She shrieked.
Laughter added to the fire climbing her cheeks as she turned to see Nils standing behind her.
In astonishment, she stared at the
long branch
that served as a crutch for him.
“Where did you get that?” she asked.
“Young Jack obtained it for me.”
He winced as he shifted his arm on the notch at its top.
“I believe he tires of me hopping like a rabbit when I wish to move from one place to another.”
“He does have a way of seeing the obvious solution.”
Setting the book on the bench by the open window, she asked, “Why were you hiding from me?”
He laughed, the bronzed skin beside his eyes crinkling.
“Your surprise was an amusement for a man who has had nothing to amuse him for too long.”
“I am glad I was able to provide that.”
“Ah, sarcasm.
You use it as a weapon when you wish to hide your true emotions.”
He curved a finger beneath her chin and tipped it up.
“But your words are futile, Linnea, when your eyes expose the truth.
Can it be that I saw anxiety on my behalf?”
“You are a guest at
Sutherland
Park
.
I should—”
“Be honest.”
His finger stroked her cheek lightly, the touch an invitation to explore the emotions in his eyes...if she dared to.
She wanted to fire back another quick answer, but she was imprisoned by the warmth of his gaze.
This was outrageous!
She had scurried away from
Randolph
’s kiss like a churlish child.
Now she was delighting like a strumpet in Nils’s audacious caress.
“I thought you might have sneaked away,” she whispered.
“And that thought upset you?”
“I feared you would injure yourself more.
Kortsson seems to have paid a call at
Randolph
’s house and stolen supplies from him.
That means your blood-enemy is still near
Sutherland
Park
.”
“That was all you feared for on my behalf?
And on yours?”
She shook her head.
“Ask me nothing more.
This conversation will lead to places we should not go.”
“Because of your betrothal to another man?”
Linnea sank to the bench beside the book.
“You would be wise not to heed all the gossip you hear.”
“I do not, but this tidbit intrigued me.”
Moving the book to the other side of the bench, he lowered himself to the smooth slats. “You say so little about yourself, although you ask endless questions about me and my time.”
She must have flinched because he went on, “You can deny the truth all you wish, Linnea, but it does not change it.
I have been brought to this time which is not mine, and I have been brought to you.
There must be a reason.”
“I found you on the beach.
Anyone could have done the same.”
“But
you
were the one who did find me when you wandered the strand alone.”
His hand curved along her nape as his fingers sifted up through her hair.
“Just as you came here today knowing that we would be alone for the first time since that moment.”
“I came here to show you what I had found in the house.”
“For that reason alone?”
He bent toward her, and she could look nowhere but into his eyes.
“Did you, perchance, come here now knowing that we would be able to speak plainly?”
“I always try to speak plainly to you.”
“Do you?”
His mouth brushed her cheek as his palm cupped her nape, tilting her face toward his.
“I speak not only of your words, but of the thoughts that glow in your eyes and wait upon your lips.”
The quiver within her would not be smothered.
It urged her to surrender to her longings and his.
Then she was kissing him.
Had he moved closer or had she?
It did not matter as her hand swept up along his uninjured arm to his broad shoulder.
This was madness and this was dangerous and this was a betrayal of her family which believed she longed to marry
Randolph
.
But she ignored all that while she relished the bold warmth of his mouth.
When his lips left hers and coursed along her face, she closed her eyes and smiled.
She wanted only to think of this delight.
Why had no one told her how luscious a man’s kisses could be?
He moaned, and, for a moment, she thought he had hurt his broken arm that he held at an odd angle so he could press her closer.
Then, his mouth found hers again, telling her that the desperate sound had come from his longing for this.
Her fingers curled on his back when his tongue slipped between her lips, brushing hers in an invitation to far more intimate frolic.
He leaned her back on the bench, introducing her to his hard, masculine body as he slanted across her.
A pain slashed the middle of her spine.
When she yelped, he released her, amazement on his face.
Sliding away, she picked up the book she had brought from the house.
She started to put it on the floor, then faltered.
She set it on her lap.
It was Papa’s book.
What would Papa think if he discovered her here in this stranger’s arms?
Fire flared through her again, but now an icy flame that swept away the sweetness of Nils’s kisses.
“Linnea?”
Nils touched her face gently.
“It would be better if we talked and did nothing else.”
“Because you are promised to another?”
Linnea stood, holding the book in front of her like a shield.
“Because of what you are and what I am.”
“You are the daughter of Lord Sutherland.”
“Yes.”
“An English lord.”
“Yes.”
“And I am of the
Norrfoolk
.”
“From a thousand years ago.”
His eyes twinkled as he hoisted himself to lean on the crutch.
“I can assure you that some things are unchanged no matter how many centuries have passed.
Your kisses are sweet, whether in this time or if I had met you in mine.”
“If you had met me in your time, you would not have stopped when I protested.”
When his eyes slitted as his mouth straightened, she looked away.
He caught her face in his broad hand and forced it up so her gaze met his.
“I have never raped a woman.
My blood-enemy never shows such restraint, but my duty here is—”
He blinked and muttered something she could not understand.
“My duty here
was
to serve my chieftain while he did our king’s bidding to conquer this island.”
His voice grew husky.
“So you do not think I could have persuaded you to kiss me if we had met in my time?”
“It is a moot question.
If we were in your time, we never would have met.
I would have been hidden by my family far from the Viking rampage.”
“A true tragedy that would have been.”
His fingers against her cheek became a tantalizing caress.
When she was about to lean toward him and his captivating lips, Linnea stepped back.
She must not show him how many more ways she could be foolish.
Going to the table by the stairs, she set the book on it.
She hoped Nils did not notice how her fingers trembled as she spread them across the cover.
Until Olive could return here, Linnea must keep a distance between her and the temptation to sample just one more of his intriguing kisses.
She bit her lip when the uneven sound of Nils’s crutch against the floor paused behind her.
His warm breath brushed her back above her gown, twirling strands of hair about her in an invitation to a dance that needed no music except two rapidly beating hearts.
Then he moved to stand beside her.
She wanted to release her breath in a rush of relief, but that would disclose how deeply he unsettled her.
She swallowed her terse laugh as she let the breath slide past her clenched teeth.
If she thought he could not guess the course of her thoughts when she had opened her arms to him, she was a complete chucklehead.
“What is this?” Nils asked, curiosity once more woven through his voice.
“This is a book.”
She looked at him.
“Do you know what a book is?”
“Of course.
I have seen its like here in Britannia before.
There was a monastery that stood on a small island not far from—”
She put her hands over her ears.
“Do not think to enthrall me with tales of your comrades’ bestial behavior when you overran that monastery and slew its residents.”
Taking one of her hands in his, he frowned.
“You again are assuming that you know what you cannot know.”
“I know what you Vikings did to
Lindisfarne
.
You sacked the monastery there and killed every living soul you could capture.”
“The foray upon
Lindisfarne
took place in my grandsire’s grandsire’s grandsire’s time.”
“Oh.”
His smile returned.
“I wish I could have been part of that early foray, one of the first upon this island.”
With a grumble, she pulled her hand out of his.
Dash it!
This man gloried in killing.
“It was your misfortune to be born too late.”
“There is that sarcasm again.
Linnea, you must not judge what you do not understand.”
“I understand this.”
She flipped open the book to a page she had turned down.
Pushing up the corner of the page, she pointed to the drawing in the middle of it.