My Lord Viking (5 page)

     
Her fingers trembled when she clasped them in front of her while she stared out at the dance of the waves.
 
Getting him well and on his way would be the smartest thing she could do.
 

     
At Jack’s call a few minutes later, she turned to look at the men.
 
She was astonished to see Mr. Bjornsson on his feet—or, to own the truth, on his foot.
 
His left ankle was wrapped in rags to match the ones crowning his head.
 
A sling supported his left arm which was tightly tied in more rags.
 

     
She rushed to them, but Jack waved her aside.
 
“Can’t help when he don’t have another arm for you to hold onto.”

     
“How can you get him over the rocks by yourself?”

     
Mr. Bjornsson said, in a voice taut with pain, “At the other end of the cove, there are no rocks.”

     
Jack frowned.
 
“Got your head struck right hard, Mr. Bjornsson, didn’t you?”

     
“You can call me Nils.”

     
“No matter what I call you, truth is rocks aplenty at both ends of this cove.”

     
Linnea took an involuntary step back as Nils Bjornsson’s eyes narrowed in a flash of fury.
 
Even with his wounds, his stance warned he was a man not to be trifled with.
 

     
“’Tis true.
 
Rocks came down in a storm during my grandsire’s time,” Jack said almost defensively, and she knew he had noted her reaction.
 

     
If Nils had not seen the rocks, then he may not have seen this man he warned them about.
 
Foolishly she looked at the man whose shoulder was even with Jack’s brow.
 
That hint of a smile peered through his thick beard.
 
Again she had the uneasy feeling he could sense what she was thinking even when she was silent.

     
Do not be silly!
 
Just because he acted as mysterious as a highwayman stopping a carriage on a moonless night was no reason to become fanciful.

     
“Let us get going,” she said, raising her chin in defiance of Nils’s smile.
 
“The longer Olive waits for us, the more vexed she will be.
 
You know how she likes to read quietly during the afternoon.”

     
Linnea was sure there could be no more absurd parade than the three of them walking toward
Sutherland
Park
.
 
Nils Bjornsson was more able to help himself than she had expected.
 
He must have extraordinary wells of strength he could draw upon.
 
Although he spoke with frequency what she was certain were curses, she pretended not to hear.
 
If she were as hurt, she suspected she would find it impossible to stay mum.
 
What disturbed her even more was how he continuously scanned the shore and the road ahead of them.
 
His knife remained in his hand that was draped over Jack’s shoulder.
 
Again and again, his fingers tightened on it as if he feared an ambush.

     
She breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the fishing pavilion at the side of the water garden closest to the sea.
 
The stone building which rose from the largest pond had storage for rowboats at the water level and a clean room above with a shuttered window.
 
The shutters could be opened if any ladies wished to enjoy some fishing without worrying about sunshine or mud or water ruining their day.

     
“What is this place?” asked Nils.
 
“Do you live here?”

     
“No, I live in the house there.”
 
She pointed to where the chimneys were visible above the trees.
 

     
“How many others live within its walls?”

     
Hearing Jack grumble at the interrogation, Linnea answered quietly, “My family and our servants.”

     
“How many armed warriors?”

     
“None.”

     
Nils stared at Linnea and her companion in disbelief.
 
Did she honestly expect him to believe that there were no warriors in an English house this close to the sea?
 
When he saw the amazement on their faces, he knew they considered that he was the one whose mind could not be trusted.
 

     
“Then I will stay here,” he said.

     
“But it is damp here, and the house is—”

     
He pulled his arm from around the lad and put the knife in his belt.
 
Gripping Linnea’s chin, he tilted her face toward him.
 
“The house is indefensible if you have no warriors within its walls.
 
Here there is a view of the shore.
 
I shall stay here where I can keep watch for my blood-enemy.”

     
Her face was as easy to read as the moods of the sea.
 
Fear and skepticism and pity flew through her eyes.
 
“My family prides itself on our hospitality.
 
Having you stay here in the garden pavilion—”

     
“Your family will be dead if Kortsson learns that you have given me a haven beneath your roof.”

     
“Nonsense!”

     
Before he could reply, the lad Jack said, “Mayhap not, my lady.
 
I have heard of such tales among the low taverns in
London
.”

     
“This is not
London
,” Linnea retorted, furious that Jack would take Nils’s side against her.
 
“Do not give him further reasons not to heed good sense.”

     
She was surprised when Jack took her arm and drew her away from where Nils was leaning against the stone wall of the pavilion.
 
When Jack bent toward her, he whispered, “You did not hear what he said while I was bandaging him, my lady.
 
This chap truly believes that Kortsson is determined to kill him and anyone who helps him.
 
Suggested that we should leave him on the sand, so you were not caught up in this blood feud between him and Kortsson, he did.
 
I persuaded him to come with us because if he was found anywhere on
Sutherland
Park
, Kortsson could turn his fury on you and your family.
 
He agreed, saying that he believed you were safer if he was alive and watching for Kortsson.”

     
“This is all silly.”

     
“He don’t think so, my lady.”

     
Linnea shivered.
 
Something that Nils had said, something that Jack was not repeating, although she could see the truth in his tight expression, had convinced Jack that Nils was not lying about his blood-enemy.
 
She would find a way to get Jack to tell her all the truth.
 
That must wait for later.
 
Now, they must tend to Nils.
 

     
“If he intends to be stupid and insist on staying here, my one concern is the steep stairs to the upper floor.
 
The ground floor is awash with water from the pool.”

     
“We shall get him up there, my lady.”
 
Jack’s face brightened in a smile.
 
“Olive will help.”
 

     
She turned to see Olive waiting for them at the arched door.
 
The maid was no taller than Jack and almost as wide.
 
Older than he by nearly two decades, she wore her gray hair in a conservative bun.
 
Not a hint of dust clung to her simple gown.
 
Olive always looked as if she had just finished her
toilette
, a skill Linnea was certain she would never master.

     
Olive clucked her tongue as she gave Linnea the stern stare that suggested Linnea was still her young charge and Olive remained her governess.
 
“No bonnet, my lady?
 
Your mother shall be displeased.”
 
She looked past Linnea.
 
“And what is this to-do?
 
Where did you find this man?
 
What will your father think?”

     
“Chide me later,” Linnea replied as she motioned toward the stairs.
 
“For now, we need to get Mr. Bjornsson to where he can recover from his injuries.”

     
“Here?
 
Why not up at the house?”

     
“I will explain later.”
 

     
“But this is silly.
 
There are medicines in the house.
 
This pavilion is damp, and—”

     
“Olive,” Linnea said in a tone she had never used before with her maid, “I said I would explain later.”

     
Olive stared at her in disbelief, then slowly nodded.
 
“I brought pillows and blankets and water.”
 
She pointed to the pile of blankets and canisters at the foot of the stairs.
 
“If you will take them upstairs, my lady, we can help this man.”
 
She put her arm around Nils’s waist and guided him toward the stairs.

     
“I do not need your help, woman,” he said, sternly, but his voice was growing fainter as she and Jack assisted him into the pavilion.

     
“Is that so?
 
I think it is quite to the contrary.
 
Now help us help you.”

     
Linnea was glad all of them had their backs to her as they struggled up the stairs.
 
She was not sure if Nils or Olive would be more upset at her smile.
 
It should not take Nils long to discover he had met his match in her maid.
 
Olive never backed down—not ever.

     
Taking an armful of blankets and a pillow, Linnea went up the stairs after them.
 
The high ceiling, which was laced with thick rafters, was flushed with sunshine, and the dust had been chased to the corners.
 
Muddy scents from the pond flushed through the room.
 
A pallet was set on the stone floor near the oval window overlooking the pond, and she wondered who else had used this place as a sanctuary.
 
Jack rushed back down the stairs and brought up a canister of water and fresh bandaging.
 
He set them on a bench by one of the shuttered windows that ringed the room.

     
Olive helped Nils stretch out on the pallet, which was too short for him.
 
Linnea rolled an extra blanket and propped it under his hurt ankle.
 
As she knelt by the pallet and looked at her friends, she was unsure what to say.
 
The sound of frogs in the mud below filled the room as the silence smothered them.

     
“
Vatn
,” Nils whispered.

     
The raspy sound of the single word needed no translation.
 
He wanted water.
 
Linnea jumped to her feet.
 

     
“Let me, my lady,” Olive said.
 
She filled a tin cup and handed it to Linnea.

     
Bringing it back to him, Linnea smiled as Jack helped Nils sit up enough to drink it.
 
“More?” she asked softly.