Heart of Honor (5 page)

It was clear how much this bothered him. He had a duty to his father, his clan, it seemed, and unless he could return, he could not fulfill it.

A pair of servants arrived just then with platters of meat and vegetables, and the conversation ended. Leif watched the professor, who carefully showed him how to take a serving of roast lamb from the platter being held out to him. Leif took a hefty portion, then another, then helped himself to enough boiled mackerel to fill his plate to the limit.

The moment he set the plate on the table, he picked up his knife, stuck it into a hunk of meat and shoved the meat into his mouth.

Krista’s eyes widened as he grinned in pleasure and wiped away a trickle of grease with the back of his hand.

“This is very good,” he said.

She opened her mouth to tell him that here people ate with a fork and did not take so much food in one bite, but her father shook his head.

“Tomorrow we begin,” he said to her softly in English.

Leif took a big gulp of the red wine in his crystal goblet and froze. His eyes found hers and she saw that the taste was completely foreign to him and not one that pleased him. He looked down at the floor, and she could see he was thinking of spitting it out.

Krista quickly shook her head. “Here we do not spit.”

Leif eyed her a moment more, then swallowed as if drinking a mouthful of poison. “What is that?” he asked, his lips curled in disgust.

“Wine,” her father answered. “Your people usually drink ale, as I recall. I gather it doesn’t please you.”

The Norseman made a face and Krista bit back a grin.

“It is an acquired taste,” her father explained.

Leif finished his food in short order. Krista had eaten only half her meal when she looked over to find his plate empty.

“I think Leif would like a little more,” she said to her father, careful to speak in Norse, as they had agreed. His gaze dropped to the big man’s plate, which was scraped completely clean. Krista motioned for one of the servants to bring another platter of meat and a few more vegetables.

Leif ignored the carrots, turnips and potatoes, and she remembered that except for a few wild onions and a couple of varieties of seaweed, Vikings mostly ate fish, meat and dairy.

Dessert followed the meal, and Leif looked down warily at the custard pudding covered with a paste of sugared almonds one of the servants set in front of him.

“You don’t have to eat it,” she said. “Not unless you want to.”

Leif looked wildly relieved. He shoved back his chair. “I promised Alfinn I would bring him some food.” He reached down for the platter of turnips and carrots, got up and started toward the dining room door. It was clear he wasn’t used to asking permission.

“Monkeys don’t generally stay in the house,” she called after him. “Perhaps Alfinn would be happier out in the stables.”

“Sta-bles?” he asked, turning to face her.

“Where the horses are kept.”

He nodded. “Alf is used to being around other animals. I think he would like that.” Leif disappeared, and while he was gone, Krista finished her delicious custard. When the meal was over, Leif still had not returned.

The professor rose worriedly from his chair. “I had better go see what has happened to him.”

“I had one of the guest rooms prepared,” Krista said. “He should be more than comfortable there.”

“I’ll bring him inside and show him his quarters.”

But when her father returned, he was alone. “He was sleeping out in the stable. He has made himself a bed on the straw in one of the stalls. I wasn’t sure I should wake him.”

After what he had suffered the past six months, it bothered her to think of him sleeping another night in the straw. “Perhaps he didn’t understand. I’ll go explain, tell him he doesn’t have to live like an animal anymore.”

Her father nodded. He was tired, she knew. So was she. Tomorrow was Monday and she needed to start working on her editorial for this week’s edition. One more article on the benefits of city sanitation and she could return to even more pressing issues.

A vote was coming up on a proposal that would ban women, young girls and boys from working underground in the mines. Though the act had sprung mostly from concern about public morals after it was discovered women and children often stripped nearly naked to tolerate the heat, she believed the law was a good one.

Making her way out the door, Krista headed for the stables, still uncertain what to do about Leif.

Leif slept deeply. He dreamed of home, as he often did, thinking of the life he had left behind. In truth, he never should have left the island. His friends would still be alive and he would not be trying to make his way in a hostile world completely foreign to him. Still, now that he was free, he had begun to see the world he had once hoped to discover, and leaving Draugr grew more difficult to regret.

Then again, had he remained, he would not be aching with need for a woman, dreaming of soft, feminine curves and full breasts, of golden hair that could make a man hard just to think of touching it.

A voice floated toward him in the darkness, drifted into his dreams. He remembered then that Inga had come to his bed tonight and he had taken her until both of them were wildly sated. He was half-awake now, hard again, and ready for more. When she touched his shoulder, shook him a little, he knew she must be ready, as well.

He reached for her, pulled her down in the pile of straw and rolled her beneath him, then began to massage a plump, round breast as he kissed the side of her neck.

“You were always a woman of passion, Inga, but tonight—”

Her shriek of outrage nearly burst his ears. Leif jerked away from her, fully awake now, blinking owlishly and remembering that he was no longer on Draugr, but in a place called London.

“How dare you!”

He was in London, not Draugr, and the ripe breasts he had been caressing belonged to the voluptuous blonde.

“I was dreaming. I thought you were someone else.”

“Someone else!” she screeched. “Someone else!” She straightened and looked down her very nice nose at him. Even angry, she was beautiful, with the finely carved features of a Norsewoman, the graceful neck and full lips. “This is the third time you’ve insulted me, Leif of Draugr. You will apologize right now or you will leave this house and not return!”

His jaw hardened. He had nowhere to go. He needed these people’s help and yet he would not be commanded by a woman, no matter how comely she was.

“I am not sorry I touched you. Only that you did not wish me to. For that I apologize, lady.”

He was still wearing the uncomfortable trousers that molded his hips and legs like skin. But he had unbuttoned the front and now he was afraid she would see what she had done to him. He came up out of the straw, turned away from her a moment and struggled to rebutton the trousers.

In the dim light of a lantern hanging on the wall, he could see that her face was flushed, the pins gone from her hair. The heavy mass tumbled in thick, golden curls around her shoulders, and bits of straw stuck out here and there.

His groin tightened even more. He couldn’t remember a woman who had stirred such rampant lust in him. He swore a soft curse.

“I heard that,” she said, “and you will refrain from swearing in this household.”

“You give orders like a man, lady. Is that another of your customs?”

Her cheeks flushed. For an instant she glanced away. She was used to giving orders, but deep down, he was pleased to see, she was still a woman.

“I came out here to tell you there is no need for you to sleep in the barn. A room has been prepared for your use in the house.”

He glanced over at the tiny monkey, who was looking at him with fear in his shiny dark eyes. “What about Alfinn? He will think I have abandoned him.”

The woman looked at the monkey. “Monkeys don’t belong in the house.”

Alfinn gave a forlorn, pitiful cry, a trick he had learned to get treats from the crowd.

The woman sighed. “All right, you can bring him with you, but you are the one who will have to clean up his messes.”

Leif grinned. “Alf is a very clean monkey.”

She rolled her eyes and started walking back toward the house, and Leif fell in behind her. Her cumbersome female garments mostly hid her curves, but her bottom swayed nicely beneath the heavy fabric.

By the gods, he would have to watch himself where Krista Hart was concerned. He had long been without a woman and this one pleased him greatly. He was used to taking his enjoyment from whatever woman he desired. They welcomed his advances and always had.

Not this time. Although he was now a free man, he would have to forgo his pleasure. He thought of her outrage when he had unwittingly caressed her breasts. He was glad his weapon had not been nearby. If she had found his sword, she surely would have plunged it into his heart.

Leif grunted. Unlike Inga, it didn’t seem likely the blonde would invite him into her bed.

S
he was running late. Krista rarely overslept, and wouldn’t have this morning except that she had been so furious after her encounter in the stables last night that she’d had trouble falling asleep. Leif Draugr was a big, crude, overgrown lout without the least sensibilities. Why, the liberties he had taken! No man had ever touched her the way he had. No man had ever dared to cup her breasts, let alone caress them as if he knew exactly how sensitive they were. She had known he would be trouble, but she never would have guessed how much.

Krista made her way down the hall, refusing to think of him as she hurried toward the bathing room, opened the door and walked in. Shock widened her eyes at the sight of the big brute lounging in the copper tub, his legs drawn up against his chest, water barely covering his manly parts.

“Good morning, lady.”

Krista whirled away from him, her face burning. Unconsciously, she pulled her quilted robe a little tighter around her. “What are you doing in here?” Her eyes remained closed but she couldn’t block the image of broad shoulders banded with muscle, and arms that looked as solid as steel.

“I am bathing,” he said, as if it was his right to usurp her usual time in the marble-floored chamber converted from one of the bedrooms her mother had designed. “I thought it was the custom here to bathe. In my country we cleanse with steam or in one of the hot volcanic pools, but I suppose this will have to do.”

She ground her teeth but kept her back to him. A memory returned of those moments beneath him in the stables, the feel of his big hard body pressing her into the straw, the heat of his mouth on the side of her neck. A faint shiver ran through her.

Krista took a deep breath. “Why is it every time I see you, you are at least half-naked?”

He started to reply, but she simply marched out the door, slammed it as hard as she could and stomped back to her bedroom.

By the time he was gone and she’d had her turn in the bathing room, she was running even later and furious about it. Dear God, was it only yesterday that the house had seemed a quiet place of refuge? Now it was filled with the presence of a big, overbearing hulk of a man, and she had no idea what to do about it.

Her maid, Priscilla Dobbs, helped her dress and coif her hair, then Krista hurried for the stairs, grabbing the ribbons of her felt bonnet on her way to the door. The carriage waited in front. She plucked her woolen cloak off the ornately carved coatrack in the entry, urged even faster by the sound of her father’s prized pair of matched chestnuts stomping, jangling their harness in their eagerness to get under way.

The butler, long-time family retainer Milton Giles, silver-haired and always extremely proper, pulled open the door and stepped back to let her pass. “Have a good day, miss.”

“Thank you, Giles.”

She started forward, anxious to reach the office, but just as she stepped through the door, Matthew Carlton appeared in her path, having just reached the top of the front porch stairs.

“Krista! I was hoping I would find you here.” He smiled. “I stopped by your office. They said you hadn’t come in yet. I thought perhaps I might catch you before you left for work.”

Krista bit back a sigh of frustration. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I am running extremely late this morning. Is there something you need?”

“I suppose you could say that. Viscount Wimby and his wife, Diana, have extended an invitation tonight to join them for a performance of the
Unearthly Bride
at Her Majesty’s Theatre. I realize it is extremely short notice, but I was hoping you might accompany me.”

She needed to catch up on work. She had this week’s editorial to write, which reminded her she must speak to Corrie about her article on the circus. Krista wanted to be sure her friend left out any reference to the wild man in the cage. Corrie didn’t yet know the man was living in her best friend’s house—at least for the present. Once she did, she would realize how important it was to protect his privacy.

“I appreciate the invitation, Matthew, I truly do, but I have a great deal to do and—”

“And what? It seems there is always something you have to do that takes precedence over me.”

“That isn’t true. I have simply been busy. A rather unexpected…
guest…
has arrived and it has thrown my schedule off a bit.”

She looked up just then and inwardly groaned. Leif was descending the stairs in his ridiculously too-tight shirt and trousers, his fierce blue gaze drilling into Matthew.

Matthew stared equally hard at Leif. “Who…is…
that?
” His eyes nearly popped from their sockets. “Surely that is
not
your house guest.”

Krista didn’t like his tone, and apparently, neither did Leif. Though he couldn’t understand a word, his jaw subtly tightened.

“It’s a very long story, Matthew. Right now, I don’t have time to explain.”

Matthew looked at the tall blond man, incredibly handsome even in his ill-fitting clothes, and overwhelmingly male. “If you imagine any possible future for the two of us, you will take the time to explain.”

Surely he couldn’t be jealous. Leif might be handsome, but he was also insufferably crude and completely barbaric, certainly no threat to a gentleman like Matthew.

She fixed a smile on her face. “All right, we’ll go to the opera, as you wish. I’ll explain everything tonight.”

“I would like an explanation now. I believe I am entitled to one.”

Thankfully, her father appeared in the hallway just then. “I thought I heard voices….”

Krista sighed with relief. “Father, Matthew has some questions about our…houseguest. Would you mind taking a moment to explain?”

Leif stepped off the bottom stair. “Who is this man?” he asked her, as if he had a right to know. He spoke in very rapid Norse, which should have made it hard to understand, but his tone made his meaning extremely clear.

“He is a friend,” she told him, and saw Matthew’s eyebrows creep up at the language they were speaking.

Her father spoke in English to Matthew. “His name is Leif Draugr. He is Norse. That is the language he is speaking. I shall be happy to explain, but in return, I will expect your discretion in the matter. This is a golden opportunity, Matthew, a chance to study a culture long believed dead.”

Matthew turned a shrewd look on Leif, who was glaring at him as if he were the fat man with the stick outside his cage.

“You have my word,” Matthew said, obviously intrigued. “Whatever we discuss will be kept strictly between the two of us.”

Her father nodded, turned to Leif. “You will have to pardon me, Leif. I need a word with my colleague. As soon as I am finished, we can begin your lessons.” He turned his attention to Krista. “It is obvious our guest needs appropriate clothing. If you wouldn’t mind, I would appreciate your help in the matter.”

She flicked a glance at Leif. He did look ridiculously out of place. Not only was he wearing the clothes of a servant, they didn’t begin to fit his large frame.

“I could pick you up at the office this afternoon,” her father said, “if you could find a bit of time.”

Inwardly, she sighed. Her mother had always helped her father with his wardrobe, which cut of garment suited his thin frame best, which fabrics went together. Krista had taken over the task and was fairly good at it. She could assist the big Norseman far better than the professor could.

“All right, I’ll go with you. I should have things under control by this afternoon.”

“Around two o’clock, then?”

She nodded, worked up a smile for Matthew. “Now if you gentlemen will excuse me….”

Matthew and her father both made faint bows. She said nothing to Leif, but she could feel his eyes on her as she walked out the door. Ignoring an odd little flutter in the pit of her stomach, she headed down the front steps to her carriage.

Work at the gazette continued as it always did. Lately she had been looking for a cheaper source of paper, and she spent the morning reviewing different bids. Immersed in the job, Krista didn’t notice the time. She was sitting at her desk, poring over the notes she had made for the article she needed to finish, when her father walked into the office.

“Oh, dear. I am sorry, Father. I completely lost track of time.” She removed the apron tied over the skirt of her dove-gray gown, which was trimmed with scarlet braid and one of her favorites. “Just let me get my bonnet and I’ll be right with you.”

He nodded, waited patiently while she went upstairs to check her appearance in the mirror in the retiring room and grab her scarlet-trimmed bonnet and cloak. Setting the bonnet over the blond curls nestled against her shoulders, she tied the ribbons beneath her chin, then returned downstairs.

“Leif is waiting in the carriage,” the professor said.

And rather impatiently, she discovered when she climbed into the coach and took a seat across from him.

“You are late, lady.”

A trickle of annoyance slipped through her. “Women are supposed to be late. That is to be expected. Besides, how would you know? You don’t have a…a…” she didn’t know the word in Old Norse for
clock,
so just said, “a way to tell time.”

He leaned over and looked out the window, pointed up at the yellow orb shining over the city. “The movement of the sun tells me all I need know.” He pinned her with a glare. “And you, lady, are late.”

Krista opened her mouth to tell him he was lucky she had agreed to come at all, but her father gave her one of his looks. “Remember, dearest,” he said, speaking English, “things are different where Leif comes from.”

“Yes, well, Leif is in London now, not on Draugr Island.” She flicked the blond man a glance. “He has to learn to accept the way things are here.”

Leif grunted as if he knew what she had said.

Krista ignored him, just settled back against the seat and stared out the window, silently suffering the jounce of an occasional pothole as the carriage made its way through the heavy London traffic. Still, she could sense him there in the carriage. She seemed to be attuned to his every movement, seemed to feel the heat of his eyes as they roamed over her. She had never been so aware of a man before. She found it strangely unnerving.

They reached her father’s favorite tailor’s shop, Stephen Ward and Company on Regent Street, and made their way inside the building. Mr. Ward had earlier been sent a note informing him of their arrival, and he appeared at the front counter himself.

“Welcome, Sir Paxton…Miss Hart. As always it is our pleasure to serve you.” He was a small man, with black hair parted in the middle and a thin mustache. Only the faintest lift of a single black eyebrow betrayed his surprise at the sight of Leif’s tall figure in his too-small clothes.

“This is Mr. Draugr, a friend of ours from Norway,” her father smoothly explained. “His baggage was stolen when he arrived at the dock, and as you can see, he is in dire need of a wardrobe.”

“Yes…I do see that, indeed.” The man turned, clapped his hands, and two of his young male apprentices, one tall and gangly with very pale skin, the other shorter, with sandy hair and blue eyes, appeared in the receiving room.

“I believe we have quite a job ahead of us,” the tailor said to them. He turned, smiled at the professor. “Have no fear, Sir Paxton. Stephen Ward is up to the job.”

He guided the group through a curtain that led into the luxuriously furnished back room of the establishment, and pointed toward a dais at one end. “If Mr. Draugr will step up on the platform, we will get started with the necessary measurements.”

Leif looked at the professor, who translated Mr. Ward’s wishes, then climbed up on the dais.

Stephen Ward approached the platform, pausing for a moment to inspect Leif’s impressive, broad-shouldered frame. “My, he is quite a specimen.” There was blatant appreciation in the man’s dark eyes.

Krista allowed herself the same inspection and couldn’t say she blamed him. In the vee at the front of Leif’s full-sleeved shirt, muscles bunched every time he moved. His waist was narrow, his abdomen flat, his legs long and muscular. For an instant, her glance strayed to the heavy bulge at the front of his too-tight breeches before she jerked her eyes back to his face.

A corner of Leif’s mouth faintly curved. “If you wish these new clothes to fit, lady, you should not stare at that particular place.”

Her face flamed. Sweet God, the way he spoke to her! At one-and-twenty, Krista had heard enough women’s gossip to be aware of a man’s anatomy. She knew that as big as he was, and from what the tight-fitting trousers revealed, Leif Draugr must be very well endowed. The married women would titter about it. Krista tried not to imagine what the man’s very large masculinity would mean to a woman, but her mind strayed there anyway.

Worst of all, Leif seemed to sense her interest, even approve.

“It is good for a woman to know what pleases her.”

Silently, she ground her teeth, biting back the rude remark that lingered on the tip of her tongue. She squared her shoulders. “Time is running short,” she said to Mr. Ward. “Shall we get on with it? I have a good deal to do back at my place of business.”