Heart of Honor (27 page)

“I will sleep elsewhere this night. In the morning, we will leave.” He turned and started walking, a thick lump swelling in his throat.

“Leif!” Krista called after him. “Leif, please!” But he only kept walking.

His decision was made. The truth was clear, as it always had been, if he had not been too blind to see. He would take her home, back to the life she was meant for. No matter the pain in his heart, he would not fail her again.

Krista cried herself to sleep. She dreamed of home and of her father, and in her dream she saw how happy he was to see her. Then she dreamed of Leif, watched him standing next to their small, blond-haired son, saw him beckoning for her to join them, and she raced across the meadow into his arms.

When Runa came to wake her, Krista was smiling, reaching out for Leif, but he was not there.

“My brother awaits you,” Runa said. “You must prepare for your journey.”

Krista took a deep breath and summoned the will to rise. Her legs felt leaden as she swung them to the side of the bed. “I don’t want to go, Runa. I love him too much.”

The girl reached out and took her hand. “My brother knows what is best. You must trust him in this.”

Krista said no more. For weeks, she had begged Leif to take her home. Now that he was determined to do so, it was the last thing she wanted.

And yet, in a place deep in her heart, she knew, as Leif had come to know, that it was the right thing to do.

She let Runa help her dress in a simple brown woolen kirtle, fastening the ties on the shoulders with tortoiseshell brooches. Rolling another fresh kirtle into a bundle for the journey, she picked up her fur-lined cloak and followed the girl out of the sleeping chamber.

“The men have already gone down to the ship,” Runa said. “They are loading food supplies and making sure the vessel is sound for the voyage. I will take you to join them.”

Krista walked next to Runa as they made the brief journey along the valley and finally came to the dirt path leading down the slope to the sea. As soon as they left the protection of the mountains at the clifftop, the icy breeze hit her, whipping her cloak and tearing at her hair, tied at the back of her neck with a strip of woven cloth. Krista drew the cloak more tightly around her and continued down the path toward the bottom of the cliff.

The inlet was calm, the cove almost completely hidden by high rock walls. She could see the ship below, Leif working with the captain and his men, and her heart squeezed with love for him.

By the time she and Runa reached the beach, Leif was aboard the dingy, rowing the small boat back to shore. Krista saw that a small group had gathered to watch him depart, Leif’s brothers Thor and Eirik, and his uncle Sigurd, among them.

As Leif jumped out of the dinghy and pulled the small boat onto the sand, Thor strode forward to help him. Krista was amazed to see that he had shaved off his thick dark beard, not nearly so skillfully as Leif had learned to do, leaving his handsome face nicked here and there, and a cut or two on his throat.

“I wish to go with you,” Thor said. “I have thought on the matter very hard and I wish to see and learn, as you have done.”

Leif studied Thor’s newly shaved face. “England is a difficult place for foreigners, Brother.”

“And yet you wished to return, even spoke to the council about it.”

“I was wrong.”

“Still, it is my desire to see this new world you have discovered.”

Leif looked at Krista. “Do you think your father would teach my brother as he taught me?”

Knowing the professor would be eager for the chance to further his studies, she nodded. “I am sure he would.”

“There is nothing for me here,” Thor pressed. “I have no woman and, unlike you, no duty that requires me to remain.”

Leif glanced away. “No. You are free to go. But this is your home, Thor. Are you sure you truly wish to leave?”

“I am sure.”

“The
Sea Dragon
is well-built and seaworthy, not like the vessel we tried to sail before. If you are certain, I will take you.”

Thor broke into a grin. Without his beard, he was amazingly handsome, Krista thought, dark where Leif was fair, but tall and masculine and powerfully built.

Sigurd strode forward just then, the wind tugging at his thick gray hair, and Krista saw that he carried a carved wooden box in his hands. “I have something I wish for you to take with you,” he said to Leif.

“What is it?”

“Once you are returned to Eng-land, if you still have doubts about returning to Draugr, then I would have you open the box. If you do, you will know why I have given it to you.”

“I have a duty, Uncle.”

“Take the box,” Sigurd said. “Open it only if your doubts remain.”

Leif gave a curt nod. As the men prepared to row the dinghy back to the ship, Krista looked at Runa, who reached out and took hold of her.

“Farewell, Sister,” Runa said. “I pray the gods will help you find the right path to follow.”

Krista’s eyes filled with tears. Impulsively, she reached over and hugged the slender, red-haired girl she had come to think of as a friend. “May the gods protect and guide you,” she said, then turned and started walking toward the men.

Leif took her small bundle and helped her settle herself in the dinghy. When he looked into her eyes, she saw deep sadness, loss and regret—the same pain she felt. As he began to row the boat back to the
Sea Dragon,
her heart twisted.

It was time to leave. Krista wondered how she would survive when Leif left her in England and returned without her to his home.

C
oralee settled back against the velvet seat of the carriage. It was only Tuesday, but as she had done last night and any number of nights the week before, she had worked late at the gazette. Last week’s issue of
Heart to Heart
had been distributed on Saturday. True to his word, Professor Hart had helped her put together an editorial in support of Chartist reform, a movement to amend the government to allow more people to vote.

It was a highly controversial and highly volatile notion, mostly unpopular with the upper classes, but she and the professor had advocated using only nonviolent measures to achieve the goal, and she was proud of the job they had done.

Still, with Krista gone, the work of running the magazine seemed endless, and as the coach rolled through the dark, quiet streets toward home, Corrie was exhausted. She had almost fallen asleep when she felt the jolt of the wheels coming to an unexpected halt. An instant later, the door of the carriage flew open and a man clothed entirely in black jerked her out of her seat.

“Let me go!” She struggled as he dragged her down the steps of the carriage, then shoved her against the side of the coach. He was a big man, thick shouldered, with a handkerchief tied over his nose and mouth. Frantically, she glanced around, looking for her coachman, then spotted him on the box with his hands in the air, her footman a few feet away, both of them held at gunpoint by a second assailant, this one mounted, wielding two heavy pistols.

“Wh-what do you want?” She was trembling and hoped he could not tell. There was only a small amount of money in her reticule, and she prayed it would be enough to satisfy both men.

“I want you to stop your damnable articles. Hart’s daughter is gone. There’s no need for you and that ridiculous female paper to continue interfering in matters that don’t concern you.” He was well-spoken, she realized, and yet, above the top of the handkerchief, the hard brown eyes that bored into hers had a ruthless quality she could not mistake.

“You don’t have to fight someone else’s battles, Miss Whitmore. If you try, you’re going to get hurt.”

“You can’t threaten me.”

He stepped closer, forcing her to stiffen her spine against the vehicle. “Next time, it won’t be a threat. Heed my words, lady. Write your society column and stay out of politics.” He said no more, just tipped his head toward the second man, swung up on his horse, and the two men rode away.

Corrie was trembling as her footman rushed forward. “Are you all right, miss?”

She nodded. “Just shaken up a bit.” More than a bit, she silently admitted, trying to control her quaking limbs.

“Me and the coachy, we didn’t know what to do, miss, what with pistols pointed at us and all.”

“It’s all right. You did the best you could. I’d like to go home now, Mr. Pots, if you please.”

“O’ course, miss,” said the coachman.

She made her way up the iron stairs and sank back in the deep velvet seat. She wasn’t quite sure what to do. If she told her father, or went to the police and he somehow found out, he would forbid her return to the gazette. And yet she couldn’t simply let the matter drop.

Tomorrow, she decided, she would go and see the professor. He had hired an investigator before, and for a while, things had been quiet. Now, after a single article, trouble had arisen again.

Corrie released a worried breath. Sweet saints, she wished Krista was here to help her figure out what to do.

It was late afternoon by the time Coralee was finally able to escape her duties at
Heart to Heart
and head for the professor’s town house. She had sent a note ahead, informing him she wished to see him, and he had replied that he looked forward to her arrival.

Now, as her carriage rolled to a halt in front of the two-story brick town house, Corrie hoped she was doing the right thing. Professor Hart had not been himself since Krista had left, and Corrie didn’t want to upset him any further.

On the other hand, the magazine belonged to him as well as to Krista, and this sort of threat affected all of them greatly. Pulling her fur-trimmed cloak a little closer against the November chill and checking the ribbons holding her curls in place, Corrie hurried up the steps and rapped on the front door.

It was only a moment before Giles pulled it open. “Miss Whitmore, do come in!” He was smiling, as he hadn’t been anytime lately, and she was instantly alert.

“What is it, Giles? What’s happened?”

“It’s Miss Krista. She is returned, miss. Less than an hour ago, she arrived here at the house.”

Corrie gave a tiny yelp of glee. “Oh, Giles, that’s marvelous! Where is she?”

“In the study, miss. I’ll let them know you are here.”

He left her for a moment and then returned, beckoning her to follow him down the hall. Grinning, Corrie pushed open the study door, then stopped abruptly at the sight of Leif Draugr in full Viking gear, a sort of belted tunic over loose-fitting breeches and fur-trimmed, soft leather boots that came nearly to his knees. He was standing next to Krista, who wore a smocklike blue woolen gown, her blond hair tied at the nape of her neck.

“Corrie!” Krista turned and raced toward her across the room, and the two of them hugged.

“I am so glad you are home!” Corrie said, never meaning anything more.

“It is good to be back. I’ve missed you all so much.” But Corrie caught the shadows in her friend’s green eyes and knew that something wasn’t quite as it should be.

Finding out what was wrong would have to wait until they were alone. She flicked a glance at Leif, whose expression looked equally morose, then spotted a third man in the room. He was nearly as tall as Leif, dark-haired and unbelievably handsome, and also dressed in the manner of a Viking.

“This is Leif’s brother Thor,” Krista said. “He doesn’t speak English yet, but my father has agreed to teach him.”

Corrie managed a smile, a little unnerved by such a formidable male. “Tell him I am pleased to meet him.”

Krista translated, and Thor gave a brief nod of his head.

Corrie fixed her attention on Leif. “So you and your brother will be staying in London?” she asked, hoping for Krista’s sake it was true. She could see the love between them every time they looked at each other, and it caused an odd clutch in her heart.

“Leif is chieftain of his clan,” Krista said softly. “He is leaving on the morrow and he won’t be coming back.”

“I see.” And suddenly Corrie did see. She saw that Leif had returned Krista home even though it was not his wish, even though he had wanted more than anything to marry her. She saw that Krista, even though she was in love with Leif, would stay here in England because she belonged here and not on Draugr Island.

Corrie’s heart ached for both of them.

The group talked for a while, a bit about what life was like on the island. Mostly, Krista was concerned about the gazette. Corrie filled her in on some of the things that had been happening, and in that moment it obviously dawned on Krista that Corrie was there at the house in the middle of a workday.

“Something has happened,” she said, drilling Corrie with a glare. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. What is it?”

Corrie nibbled her lip, hating to worry her friend so soon after her return. “You’ve just arrived home. In a few days we can talk, and perhaps then you will be—”

“Tell me, Coralee. Why did you come here to see my father?”

Corrie sighed. “A problem has come up and I was hoping the professor could help me.”

Leif’s piercing blue eyes locked on her face. “What kind of problem?” he asked.

“Last week the professor helped me write an editorial in support of recent reform efforts. It was the first such article written since Krista…left. We printed the piece in Saturday’s edition of the gazette.”

“And…?” Krista pressed.

“And last night my carriage was attacked.”

The muscles in Leif’s shoulders went taut. “You were not injured?”

“No, it was merely a warning. The man said that since Krista was gone, there was no need for me or the paper to meddle further in politics.”

“Only one man?” Leif asked, taking a step in her direction. He was so big he made her feel even shorter than she usually did.

“There were two, actually, but only one of them spoke to me. He seemed to be the leader.”

The professor got up from his chair. “We must send for the police immediately.”

“I was rather hoping that we might be able to handle the matter in some other way,” Corrie said. “The police are always so busy, and I really haven’t much information to give them, at any rate.” She didn’t have to say more. Both Krista and her father knew how much Corrie’s parents hated her involvement with the gazette. If they thought for an instant that she might be in danger…

“Perhaps you are right,” the professor said. “Still, I want this man found and dealt with. I shall pen a note to Mr. Petersen. I want this matter put to an end once and for all.” Making his way to his desk, he took pen in hand and set about scratching out a message.

Leif said something in Norse to his brother, who nodded. Then Leif fixed his attention on Krista. “I am not leaving as long as you might be in danger.”

“There will always be people who disagree with what we print, Leif. It isn’t necessary for you to stay.”

“Not all who disagree with you are a threat. I am staying until we know more.”

Corrie couldn’t tell if Krista was relieved or disturbed that he would be staying. Perhaps a little of both…

“Father is sending word to Dolph Petersen,” she said to Corrie. “We won’t write any more editorials until Mr. Petersen has a chance to look into this. There is no sense taking unnecessary chances.”

Corrie was relieved. “That seems reasonable to me.”

“On the morrow, I shall return to work.” Krista smiled, but there was an empty look in her eyes. “I imagine there is plenty for me to do.”

“More than plenty,” Corrie agreed, sensing her friend’s need to do something—anything—to keep her mind off Leif. “I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am that you are home.”

Leif spent the night at the town house, then escorted Krista and Corrie to work the following morning. Dressed once more as a gentleman, in dark gray trousers, a light-gray cashmere waistcoat and dark-blue velvet-collared frock coat, he wouldn’t have looked out of place in the most elegant drawing room in London. But Krista would always remember him garbed as a Viking, truly the man he was.

And yet there was another, different side of him that appealed to her just as greatly: his sharp mind and thirst for knowledge, the desire to learn that had first driven him to English shores.

On the journey from Draugr, except when he spoke to Thor, he had conversed only in English, honing his skills, she imagined, for his brief stay in London. He’d spent a good deal of time with his brother, teaching him a few English words and instructing him in some basic customs and manners.

Now that they were in London, Thor had borrowed some of Leif’s clothes and spent most of his time in the study with her father, immersed in the first of the many lessons he would need to learn. Like Leif, Thor had been amazed at the sights and sounds of the city and the way people lived here.

He seemed as fascinated as Leif had been, and nearly as determined to learn. Thor and her father had struck up an immediate friendship, and Krista thought there was every chance he would stay in England, as he seemed to wish to do.

As for Krista, she couldn’t deny it felt good to be home. And
right
that she be here, no matter how much her heart ached to think that soon Leif would be leaving. She had made the right decision in returning. She knew it deep inside, and yet she would never forget him, never love another man as she loved him.

To bury the pain, she immersed herself in work, going to the office early and staying late into the evening. Leif escorted her and Coralee in the mornings, then returned to pick them up in the carriage each night. After the attack on Coralee’s coach, he had decided to stay in the town house, though he could well afford a hotel. He had used only a portion of the money he had won in his gaming endeavors, leaving plenty to take care of him and his brother in excellent style.

Thor was living at the house, as well. Krista imagined once the danger was passed, her father would take him to Heartland to continue his studies, as he had done with Leif. Captain Twig and his small crew remained on Leif’s payroll and were living aboard the
Sea Dragon
while they awaited the return sail to the island. Jamie and little Alfinn were rooming once more in the grooms’ quarters above the stable. The sweet little monkey reminded her of Leif and all they had been through, and whenever she saw the tiny creature, she sank into hopeless despair.

Determined to keep up her spirits, she kept herself busy. As Coralee had said, there was a great deal to do at
Heart to Heart:
ledgers to review, supplies to be purchased and restocked, research to be undertaken for future articles. As the days slipped past and the gazette went to press, she grew more and more anxious to start penning her editorials. She held strong opinions and wanted to do as Feargus O’Conner had asked—continue the support of reform.