Under A Viking Moon

by Tami Dee

  She started to brush by him, but Leif caught her by the arm, breathing in deeply the soft scent of apples and sunshine that he now knew belonged to her alone.

  "Kat," he said in a low voice. "I am not going anywhere without you."

  "That is not really necessary," she made a sharp, frustrated, gesture with her hand. "I said I'd help if I could, but there's no reason to have to live together while I do. Especially now that you'll have plenty of money to get by on."

  "What are you afraid of Kat?" he demanded. "Is it me you don't trust, or yourself?"

  "Of all the arrogant things to ask. Look, Leif, I'm not afraid of anything, especially not you. For all I know, you'll disappear into thin air the minute I turn my back, and I'll spend the next five years on a shrink's couch trying to figure out if you really washed up into my life from the past, or if I'm simply bonkers."

  "Bonkers?"

  "Yes, bonkers. Crazy. You must have crazy people in your time."

  Leif felt a stab of pain pierce through him. Oh, yes, he knew all about crazy, and the fear and distrust of the ones so cursed. Schooling his face into a casual half smile, he brushed a finger along the stubborn line of her jaw, reveling in the silken feel of her skin against his callused finger.

  "You're not crazy, Kat," he assured her. "You're perfect."

  She opened her mouth as if to speak. Leif cut her off with a finger to her lips.

  "I am not leaving you in this hovel you call a shelter," he went on, pinning his eyes to hers. "As soon as I trade this knife for coin, we -- you and I -- will be acquiring better accommodations. I'm not giving you a choice. This is the way it will be." It was satisfying to assert himself. After all, he was a jarl, accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed without question. It was time she understood her place.

  Smack.

  Heat stung his cheek as her hand connected with it. It took a full minute for the realization of what she had done to register in his stunned mind.

  "You disrespectful wench," he hissed, hauling her into the circle of his arms. "Do you know I could have you put to death for striking me?"

  She craned her neck to glare up at him. She was angry?

  Looking him straight in the eye, she retorted "I've got news for you Dorothy! You're not in Kansas anymore."

  What was that supposed to mean? "What?"

  "Let go of me, you big oaf! You may be some hot shot jarl where you come from, but you're in my time now, buster. The most you could do here is accuse me of assault and battery. One look at you, the size of an oak tree, and little ol' me, well, the judge would throw out the case faster than you could blink. You would do well to remember that. Now let -- me -- go."

  He barely felt pressure of her palms as she pushed against his chest.

  Leif knew that he should let her go but even though she was struggling, it felt too good to hold her. Besides, at the moment, he did not know whether he wanted to kiss her or strangle her.

  He opted to kiss her.

  As he was coming to expect when his lips claimed hers, she fought against him, but within the space of two heartbeats, she melted against him. Deliciously, shyly, her own lips softened and moved underneath his. Leif forgot what they were arguing about. It did not matter. All that mattered at this moment was the woman in his embrace and the fact that he would never let her go. Once again stunned by his thoughts, he abruptly released her. He had just enough of his wits about him to steady her before she slipped to the ground. He braced himself for the tirade that was sure to follow his kiss and was not disappointed.

  "Listen to me," she gasped. "You can't haul me into your arms and kiss me breathless every time we argue."

  Her voice did indeed have a breathless quality to it.

  "What happened to 'I'm married to your ancestor, we're practically family'? Huh? What about that? From now on, you keep your hands, and your lips, off me. Got it?"

  She was priceless. Her spirit, her bravery, the sheer stubbornness that drove her, despite her obvious fears, was compelling. Leif had never encountered a woman quite like her before, and he doubted, with a pang of regret piercing the wall that guarded his heart, that he would ever encounter one like her again.

  He wondered if the Katla he had married this morning, or a thousand years ago depending on what side of the matter you looked at it from, had been anything like her counterpart. If only that Katla had not betrayed him, he would have had the opportunity to find out. Who knew, he might have even come to love her in time.

  "If you don't come with me," he said, tightening his hold on the woman struggling in his arms. "I will not go. And as for the matter of my not kissing you to end an argument, lets just say I will not make a promise that I cannot keep. Therefore, I suggest that you avoid anymore verbal confrontations you are not willing to end in that fashion."

  At her outraged huff, Leif decided it was time to change the subject. "Now, exactly where is this futon you spoke of that I am to avoid?"

  Scowling, Katla twisted herself out of his loosened hold and pointed to the cushioned bench set against the windowless wall at the far end of the room.

  "There, it folds down into a bed. My bed. You'll, be sleeping on a pallet. As big as you are, I suggest you use several of these blankets here in the closet for padding, or else you're going to have a very uncomfortable night" she paused, glancing at a band on her wrist. "What's left of it anyway."

  He caught the coverings as she slung them over her shoulder in a flurry of color. As he fashioned his pallet, he refrained from complaining about how thin the coverings were.

  The room grew quiet as they settled on their respective pallets. "Tell me, Kat. When you learned my name, you mentioned that you had told Rosie a legend. What legend?"

  There was such a long silence that Leif wondered if she had already fallen asleep.

  "I suppose I should fill you in," she said finally, and he could hear the sleep in her voice. "You see I was raised by my Amma. My mother died giving birth to me..."

  Leif listened, fascinated, as she told a tale of her grandmother -- who knew how many times removed? -- and of himself. She had every detail of the treaty correct; every detail regarding his wedding journey to Iceland was accurate. When she described the glowing pendants, a chill ran down his spine, just as it had when the uncanny event had happened on the deck of his long boat. Leif was stunned to learn that Katla of his time had been carrying another warrior's child in her womb, a warrior who was not unfamiliar to Leif.

  By the time her words had gradually faded into silence, his mind was spinning.

  "So the betrayal plotted was because she was afraid of what would happen when I discovered she was not an innocent on our wedding night?"

  "Yes," Kat answered sleepily. "That and because she wanted to be married to Scipio but her father would not allow it. Not to mention the fear she held that you would kill her when her condition became noticeable, and then attack her father and his people because of the insult."

  Leif took that in, remaining silent.

  "Leif?"

  "Yes, Kat?"

  "Would you have killed her, and then attacked her family? Was she right to fear you?"

  Leif's throat tightened. He knew his answer would affect the way she viewed him. For some reason the thought pained him, yet he had to tell her the truth.

  "Aye, Kat. I would have done just as she feared. But that does not excuse her. I lost my three younger brothers because of her. My father was left alone, with no one to care for him. My mother and sisters were unprotected. My mighty warriors were slain before my eyes and I was married at the point of a sword before being tossed overboard to die."

  His heart thundered and bitterness threatened to choke him.

  "Nay, Katla, she had no right to cover her own treachery in such a way. No right at all. I will never forgive her for what she did, or her lover. If I had lived, washed up on the shore in my own time instead of yours, I would have hunted them for the rest of my days until justice had been meted out."
<
br />   There was a brief silence as his words hung in the air.

  "I guess it doesn't make it any easer for you to know that she did die a short time later, by her own hand."

  She wasn't asking a question, simply stating a fact. And she was right. Leif felt the white-hot burn of hatred coursing through his veins. It was not good enough that Katla had taken her own life. He wanted to be the one to slay her.

  "What happened to Scipio and the infant?"

  "I don't really know what happened to them." She sounded a little surprised, as if she had not given the matter much thought. "The infant must have survived, or Amma and I wouldn't exist right now. Neither you, nor you people, knew she was expecting a child. I imagine that after hearing that Katla was dead, your people stopped their attacks. After all, as far as they knew, they had wiped out her entire family line. As for Scipio, I always assumed that he was slain by your people when they attacked Rollo's village. But I don't know any of this for certain."

  Her voice had taken on a wooden quality. Leif thought about what she said. If his people had known about the infant, they would have been honor bound to destroy it. He wondered if Scipio had lived and somehow manipulated the situation to his advantage? He had always been a cunning warrior. Foreboding settled about Leif like a cloud. Wondering about these things would get him nowhere. He could do nothing, learn nothing, until he returned to his time.

  He looked towards the futon where Kat was a small lump in the middle of an ocean of coverings. A blinking red light spilt through a gap in the window coverings and flashed upon her beautiful, now sleeping, face.

  Leif was weary, too, but sleep eluded him. He wondered if perhaps his future ancestors could be located in this time. Leif frowned into the darkness. Why would his future ancestors be living on this continent anyway? His frown deepened. How was it that he had been shoved into one ocean, and washed up on the shore of another?

  Heaving a weary sigh he forced his eyes closed, hoping for a reprieve from his wondering thoughts. Too much had happened to him in too short a time. Perhaps if he slept, he would awake to find himself back in his time again. And why should just the thought of such a possibility fill him with such a sense of loss?

  Leif sighed into the darkness.

  Chapter Seven

  Two things registered in Kat's sleep-dimmed mind as the beeping of her alarm clock jerked her awake. The first being that six o'clock comes much too early when one hasn't gone to sleep until after three-thirty. Second, the sound of metal sliding through metal most assuredly meant that if she didn't do something immediately, her alarm clock was going to meet the business end of a Viking sword.

  Kat jumped out of bed and threw herself in front of the offending timepiece, gulping as the sharp tip of Leif's long sword stopped, mid strike, against her mid-section.

  Dawn seeped through the slight opining of the curtain, casting a dull glow upon the blade. Leif was sitting bolt upright on his pallet, a pallet that she was sure had not been scooted quite so close to her futon when they had bedded down.

  "Woman, are you daft? What do you think you're doing? I could have killed you!"

  Beep, beep, beep.

  "If you'd stop yelling at me for two seconds, I could slay the beast that apparently frightened you into some high-strung aviking attack mode."

  Satisfied that she'd stunned him into a flabbergasted silence, Kat turned and flipped the alarm's switch to off. Never had the sound of silence been so welcome.

  "I was not frightened, wench," Leif muttered under his breath.

  His giant ego, in her opinion, perfectly matched the size of his giant body. Kat blew her bangs out of her eyes and said through gritted teeth. "I'm not a wench, and you most certainly were."

  Reining in her temper, she continued, striving for patience. "Look, last night I forgot to explain about alarm clocks, so now you know that they are loud and annoying, but not in the least bit dangerous. That said, we don't need to have a repeat of this morning's fiasco tomorrow, unless of course you've decided to be sensible by then and get your own place. After we sell your knife, you can afford it, you know." She crooked her brow, see how he likes having that condescending brow raised in his direction for a change, she thought with a huff.

  The huff, however, turned into a strangled gasp as her scowling houseguest stood up and the blankets that had been pooled around his waist fell to the floor. The six foot five, two hundred plus pound, perfectly sculpted, muscle-bound Norseman standing before her was completely nude. Unless, of course, you counted the intricately engraved gold armbands stationed around his bulging biceps and the sword that he was now busy slipping back into its sheath, an action which gave her an unobstructed view of his rock solid tush.

  "Ohmygod!"

  He looked up from his task at her exclamation and grinned.

  "You're naked," she accused him, amazed that she could even speak.

  "And you're fully clothed," he countered. "Tell me Kat, which one of us is showing the most common sense when it comes to sleeping comfortably?"

  She wanted to scratch that arrogant half smile right off his face. But that would require that she go near him, nearer than she presently was, and that, she decided, was out of the question.

  "I always wear something at night," she told him, trying not to show how taken back she was. "You never know when the building might catch on fire, and I'll have to go running for my life. It wouldn't hurt you to think about that either, buster."

  She tried to put some conviction into her statement as she groped behind her for a blanket from her bed but could tell by the way his eyes continued to twinkle that she had failed miserably.

  "What are you, an exhibitionist?" she tossed him the blanket. "Cover yourself, will you?"

  Leif tossed his waist-length hair over his shoulder with an easy flick of his head. Kat's eye, that just a split second ago hadn't known where to rest, fell onto the pendant that hung from a chain around his neck. The Pendant. Before she even realized she was going to, she reached up and touched it.

  It was an amazing feat of craftsmanship. She had no idea what material it was made from, but it was smooth to her touch. The round disk was about the size of a silver dollar with five sharp points evenly placed at the edge of the circle. Not only was the metal smooth to touch, but it was strangely warm. She lifted it from his chest to get a closer look at an upside down, slanted L surrounded by intertwined knots that rose from the middle of the pendant.

  "Is this a rune letter?" she asked, running her fingers lightly over it.

  "Aye lady, it is. The letter Luna, symbolizing water and oaths given."

  His lip drew into a bitter line. Kat imagined the irony of his wife's betrayal was not lost on him, her treacherous actions having been a complete contradiction to the meaning of the tokens her father had ordered fused together.

  The pendant started to glow, just as it had the previous afternoon when he had held it. They watched, fascinated as it became brighter and brighter. Then, ever so slowly, the uncanny glow subsided until it had dissipated all together.

  "It's just like the saga says," Kat whispered, raising her eyes to meet Leif's. As their eyes locked, something shifted inside her and she felt as if she was suddenly drowning in the bottomless blue depths gazing back at her.

  "Elskaminn," he murmured, running a finger along her jaw line. "The passion smoldering within your beautiful eyes heats my blood and steals my breath away. Lie with me Kat, let me make you mine."

  His hand curled around her nape and his long fingers slid into her loose hair as he leaned in. His lips neared hers and his breath was hot and sweet against her skin. He was going to kiss her!

  Panicked, flattered and unable to form a coherent thought, Kat pushed away from him and rushed into the small bathroom, slamming the door behind her. To her mortification the sound of deep, rich, much-too-pleased with himself laughter followed.

  *****

  Kat tucked the last bite of her BLT sandwich into her mouth as Rosie, at the oth
er end of the phone, quietly absorbed all that Kat had told her regarding the time-traveling Norseman sitting in her studio apartment, most likely watching TV and thinking of new ways to torment her.

  "Let me get this straight. You believe that the hunk you took home with you last night -- a fact that I am still reeling from, mind you -- is, in reality, the jarl that your ancestor betrayed?"

  Kat swallowed and took a sip of Coke. "Uh huh."

  "Kat girl, have you lost your mind? People do not, I repeat, do not travel through time. They never have, they never will. Got it?"

  "Ordinarily I would agree with you," Kat said. "But not this time. I don't know how it happened, or why exactly it has. I've talked to him, Rosie. Every thing he says, the way he expresses himself--"

  "And you say he can understand any language he hears?" Rosie interrupted.

  "Uh huh. It's amazing, Rosie, really. But it's true. I'm convinced he is Leif the Conqueror. He was tossed off the bow of his longship in the year 900 and landed here, right smack in the year 2006."

  "Kat," Rosie protested, with something akin to pity in her voice. "You're being conned. I can't believe that you of all people have fallen for a con."

  "Rosie, I saw proof with my own eyes. This morning."

  Rosie's laugh rang through the line. Kat felt a flash of irritation that her best friend in the world didn't simply believe her regarding the extraordinary events of the last twenty-four hours.

  "You mean when he was naked? Interesting. Exactly what was it that convinced you, Kat girl?"

  Mrs. Chan, the owner of the Little China Dry Cleaners where Kat had worked for the past three months, interrupted her conversation calling out from her office at the back of the store.

  "Kat -- what time you take your lunch?"

  Kat lifted the receiver away from her mouth and yelled over her shoulder. "I still have fifteen minute's, Mrs. Chan."