Heart of Honor (11 page)

He frowned. “You truly do not wish to know that I desire you? A woman should be compli—compli—”

“Complimented?”

“A woman should be compli-mented by a man’s desire. You are a very beautiful woman. Many men here must want you, but they do not say it. I tell you this so that you will know how beautiful you are.”

Krista took a shaky breath and walked away from the table, careful to keep her back to him. She was breathing a little too fast, her palms slightly damp, and yet she felt an odd sort of power at his words. Perhaps Leif was right. Perhaps a woman needed to know she was desirable to a man.

Still, she couldn’t let him know how much his words affected her. She steadied herself and slowly turned to face him. “Do you truly wish to learn or are you simply enjoying yourself at my expense?”

Her question seemed to sober him. “I must learn these things you have agreed to teach me.”

“Then there will be no more talk of desire. You will behave as the gentleman I am trying to teach you to be. Is that understood?”

He nodded briefly. “As you wish.”

“Now…place the fork in your hand as I have shown you.”

He did as she told him.

“Take the fork and pretend you are picking up a bite of meat—and that is another thing. Since you are so
bloody
good at using your infernal knife, you should be able to use it to cut your meat into smaller pieces. Once you have done that, you can use the fork to pick up each piece.”

He seemed to be trying not to smile. “Not only do I desire you, Krista Hart, I like you. I will do as you wish,
honning.
”

“What did you just call me?”

“
Honning.
It means—”

“I know very well what it means, and don’t you dare call me that!”
Honning
meant honey, but in Norse it would not have been used as a term of endearment—the language had few such words. She thought that Leif had learned the translation and twisted the usage to serve his own purpose. “Save it for your milkmaid!”

He did smile, then. “You are jealous. I like that in a woman.”

“One more word and I am leaving and I won’t be coming back.”

Leif turned away from her and looked down at his plate. He didn’t say another word—thank God—until they had finished with the lesson.

By the time they left the dining room, his table manners were impeccable. Of course, he hadn’t yet actually used the fork with food.

“Let’s go into the drawing room,” Krista suggested. “We can work on introductions. We will see how you do with that and decide where to go from there.”

Remembering that a woman entered first, he followed her into the drawing room, and she began to instruct him on the proper phrases and greetings. By the end of the morning, he could bow more gracefully than her father, who’d had forty years of practice, and when Krista rested her hand on the sleeve of his coat, pretending he was escorting her into a ballroom, she had to remind herself exactly who he was.

After a brief stop for luncheon—Leif using his fork superbly—they returned to the drawing room and a lesson on afternoon tea.

“Women are more inclined to take tea, but the occasion certainly might arise and you should know what to do.”

“Show me,” he commanded.

After a bit of practice and only a single mishap where the teacup—fortunately empty—landed upside down on the Persian carpet, he could handle the dainty porcelain cup with the smoothness of a dancing master.

And his memory was amazing. Whatever information she gave him he could repeat back to her nearly word for word. She had never seen a man more determined to learn. Krista couldn’t help wondering what drove him. Then, recalling the months he had spent locked up in a cage, she thought that perhaps she knew.

By midafternoon, it was clear that if Leif continued to work as hard as he had been, he could master the tasks she set for him and eventually be able to move about in society. He was growing more confident, which made him even more appealing, and the atmosphere between them began to change.

Krista tried to ignore the tension building inside her. But Leif was a handsome, virile man, and when he placed his hand at her waist to help her climb a set of stairs, when he took her arm to escort her over to the sofa, the affect of his nearness began to take its toll.

He swept her a perfect bow, his eyes on her face, and her heart kicked up as it had before. When he pretended she was a countess, calling her “my lady” in his deep, seductive voice, a soft shiver ran down her spine. When he caught her hand and brought it to his lips, her heart seemed to stop beating.

“Where…where did you learn that?”

“I saw a drawing in one of your books.”

“Well, it would…would only be something you’d do under special circumstances. It would probably be best if you forgot all about it.”

A faint smile curved his lips. “You liked it. I could tell by the pink in your cheeks.”

Her face went warmer still. “I didn’t like it. I was just surprised, is all.”

He moved closer, his eyes still on her face. “How surprised would you be, Krista Hart, if I kissed you?”

“Leif, you mustn’t—”

But it was already too late. His mouth covered hers, the kiss as hot and fierce as the time before, melting her insides, making her heart thrum wildly. For an instant, she kissed him back, caught up in the pleasure, the deep erotic sensations that pulled at the womanly place deep within her she had only begun to know.

She might have gone right on kissing him if Leif hadn’t groaned.

Her eyes flew open. Planting her hands on his chest, she firmly shoved him away. “That was…that was not a gentlemanly thing to do.”

Leif ran a finger along her cheek. “I will pretend to be a gentleman for as long as it suits my purpose, but I am no gentleman, in truth. I am but a man and I want you. As I can tell that you want me.”

He reached for her again, but she jerked free of his hold.

“You are wrong, Leif! I don’t want you. You took me by surprise, that is all. Besides, I am already spoken for. I am promised to another man.” There. She had finally said it, as she should have done long before now.

Leif frowned. “Your father set a bride price? Why did he not tell me?”

“He didn’t set a bride price. Here, no price is paid for a bride. While you and my father were at Heartland, I spent a good deal of time in company with Matthew Carlton. He asked me to marry him and I accepted.”

“And to this your father agreed?”

“Yes. He should have told you. I don’t know why he did not.”

Leif walked away, over to the window that looked down onto the garden. “May—perhaps he thought it would not matter to me anymore.” He turned to face her, his expression intense. “You have given your word? You have vowed to wed this man?”

She thought about lying, telling him that it was a matter of honor that she marry Matthew Carlton. Leif was the sort of man who understood honor. He would accept the fact and leave her alone. But she couldn’t make herself say the words.

“Not…not precisely. An engagement is a time for people to decide for certain if they are suited to each other. In a couple of weeks, we will make a formal announcement, and then some months after that, we will be married.”

He started back toward her, moving silently across the carpet. “But you will marry him only if it is certain that the two of you are suited.”

“Yes, but you see, Leif, Matthew and I are very well suited. We have the same goals, the same friends, the same interests. Those are the things that are important in a marriage.”

Leif reached out and touched her cheek. “You are wrong, Krista. This is what is important between a man and woman.” For an instant his gaze held hers and she couldn’t look away. Then he drew her back into his arms and very thoroughly kissed her.

Krista told herself to fight him, to make this foolishness end. She tried to break free, but he wouldn’t let go, just kept kissing her and kissing her, his lips teasing and nibbling until her mouth softened under his and she was clinging to his shoulders. He coaxed her lips apart, then slid his tongue inside, and a sweeping pleasure washed through her. Little flutters of heat slid into her belly and melted through her limbs.

Dear God, it was the middle of the afternoon and she was kissing a man who wasn’t her fiancé, kissing him and kissing him, and she couldn’t seem to stop.

Leif ended the kiss long before she wanted him to, leaving her dizzy and disoriented, barely able to stay on her feet.

“You will see, Krista. There is more to finding a mate than having the same
interests.
This I will show you.”

Wildly shaking her head, she backed away from him. “You cannot, Leif. We’re from two different worlds. It could never work between us—you know that as well as I do. This cannot…cannot ever happen again.”

Leif ignored her as if she hadn’t spoken. “Tomorrow you will teach me this thing you call dancing.”

Krista swallowed.
Dancing.
But that was nearly as seductive as kissing! “I don’t think…Perhaps I can find someone else to teach you.”

He moved nearer, took hold of her hand, turned it over and pressed his mouth against her palm. “Do not be frightened, Krista Hart. I am not going to hurt you. This I vow.” His jaw hardened. “No man will ever dare to hurt you.”

Krista just looked up at him.

She tried to conjure Matthew Carlton’s face, but his image refused to appear.

I
t was Sunday. Leif surprised Krista by asking to accompany her and her father to church. As yet, he’d spent little time outside the house, had spent it instead learning the English language and customs.

Once inside the church, he sat on the wooden pew stoically, surveying the stained glass windows and magnificent stone arches, listening to the vicar’s words—learning, she was sure. He seemed to have a bottomless thirst for knowledge.

After the service, her father introduced him to the vicar, who seemed pleased at his attendance. “Please do come back, young man. We would love to have you join our flock.”

Krista had a hard time imagining the big blond Viking as a member of Vicar Jensen’s
flock,
but with Leif one never knew. As they left the church, he paused at the bottom of the steps and looked up at the bell tower.

“In my homeland, it is said that even before we moved to Draugr, there were priests who lived among us. They taught the people about the Christian God and convinced them to give up their slaves.” He looked down at her and she caught a hint of darkness in his eyes. “I am glad. I know what it is like for a man to live as a slave.”

Krista gently touched his arm. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Leif.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It was the will of the gods.”

“Mine or yours?”

“I do not think it matters.”

Perhaps it didn’t. Perhaps, in the end, doing what was right was all that mattered.

“Leif says that today you are teaching him to dance,” her father said, obviously pleased as they made their way back to the carriage and settled inside.

“Actually, I think his lessons will have to wait. With Aunt Abby gone, there is no one to play the pianoforte. I could play, but then he’ll have no one to dance with. I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone the lessons.”
Thank God.
No dancing with Leif. No feeling his arms around her. No looking into those disturbing blue eyes.

Her father just smiled. “I thought that might be the case. I spoke to Mr. Pendergast, your old piano instructor. I told him we could once more use his expertise. He will be here to play for you at two this afternoon.”

Krista inwardly groaned. She had been certain she had found the perfect excuse.

Leif leaned toward her. “Do not look so worried,
honning.
I will try not to step on your pretty feet.”

She ignored a little sweep of pleasure at his use of the endearment. “I told you not to call me that.”

Leif just smiled.

She flicked a glance at her father to see if he had heard, but his head was tilted back against the squabs, his eyes drifting closed in the afternoon heat.

“I thought you didn’t know what dancing was,” she said softly to Leif.

“You gave me books to read. It says in dancing, two people move their feet together in rhythm to the playing of music.”

“Yes, well, that is rather a simplification, as you will soon see.”

The carriage pulled to a halt in front of the house, jarring her father awake. Once inside, he left to spend the afternoon in his study, slipping into his favorite room and quietly closing the door.

They had a little extra time before Mr. Pendergast was scheduled to arrive. Krista went into the drawing room, removed her straw bonnet and white cotton gloves, then turned to see Leif standing in the doorway watching her.

“I have tried to memorize the steps in the book,” he said, “but the drawings are difficult to understand. If you would show me, perhaps it would help.”

Krista started toward him like a woman on her way to the gallows. In dancing, partners had to touch. Touching Leif was like touching fire. She wished the country dances had not become so passé. But couples dancing was the vogue these days, the waltz the most popular of all.

“I suppose since you have been learning the steps, we might as well get started. The quadrille is most difficult and not something a person should do in public until he becomes fairly proficient. Currently, the waltz is the dance most in favor, and it is relatively simple, though it does require a certain amount of finesse.”

“
Fin-esse.
This means to move without awkwardness, does it not?”

“Yes.” She looked him over, wondering how in the world a man of his size was going to move gracefully on the dance floor. Then again, he always seemed to have an innate sort of grace about him, no matter what he did.

“We’ll practice the steps of the dance a bit. Then when Mr. Pendergast arrives, you will be able to see how the steps fit together with the music.”

Leif moved in front of her and made a very proper bow.

“How did you know—”

“It is in the book.”

Disarmed by his smile, she took a place beside him. “Now, watch my feet.” He looked down at her kidskin slippers. Krista counted the steps as she moved in time to a beat she heard only in her head. “One—two, three. One—two, three. One—two, three. There is a sort of rhythm to it. You’ll hear it once music is being played. Then you turn—very gracefully—moving your partner around with you. You try it. Count the steps as you move.”

He concentrated hard. “One—two, three. One—two, three. One—two, three.”

Krista sighed. “You need music. None of this makes any sense without it.” She started toward the pianoforte, thinking to play a few bars, then heard a familiar voice in the doorway.

“You are just getting started. It appears my timing is perfect.”

“Mr. Pendergast! It is so good to see you. Please, do come in.”

The piano instructor moved toward them, a fine-boned, elegant little man with silver hair and pale, delicate features. Krista introduced him to Leif, and the music teacher eyed him with a bit of curiosity.

“Mr. Draugr is a friend of father’s from out of the country,” Krista explained. “He is not familiar with some of our customs.” That was putting it mildly.

“Well, a man must know how to dance, my friend,” the music teacher said. “And I believe you may have found yourself the perfect partner.”

Not that she was a particularly good dancer. It was simply that they were of a size. Leif would have far more trouble learning should he be partnered with Corrie or some other woman of petite stature.

Leif smiled down at Krista. “I think you may be right, Mr. Pendergast. I am sure Miss Hart will partner me very well.”

He had called her “Miss Hart,” using the proper form of address. She could scarcely believe it. And yet there was something in the way he said it that made her wary.

“Take your places,” Mr. Pendergast instructed.

Krista took her position facing Leif. When he made no move to touch her, she steeled herself and reached for his hand. “The gentleman places his palm against the lady’s waist.”

He settled his hand against the silk of her pale blue gown, and the heat of it seemed to burn right through her clothes. “Is this right?”

“Yes…”

He moved his hand back and forth across her middle. “What is this stiff thing you are wearing beneath your clothes?”

Krista flushed. “It’s a corset,” she whispered. “Not a subject for discussion in the drawing room.”

“What is it for?”

“To make my waist look smaller. Now concentrate on what we are doing.”

“I wondered about that—why your waist was so much smaller than those of the women where I come from.”

“Leif, please.”

He straightened, settled his hand in the position she had shown him.

“Now the man takes the woman’s hand in his,” she said.

Leif caught her hand, laced their fingers together. “Like this?”

Krista shook her head. “No. You just sort of collect her hand—rather like this.” She showed him the proper technique and he imitated the movement, enveloping her fingers in his. “That…that is correct.”

They were standing toe to toe, his wide palm at her waist, his other hand gently cradling hers. “Raise your arm a little,” she instructed. “That is better.”

Mr. Pendergast ran his fingers gracefully over the keyboard in a flurry of notes, then began a popular Viennese waltz. Krista started counting in rhythm, until Leif began to hear the beat, as well. “Count for me.”

He did as she told him. “One—two, three. One—two, three.”

“Now all you do is move your feet in the pattern I showed you, to the same rhythm.”

“I must try it first by myself.” He smiled at her. “I do not wish to step on your feet.” Pretending she was still in his arms, he moved around the drawing room. It took less time than she’d expected for him to catch on. He returned and pulled her into his arms, swept her into the dance.

Krista gasped as one of his big feet landed on the toe of her slipper and sent a jolt of pain up her leg.

Leif instantly halted. “I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you.”

She managed a smile. “It takes a bit of practice. Why don’t we try it again?”

He did far better this time, and after an hour of gliding around the room, had the movements fairly well mastered. Leif was smiling, pleased with himself, growing more confident with every sweeping turn. “I like this thing called dancing. I did not think I would.”

“Yes, well, it can be quite a lot of fun.” For some people, at any rate. Until today, Krista had always felt big and ungainly on the dance floor. Not with Leif. Now that he knew the steps, he made her feel as if she were floating.

“I like holding you in my arms,” Leif said beneath the sound of the music. “I like the way we fit together. When we make love, you will see why this is good.”

Krista’s feet stopped moving. She tried to step out of his hold, but he wouldn’t let her go.

“You were doing very well,” Mr. Pendergast said from his seat at the piano. “Why did you stop?”

Because dancing with Leif was driving her mad. Last night, Krista had dreamed of him, imagined his scorching kisses, his hands moving over her body. She had dreamed of him caressing her breasts as he had done that night in the barn, remembered how her nipples had hardened and begun to distend. Even now she wanted him to touch her, ached to touch him.

“I am sorry, Mr. Pendergast, but suddenly I am not feeling very well. I am afraid we will have to continue Mr. Draugr’s lessons some other day.”

Pendergast came to his feet. “Of course, dear lady.” He closed the lid of the pianoforte. “I’m sorry you are feeling unwell, my dear.” Picking up the leather satchel that held his sheets of music, he bade Leif farewell and left the drawing room.

Krista started for the door behind him, but Leif caught her arm. “I know what is wrong with you,
honning.
We share the same illness. I promise you, when the time is right, I will make both of us well again.”

Krista ignored the heat in those hot blue eyes and walked past him out the door.

“This is silly. There’ve been no more notes, nothing untoward has happened. There is no need for you to go with me.”

“I am going,” Leif said simply.

Krista rolled her eyes. “Men!”

She thought of speaking to her father, but knew it would do no good. For a while, after her mother had died, her father had argued against her going about without a chaperone. But times were changing and, like her mother, Krista was a very modern woman.

Lately things had changed once more. Since the fire, the professor insisted Leif travel with her. Her father didn’t know the biggest threat Krista faced was the big handsome Viking who was determined to have her in his bed.

She amended that. The biggest threat was that she
wanted
to be in his bed. Or at least wanted to discover what it might be like if he made love to her.

She banished that embarrassing thought and let her head fall back against the velvet squabs of the carriage. Leif sat across from her, his heavy sword resting beneath the seat within easy reach should he need it.

The hum of the carriage wheels lulled her. Her eyes drifted closed. She hadn’t slept well last night. Twice she had awakened from an erotic dream of Leif, her body drenched in perspiration. She knew only the basics involved in making love, only what she had read in the book she and Coralee had found in the basement of the dormitory at Briarhill Academy.

When they had read the words, she and Corrie had been aghast at the thought of a man connecting his male anatomy to the female part of a woman.

Now Krista dreamed of how it might feel to be connected that way to Leif, to feel his heavy weight on top of her, pressing her down in the mattress, his muscular chest rubbing sensuously against her breasts, his mouth moving hotly over hers.

The carriage hit a pothole and she opened her eyes with a start. Leif sat across from her, his gaze on her face. “You are beautiful when you are sleeping.”

No man spoke to her the way he did. No man had ever told her she was beautiful, not even her fiancé.

Krista glanced away. She said nothing as the carriage rolled along, and once they reached the office, she put Leif to work as far away from her as possible. He never questioned her authority, never complained about whatever task she set for him.