My Lord Viking (43 page)
“You have seen him, too?”
“When Jack was worried that I was talking to myself—”
“You were talking to Loki?”
She could not believe her own words.
Shaking her head, she whispered, “This is all impossible.”
“I believe it is possible, for Loki has visited me often since I awoke to see your face,
unnasta
.”
His voice grew hard.
“Loki tires of my refusal to offer him the amusement he seeks.”
She grasped his shoulders.
“But that is good!
He will not come back here to taunt you.”
“You have learned the old
sagas
well.”
A reluctant smile could not ease his taut lips.
“But the truth is,
unnasta
, that he has not left this time, either.”
“So he wishes to cause trouble for someone else here?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes widened.
“Me?”
“I believe that is why Vjofn came to speak with you.
There is no other reason that makes sense.”
She clasped her hands in front of her.
“None of this makes any sense, Nils.
I am not of your time.
I am not of the
Norrfoolk
.
I am of my time and of this place.
Why would Loki take an interest in me?”
“Because I have angered him.”
“You seem to have the most intolerable luck with your journey here,” she murmured.
“It has not all been intolerable.”
He tipped her face up and brushed her mouth with a gentle kiss.
“What is this?” she asked, pointing to the crystal globe that reflected the light as if it had pulled the moon within it.
“Vjofn gave it to me.”
“But what is it?”
“She said it was a reward, and it was whatever I wished it to be.”
Linnea laughed.
“Your gods and goddesses are furtive about what information they will share.”
“It may be simply that we mortals cannot understand what they know.”
“Whichever it may be, this is very beautiful.”
Her hands rose toward his fingers that held the globe.
At the moment her fingers touched his, bright light flashed around her.
She screamed his name.
Had lightning struck right where they were standing?
Out of a cloudless sky?
“Linnea, I am right here.”
He pulled her to him, and she pressed her face to his chest.
When scratchy wool scored her cheek, she put trembling fingers up to touch the intricate embroidery decorating the front of the gray tunic he wore.
The pattern of the silk threads of brilliant reds and whites and golds were identical to what had been on the tunic that had been stained with blood when she had discovered him on the beach.
She pressed her hands over her mouth as she edged back to see his legs were encased in cross-gartered leggings and brightly polished boots.
A sword that was more than half her height was lashed to his belt.
Raising her gaze higher, she moaned when she saw the conical metal helmet with a nosepiece that gave his familiar face a savagery she had never imagined.
He put his hand up to his head, then scowled.
“Linnea!
What are you wearing?”
“Me?”
In disbelief, she looked down at her simple gown.
It was made of light brown wool.
Belted at the waist, it had the same bright decoration at its neckline as his tunic.
On her feet, soft slippers covered thick stockings.
She touched an embroidered band tied across her forehead and over her hair, which fell past her shoulders.
This must be a dream.
She must have fallen asleep in the garden.
The woman, the crystal globe, this place...It must all be a dream.
Nils ran his hand along the hilt of the long sword at his waist.
“This is my sword
Jagar
.”
“It has a name?”
“Yes, it means the hunter.”
He looked around them.
“I recognize
Jagar
.
I know this is my sword.
Just as I know this is not Britannia nor the land of the
Norrfoolk
.”
“How do you know...?”
Linnea slowly spun around, realizing that the flash of light was not from lightning, but from dazzling sunlight.
Her eyes widened when she saw a huge rainbow touching the ground not far from where they stood.
She never had seen the end of a rainbow, only its arc across the sky.
When she saw the far end was visible as well, and dropped to the ground on the far side of a wide chasm, she whispered, “Where are we?”
“You will not believe me.”
“I do not believe my own eyes.”
Walking to the edge of the abyss, he looked across it.
“This is
Bifröst
, the great
asabru
.
The great rainbow that hangs above
Midgard
.
It hangs over the earth, the place where mortals reside.”
She stared at the crystal he still held.
If this was a dream, she should know only what she knew.
She had never heard the word the
Norrfoolk
used for rainbow.
But if this was not a dream...“Did this globe kill us?”
“I am alive.
My heart beats.”
He touched the center of her breast.
“And yours does as well,
unnasta
.
If we—”
The words he murmured were in his own language before he said, “Look at that, and tell me that you see it, too.”
Linnea could not even gasp.
The huge building had been obscured by the sunlight, although she had no idea how.
Resembling ruins of the old settlements left from before the Conquest, this castle glittered as if it had been raised from a single piece of gold.
The walls were high, but the wide gate was thrown open.
A path, as golden as the walls, reached toward the rainbow.
“What is it?” she breathed.
“It appears to be
Fensalir
, Frigga’s palace.”
“Frigga, the High Goddess?
Frigga who sent Vjofn to give you that globe?”
“One and the same.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, then let them fall to her sides as she touched the fabric of her unfamiliar gown.
“Nils, this makes no sense.”
“I think it does.”
“How?”
He cupped the globe.
“Put your hands over mine, Linnea.”
She hastened to obey.
When they both had touched the crystal before, they had been brought here.
She took a deep breath and put her hands against his.
The bright light vanished.
Linnea was about to crow with relief at the sight of stars in the sky above them, then realized she was seeing them through a gigantic window.
This was not the water
garden
of
Sutherland
Park.
The room she stood in beside Nils was so tall she could not see the ceiling.
No furniture was visible.
A firepit was set in the middle of the floor, the flames making no smoke.
She looked down.
She still wore the strange clothing.
Nils smiled and held out his hand.
She put her fingers on his as she whispered, “What is this place?”
“We are within
Fensalir
.
Stories are told by fires on cold wintry nights of the fires that burn here and give off no smoke, so none of the gods will be blinded when they decide to look upon
Midgard
from one of the windows here.”
He ran his finger over the ball in his hand.
“Each time we both touch this, it takes us somewhere else.”
With a laugh, he set it on a stone by the firepit.
“It is here that I wish to stay with you.”
“Why here?”
“
Fensalir
is Frigga’s castle.”
He whirled her into his arms.
As he scattered kisses across her face and along her neck, he whispered, “And Frigga is the goddess of love.”
“I thought...”
She moaned as his tongue slid up behind the back of her ear.
“I thought Freya was the goddess of love.”
“She is the goddess of lust.”
His eyes glowed as fiercely as the light within the ball.
“I want you,
unnasta
, for this time and as long as we can be together.”
Her breath burst from her when the gentleness vanished from his lips, and she tasted his yearning.
She wanted this now.
It did not matter if Frigga or Freya lived here.
She wanted his love and his lust, his most basic animal need.
It made no sense, but nothing did.
This was what she wanted.
This was what she needed, had to have.
He scooped her up into his arms and walked toward the closest wall.
His hands slid up under her skirt, caressing her legs.
When her lips parted with an eager sigh, his tongue jabbed at hers.
He set her on her feet and pressed her back against the wall as his fingers grasped her skirt, raising it higher.
She gasped when she heard material snag on the wall behind her.
“Nils...”
Speaking was almost impossible when her breath careened through her like the flames leaping on the firepit.
With a laugh, he reached behind her and lifted a latch.
He drew her forward as he opened a pair of doors that revealed a cupboard in the wall.
Her eyes widened when she saw that it was not a closet, but a bed.