Immediately her weight shifted. He lifted his hips until her entire body was supported only by his manhood. He gripped her waist and pulled her down harder, feeling himself penetrate more deeply inside her. When she would have fallen forward, he lifted his hands, holding her and cupping her breasts at the same time. He moved his hips rapidly, plunging into her again and again.
At the first hint of his growing aggression, she stiffened and lifted her body as if to move away from the intruding shaft of heat that invaded her. But he held her to him with gentle firmness and plunged as deeply as was possible. "Surrender, Miranda," he growled deep in his throat. "Feel." Again he thrusted himself into her. "Tell me, is it pain you feel, or pleasure?"
Breathing ragged, she replied, "It's just… so tight, and… and so deep."
Her words drove him to the brink of madness, and he quickened the pace of his thrusts. He was not surprised when she joined in his efforts to increase the depth to which he could caress her, slamming her body harder and harder down onto him. When she neared release, he knew. He felt the way her body tightened around him, the sudden rush of her honeyed fluids coating him, the fit of trembling that engulfed her. He held her harder, giving himself over to every sensation. To the rocking of the boat beneath them, to the breeze caressing their bodies.
She cried out as her body began to convulse around him in a rhythmic massage. Rolf exploded into a million searing bits of sensation as he poured his essence into her. He remained within her for a long time as the desperate throbbing eased in both of them, slowed, and cooled. Finally he eased her from his lap and righted her denims before his own. As soon as he settled back once more, she snuggled into his embrace, her body nestled between his legs, her back pressed to his chest. Her head came to rest just beneath his chin and he bent his own to kiss her hair.
She tilted her head up a little to see him. "I'm in love with you, Rolf."
He blinked rapidly. In love with him. He knew the significance of her declaration, yet he doubted the truth of her words. "You believe there is a chance we will not survive this voyage, Miranda, so you say things you would not say otherwise."
She shook her head, but he only smiled softly and continued. "It flatters me that you might think yourself in love with me, but we both know it is only the situation. You will soon be the most respected, sought-after scientist in your field. You will have achieved the goal you have worked your entire life to reach. There is no room in your life for a barbarian from the past."
She opened her mouth to speak, then bit her lip. Her head moved very slightly from side to side. "You're wrong, but I can see I won't convince you of it with mere words. I suppose it can wait."
The wind shifted abruptly, and Miranda sat up fast, moving the sail to the right and reaching for the rudder almost from instinct. Truly Rolf could almost believe they were one. A shame that she would never be able to devote herself to him above her career, her science. For only that would do. He couldn't have her if she placed more import upon the work than upon the two of them together. He felt too strongly for her to settle for that. And anything else, he knew, was not possible.
For now, though, he would revel in her nearness, her closeness to him, body and soul. He held her to his chest, breathed her scent, and gazed upward into the growing darkness. Truly he felt content here with her like this, he felt. As if, after a very long voyage, one fraught with confusion and loss, he'd come home to her welcoming embrace.
He almost wished to prolong their voyage together, for when it ended, so would this closeness between them. At the thought of that, a warm tear escaped from Rolf's eye and rolled in silence down his face.
Chapter 17
Miranda slept, though she wasn't sure exactly when. As she slowly opened her eyes, a cold dawn greeted her and the sea rolled less gently than it had before. Frigid waves lapped at the sides of the small boat and rocked it frighteningly. Rolf manned the crude sail with expert hands, but his face seemed drawn and tired.
She'd told him she loved him last night. She recalled his tender caresses, his soft-spoken Norse words, his fevered lovemaking. He hadn't said he returned her feelings. Far from it. He'd argued that she would have no room in her life for him. He was wrong.
She straightened and stretched her arms, above her head to work the kink from her spine. Shuffling into position, she removed his hands from the sail and replaced them with her own. As his blue eyes scanned her face, she forced a tremulous smile. "Rest for a while, Rolf. I'll take over."
He smiled tiredly. His hands came up to cup her face and he leaned over to press his lips tenderly to hers. Without a word he settled back and closed his eyes. In minutes his deep, steady breathing told her he slept. That he trusted her enough to pilot the tiny vessel while he slept sent a wave of warmth through her, and she took great care to keep them on course, checking often to see that the sun remained behind her right shoulder.
Hunger pangs stabbed at her. She shivered constantly now, unable to get warm even in the folds of her heavy coat, dampened as it was with sea spray. Her throat cried out for water and she was sorely tempted to scoop a handful of seawater to her lips. She resisted that impulse, knowing it would do her more harm than good. She forcibly closed her mind to the physical discomforts and focused only on the boat, the sail, the sea, striving to experience again that oneness she had felt last night. More and more, though, she felt only despair. She truly began to wonder if she'd ever set her feet on solid earth again.
Rolf rested only an hour by Miranda's guess. He stirred awake too soon, she thought, and again took the sail. Miranda wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her face against his broad shoulder. "You should sleep more, Rolf. You've been awake all night."
He released the rudder long enough to stroke her hair. "There will be time for sleep later, astín mín, when we reach the shore."
Her head came up quickly. "What shore?"
"The same one I found many times in the past. The place I planned to build my city, Vinland, with its forests and sweet grasses, lies farther to the south. And a great distance still farther, in the land you call Maine, is another place Leif Eriksson visited, and I after him. We will find land before then, I know. I know not how far, but I think we will see it by nightfall."
His certainty bewildered her and he must have seen the doubt in her eyes. "You forget, Miranda, I have sailed these waters many times, with no aid from your compasses and maps. The stars last night showed me the way. The skies are fair. We will soon see land again."
"Rolf, we have no idea how far Erwin took us. It could be hundreds of miles to land, any kind of land, let alone some that's inhabited."
"We are with the straumr, the current, now, Miranda. By nightfall, I promise."
That assurance was all that got her through the day. She kept scanning the horizon until her eyes ached. It was nearly full dark when she felt his hand grip her shoulder and followed the direction of his gaze. A seabird swooped down, emitting its piercing cry like a welcome, and ascended again to the skies with a small fish clamped in its oversize bill. Her heart raced, adrenaline giving her newfound energy.
An hour later they sighted a beautiful shape of land protruding from the sea. Another hour after that, Rolf skillfully guided the small boat around two densely forested and apparently uninhabited islands, and into shallow waters along the coast, which swelled in a gentle green mound up from the sea. At an Inuit fishing village, with its clusters of neat houses and occasional house trailers and its rows of bobbing fishing boats, Rolf dragged their small craft out of the water. The place smelled of conifers and fish entrails.
Someone spotted them and then several men rushed toward them, exclaiming in accented French and something that sounded like Inuktitut. Miranda stepped from the boat unaided, trying to judge exactly where they were, staring at the hills and forests in the distance. Then Rolf turned to help her. The moment his strong hands closed on her arms, darkness descended and she slumped into his embrace.
If he'd th
ought the journey had been difficult to this point, Rolf now saw their time in the little boat as a fond memory. The Inuit—and he was certain that is who these people were, by their sun-darkened skin and exotic almond eyes—had definite ideas about how to care for Miranda, though Rolf had refused to let them take her from his arms. He'd been guided to a sled, which was pulled by another, one with a motor like a car. The ride was gut-wrenching and cold despite the friendly sun and the blankets they'd both been draped with. But at the end of that ride, there had been another, far more harrowing journey.
Tensed to the breaking point, Rolf had clung to Miranda in the silvery-winged bird-ship as it carried them right into the skies. At least this time the man at his side spoke in Miranda's tongue, though his words were strangely accented. Rolf was fairly certain they were being taken to a hospital where Miranda could be cared for properly, and for that he was grateful.
At last he'd been forced to surrender her. Only two hours after tugging the boat onto the shore, Rolf watched helplessly as Miranda was placed upon a table with wheels and pushed down a corridor and through a set of doors. This place had the same pungent aroma and white-coated people filling its halls as the first hospital Rolf had visited. The place where Miranda's faŏir had died. It had the same hushed quality and the same clean, orderly appearance. Rolf slumped into a chair to wait, only to find himself approached by a stranger.
The man introduced himself as Le Blanc and held up a badge, which meant very little to Rolf. "Can you tell me what happened?" Unlike the others he'd spoken to so far, Rolf found this man's speech easy to understand.
Rolf nodded, supposing this Le Blanc must be in some position of authority here. "There is a group of scientists at the place you call Baffin."
"Baffin Island? You mean the expedition team that uncovered that Ice Man?"
"Já," Rolf said, nodding hard. "The woman, Miranda, is one of them. She located the sunken drakkar… the dragon ship of the man she called Viking, and the place where his treasures were hidden." He recalled again Miranda's courage in the cave, and his heart twisted painfully in his chest. His gaze turned toward the place they had taken her. "Will she live?"
"I'm sure she'll be all right. I heard the doctors say it was a mild case of exposure… too much time in the cold." The man pulled a notepad from his shirt and printed words upon it with a pencil. "You said her name is Miranda?"
"Miranda O'Shea," Rolf told him, his voice flat. "And the man who attempted to kill her is called Erwin Saunders."
The man's head came up slowly. "Tried to kill her?"
"Já, and me, as well. We were given a beverage with some kind of sleeping powder. We woke upon the small boat, far away from shore. The boat's… motor… had been disabled."
Le Blanc narrowed his eyes. "Why do you think this man wanted to murder you?"
"He wished to claim it was he who discovered the ship and the treasures it held. He was, I believe, envious of Miranda's wisdom, and fearful she would replace him in his position at the university."
"Do you have any proof of all this?"
"My word. Miranda's, when she wakes. Saunders killed Jeff Morsi with a gun, but has likely put the body into the sea by now. And Fletcher Travis…" Rolf shook his head, pressing his fingertips to his brow and closing his eyes. "I fear he has killed Travis, as well." Rolf got to his feet. "I have told you all I know. I will go to her now."
Le Blanc stood, as well. "Maybe you ought to let them have a look at you."
"I am well." Rolf turned and started down the hall.
"They're not going to let you in there," the man warned.
"They will not keep me out." Rolf strode away, and pushed the doors open.
"Damned if I don't believe you," he heard the man mutter before the doors swung closed again.
Hours later, as he held on to her hand, Miranda's eyes opened, and Rolf's throat tightened painfully as his limbs turned weak with relief. He leaned nearer her, only to have her arms encircle his neck and her lips press to his face. No words passed between them as they embraced. Rolf held her hard to his chest, buried his face in her silken hair, breathed her scent. Would that he could remain just so for all time.
When she finally straightened, she searched his face, her own eyes dark with concern. "What's happening?"
"The authorities of this… Canada… were unable to find Saunders. The Mermaid has gone. I am told, Miranda, that Saunders is expected at Beaumont today. He has scheduled something called a… press confer—"
"A press conference." Her eyes narrowed and Rolf saw the tightening in her jaw that boded not well for the one who had caused it. "No doubt he's going to announce his discovery. I wonder how he'll explain our deaths?"
"Your police will be there, Miranda. He will be taken, though I would much prefer to inflict my own justice this time."
She started to smile, but it died utterly all at once and her eyes swam beneath an onslaught of moisture. "What about… Hetch?"
Rolf stood and moved away from the bed. He heard the sob that caught in her throat as he reached for the door. He pulled it open, then turned to watch Miranda's eyes light up when Travis entered. He had a white bandage wrapped around his head and one hand was heavily bandaged, as well. He held a wooden walking stick as he limped into the room.
"Fletch!" Miranda leapt from the bed and threw her arms around him. For once, Rolf felt no jealousy. His own reaction to the man's appearance had been much the same. "What did you… how did—"
"Easy, Miranda. I'm not exactly myself." As she stepped away, she seemed to note his injuries for the first time. Travis only smiled crookedly. "When I heard the explosion I was half-crazy to get to that cave. Someone hit me from behind and tossed me overboard. I should've been watching my back."
"Are you all right now?" Her concerned eyes moved over his bandaged head and hand, then lit on the cane.
"A little frostbite, a few stitches in the noggin. Nothing serious. I was about to leave the hospital in St. Anthony when your Canadian cop, Le Blanc, tracked me down. I caught the first flight down here."
She frowned. "Where are we, Rolf?"
"A hospital in a place called St. John's in Newfoundland. They brought you here because it is the best hospital in the area. We came by way of one of your wondrous bird-ships, Miranda. I wish you had been awake."
She smiled at him, her eyes brimming with emotion. "You flew? You must have been scared to death."
"More afraid of losing you than of sailing in the bird-ship."
She stepped up to him and slid her arms around him. He held her tight for a long moment. Then she turned, still in his embrace, to face Travis once more. He was looking very strangely from one to the other. Miranda stiffened. "It's just that he's never flown."
"No doubt," Fletcher replied, one brow lifting higher than the other.
"How did you end up in St. Anthony?" Rolf sensed she was trying to change the subject.
"I swam for the shore, passed out at some point, but I must have made it. The Inuit inhabitants pulled me out of the surf." Travis slanted a sly glance at Rolf. "Seems to me they're making a habit of doing that. First Rolf, now me."
Rolf froze, Fletcher's meaning clear. Miranda's grip around his waist tightened.
"I'm just glad they took me to the nearest dome tent and turned me over to the Beaumont expedition. Sure beats the hell out of being dragged into some cave and left for dead for the next nine centuries, huh, Rolf?"
"Fletcher…" Miranda began.
"Hey, don't look like that. I'm not saying a word to anybody." He glanced at Rolf once again. "Who the hell would believe it? No, I'd probably end up in a psychiatric ward wearing a brand-new jacket." He smiled at the two of them and turned to go.
"Thank you, Travis," Rolf said softly.
"Don't think I won't expect some form of compensation, big guy. I'll be bugging you to tell me stories until you're ready to throw me back in the sea."
"No chance of that, my friend," Rolf replied with a wide grin.
She'd insisted they leave at once to be present for Saunders's press conference. It seemed she did not trust in the police to see justice done. Or perhaps she simply wished to witness the event firsthand.
Either way, a short time later they found themselves in a crowded room, which was slowly being lined with police officers. A crowd of men and women holding flashing lights and odd devices of all sorts milled around a platform where Erwin Saunders stood speaking. Rolf, Miranda and Travis lingered unseen at the rear and listened to the lies he spewed so easily.
"I had no choice but to shoot Jeff Morsi. He would have killed me just as he did my peers, numismatist Fletcher Travis, our own archaeologist Miranda O'Shea and her friend, an Icelandic historian called Rolf Magnusson. Their bodies, I fear, may never be found since he tossed them into the sea. And he did all of this from simple greed, I'm afraid. They knew that it was I who tracked down the exact locale of the sunken ship, and Morsi was determined to take the credit."
Miranda lunged forward then, despite the hand Rolf reached out to stop her. "If you're finished, Professor Saunders, perhaps the press would like to hear the truth now."
A rumble went up from the people around her. Her name was whispered, then shouted, and the blinding lights flashed like explosions. Saunders turned white. His mouth gaped and he sought words but found none. A second later, he bolted, but was easily grabbed by the police officers who had been silently waiting. Miranda watched his capture, rage visible in her eyes. She stepped up to the podium and addressed the crowd.
Miranda's Viking Page 21