My Lord Viking (45 page)

     
With a gasp, she ran out of the room and along the hall. How could she have been so foolish?
 
He had been honest from the beginning that he had given up the glories of
Valhalla
to tend to his oath.
 
He intended to find the knife and return to his time.
 

     
But why had she spoken so to him when she wanted to give him her heart?
 
The words had spouted from her mouth, cruel and hateful.
 

     
She faltered when she heard the echo of distant laughter again.
 
Victorious laughter.
 
With a sob, she flung open her door and rushed to her bed.
 
Her dream come true had become a never-ending nightmare.

Twenty-Two

     
Nils stormed into his room.
 
When he saw Jack was nowhere to be found, he knew the lad had learned that it was wise to keep his distance just now.
 

     
Tossing his coat onto the closest chair, Nils dropped next to it.
 
He opened the bottle of wine he carried and tilted it back.
 
Bothering to get a glass was silly when he was tired of the affectations of this time.
 

     
He could not blame English customs for the mess he had made of everything.
 
When Vjofn had appeared in the water garden, he had been suspicious of Loki manipulating all of them.
 
He had let Frigga’s handmaiden persuade him that Loki played no part in the reward that the Allfather’s wife had sent to him.
 
Maybe Loki had not been part of the gift, but the wizard had taken advantage of it.
 

     
Destroying the globe and sending Nils and Linnea back to
Sutherland
Park
must have been Loki’s work.
 
Linnea had trusted him enough to become his lover when they were within Frigga’s fortress, but, back in her own time and in her father’s house, she believed what they had shared was a mistake.
 
If they had had a chance to discuss this in the haven of Frigga’s castle, it might have been possible to find a compromise.

     
Instead, for the past day, Linnea had avoided him.
 
She had turned and walked the other way to keep from speaking to him.
 

     
He took another deep drink of the wine.
 
He hoped it was more potent than what he had drunk in his own time.
 
If he became intoxicated, he might be able to forget the pain and betrayal on Linnea’s face when she had fled from his room last night.
 

     
Dishonor?
 
How could anything so splendid cause dishonor for her?
 

     
His hand clenched on the neck of the bottle.
 
She had explained to him again and again how closely a young woman must guard her virtue in this time.
 
It was no different in his time.
 
Freya could have an endless listing of lovers, but a mortal woman should be faithful to the man she wed.
 

     
If he offered Linnea marriage, it would not change anything.
 
He could not remain in this time once his quest to find the knife was complete.
 
She would not come with him to his time.
 
The gods’ favor would not extend to letting him come back here when he had returned the
sax
to his chieftain.
 
There was no solution.

     
“It is time you realized that, Nils Bjornsson.”

     
Hearing a self-satisfied chortle, Nils stood.
 
He was not surprised to see Loki perched cross-legged on a stool by the hearth.
 

     
Nils set down the wine bottle and pressed the cork into it.
 
“I thought you were done with giving me a look-in, Loki.”

     
“How like an Englishman you sound.”

     
“I must learn to be like those in this place if I hope to be successful in my search for that which was stolen from my chieftain.”
 
He put one foot on the low chair beside where Loki sat.
 
“You have had your fun with destroying what was so wondrous between Linnea and me.
 
You have hurt her as you vowed when you deemed me no longer amusing.
 
Why are you back here again?”

     
Loki was abruptly frowning.
 
“Once you would not have kept me waiting even the length of a heartbeat, Nils Bjornsson.
 
Then you did whatever I wished of you.”
  
His voice became a sneer.
 
“Or do you recall that Nils Bjornsson is your name now that you have become the spoiled pet of these English?”

     
“I know who I am.”
 
He held up his empty hand.
 
“When Vjofn put Frigga’s gift in my hand, I accepted it as a warrior of the
Norrfoolk
, not as an Englishman.
 
When I shared it with Linnea, I brought her to the wellspring of my people’s soul, so she could share it with me while she shared herself with me.”

     
“Before choosing her father’s honor over yours.”

     
“It was her choice,” Nils replied quietly, hoping his serenity masked his pain at speaking those simple words.
 
His eyes narrowed.
 
“Or was it?
 
Have you put words into Linnea’s mouth that do not come from her heart?”

     
“You may believe that as you wish.
 
Or you may believe that some things will never change.”
 
Loki laughed.
 
“Those who call this island home cannot be trusted by the
Norrfoolk
.
 
You should be grateful that I have helped you see that.”

     
“I did not need your interference to see the truth.”

     
“No?
 
Do you recall why you are here?
 
It was not to make that Englishwoman your lover.”

     
“I know why I am here.”

     
“Do you?
 
Have you become that Englishwoman’s
traell
, willing to do her bidding in exchange for her feminine favors?”

     
“I am no one’s slave.
 
I call no one—neither man nor woman—master.”

     
Loki stood.
 
“Nor do you recall the obedience you are to show those of us whom once you feared.”

     
“I still respect those who will reside in
Asgard
until the day the world ends.”

     
With a wordless screech, Loki raised his fists.
 
He could not deny the truth of the
sagas
of how he was banished from
Asgard
to wait for the end of time in a cave, a punishment for angering those gods who possessed more power than he could claim.
 

     
Nils lifted his hands as the room exploded with light.
 
Behind him, the bottle of wine broke as it hit the floor.
 
Something else hit the floor with a crash and the sound of more breaking glass.
 
He was not sure what it was.
 

     
Silence.

     
Cursing, he tried to clear the fire from his eyes.
 
He rubbed them, then groped for the chair.
 
This was just as Linnea had described, so Loki must have invaded Frigga’s castle and sent them back here.
 

     
“My lord!
 
What happened here?”
 
Jack’s shocked voice rang through the room.

     
Nils turned toward him and opened his eyes wide.
 
He could not see.
 
The glare remained, blinding him to everything else.
 
His hands fisted.
 
Was this Loki’s ultimate revenge, stealing his sight so he could not complete his quest?
 
He would find his chieftain’s knife, even if he had to examine everything in Britannia with his fingers.
 

     
“Lord Barrington, are you all right?”
 
Jack must be closer now, because his voice was louder.

     
“Help me to a chair.”

     
“Help you...?”
 
Jack grasped Nils’s arm.
 
“This way, my lord.”

     
Groping for the chair, Nils dropped into it.
 
He struck one of its arms, sending a pain down his leg.
 

     
“Do you want me to send for Lady Linnea?” Jack asked.

     
He was about to say no, then nodded.
 
Pride would gain him nothing now.
 

     
Hearing Jack rush to the door and out of the room, Nils leaned back.
 
It might not be pride.
 
It might be fear—there was no other word for it—that Linnea might not come to help him.
 
She must know, as he did, that the hours they had stolen in Frigga’s castle bound them together in a way that could not be explained.
 

     
A way that Loki was trying to destroy.
 

     
“Vjofn,” he said quietly in his own language, “you were our friend in the water garden.
 
Do not abandon us now.”

     
He strained his ears for an answer from
Asgard
.
 

     
A gasp came from the doorway.
 
Linnea!
 
Once before, she had been sent to assist him.
 
Was she the answer to his prayers again?

     
“Nils, what happened?” she asked as she rushed to his side.
 

     
“I cannot see.”

     
“Jack told me that.
 
What happened?”
 
Her despair was as apparent in her voice as it must be on her face.
 

     
“Are we alone?”

     
He could tell she had turned by the difference in her voice as she said, “Jack, bring cool, wet cloths so we can ease the pain in Lord Barrington’s eyes.
 
Lots of them.
 
Fetch a bottle of wine, and also bring some of that powder that Cook keeps in the stillroom for when someone has had too much to drink.”

     
“I have not had too much to drink,” Nils growled as Jack ran out of the room again.

     
The door closed, and Linnea’s soft steps came back toward him as she said, “I know, but the powder eases headaches.”
 
Glass was pushed aside on the floor as she asked, “Can you see me?”

     
He gulped great lungfuls of fresh air.
 
Leaning his head on his hands, he kneaded his anguished eyes with the heels of his palms.

     
“Nils?”

     
At Linnea’s soft voice, he raised his head.
 
They must be alone, for she used his real name.
 
He could not be certain, for all he could see in front of him was a fiery red.
 
His first fear that the flames were real vanished, because the air was cool and the smoke was just a lingering scent.

     
“Nils, please tell me.
 
Can you see me?”

     
“No.”

     
Her moan of despair seared him more fiercely than the embers from the fire that had burst from Loki’s hands.
 

     
He reached for her.
 
When her fingers clutched his hand and pressed it over her heart, he whispered, “I do not believe that I am blind.
 
Simply blinded.
 
Everything is a strange scarlet, as if I had stared too long into the rising sun.”