My Lord Viking (15 page)

     
“You must do what you vowed and be where you belong,” she replied.
 

     
“So you will help me, even though the danger of the past may still be lurking here in this time?”

     
She did not hesitate.
 
“Yes.”

Seven

     
“So you think it will be that easy, Nils Bjornsson?”

     
Nils raised his head from the pillow that was more comfortable than any in his time.
 
Too easily he recognized that voice.
 
It belonged to Loki.
 

     
Sitting, he rested his splinted arm on his knee.
 
He wiggled the toes of his other foot.
 
Pain jabbed him, but not as savagely as it had even this afternoon.
 
The crutch Jack had brought him was allowing him to stretch his cramped muscles without adding more injury to his ankle.
 

     
He met Loki’s gaze evenly.
 
As before, the wizard-god was perched on the windowsill.
 
Moonlight washed him nearly into silhouette, but Nils could discern the sparkle of mischief in Loki’s eyes.
 
Or maybe Nils only thought he was able to see it, because that glitter was rumored to be omnipresent.

     
“No blood-oath is ever completed with ease,” Nils replied.
 

     
“Yet you believe with the Englishwoman’s assistance, you will succeed.”

     
“I will succeed, and I will use whatever means I must.”

     
“Does she realize that?”
 
Loki laughed as he jumped down from the sill.
 
“You have convinced her that you have the soul of a poet, not the heart of a warrior.”

     
Nils snorted his disagreement.
 
“She knows I am a warrior.”

     
Loki squatted next to him and tapped his finger against his nose.
 
“Do
you
know that when she is near, Nils Bjornsson?
 
Freya was not pleased to hear you call an Englishwoman
unnasta
.
 
That term is meant only for those among the
Norrfoolk
.”

     
“It means sweetheart, as you well know.
 
Nothing more, nothing less.”
 
Nils smiled.
 
“And Linnea Sutherland is sweet.”

     
“Odin himself has warned that a woman can dull your wits as well as your weapons.”

     
“I know of the great god’s advice.
 
He counsels as well that a wise man recognizes his foes and uses them to his own advantage.”

     
“So you intend to use her in your quest?”

     
“Of course.
 
My oath is a blood-oath.
 
I must do whatever is necessary to do as I pledged.”

     
“Those are strong words from a mortal, Nils Bjornsson.
 
Once already you have disdained your destiny.”
 
Loki stood and went back to the window.
 
“Make sure you are ready to pay the price if you do so again.”

     
“I have no choice.
 
The vow is spoken.”

     
“No choice?”
 
Loki laughed as he jumped back up onto the sill.
 
“You have choices now, Nils Bjornsson, but your path narrows ahead of you.
 
Soon there will be only a single choice you may make.
 
Right or wrong, it is all that will be left to you.”

     
“I have made my choice.”

     
“And Linnea Sutherland has made hers?”

     
Nils sat straighter.
 
He had not expected Loki to speak of Linnea by name.
 
The god had spoken of her only as “the Englishwoman,” in the most disdainful tone.

     
“Yes,” he answered, “Linnea has made hers.”

     
“Without knowing what she has vowed?”

     
“What do you mean?
 
She has vowed to help me.”

     
Loki chuckled.
 
“To share in your quest?”

     
“Yes.”

     
“In its rewards if you succeed?”

     
Nils did not answer quickly.
 
Linnea had said nothing of expecting a prize for helping him.
 
Now that he had a chance to think of that conversation without her beguiling eyes teasing him to think of other things more delightful than his search for the knife, he realized she had not asked for anything.
 
It might be that she was eager to be rid of him.
 
He was an obstacle in her well-ordered life.

     
“A warrior,” he said with slow caution, “always remembers to reward those who help him in his duties.”

     
“True, and you will be generous, I am sure.
 
But what if you fail?”

     
“I will not fail.”

     
“Are you so sure of that, Nils Bjornsson?
 
Do you have a god’s farseeing that you can know what the future holds for you?”

     
“Of course not.”

     
Loki leaned his shoulder against the window’s stone frame.
 
“Answer me, Nils Bjornsson.
 
You have asked a daughter of this green island to share in your quest.”
 

     
“Yes.”
 

     
“So she will share your rewards if you succeed.”

     
Nils was sure his icy face had no more color than the moonlight as he whispered, “Are you saying that she will share my damnation if I fail?”

     
Loki’s wild laugh erupted through the night like the crash of thunder.
 
Something flashed, blinding Nils as if a thousand stars had erupted in his hand.
 

     
Blinking, Nils rubbed one eye, then the other.
 
Slowly the bright glow waned, but the truth remained along with the echo of Loki’s laughter.
 
In his desperation to find his chieftain’s stolen blade and return to the past where he belonged, Nils had entangled Linnea in his uncertain future.
 
If
he
failed to achieve what he had vowed to do in his blood-oath, she would share his doom in the cold, ebony mists of Niflheim.

     
Forever.

Eight

     
“My lady, please wake up!”
 

     
Linnea tried to recapture the dream that vanished even as she fought to remember what it had been.
 
Confusing images ricocheted through her head, none of them making sense.
 

     
Turning her head, she blinked as she saw Olive holding a lamp.
 
Her maid reached out and shook Linnea’s shoulder.
 

     
“My lady, please wake up!”

     
“I am awake,” Linnea mumbled, pushing herself up to sit.
 
She glanced toward the window.
 
The stars were bright, so the moon must have set.
 
It was still more than an hour before the first hints of dawn.
 
“What is it?”

     
“‘Tis
him
, my lady.”
 

     
Linnea swung her legs over the side of the high bed.
 
She recognized Olive’s disgruntled tone.
 
Clearly Nils had done something to unnerve Olive again.
 
Even after a week had passed, the two continued to treat each other with open distrust.

     
“What has happened?
 
If he is having nightmares again, you know you should just leave him alone.”
 
She rubbed her eyes and yawned.
 
Last night’s gathering had gone late, and her head ached with fatigue.
 
“There was no need to rouse me, Olive.”

     
Her maid affixed her most vexed expression on her face.
 
“My lady, you know I would never wake you if the matter was not of the greatest importance.”

     
“Yes, Olive, I know that.”
 
She eased her toes down from the bed onto the steps.
 
Reaching for her wrapper, she pulled it over her shoulders, pausing when she heard a clock chiming somewhere in the house.
 
Three chimes.
 
She wanted to toss aside her wrapper and jump back beneath the covers.
 

     
“
He
refuses to heed sense.”

     
“How?”

     
“
He
is insisting on taking his leave.”

     
Linnea whirled to face her maid.
 
“Leave?
 
At this hour?
 
In his condition?”

     
Olive nodded as she folded her arms in front of her.
 

     
Such a pose would not work with Nils, Linnea was tempted to say.
 
She did not.
 
Shoving her feet into the slippers she had worn to the dance last night, she rushed toward the door.
 
She buttoned her wrapper as she hurried along the dimly lit corridor and toward the back stairs.
 
Although it was unlikely she would meet any of her family at this hour, she did not want to chance it.

     
Jack was coming in the kitchen door just as she reached it.
 
Anxiety lengthened his usually smiling face.
 
“Thank heavens, my lady, you are here.
 
He will not heed any sense.”

     
“Where is he?”

     
“Trying to get down the stairs.”
 
Jack’s grin returned for a moment.
 
“I stole his crutch, so he is not finding it easy.”

     
Linnea was tempted to smile, too, but she just patted Jack’s shoulder before going out into the darkness.
 
The grass was damp with dew and clung to the hem of her wrapper.
 
Within steps, her toes were wet inside her slippers.
 
She ignored her discomfort as she ran to the pavilion.
 

     
Light pulled her into the ground floor.
 
A single lantern was set beside the door.
 
Picking it up, she heard the swish of water against the doors on the side of the building that opened onto the pond.
 
A thud came from above.
 
She raised the lantern to chase back the shadows and saw Nils sitting on a step three down from the top.

     
“Where are you bound?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even.
 

     
“I must—”
 
He muttered something else under his breath as he lowered himself down another step.

     
“How far do you think you will get when you cannot even walk down the stairs?”
 
She pointed toward the door.
 
“There are steps up from the pond in every direction.
 
The front gate of
Sutherland
Park
is nearly a quarter of a mile inland.
 
Of course if you wish to travel along the strand, you need only clamber over the rocks that litter the shore.”
 
She put one foot on the lowest riser.
 
“At the rate you seem to be going, you should reach there just about the time your arm knits and you can get rid of the splint.”

     
Nils snarled, “That young
daari
took my crutch.”

     
“Jack is not the fool.
 
You are.”

     
“I must continue on my quest.
 
I have wasted too much time here.”

     
Linnea laughed without humor.
 
“You can wait until you heal, or you can chance hurting yourself worse.
 
What is the point of risking your recovery with thoughtless impatience?
 
I told you I would help you all I could.”

     
When he winced as if she had struck his broken arm, her eyes narrowed.
 
There was a desperation about him that she had never seen.
 
Even when she had found him on the beach, he had possessed a cockiness that suggested he could do as he wished, with or without anyone’s assistance.
 

     
“Nils, what is amiss?”

     
“I must be on my way.
 
Alone.”

     
She climbed the stairs and sat next to him on the cool stone riser.
 
“Be sensible, Nils.
 
You can barely walk with the crutch.
 
How can you think of going all the way to
London
when I cannot even tell you which house to call at?”

     
“When I began this quest, I vowed nothing would halt me.”

     
“Nils, be sensible!”
 
Raising her chin, she asked, “Or did you lie to me?
 
Are you like those warriors who cannot control themselves?”

     
“We spoke of men who become beasts when they smell the scent of battle.”

     
She shook her head.
 
“No, we spoke of men who think so much of the outcome that they do not consider the cost.”

     
“I vowed a blood-oath to retrieve that knife for my chieftain.”

     
“I know, but what good is trying to leave now when, if you wait a few more weeks, I may have recalled where I saw that knife?
 
Then we can send to
London
for it, and you can be on your way.”

     
“Waiting is wrong.
 
I did not vow to bring that knife to my chieftain when it was convenient for me.”

     
She put her fingers on his right arm.
 
“But, Nils, what difference does it make
now
?”

     
“Nothing has changed my vow.”

     
“But your chieftain has waited nearly a thousand years.
 
What does it matter if you wait another few weeks before you go to
London
?”

     
At the sorrow in Linnea’s voice, Nils did what he had promised himself he would not.
 
He let his gaze be caught by hers.
 
By Thor’s hammer, he was witless to let her gentle warmth touch him again.
 
He had been warned by Loki, who would not hesitate to make his threats real.

     
A sigh sifted through his tight lips.
 
He was just fooling himself if he thought that the gods would let him remake his blood-oath now to keep Linnea from being a part of it.
 
For some reason, he had been brought here to this place and this woman.
 
To turn his back on this happenstance might bring on the very doom that he wished to avoid.

     
“Nils, let me take you to your bed,” she murmured.

     
A thud of sensation seized him at the soft invitation in her voice.
 
She did not mean it as his body was hearing it, for, while she was willing to let him steal a few kisses, she wanted him gone.
 
He had never thought he would consider an Englishwoman wise, but Linnea Sutherland was.
 

     
“Nils?”

     
“Yes, yes.”
 
He sounded as short-tempered as an old man, and he doubted if she guessed his irritation was aimed at himself.
 

     
Hating that he had to depend on her to assist him, he said nothing while she helped him up the stairs and back to the area that was separated from the rest of the room by a trio of screens.
 
The images on the screen were from the distant east, a place that apparently was as mysterious in this time as in his.
 
Greatly exaggerated by the single lantern burning by the stairs, the dragons seemed ready to rise and devour them.

     
Nils heard his halting breaths.
 
Not because the walking was difficult, for he had carried more than his own weight so many times on a
drakkar
as the deck rolled beneath him with the motion of the waves.
 
The uneven sound came from his efforts to avoid the dulcet scent of her perfume that remained even in the depths of the night.
 
Her arm was around his waist, so her breast—separated from him only by the thin layers of her garments and his— tantalized his side.
 

     
How much temptation could one man endure?
 
The echo of laughter rang through his head.
 
Was
this
torment what Loki intended to visit upon him?
 
To have this luscious woman in his arms and know that he should be thinking solely of his quest?
 
His only answer was the resonance of that taunting laugh.
 

     
He dropped heavily to the pallet where he slept.
 
Beside him, Linnea knelt.
 
Her exertion had added a pretty shade to her cheeks.
 
When he reached up to brush a bead of sweat from her forehead, she slanted away from him, her eyes wide.
 

     
“You need to rest,” she said, reaching for the blanket that he used.

     
He caught her hand, folding her fingers within his.
 
The wool oozed between her fingers to brush his palm, but he could think only of her silken skin against his.
 
Pushing that thought out of his head, he said, “I have rested so long.
 
I need to consider how best to realize my vow.”