My Lord Viking (26 page)

     
Linnea knew she should keep on walking.
 
This conversation had crossed too many boundaries, leading her thoughts into intriguing places where they should not go.
 
She closed her eyes, savoring the memory of his brazen caresses.
 
Without looking back, she said, “I will leave you here to eat your wedding cake,
Niles
.”

     
“Cake?
 
Confound it,
feila
!”

     
“
Feila
?”
 
She faced him.
 
“What does
that
mean?”

     
“It means woman, and you are the most confounding one I have ever met.
 
I—”
 
Abruptly he laughed and picked up the plate.
 
As he walked to where she was standing, he ran a finger through the frosting.
 

     
“Nils!”

     
“
Niles
,” he corrected with another laugh.

     
“Whatever you call yourself, you should not be eating cake with your fingers.
 
I thought I had explained that we do things differently in this time.”

     
“So you did, but there are some things I hope will never change.”
 
He stopped in front of her, and his voice deepened to a low growl, “Such as this.”

     
She gasped as he placed a sticky finger against her cheek.
 
When he licked the sugary sweetness from her skin, a warmth burned in the very depths of her body.
 
Gripping his coat, she swayed with the strength of her desire as he painted her lips with the frosting.
 
Her breath came fast and shallow when he kissed away every bit of the glaze, teasing the flavor from her.
 
His tongue darted into her mouth, daring her to tell him to stop.

     
Running her fingertip through the icing, she touched his lips as he had hers.
 
He grasped her hand and licked the sweetness from her fingers.
 
At her soft moan of yearning, he smiled with the gentleness that tugged on her heart.
 

     
So many questions remained in her mind, but she forgot them while his lips caressed the curve of her ear.
 
His finger moved along her face in a parade of sweet sensations coming from her heart.

     
“Come with me,” he whispered.

     
“To
London
?”
 
Her voice was breathless.

     
His laugh swirled through her like flotsam on the sea.
 
“To
London
later.
 
With
me
now.”

     
“I can’t.”

     
“More stupid rules that keep you from doing what I know you want as I do?”
 
His flaxen brows slashed down to match his scowl.

     
“Yes.”
 
She raised her chin as she added, “But you have rules that constrain your life, too,
Niles
.
 
Rules I think are silly.”

     
“Such as?”

     
She did not quail before the fury in his terse question.
 
“Such as an oath that has ripped you from your own time and deposited you here.”

     
“There is nothing silly about my oath.
 
It is not a rule imposed on me.
 
It is an obligation I take on freely.”

     
“Just as I accept the obligations of my place in this family.
 
I would no more shame my father than you would your chieftain.”

     
“I will shame no one when I speak of my desire for you.”
 
He caught her shoulders and tugged her to him.
 
“You are a beautiful woman, and I would gladly welcome you into my bed while I search for my chieftain’s knife.”

     
“And then?”

     
Again his brows lowered, but this time in puzzlement.
 
“I do not understand why you are asking that.
 
You know I shall return it to my chieftain after I have made the man who kept it from me sorry.”

     
“What?”
 
She pushed herself out of his arms.
 
“You never mentioned anything about vengeance!”

     
“It is part of my vow.”

     
“A rule of yours?”

     
He nodded slowly.
 
“If you wish to call it that.”

     
“I hope you do not come to regret making that rule.”

     
“As you regret the rules that have been forced upon you?”

     
She knew she should laugh at his question and call it foolish, but she could not.
 
Not when he was looking at her with unrestrained desire in his eyes.
 

     
“Yes,” she whispered, then turned and walked away before her own longings persuaded her that she should give free rein to them with a man who could not wait to finish his quest and leave her...forever.

Fourteen

     
“Right fancy, isn’t it?”

     
Nils smiled as Jack came into the large collection of rooms that were set aside for the use of Lord Sutherland’s guests.
 
This room alone was bigger than Nils’s cottage back in the land of the
Norrfoolk
, and three other chambers opened from it.
 
One held a wide bed that sat in the middle of the room.

     
He laughed to himself.
 
Firepits had been moved into the walls away from the center of the room, and beds had come out of their cupboards.
 
The winters here were not as unforgiving as those farther north, so there was no need to close doors to keep in the sparse heat.

     
Another room was littered with hooks and shelves and drawers.
 
He guessed they were for clothes.
 
The final room, much smaller than the others, held only a metal container.
 
Stains on the stone floor suggested it sometimes contained water, but he was not sure what its purpose was.
 
It might be for washing himself or his clothes or both.
 
He would have to ask Linnea.

     
Linnea...

     
She was his hope for success and the very reason that he might fail.
 
She distracted him from his search, but he needed her help as he did no other’s.
 

     
“Lady Linnea suggested I serve as your valet, sir.”
 
Jack gulped, then said, “I mean, my lord.”
 

     
Nils was about to tease the lad, but realized that Linnea may have let her servants believe that he truly was an English lord who had been left bewildered by the attack upon him.
 
Again she was proving that she would keep her vow not to reveal the truth.

     
He realized as well that he was unsure what a valet was or how one served.
 
Something else he would need to ask Linnea.
 

     
As if his thoughts had reached out to her, he turned at a soft knock and saw Linnea standing in the doorway.
 
Beside her, Olive stood, frowning.
 
He might be here in the house, but that had not changed Linnea’s maid’s opinion of any of this.
 

     
“Jack,” Linnea said quietly, “Olive has brought some clothes to replace those that were stolen from Lord Barrington during the attack upon him.
 
She will show you how to arrange them in the closet.”

     
Before he could answer, Olive grumbled, “It isn’t right, my lady.”

     
“What isn’t right?” he asked.

     
Linnea took only a single step into the room as Olive motioned to someone else in the corridor.
 
A parade of serving women came into the room carrying piles of clothing, and he was not sure what else.
 
As soon as they went into the room with the hooks and shelves, he repeated his question.

     
“Olive feels you should have been given your
congé
instead of welcomed into the house,” Linnea replied, her voice totally without emotion.
 
“I reminded her that this house has always welcomed those who were traveling through the shire.”

     
“I am glad you overruled her.”
 
His smile gained him only another blank stare in return.

     
“If you are set for the night, I shall—”

     
“I have a few questions.”

     
If she sighed, he did not hear it, but her expression suggested that she was anxious to be gone and done with him.
 
He wanted to ask her why when she had been sweeter than the cake frosting this afternoon.
 

     
“What are your questions?” she asked.

     
“Jack tells me he will be serving as my valet.
 
What is that?”

     
“Your personal servant as Olive is for me.”
 
She faltered, and her cool expression did as well.
 
“Jack has never done such work, for he has always worked in the stable.
 
However, I believe, under the circumstances...”

     
“He will see my errors as a result of this so-called accident you devised for my past.”

     
“Yes.”
 
She rubbed her hands together nervously.
 
“Anything else?”

     
“The metal tub in the other room.”

     
Color flashed up her face.
 
“That is for bathing.”

     
“Does this pretty shade of red suggest that you are thinking of washing my back for me?”
 
He ran his finger along her cheek.

     
“I shall leave your personal needs to be handled by you and Jack.”

     
Before he could ask another question, Olive came back into the room, trailed by the other servants.
 
“
Lord
Barrington’s things are all ready for him, my lady.”
 
She fired him a glare that divulged how little she believed the web of lies that he had spun with Linnea’s help.
 

     
“Thank you, Olive,” Linnea said.
 
Stepping back out into the hallway, she added, “Sleep well,
Niles
.”

     
The door closed behind her, and Nils smiled.
 
He doubted he would find such a strange bed comfortable, but he had learned to fall asleep anywhere at anytime, for a warrior quickly discovered the importance of taking advantage of any chance to sleep.

     
Jack peered out of the clothes room.
 
Slowly he edged out.
 
His normally cheerful face was long.
 
“What do you want me to do now, my lord?”

     
Tempted to tell the lad that he had been tempted to ask the same of him, Nils replied, “I think a good night’s sleep would be the wisest thing for both of us.”

     
“Before you confront Lord Tuthill tomorrow?”

     
“Tuthill?”

     
Jack frowned.
 
“I thought that was why you were wanting your knife back.
 
To show that blackguard he should not assume Lady Linnea was his.”

     
“I thought I would learn more before I made my demands.”

     
“Oh.”

     
Nils chuckled.
 
If he told the lad the truth, that he was a Viking who had come to avenge his chieftain, Jack would have been thrilled.
 
However, even a Viking warrior knew there was a time for attacking and a time for reconnoitering.
 
Patting Jack on the shoulder, he said, “The time will come.
 
I vow that to you.”

     
“Another vow, Nils Bjornsson?” asked the too familiar voice from behind him.

     
When Jack did not react, Nils knew the boy could not see Loki who was perched on a table by the window.
 
Nils sent Jack to gather what he would need for the night.
 
Waiting for the lad to leave, Nils faced the wizard.
 

     
“I did not know you were keeping count of my vows, Loki,” he said quietly, hoping his voice did not carry to the clothes room.

     
“I am keeping a close eye on everything you do or say.
 
At the moment, there is no mortal more intriguing to me than you.”
 

     
“Because at this moment, there is no other one who believes in the old gods.”

     
“True.”
 
Loki’s eyes glistened with mischief.
 
“But that will change.
 
The time will come when we are feared once more.”

     
“Do you bring me a message from Freya?”

     
His scowl was fearsome.
 
“I am not her message carrier.
 
I am here only to watch and enjoy the mistakes you make, Nils Bjornsson.”

     
“The only mistake I am making now,” he said, knowing that he chanced bringing Loki’s fury upon him with his bold words, “is continuing this conversation when I wish to sleep.”

     
“Sleep while you can.”

     
“While I can?”

     
Loki laughed again.
 
“Some things mortals cannot know until time unfolds for them.
 
But I can tell you, Nils Bjornsson, that you need to be wary.”

     
“Why?”

     
“If you knew, you might be willing to be more patient and enjoy this time of ignorance.”

     
Nils’s hands closed into fists as the wizard vanished, leaving only the sound of his exultant laughter.
 
Nils knew better than to disregard Loki’s taunts.
 
Anyone who did learned the price of thinking that Loki had less pride than the other gods in
Asgard
.
 

     
“Did you say something to me, my lord?” asked Jack from the doorway.

     
“No.”
 
Without looking at the lad, he added, “Get yourself some sleep.”

     
If Jack answered, Nils took no note of him.
 
Trouble was coming.
 
He had not needed Loki’s warning of that.
 
Too long he had lingered here.
 
Walking into the bedchamber, he slammed his fist into the door frame.
 
This luxury was not for a warrior.
 
It was time to do what he had come here to do.

* * * *

     
“There is only one solution.”
 
Linnea stood from the table.

     
Nils came to his feet at the same time she did.
 
They were the only two remaining in the breakfast-parlor, because her family had finished their meal minutes ago and gone to see Dinah and her new husband on their way to their honeymoon on the Continent.
 
Nils suspected Linnea had lingered over breakfast in order to speak privately with him.
 
Having this chance to be alone with her should not please him so much.
 
Last night, he had spent hours focusing his thoughts on his task.
 
Yet, a single glance from her this morning had threatened to undo his resolve to think only of finding that knife and returning to his own time.

     
“And what solution is that?” he asked.

     
“We need to get you enough information so that you will not make a mistake in
London
.”

     
“I have not made a mistake here.”

     
“Yet.”

     
“I have not made a mistake yet, so you should have more faith that I will not make one.”