

  Martin shrugged. “I might try them as a diversion.”

  She nodded and reapplied wordless efforts to her meal. Besides the threat of illness, Dagny was distracted by her approaching interview with Astrid Thomassen. Their private talk was scheduled to take place right after their meal. Stig didn’t seem to mark her silence as he and Martin continued to chat amicably, but Astrid’s inquisitive gazes kept Dagny’s nerves strung taut.