My Lord Viking (34 page)

     
She held out a tea cup to Nils, and he gave her the scintillating smile that always stirred something deep within her.
 
The cup rattled against his saucer as her fingers trembled.
 
When Mama gave her a disapproving glance, Linnea steadied the cup.

     
“Thank you,” Nils said, his fingers stroking hers gently as he took the cup from her.

     
“You are welcome.”

     
There was nothing out-of-the-ordinary about their words, but she heard
Randolph
grumble something under his breath.
 
She stiffened.
 
If he was going to react so to everything said between her and Nils, this gathering was going to be even more discomfiting than she had feared.

     
“Did you say something, Tuthill?” asked Nils, his smile tightening.
 
“You must speak up if you wish all of us to hear.”

     
“I—I—”
 
Randolph
’s ears grew crimson as he turned to Dr. Foster, who was listening with a benevolent smile.
 
“Lady Sutherland mentioned you were here for a very special reason, Dr. Foster.
 
May I inquire as to what it is?”

     
“I am here to do some research out on the downs.”

     
“Research for what?” asked
Randolph
.

     
Dr. Foster shot Nils a wide grin before replying, “Any traces I can find here of Viking settlement.”

     
“Vikings?”
 
Randolph
laughed tersely.
 
“Has everyone in
Sutherland
Park
suddenly become obsessed with those ancient thieves?”

     
Linnea looked hastily at Nils, hoping he would endure yet another insult fired at him by
Randolph
.
 
This one was not even intentional, but it could be more hurtful than any of the other remarks
Randolph
had made out of spite.

     
“Thieves?” asked Dr. Foster before she could think of words to ease the tension that her parents and Dr. Foster might not even be aware of.
 
“I suppose you could call them that, my lord.
 
Many of them were.”
 
He laughed, the sound showing that he enjoyed life in all its aspects, even arguing with
Randolph
.
 
“However, you would have to say the same of many of the folks in our own century.
 
Not just the pickpocket or the highwayman, but the businessman who cheats his partner and the bakery worker who absconds with an extra biscuit at day’s end.
 
I believe we would find unscrupulous sorts in every era.”
 
His smile broadened as he added, “Lord Sutherland has told me repeatedly, Lord Barrington, that you are a renowned expert in this field.
 
Odd that I have not heard of you before now.”

     
“My work has not yet been published.”
 
Nils smiled at Linnea, whose shoulders drooped with relief.
 
Did she think he would not recall all she had told him upstairs?
 
Or was she just pleased the conversation had taken this turn that she had anticipated?

     
“No?”
 
Dr. Foster ran his fingers through his beard.
 
“Why not?”

     
“I have been busy in recent years with the obligations that came to me when my uncle died and left me his title and his debts.”
 
Nils’s laugh sounded sincere.
 
“You understand that, don’t you, Tuthill?”

     
“I prefer,”
Randolph
said in his sternest tone, “not to speak of business in the presence of the ladies.”

     
Lord Sutherland chuckled.
 
“Then you fail to understand the women of this family, my boy.
 
I can assure you that Lady Sutherland has great insights into any discussion of the current economic situation in
England
.
 
Her knowledge is superior to most men I have met.”
 
He patted his wife’s hand with a rare public showing of affection.
 
“A man is fortunate to have a helpmeet who shares his interests.”

     
Not to be put off, Dr. Foster asked, “So you are planning to publish the results of your research, Lord Barrington?”

     
“As soon as I complete some other business.”
 
He looked again at Linnea.
 

     
When Tuthill bristled like a hedgehog, Nils wondered if Tuthill would have been so belligerent had they met a thousand years in the past.
 
His fingers brushed the haft of the knife he kept hidden beneath his waistcoat.
 
It was intriguing to see Tuthill squirm in this exchange of polite words, but there would have been greater gratification in meeting him across bare swords where the prize granted to the winner was Linnea.

     
Seeing distress blossom in her expressive eyes, Nils let his favorite curse rumble through his head.
 
She was distressed.
 
Why?
 
Because he was playing Tuthill for the
daari
he was?
 
She professed to have no interest in marrying this man; yet she was pained by his humiliation.
 
This made no sense.
 
Women in his own time had been straightforward, although oft-times baffling to a man.
 
In this time, far too often, he could not comprehend why Linnea reacted as she did.
 
Except when she was in his arms.
 
Then there was an honesty in her innocent caresses that spoke plainly to him.

     
“Lord Barrington?”

     
Nils looked back at Dr. Foster.
 
“Forgive me.
 
What did you say?”

     
“I was asking what the hypothesis of your research is?”

     
He hesitated.
 
Hypothesis
?
 
That was one word that Linnea had failed to mention to him.

     
Linnea laughed and tapped his arm playfully.
 
“Do not be anxious that Dr. Foster will appropriate your theories about the Vikings.”

     
“Of course not!” huffed Dr. Foster.
 
“My lord, if I gave you any idea that that was my intention, I beg you to accept my apology.”

     
“No, no.”
 
Nils wanted to thank Linnea for saving him yet again, but knew that would have to wait.
 
A quiver raced through him, reacting in every part of him, as he imagined them alone when he showed her just how grateful he was for her help, and for her alluring touch. Forcing himself to concentrate on the conversation here, he added, “That was never in my thoughts, Dr. Foster.
 
I was simply trying to think best how to put this.”
 
He laughed.
 
“Now you can see why my results have not yet been published.
 
My thoughts are too scattered.”

     
“I can understand why.”
 

     
Nils wanted to snarl an oath when Dr. Foster smiled at Linnea.
 
By Thor’s hammer, setting off Tuthill again would only succeed in hurting her.
 

     
As if he had not discerned anything amiss about Dr. Foster’s smile, he said, “One thing that is often overlooked in the annals of that time is that the
Norrfoolk
were following in the footsteps of the English.”

     
“How so?”

     
He was able to smile more sincerely when he saw Linnea was listening as intently as Dr. Foster and her father.
 
“Almost as many years before the time of the
Norrfoolk
excursions here as have passed since them, the Roman armies conquered this island and named it Britannia.”

     
“That is true, but I do not see how that connects with your statement.”

     
“Patience, Dr. Foster.”
 
Nils glanced at Linnea, and she was relieved to see amusement in his eyes.
 
She hoped Tuthill would notice it as well, so he would realize that he should not read more into this conversation than the words spoken.

     
“I am simply very curious, my lord.”

     
Nils’s amusement was hidden when he looked back at the professor.
 
“When the Romans were recalled to
Rome
to protect it from invaders, they did not have time to take all their valuables with them.
 
Much gold and jewels were left in the retreat.
 
The English took those items for their own use or remade them to fill their churches and homes.
 
As they stole from the Romans, so the
Norrfoolk
stole from them.”

     
“A most interesting theory.”
 
Dr. Foster grinned.
 
“I would enjoy witnessing you sharing this with my colleagues.
 
You must pay me a call in
Oxford
, so I might savor that moment.”

     
“
Oxford
is not far from
London
,” Linnea said.
 
“When we next go to
London
—”

     
“Ah, that will not be possible,” Dr. Foster said.
 
“I will be going in the spring to oversee an excavation in
Iceland
.”
 
Again he released one of his enthusiastic laughs that shook his belly.
 
“Let others be fascinated with what Napoleon’s soldiers uncovered in
Egypt
.
 
While they are arguing about ancient mysteries that may never reveal their secrets, I shall enjoy learning more about the
Norrfoolk
that traveled the northern seas from Scandinavia to the far reaches of the western
Atlantic Ocean
.”

     
“
Iceland
?” Nils asked.
 
“You are very fortunate, Dr. Foster.”

     
Mama shook her head.
 
“To go to a place filled with volcanoes and ice and cold winds?
 
I doubt if I would say that anyone who goes there is fortunate.”

     
“I have heard that
Iceland
is a very intriguing place,” Linnea said.

     
“You are right, my dear young lady.”
 
Dr. Foster chuckled again and bowed his head toward her mother as he went on, “Your description of the bleak land better fits
Greenland
.
 
My stop there will be brief before going on to
Vinland
.”

     
“
Vinland
?” asked Linnea, seeing Nils’s puzzlement, which he quickly hid.
 
“Where is that?”

     
“We believe somewhere in
Canada
or the coast south of there.”
 
Locking his hands over his belly, he sighed.
 
“Not that it is possible to go to the
United States
with the recent declaration of war between them and
England
.
 
However, I hope to prove that the stories in the old
sagas
are true, and the Vikings reached the
New World
.”

     
“The
New World
?” Nils asked quietly.

     
“
America
,” Linnea murmured, hoping he had gotten that far in his study of the geography book she had seen him perusing several times in Papa’s book-room.
 
“You believe the
Norrfoolk
went that far?”