My Lord Viking (24 page)

     
“The what?” asked another male voice.

     
Linnea’s eyes widened.
 
Her shock warned Nils of who must be standing behind him.
 
Turning, he appraised the man he had seen only from a distance.
 
Lord Tuthill’s gaze, which was even with his, was the opposite of Sutherland’s open and welcoming smile.
 
Tuthill edged between Nils and Linnea, making it quite clear that he considered he had a claim on her.
 

     
Nils laughed, although he was irritated with Tuthill’s posturing.
 
It made Linnea very uncomfortable, if he was to judge by her now brittle smile.
 
“Forgive me.
 
I have become so accustomed to my studies that I let the terms I have learned slip into my everyday speech.
 
I am speaking of the Norse.”
 
Without a pause, he said, “I am Niles Barrington.”

     
Lord Sutherland said with a broad smile, “More properly, Lord Barrington.
 
This is Randolph Denner, Lord Tuthill, a neighbor of ours here at
Sutherland
Park
.”

     
“Ah, yes,”
Niles
replied.
 
“I thought you looked familiar.”

     
“Familiar?” asked
Randolph
.
 
“Have we met before?”

     
“I know of you.
 
Others have spoken of you in my hearing.”
 
He was rewarded for his comments with a hastily masked glower from Linnea.
 

     
“In
Norfolk
?”

     
“Not exactly.”

     
“Didn’t I hear you say you were from there?”

     
Nils continued to smile.
 
He had to admit that Tuthill was focused on finding out everything about him.

     
“Yes, but what I study is the
Norrfoolk
.
 
The Norse who came to this island before the conquest.”

     
Randolph
did not lose his puzzled expression for a moment, then brightened.
 
“Ah, you mean the Vikings.”
 
He grimaced.
 
“I cannot understand why anyone would find such ill-mannered thieves interesting, but I suppose each man’s interests are different.”
 
He put his arm around Linnea’s shoulders.
 
“Shall we go back outside and dance again, my dear?”

     
Linnea murmured, “Yes.”
 
She wondered how
Randolph
could not see the dangerous gleam in Nil’s eyes when he had spoken with such contempt about the Vikings.
 
It would have earned
Randolph
a torturous death if they were in Nils’s time.
 
Then, these two men would have faced each other with bare swords in their hands instead of glasses of Papa’s best wine.

     
Papa continued to talk about the many historical sites near the house as Linnea went out into the sunshine with
Randolph
.
 
As she followed the steps of the country dance, she wondered why Papa and Mama had come into the house.
 
Had they seen her go inside?
 
And
Randolph
?
 
Why had he come into the house, too?
 
Mayhap he had thought she was ready to apologize to him.
 

     
“Where did you find
Barrington
?” asked
Randolph
as she took his hand and curtseyed along with the other ladies.

     
“As he told Mama and Papa, he found
me
.
 
He saw the house from the road and came here.”
 

     
“Do you always welcome strangers to a
Sutherland
Park
wedding?”

     
Following the pattern of the dance, she stepped away from him.
 
She smiled at Martin as he twirled her about with enthusiasm heightened by wine.
 
Too quickly, she had to turn back to
Randolph
.
 

     
“Well?” he asked as if there had been no interruption.

     
“Papa taught us to help those in need.”

     
“You are taking this stranger’s side against me.”

     
“Do not be silly.
 
There are no sides to take.”
 
She stepped away and took her brother’s hand to continue the pattern of the quadrille.

     
Martin glanced past her.
 
“Are you and Tuthill having a lover’s spat?”

     
“Of course not.”

     
“He looks very unhappy.”

     
Linnea frowned.
 
“His unhappiness is all of his own making.”
 
She and Martin walked between the lines of dancers to the tempo of the music.
 
Her steps faltered when she saw Nils standing in front of her.
 
That he was next to a bench set beside the wall half the breadth of the garden away mattered little, for her heart lurched.

     
“What is amiss, Linnea?” Martin asked.

     
“Sorry.
 
My slipper must have caught on something.”

     
His eyes widened in puzzlement.
 
“On this grass?”
 

     
“I said I was sorry.”
 
She wished she had remained silent when he frowned.
 
Her tone had taken on a whetted edge.
 

     
By the time the set was complete, Linnea wished she had not agreed to come back outside.
 
She had been wise to seek a haven inside.
 
Leaving
Randolph
in deep discussion with her older brother about the latest battle on the Continent, she slipped away toward the house.

     
A shriek froze her in midstep.
 
There were more shouts and the sound of breaking wood.
 
What was going on?

     
Linnea whirled and, gathering up her skirt, raced around the corner of the house.
 
She was struck by people running in the opposite direction.
 
They shouted to her to flee.
 
She ignored them as she heard another crash and a shout in words she did not understand.
 
Coming around the corner, she pressed back against the wall as a gun fired.
 
More cries answered it, from every direction.
 

     
Jack lowered the gun he held and turned, meeting her eyes.
 
She rushed to him, then paused as she heard something crashing through the bushes in the garden.
 
As she turned to follow, Jack grasped her arm.

     
“Stay here, my lady.
 
I’ll get some boys from the stables and halt the cur, I will.”

     
She stared at the tables that were hacked into pieces.
 
Food was scattered everywhere.
 
Behind her, from the direction of the wedding gathering, shouted questions flew like birds scattered by a cat on the prowl.

     
“What happened?” she asked.

     
“A man popped out of the bushes.
 
Started screeching like a madman.
 
Grabbed for one of the kitchen maids.
 
When she cried out for help, he went berserk.
 
Started going after the table with a big ax.”

     
“Ax?”
 
She tried to swallow past the fear clogging her throat.
 
“What did he look like?”

     
“Big man.
 
Red hair.”
 
He faltered, then said, “Dressed in clothes just like we found Nils—”

     
“Lord Barrington,” she corrected quickly.

     
“Really?”
 
His surprise vanished as he said in a grim tone, “The clothes were the same.
 
Do you think this could have been that Kortsson chap who attacked him?”

     
“I don’t know, but we must be silent on that until we can be certain.”
 
Linnea had no time to say anything else as the guests poured around the side of the house to stare at the destruction.
  

     
Quickly she deflected their questions, speaking only of a crazy man who had apparently wandered onto the grounds of
Sutherland
Park
.
 
She looked among the guests to see where Nils might be.
 
Why wasn’t he here?
 
Her heart slammed against her chest.
 
Could Kortsson have found Nils already and slain him?
 

     
Her thoughts must have been clear on her face because Jack tapped her on the shoulder and said, “You may not have seen, my lady, but Lord Barrington has set off after that chap.”

     
Linnea nodded, not sure if she was relieved or even more fearful.
 
Nils was determined to stop this man who must have come forward in time with him.
 
Neither man would rest until one of them was dead.
 
Wishing she could go with Jack when he rounded up some of the stablemen and followed Nils, she hurried back to where her mother was trying to calm some of the women who had suffered from vapors.
 

     
She glanced toward the house.
 
Nils would not have left without a better weapon than his small knife.
 
Had she mentioned to him about the old weapons in the great hall?
 
If so, he might have gone to get one.
 
She ran through the nearest door.
 
The cool twilight of the interior was welcome when her face was so flushed with fear.
 
She turned toward the mansion’s old section.
 
As a child, she often had come back here with a book from her father’s library and an apron weighted with apples, but she found no comfort today as she envisioned Nils facing his blood-enemy.
 

     
No elegant furniture or paintings of stiff-faced ancestors eased the stark stone walls here.
 
Her footfalls, even in her soft slippers, echoed through the vacant corridor, but she found nothing forsaken about this place.
 
As a child, she had thought the dusty corners carried the scents of ancient times.
 
Not just of this house, but mayhap even from the sands of the pharaohs’
Egypt
or when the Greeks had debated philosophy in distant
Athens
.
 

     
Walking into the high-ceilinged room that had been part of the original keep, she paused when she saw someone else was here.
 
For a moment, she feared it was Kortsson.
 
Then she relaxed.
 
She could not mistake those broad shoulders or the golden hair that claimed even the faint light from the windows near the roof.
 
“Nils?”

     
He smiled as he walked toward her, a plate in his hand.
 
“I thought
Niles
was the name we had decided upon for this deception.”

     
“What are you doing
here
?”
 
She stared at the cake on the plate.
 
She had not guessed that the wedding cake had been sliced.
 
Blast
Randolph
for vexing her so much that she missed it!
 
And doubly blast Nils...
Niles
!
 
Double blast him for intruding and bringing his blood-enemy here to interrupt the wedding.