Heart of Honor (13 page)

Walking ahead of her father and Leif, Krista climbed the curving staircase to the third floor. Inside her chest, her heart fluttered like a trapped bird. She said a silent prayer that neither of the men would be hurt, then said an extra prayer for Leif.

Matthew was waiting when they entered the elegant marble-floored ballroom, flexing his sword, watching his perfectly executed movements in the gilded mirrors that lined the walls, moving with a graceful ease that made Krista’s insides churn.

He frowned when he saw her walk into the room. “Krista. What are you doing here? This is men’s business. Have your driver return you home at once.”

“I am staying, Matthew.”

His lips curled into a sneer. “Why? Because you’re worried about your Viking?”

“Because I am worried for both of you. I beg you to end this madness before one of you is seriously injured.”

He shrugged. Matthew wasn’t as tall or as powerfully built as Leif, but he wasn’t a small man, either, and his skill with a sword more than made up for any physical advantage Leif might have. “If your friend concedes to my demands, I will be happy to end this here and now.”

“It is ten o’clock,” Leif said, interrupting him. “Let us get on with it.”

Matthew looked pleased. He turned to the professor. “I would advise you to remove your daughter. This may not be pleasant to watch.”

Her father’s worried gaze found hers. “Krista?”

“I am staying, Father.”

Matthew frowned. “Then I shall not be held responsible for any upset to your female sensibilities.” He walked over to where Leif stood, her great-grandfather Herald Chapman’s fencing sword gripped in one of his big hands.

Both men wore snug-fitting trousers and a full-sleeved shirt. Matthew wore boots of fine Spanish leather, while Leif wore black, knee-high Hessians.

“If you are agreed,” Matthew said to Leif, “we fence until first blood is drawn.”

“We fence until one of us yields,” Leif countered, making Krista hiss in a breath.

“Agreed,” Matthew said with obvious relish. “The rules are simple—”

“There are no rules,” Leif said, and Matthew’s brown eyebrows went up.

“Are you certain that is your wish?”

“Very certain,” Leif declared.

“Leif, no!” Krista pleaded, afraid he would refuse to concede even if it was clear he was losing, and worried that Matthew might wind up hurting him very badly.

“Professor, if you cannot control your daughter, I suggest the two of you leave.”

“Perhaps that would be best, dearest,” her father said.

“I am sorry, Father. I won’t say anything more.”

The men squared off, their blades crossed in the air, each of them standing in profile to provide a smaller target, something Leif had no doubt learned from one of her father’s books. Krista’s heart pounded as steel rang against steel. Leif parried the first of Matthew’s vicious blows, then Matthew lunged forward and an instant later, the sleeve of Leif’s shirt blossomed with bright red blood.

Krista stifled a cry.

She felt her father’s hand at the small of her back. “Steady, dearling.”

“He won’t yield, Father. He’ll die before he’ll do that.”

The professor looked grim but said nothing more. The combatants moved back and forth across the ballroom, and Krista gasped in horror when Matthew’s blade sank into the fleshy part of Leif’s thigh.

“Make them stop, Father—I beg you.”

“I wish I knew how, dearest.”

“Do you yield?” Matthew asked, his blade circling, circling, poised for another crippling blow.

Leif answered by bringing his own sword down hard on Matthew’s blade, forcing him to parry and take several steps backward. Leif followed, his blade slashing left and right, raining down blow after blow that Matthew easily deflected. Krista thought she caught the hint of a smile on her fiancé’s face as he raised his sword, knocked the tip of Leif’s blade harmlessly out of the way, and lunged toward Leif’s torso.

She squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her lips together to hold back a scream. When she looked again, a smear of red slashed across the shirt over Leif’s rib cage.

Though again and again he avoided Matthew’s punishing blows, her heart ached with fear for him. Leif knew nothing of proper form, nothing of advancing and retreating, thrusting and parrying, and yet as he moved to defend himself, to advance on his opponent, he somehow looked graceful. He was a warrior, no matter the weapon, but he was no match for Matthew’s skill. There was every chance Leif might die, and Krista’s heart squeezed so hard she could scarcely breathe.

For the first time, she realized how much she had come to care for him, how much he truly meant to her. She clung to her father’s arm, watching the men in terror as Leif fell back beneath Matthew’s sword again and again.

Then suddenly he lunged forward, bringing his blade up in the same manner he had that night outside the carriage. Catching the hilt of Matthew’s sword, he wrenched it out of Matthew’s grip and sent the weapon careening away. She watched in amazement as Leif’s wrist came up and he used the butt of his own sword to deliver a powerful blow to Matthew’s jaw, one that sent him crashing into the wall. The blade flashed again and Leif pressed the tip against his opponent’s chest, above his heart.

“Do you yield?” Leif asked.

“You broke the rules.”

“There were no rules.”

And even if there were, Leif had managed by some trick of fate—or perhaps the intervention of his Viking gods—to separate Matthew from his weapon.

“Do you yield your claim on this woman, Mat-thew Carlton?”

Matthew looked ready to kill. “I yield,” he growled.

Leif lifted the tip of his blade and Matthew came away from the wall, his face set in tight lines of fury. He walked straight toward her.

“Is this what you want, Krista? Whatever happened here, it is you who has the final say.”

Tell him you still want to marry him. Do your duty. Make your grandfather happy. Take care of your family’s needs.

“Perhaps…” She moistened her lips. “Perhaps for now this is for the best.”

A muscle jerked in Matthew’s cheek. He said nothing more, just turned and stalked away.

The professor stopped him just as he reached the door. “I realize how you must feel, Matthew. My daughter is an extremely independent woman. Perhaps she is simply not ready to accept the notion of marriage, though I am sure in time that will change.” He flicked a glance at Leif. “In the meanwhile, no matter how great your dislike of Mr. Draugr, I expect you to keep your silence where his background is concerned.”

Matthew’s features darkened. “Draugr’s origins are of no importance to me. I don’t intend to repeat what was said to me in confidence.”

The professor reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, son.”

Matthew ignored the remark. He disappeared through the ballroom door just as Leif walked up beside Krista. Her eyes blurred with tears at the sight of the blood spreading over the gathered sleeve of his white shirt, the crimson stain seeping through the leg of his trousers. The patch of blood over his ribs had widened and she realized he was hurt even more badly than she had feared.

“Hurry, Father. We need to get him home and have his wounds taken care of.”

Leif reached out and touched her cheek. “You are free of your vow, Krista Hart.” He looked at her father. “It is not yet time, but soon we will speak of the future.”

The professor made no reply, just urged Leif toward the door. Krista let him lean against her along the way, shouldering his heavy weight more easily than a smaller woman would have. All the while she kept thinking,
I am free of Matthew Carlton.
She should have been angry at Leif for the trouble he had caused, furious at her own foolishness in allowing her fiancé to walk away. Instead she felt as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

At the bottom of the stairs, she asked the butler to bring her towels and a roll of bandages, then used them to wrap Leif’s wounds to slow the bleeding until they could get him back to the house. They made their way out to the carriage, and she helped him climb inside, wishing his face didn’t look quite so pale.

He tilted his head back against the squabs and she realized he was hurting far more than he let on. Her hand trembled as she reached out to touch him, felt his fingers tighten over hers.
Dear God, let him be all right,
she prayed, fighting to hold back tears.

She had been frightened the night of the attack on her carriage. She was far more frightened now. She vowed she would not let him know.

The ache in her chest expanded. She was free, her engagement ended, but she could not have the man she truly wanted, the man she had only just realized she would choose as her husband. They came from two different worlds, had two very different futures ahead of them. No matter how much Leif had sacrificed to gain her freedom, she could never marry him.

Surely he understood, she told herself. He had never actually spoken of a future together. He planned to leave England—he had made that more than clear—and she could not return with him to his home.

Krista drew in a steadying breath. Whatever the future held, it was still some time away, and at present she just wanted Leif well again. She prayed to his gods as well as her own that he would be all right.

E
very minute in the carriage seemed an hour, though the town house was mere blocks away. Krista and her father helped Leif inside and an ashen-faced Giles raced off down the hall, shouting for help from the other servants. A few minutes later, Mr. Skinner and two of the grooms appeared. Draping Leif’s muscular arms over their shoulders, they helped him climb the stairs.

Krista snapped out more orders, sent one of the grooms to fetch a physician, and called for her maid, Priscilla Dobbs, to bring the household medical supplies, as well as cloths, warm water and fresh bandages. By the time she reached Leif’s room, she found Henry helping him undress, trying, along with her father and Mr. Skinner, to get him into bed.

Standing unnoticed in the doorway, Krista felt her eyes widen as the little valet stripped off Leif’s trousers and she saw that he wore not a stitch of clothing underneath. She turned away, her face heating up, giving the men time to get him settled beneath the covers. But the image of his broad back, long, powerful legs and round, muscular buttocks remained etched into her brain.

Though Leif did his best to fit in, he ignored the dictates of society whenever it suited him. Apparently wearing men’s small clothes didn’t suit him at all, and it occurred to her, as it had in the ballroom, how thin was the veneer of civility that Leif Draugr wore. Still, he affected her as no other man had, and seeing him weak and pale from loss of blood made her heart twist painfully inside her.

She took a steadying breath, clutched the wooden box that held the household medical supplies, and started toward the bed. The men backed away, giving her room to work.

“Call if you need any help,” her father said as she set the box on the table.

Krista mustered a faint, tremulous smile. “You got him into bed. Big as he is, that was the difficult part.”

The door closed softly behind the men and Krista turned to Leif, who lay back against the pillow, his eyes open and watching her.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” she said, “but the bleeding seems to have slowed and the doctor will be here very soon.”

“I am fine,
honning.
” He amazed her by reaching up and capturing her face gently between his palms. He drew her toward him, pulled her mouth down to his for a kiss. It was insane. The man was injured. And yet the long, deep, very thorough kiss turned her insides furnace-hot and her brain to mush. She was trembling by the time he released her.

“You—you are wounded, Leif Draugr. You need to conserve your strength.”

“With your tending, I will be well soon enough.” His blue eyes searched her face, and she could read the desire he made no effort to hide. “The gods have smiled on me this day. You are free and soon I will show you some of the things I have wished to teach you.”

Krista’s breath caught. She didn’t ask what those things were. Already he had taught her more about passion than she ever could have learned from a book. As she turned away from him, her nipples felt stiff and sensitive beneath the bodice of her dress, and a slight ache pulsed in her core. With Matthew out of her life, at least she no longer felt guilty for the things Leif made her feel.

Still, she was an unmarried woman and her conduct with Leif was highly improper.

Krista sighed as she opened the box that held the medicinal supplies. She knew the sort of things Leif wished to teach her. And no matter how wrong it might be, she badly wished to learn them.

Days passed. The first of September arrived, the evenings growing longer, the air crisp and cooler. Leif’s wounds were healing. Krista could tell he was feeling better by his foul temper and black, restless mood.

“It is time I was up and moving,” he grumbled late in the morning when she went into his room to change the dressings on his wounds.

“You need your rest—the doctor said so.”

“You coddle me like an infant, lady.”

“And you are acting like one. Now here, eat your lunch. Cook has prepared a very nice tray.” She started to set the tray down beside the bed, but he tossed back the covers and swung his long legs over the side of the feather mattress. “I am tired of lying abed. I will eat downstairs with you.”

His private parts were covered, but little else. There were faint scars on his thighs that matched the scars she had seen on his back and shoulders, remnants of the days he had spent in captivity, but they were rapidly fading. Krista tried to look away from all of the hard male flesh and thick slabs of muscle, but it seemed impossible to do.

“I like the way you look at me,
honning.
Like a she wolf eager for her mate.”

Her face flamed. “That is completely untrue, Leif Draugr, and a very ungentlemanly thing to say.”

He shook his head. “I am only sorry that I cannot yet fulfill your wishes. In time I promise I will take care of your womanly needs.”

Her eyes widened. “Of all the nerve!”

He walked toward her, pulling the sheet off the bed as he moved, wrapping it around his flat belly and tucking it at the top so it rode low on his hips. “Do you deny that you desire me?”

“I don’t—don’t…”

“You cannot say it because it would be a lie. You are no liar, Krista.”

She felt his big hands encircling her waist as he drew her closer, and then he was kissing her and her eyes were closing, her hands sliding up around his thick neck. His tongue dipped into her mouth and she made a little sighing sound at the wave of pleasure moving through her.

Oh, she desired him, all right. She only wished that he could not tell.

Leif drew her closer and her body seemed to melt into his. His chest was wide and ridged. Rows of muscle rippled down his abdomen, tightening as he moved to kiss an earlobe, then press his lips against the side of her neck. He claimed her mouth again and sweet sensation tore through her. Beneath the sheet, she felt the long, heavy length of him, and her heartbeat quickened, began to pulse oddly inside her breast.

Krista told herself she was afraid of what might happen if she didn’t stop him, but she wasn’t truly afraid, and she only pressed closer, wishing the sheet would disappear, along with her cumbersome gown and petticoats. Wished that their bodies touched skin to skin, heat to heat.

She didn’t realize Leif had unbuttoned the bodice of her gown until the front gaped open and he bent his head to kiss the plump mounds rising above the top of her corset. Krista bit back a whimper at the hot, moist heat of his lips against her skin, the warmth tugging low in her belly.

A lock of short blond hair fell across his forehead as he left a trail of kisses over her heated skin. When his tongue slipped beneath the lace of her chemise to lap at the hardened tip of her breast, she gasped at the rush of desire that tore through her. Swaying against him, she gripped his shoulders while he laved and tasted, suckled and tugged until her nipples ached with need.

She knew it was wrong, knew she should stop him. Leif was not her husband and never would be, but she couldn’t seem to find the will. “Leif…”

“I am right here,
honning.
” A rush of cool air rippled over her skin when he drew away. She stood immobile as he kissed her deeply one last time, then reached behind her and began to rebutton her mint-green gown.

Krista reached up to touch her kiss-swollen lips. “Dear God in heaven.”

Leif ran a finger along her cheek. “You are a woman of powerful needs, Krista Hart.” He smiled wickedly. “I promise to keep you well tended.”

Her cheeks burned hotter than they had before. “Leif, you cannot…We cannot…This just cannot happen.”

He ignored her. “I am hungry.” He cast her a burning glance. “For now I will settle for food. Call your father’s man, Henry. Tell him I wish to bathe and dress. I will join you downstairs.”

She didn’t argue, just latched on to the excuse to leave, and hurried out of the room. Recalling the strength of his arousal beneath the sheet, she thought that perhaps he was right about getting out of bed. He certainly seemed healthy enough to her!

Krista hurried down the hall, angry at Leif for taking liberties, even more angry at herself for allowing it to happen. Silently she cursed Leif Draugr for the indecent power he seemed to hold over her.

Krista sighed. At least he was up and about, and she could finally go back to work. She had been in and out of
Heart to Heart
several times this week, accompanied each time by her father, their big beefy coachman, Mr. Skinner, and at least two footmen, but she had been too worried about Leif to stay there overly long.

She returned to her room to pen a few more lines of the article she was writing for this week’s gazette, “Workers Remain United,” which dealt with the strikes going on against mines, mills and factories in protest of wage cuts and deplorable working conditions.

She was well into the piece, explaining the workers’ desperation, how their endless frustration had boiled over into acts of violence, when she glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel and saw that it was indeed time for luncheon. Setting pen and paper aside, she left the bedroom and made her way downstairs, heading for the drawing room where it would be served.

She paused at the sound of men’s voices coming from her father’s study. Krista turned down the hall, then stopped when she reached the open doorway. Seated at a round mahogany table in the corner, Dolph Petersen, the investigator she had hired, sat across from her father and Leif.

“Krista,” her father called out, rising to his feet. “I was just about to send for you. Mr. Petersen has brought us some very good news. Come in, dearling.”

She walked into the study, careful not to glare in Leif’s direction, afraid the memory of his scorching kisses, the heat of his mouth on her breast, would somehow show on her face.

Petersen rose to his feet and Leif moved to stand up, as well.

“Please, gentlemen, there is no need for formality.” She smiled at the investigator. “Mr. Petersen, it is good to see you. My father says you bring news.” She sat down in the fourth chair at the table, Leif very properly seating her. Still, she didn’t look at him, just kept her gaze carefully fixed on the investigator, a tall, lean, dark-haired man perhaps in his late thirties.

“We’ve apprehended the villain responsible for the attack on your carriage,” Petersen said. He was attractive, but not in the usual sense, his features harsher, his skin sun-browned and weathered, a man whose toughness showed in the lines of his face.

“How did you find him?” she asked.

“I spoke to the owner of the White Horse Tavern. With a little friendly
persuasion,
he recalled the name of the man who’d left the money and instructions for the attack on your carriage that night.”

She flicked a glance at her father, then spoke once more to Petersen. “Who was it?”

“A man named Harley Jacobs. He’s one of the overseers at Consolidated Mining—at least he was.”

“Apparently Mr. Jacobs didn’t agree with your series of articles in favor of the Mines and Collieries Act,” the professor added. The law banned children and women from working below ground in the mines. Krista liked to think that her articles had in some way helped to finally get the act passed.

“You’ll be happy to know Mr. Jacobs is currently occupying a cell at Newgate Prison,” Petersen said. “I imagine he’ll be there quite some time.”

Krista shuddered to think of it. She had read articles about the terrible conditions at the prison, but over the last few years, work done by a female reformist named Elizabeth Fry had considerably improved the prisoners’ lot.

And Jacobs certainly deserved whatever punishment he received.

“Do you think he is the man who set the fire at
Heart to Heart?
”

“Jacobs denies it, but I think there’s a very good chance.”

“Well, I am certainly relieved by your news,” Krista said.

Petersen smiled. “I’m sure you are.” When he looked at her his dark-brown eyes seemed to warm with appreciation. It was rare that a man saw past her unnatural height, saw her as an attractive woman rather than an oddity, and she decided that she liked Dolph Petersen.

“Even with Jacobs out of the way,” he added, “I think you should retain your night watchman, just to be certain no more problems arise.”

“Of course, if you think we should.”

He rose from his chair, and everyone else stood up, as well. “If you have future use of me, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you, Mr. Petersen, for helping us as you have.”

“The pleasure was mine, Miss Hart.” Petersen bowed over her hand, his lips not quite brushing the back. A few feet away, Leif’s gaze narrowed. “As I said, if you need me, you know where I am.”

Krista watched Dolph Petersen leave the room, and felt a sweep of relief that the man behind the attack was now behind bars. “Well, it looks as if I can safely return to work.”

“So it does,” her father said. “Still, at least for a little while longer, I think it best that Leif accompany you.”

“But—”

“Come,
honning,
you know you enjoy my company.” Leif reached out and touched her cheek, and she saw her father frown.