Miranda's Viking

by Maggie Shayne

  His gentle rhythm held, though she sensed the effort it cost him. His body shook with it. As the ship rocked gently beneath them, Miranda felt the recurrence of the pattern she now recognized. The tightening within her, the heat searing her wherever they touched. His pace increased, his movements growing quicker, less delicate. She caught her breath when she knew she was once again on the brink of ecstasy. Her gasp reached him even now, and he paused. "Miranda?"

  She tightened her grip on his shoulders and moved her hips, sheathing him heatedly within her. "Please, Rolf," she muttered. And when he responded with more urgent movements of his own she moaned softly, "Yes. Oh, yes."

  She felt the tension mount in him even as she sensed the same within herself. They moved in unison, seemingly anticipating each other's needs with psychic perception. Finally he thrust more deeply than before and she knew he'd found release for the throbbing inside her. That knowledge pushed her over the brink, as well, and she clung to him with every part of her. His lips found hers, and when he moaned with pleasure, it was into her mouth.

  He collapsed on top of her then, his weight a warm burden, one she wouldn't willingly relinquish. "Miranda." He lifted his head and his eyes widened. His hand came up, and with his thumb he stroked a tear from her cheek. "I hurt you!"

  "No." She shook her head quickly. "No, you didn't hurt me, Rolf. Not at all." She smiled and raised her head off the pillow to press her lips to his.

  "But you cry." He obviously didn't understand.

  "How can I explain?" She sniffed and tried to stifle the urge to shed more tears. "It's as if part of me was dead, or asleep as you were for so long. You've awakened that part. I feel truly alive, more than I've ever felt before." She gazed at him in wonder. "How can I ever thank you?"

  He smiled, the concern leaving his face. "Let me hold you in my arms until the dawn, ástin mín. It will be all the thanks I need."

  She snuggled nearer, silently rejoicing as his arms tight-ened around her and his shoulder pillowed her head. "What does that mean?"

  "What?"

  "Ástin mín?" She repeated the phrase he'd used, and felt him stiffen beside her.

  "I said that?"

  "Mmm-hmm." A sweet lethargy was stealing over her, a peace such as she'd never known before. "What's it mean?"

  "If it has an English equivalent, I am not aware of it."

  "Oh." Her eyes closed.

  She slept curled in his embrace, every so often snuggling closer. Rolf didn't sleep at all. He held her, constantly aware of every aspect of her. The touch of her skin against his, the deep, steady pattern of her breathing, the scent of her. It was not her thanks he wanted, he acknowledged at last. It was her heart. And while he had given her physical pleasure, he knew he did not have that.

  All he'd really accomplished, he realized grimly as night moved toward dawn, was to awaken the sleeping temptress inside her. Now that she knew her own desires, she would feel free to explore them with other men. Hadn't young Darryl explained that today's women were free to give themselves to any man they chose? Miranda herself had said that a husband would interfere with her career.

  A husband? Had he really been fool enough, even for a moment, to let that thought enter his mind? What could he give to a woman like Miranda? He possessed nothing of value, save his sword. And why would she want a man like him, ignorant of this world, uncertain how to make his own way within it?

  No. He must keep in mind always that the night they had shared meant little to her, apart from the things she'd learned about herself. She would place little importance on it. For Rolf, it seemed, the matter was quite different. The experience for him had been a revelation, too. For he had not known the depth of his feelings for her. Now that he did, he nearly wished he'd remained on the floor.

  He glanced down at the woman in his arms, her face resting on his chest, her hand gripping his upper arm as if to keep him by her side. No, he couldn't regret bedding her. Though she was aware only of her own sexual awakening, Rolf knew he'd experienced one of his own, for never had sex been as moving or as potent as it had been tonight.

  As they continued north, it became necessary for them to wear their heavy overcoats on the open deck, even though the sun burned bright and long into the night. It set only briefly, sinking only slightly below the horizon, still casting a glow in the sky. As the Mermaid charged steadily through the waters between Greenland and Helluland, or Baffin Island as it was now called, Rolf remained in the prow almost constantly. Icebergs here were common, and deadly. A man must be alert for them, always. They harbored a fondness for slipping out of the mists and into a ship's path.

  They'd just crossed the invisible wonder Miranda called the Arctic Circle, when Rolf saw the familiar shape of the coast—ice mountains sloping sharply downward, then stretching into flat vast tundra as far as one could hope to see. The cool wind bit his face, despite it being summer, and Rolf imagined himself momentarily transported back in time. He felt again the pitch and roll of his drakkar, once more heard the harsh cries of his men and shivered in the sea spray.

  A sharp crack sounded behind him, and he whirled, half-expecting to see the mast crashing down upon his helpless crewmen. He realized the sound had just been in his mind when he saw only Miranda, looking concerned, and Fletcher Travis, at her side as always.

  "Rolf?"

  He turned back to face the rail, unwilling to let her see the weakness in his eyes. The memories were too fresh. For him, the horror had occurred only a matter of days ago. He had no real sense that nine hundred and fifty-nine years had come and gone. "Tell your friend to drop anchor, Miranda."

  He heard quick steps leaving the deck. But when he turned she remained, alone now. "Fletch went to tell Paul."

  Paul. The man who piloted this vessel was now as friendly with Miranda as every other male in her reach apparently wanted to be. To the others, the man was Captain Potter. To Miranda, he was Paul.

  She touched his arm. "Are you all right?"

  It was not her fault she treated everyone with such kindness, Rolf thought in self-reproach. He had no right to become jealous of every man she knew. He had no right to become jealous at all. Not having that right made him jealous all the more. "Why do you think I would not be?"

  She blinked and stepped to the rail. Her gaze moved over the pale blue waters, over the chunks of blue-white ice floating everywhere. "Growlers," Captain Potter called them. She looked beyond to the jagged shores, as Rolf watched her. "You were this close?"

  Rolf stood right next to her. He couldn't help wishing to be as near to her as possible, whenever he could manage it. "Nearer. See that small finger of ice? That is near the place where my drakkar went down."

  She gripped his arm and stared, her expression pained. "That's only about five hundred yards from shore."

  He nodded. "That ridge, see it?"

  She looked where he pointed, and nodded.

  "It was there the Skraelingar stood."

  "The Inuit, Rolf. Skraelingar is a derogatory term. To use it is to insult them. They are not weaklings, by any means."

  "They must not be, to have survived so long here in this wilderness. What does Inuit mean?"

  "It means 'the people.'"

  He continued his tale. "The People stood there. Their dark-colored fur clothing showed clearly against the snow beyond them."

  "Were you blown off course by the storm?"

  He shook his head. "Nei. We chose this place for its remoteness. Our plunder could be transported south easily enough when we'd established a defensible fortress. We planned to build in Vinland."

  Her head snapped around suddenly. "Leif Eriksson's Vinland?"

  "Já. Eriksson was there."

  "And you?"

  "Of course. I wouldn't have chosen it without first seeing for myself. Until we built there, we saw this as the safest place for our bounty."

  Her brow creased in thought. "The cave where we found you isn't far from here." She pointed south, toward the craggy, tre
eless hills. "The expedition there is still going on. There's a little village of dome tents and scientists." She licked her lips. "Is there any chance of them finding it?"

  "My plunder? No, they will never find it, Miranda." He took her arm. "Come, we will instruct your Captain Potter to ease us in nearer the shore, and show him where dangerous reefs and fingers of ice lie just beneath the surface. I know them all."

  Paul knew his stuff, she had to give him that. He manipulated the remote camera skillfully, keeping his eyes on the video monitor. Miranda stood crowded against him, with Fletcher at her side, and Erwin and Jeff crammed on Paul's opposite side, all craning their necks to see.

  They'd been here for hours. It was a painfully slow process. Rolf rarely left the ship's rail. He stood there, staring down into that icy water as if time didn't exist. It pained Miranda to see him so tormented. But he wasn't accepting any comforting just now. Respecting his need to be alone, she'd come back in here. She'd monitored the sonar receiver, but her lack of experience left her with little idea which blips were hunks of ice, stone formations or sunken dragon ships.

  "Bing-go." Paul said it softly, and it took a moment for her to realize his meaning. Her gaze moved back to the screen.

  The dark shape protruding from the murky bottom of the sea on the monitor's screen was completely encrusted with sediment. Still, there was no mistaking that shape, not when one knew what one was looking for. It was the carved dragon's head, the drakkar's daunting prow.

  "We've found it," she whispered. Then louder. Then everyone was speaking at once and Fletcher folded her in a crushing embrace and kissed her face repeatedly in his excitement. When he released her, she was whirled around and into Paul's arms for a similar celebratory hug.

  Chapter 14

  Fletcher Travis slapped Rolf's shoulder. "Good job, damn good. I still don't know how the hell you did it, but—" He broke off at Rolf's quelling glance, then Rolf sensed Travis's gaze following his own. Miranda stood amid the others, being hugged first by Erwin Saunders and then various members of the crew.

  Travis smiled rather uneasily and shook his head. He stepped nearer Rolf and kept his voice low. "Look, no one's doing anything improper here. Don't look so glum. Go hug her yourself if you want to. It doesn't mean anything."

  "It matters not to me," Rolf lied. "I am only glad she's overcome her aversion to physical contact with men."

  Travis seemed not the least shocked by Rolf's remark. "It's the excitement, Magnusson. Don't read more into it than that. Miranda isn't that kind of woman." His tone was no longer so kind.

  "Perhaps she wasn't. People change."

  "What is that supposed to mean?"

  "Only that Miranda seems to be thoroughly enjoying the attentions of those men."

  Travis shouldered Rolf out of the doorway where they'd been standing and onto the open deck. "You bastard," he said in a still, even voice. "Make another remark like that one and I'll knock you on your oversized backside."

  "Are you certain you're able?"

  "You care to find out?"

  Rolf watched the man for a long moment, tempted to break his neck just to teach him a lesson. But he couldn't. He liked Travis, despite the man's blindness where Miranda was concerned. "As it happens, I do not. Take me at my word, Travis. Do not attempt to bed her. I won't allow it."

  "Bed her?" The man's dark brows rose in shocked surprise. "Bed her? Where the hell did you get a phrase like that? Look, I told you before, I have no romantic feelings for Miranda. I don't have the least interest in taking her to bed."

  "You don't?" Rolf shook his head, confusion beginning to whirl in his brain. "Why not?" From what Rolf could see, every man aboard the Mermaid was biding his time to mount Miranda's newly awakened body.

  "What kind of a question is that?"

  "A logical one, I think. Look at her. The way she glances up from the corners of her eyes. The way she moves. She is beautiful."

  "Son of a—" Travis chuckled with delight. "You're in love with her. You big jerk, you're in love with her. Why didn't you say so?"

  Rolf looked away grimly. "You know nothing."

  "I know Miranda. And believe me, she isn't the least bit interested in Paul Potter or Erwin Saunders or any of those others. Anyone with two eyes in his head ought to be able to see she despises Jeff Morsi. I've already told you, she and I are only friends. There's never been a hint of anything romantic between us. To tell you the truth, I never thought of Miranda along those lines. I see her as a scientist, a colleague."

  "If she has no interest in them, then why does she embrace them that way?" Rolf glumly eyed the still-celebrating group in the corner.

  "Look, now Paul has his arms around Erwin. See how hard Erwin just squeezed him?"

  Rolf's face began to clear. "Like men celebrating victory after a hard won battle."

  "Exactly. They're excited. This find is a major one, especially after the disappointment of losing the Ice Man."

  Rolf felt like a fool. Why was such a simple explanation so obvious to everyone but him? The woman was driving him from his senses without doubt.

  She chose that moment to join them, and the smile she'd been wearing died slowly as she approached. She touched Rolf's shoulder so gently it was painful. What was happening to him? Where was his warrior's strength now? How could the simple sight of a woman in the arms of another cause him such agony?

  In self-disgust, he jerked from her touch. Her eyes clouded as she searched his face. "Leave us alone, would you, Fletch?" She spoke without looking away. Travis muttered something about forests and trees and then he was gone.

  "Rolf, what is it?"

  Such innocence in her eyes. Might Travis have been right? But again, what if he wasn't? Rolf's feelings for Miranda had rapidly grown deeper than he'd realized. Her betrayal would cause him considerable pain, more even than Adrianna's had. So much more it didn't bear comparison. He needed to distance himself, to somehow convince himself that he could get along without her. For he knew, beyond any doubt, that he would have to do just that. Hadn't she told him there was no room in her life for a man?

  "Talk to me," she said softly. "Is it something I've done?"

  The goal for the moment, he decided at once, was to hide from her his pathetic weakness. Surely if she, a mere woman, could share what they'd shared and walk away unscathed, then he, the Plague of the North, could do the same.

  "It's this place, isn't it? The memories… This must be hell for you." She slipped her arms around his waist and lowered her head to his chest.

  He ordered his arms to remain at his sides. They disobeyed, closing around her as if commanded by some greater force. He bowed his head and immediately the cool sea wind brought the scent of her hair to his nostrils. Yes, he thought grimly. He did, indeed, feel as if he were a prisoner in Hel.

  The sky was gray, but not dark; for a short time in July, the sun here never sank completely below the horizon. Fletcher was assisting Miranda in lowering the small motorboat from its hoist and into the calm, cold waters.

  "Miranda, it is a mistake to go ashore." Erwin Saunders shook his head and gestured with his hands. "We all agreed it was best to keep this undertaking a secret until we have it secured."

  "I really don't see the need for secrecy now that we've found it," Miranda countered, her tone as patient and reasonable as she could make it. This would be the biggest find Erwin had ever been personally involved in, and she could understand his concern. His lack of hands-on participation in recent expeditions had been commented about more than once in her presence. She imagined he was worried about job security. "The more people who know about it, the less likely someone else will be bold enough to try to take it from us."

  "That's your opinion. I believe the opposite is true. This person has already committed violence twice in his quest for this very site. He won't hesitate simply because of public opinion. Miranda, please." His voice was harsh, nearly desperate.

  "I agree with Erwin," Jeff Morsi put in. "Cryo-
Life would be furious if someone decided to try something. I say we keep quiet until we have the retrieval operation well underway, and a lot more bodies around for security."

  Miranda sighed her exasperation. She caught the glance that went between Rolf and Fletcher, and she wondered at it. "All right, Erwin, I won't breathe a word to anyone about what we're doing out here. That wasn't my purpose in going ashore, anyway. I just wanted to show Rolf the cave where we found hi—the Ice Man. That's all."

  She saw Fletcher's deep frown and the way he glanced sharply at Rolf all of a sudden. Had he caught her slip? No. That was ridiculous. Who would even consider such a farfetched notion?

  Saunders still stubbornly shook his head. "There are too many people camped around that site. There'll be a lot of questions and you're the worst liar I know."

  "Come with us if you don't trust me." She knew her words were short. All she'd wanted was to give Rolf some time away from the ship and from all the eyes aboard. He needed time to deal with the memories that must be attacking him even now. And time to open up and share some of his turmoil with her. She wanted to know exactly what was bothering him. He seemed as tense as the still summer air before a thunderstorm.

  Saunders looked at her for a long moment, apparently trying to reach a decision. "I guess I have no choice," he finally muttered.

  They headed for shore in the small boat—Rolf, Miranda, Jeff and Saunders. Miranda heard Fletcher tell Rolf that he intended to stay aboard the Mermaid to "keep an eye on things." Miranda wondered about the secret the two of them seemed to be sharing, but dismissed the notion as the boat neared the shore. Jeff handled the helm, angling southward slightly to bring them to land as near as possible to the site. He had to negotiate the waters slowly, to avoid the countless blue-white ice chunks that dotted the surface.