A Viking For The Viscountess (14 page)

He sent her a sidelong glance and then corrected, “You may call me Arik.”

“It is far too soon to be on such familiar terms,” her grandmother said. “But we may become friends in time.” She waved her hand. “Now do tell me where you’ve been.”

Arik told her of sailing across the sea and of the violent storm. He wove a tale of his men dying and how his ship had arrived upon the shore.

“So you were the only survivor?” Lady Traveston asked.

He nodded. “And I have sworn to help Juliana fight for her son.”

At the mention of Harry, Juliana’s spirits dimmed. Though she knew he was safe with Grelod, it seemed wrong to stay in this house without him.

“These lands rightfully belong to them,” Arik continued. “They cannot remain in her father’s house.”

“In that, you are correct,” Lady Traveston answered. “I asked Juliana to return months ago, but she’s too stubborn to see reason.” Her grandmother narrowed her eyes, turning back toward her. “I don’t know what you were thinking. Living in a—in a fisherman’s cottage.”

“I live in my
father’s
cottage,” she pointed out. “And it never bothered me as a child.” Her cheeks were burning with anger, for her grandmother had always looked down upon them. “I had a family who loved me.” She hadn’t needed wealth, and her mother had adored her father, despite their social differences.

Lady Traveston sighed. “And what am I? I took you in and trained you to be a lady. If it were left up to your father, you’d be nothing but a fishwife wearing rags.”

Juliana took a slow breath and counted to five before she answered. “Why did you come to see me, Grandmama?”

The matron hesitated and eyed Arik, as if she suddenly realized that she’d aired out their differences in front of a stranger. She straightened and said, “My lord, I presume you know the scandal surrounding that wastrel Lord Hawthorne?”

“He abandoned his wife and son. He deserves to be—”

“Yes, yes, we know,” Juliana interrupted. She didn’t doubt that Arik was about to discuss slaying her husband, the enemy. “But as he has not returned, nothing can be done.”

“To the contrary,” Lady Traveston said. She pursed her lips as if she had tasted something that had spoiled.

“
Has
my husband returned?” Juliana demanded. Was that the reason Lady Traveston had made such a journey?

Her grandmother ignored the question. “Lord Thorgraham, perhaps you can intervene on my granddaughter’s behalf to extricate her from this mess.” She paused a moment and added, “If you are in need of a wife yourself,
you
might consider her.”

Juliana’s cheeks burned at the thought, but she said, “Grandmama, I do not think that the Duke of Somerford’s son is lacking in candidates for a wife.” Which was true, but she didn’t at all believe that Arik was the missing heir.

Even now, he leaned against the arm of the fragile chair, and it was a wonder the wood didn’t break. With his primitive clothing and the leather braces upon his muscular forearms, he appeared like an ancient barbarian.

His eyes stared into hers with interest, as if he was thinking about the stolen night they’d shared. Juliana’s skin grew sensitive, and she imagined this man’s hands upon her again. He had touched her without mercy, caressing her until she’d been overwhelmed by the molten desire he’d awakened.

It embarrassed her to realize that yes, she still wanted Arik. He had made her feel alive during that night, and she’d welcomed his body as he’d joined with her. William had flattered her, yes, but he’d never kindled any sort of strong desire.

You were never his wife. His mistress, perhaps, but nothing more.

Marcus’s accusations haunted her still. Juliana looked away from both of them, for in the presence of Arik Thorgrim, she could not trust herself. He was the sort of man who would carry off the woman he wanted, demanding that she surrender to his seduction.

And sadly, never in her life had she enjoyed surrendering quite so much.

Stop this,
she warned herself.
William could still be alive. You are hardly better than an adulteress.

“I cannot remarry, and you know this, Grandmama.” Juliana stood and paced. “At least…not until this matter is settled.”

Lady Traveston sighed. “Well, we shall see about that.”

Arik moved to stand behind her. The steadiness in his expression was a promise of his protection. Though he remained silent, she saw that he had no intention of abandoning her—even though she’d demanded that he do so.

Her husband had been the sort of man to walk away when responsibility called. He’d visited her at Hawthorne House when it was convenient for him, but he’d left her alone before he’d learned of her pregnancy.

Juliana suspected that Arik Thorgrim would cut down any man who dared to harm her or her son. Something within her warmed to it, especially when he touched his palm to her back.

At that moment, the butler arrived to announce dinner, and Arik escorted her inside.

“Do you know,” Lady Traveston continued, “in spite of your disheveled appearance, I
like
you, Thorgraham. You appear to be a man of honor, though a trifle stoic.” She took his other arm. “And a man who knows when to keep silent is one who truly listens.”

Arik sent her grandmother a devastating smile, which made the older woman blush.

“Yes,” Lady Traveston said to him. “I like you very much indeed.”

Arik didn’t recognize half the foods placed before him. There was a green stew, which was some sort of vegetable, and a round piece of bread. He picked up the chicken and bit into it, only to notice that Juliana was shaking her head at him. Lady Traveston wasn’t watching either of them but had closed her eyes, savoring the first bite of food. “Ah, it is wonderful to have sustenance after a long day of traveling.” She turned her back to Arik, asking her granddaughter more questions, but he hardly understood any of their conversation.

While he tore off another piece of chicken, he saw Juliana gesturing toward a strange metal object with tines. He had seen it once before at Juliana’s house, but had not known what it was for.

It was then that he realized they were using knives and the strange metal tool to eat. Though he was unaccustomed to it, he supposed he could use the blade. He sliced off a bit of the chicken breast and stabbed it with the tip of his knife. While he ate, he noticed Juliana staring at him with dismay.

She lifted up the metal tool with tines, demonstrating its use. Arik didn’t see a reason why it mattered, but he wiped his hands upon the cloth covering the table and reached for it.

“Juliana, are you quite well?” her grandmother was asking. “You look positively wretched.”

“I—I’m fine, Grandmama. The food is very good. Nicer than I’ve had in months.”

The matron’s face darkened. “If you had come to live with me, instead of being so obstinate, you would have dined like a baroness. But I suppose you preferred
fish.
” She spoke the word as if it were a poison. Juliana brought her attention back to the plate, biting her lip as if to stop herself from speaking.

After that, Lady Traveston talked unceasingly. From the strained expression on Juliana’s face, it was undoubtedly advice she didn’t want to hear. Arik tried eating with the tool that he learned was a fork, and in the meantime, he listened to a conversation that he didn’t really understand. Something about runners and investigations and marriage registries. Then, too, it seemed that the Anglo-Saxon tongue was easier to comprehend when he let his thoughts drift. He nodded and smiled on occasion but volunteered nothing on his own.

“Regardless of your disastrous choices, you must consider your son in all of this,” the old woman informed her granddaughter. “Think of Harry’s needs, not your own.” Lady Traveston dabbed at her lips with a white cloth. “He’s a boy who needs to be in school. I could hire tutors for him, and when he’s of age, he will attend Eton.”

Juliana lowered her eyes. “And what if they accuse him of being a bastard, Grandmama? How can he hold his head up among the others?”

“We will solve that dilemma when it comes to that.” But the look on Lady Traveston’s face held concern. She turned back to Arik. “Will you use your influence to help my granddaughter?”

He had no idea what she wanted from him, but he nodded.

“Good.” The matron nodded with satisfaction before continuing, “I know that there is a great deal the pair of you haven’t told me. For someone who returned from his journey so recently, I find it very intriguing that you chose to spend your first evening home with my granddaughter instead of your father.” Her pointed look held a silent warning.

Arik suspected that his days with Juliana would end at the next full moon, as her maid had predicted. These last moments were meant to be savored, lived to the fullest until they ended. There was a reason why the gods had healed his wounds, though he knew it not. He had been given a second chance at life, but he had to fight with honor, to prove himself worthy of Valhalla.

“Am I correct in assuming that you were friends before this?” Lady Traveston prompted.

“We were, yes,” he answered. He studied the young woman’s face, and Juliana’s gray eyes suddenly locked with his, pleading with him not to say more. It was clear that the older woman’s presence was weighing heavily upon her. And he sensed that Lady Traveston would become an enemy or an ally, depending on his actions.

“Lady Traveston, I should return to my father now,” he lied. “I offer you my thanks for the food.”

“It was my pleasure,” she answered. “We will be sure to pay a call upon you and His Grace, the Duke of Somerford, in the near future. Perhaps after we’ve finished our business in London.” Lady Traveston gave a slight wave of her hand in dismissal.

Juliana stood and said, “I will walk out with you, Lord Thorgraham.”

He waited for her to join him, and she reached out to take his arm. The touch of her hand against him was light, but he could see that she was nervous around him.

She kept the pace slow, and when a footman waited near the door, she gave him a silent command to leave them alone.

“You’re upset,” he said in Norwegian, keeping his voice just above a whisper.

“I don’t know what I am,” she whispered back. “But it is becoming clearer that you are not the duke’s son.” She stopped in front of the staircase, resting her arm against the post.

“I told you this already,
kjære
.”

She lowered her gaze, as if she was too afraid to say anything else. Arik leaned in. “I will go to the chamber you told me about. We will talk more when we are alone.” He stole a kiss and took the stairs, turning the corner.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he glanced down the hall to ensure that no one was watching. Then he overheard Juliana opening and closing the front door, as if he’d gone. He counted the doorways until he reached the one Juliana had told him about. He was about to open it, when suddenly he realized that she was unlikely to come and speak with him there.

It was better to await her within the bedchamber that adjoined her room, the one that had belonged to her husband.

He remembered which room it was and found that the interior was dark, with no fire upon the hearth. Arik listened for the sound of any servants who might intrude. When there was no one, he moved toward the hearth and built a fire within it. A small blaze illuminated the space, and he opened the door that led to Juliana’s room. Inside, she had a vast bed of her own with a canopy and long curtains.

He lay down and spread out his arms and legs, reveling in the softness of her mattress. This was a luxury he’d never imagined, and he preferred it to any pallet he had tried.

The hours crept on, and he closed his eyes. Likely Lady Traveston was here with the intention of taking Juliana and her son away from their home. Given the woman’s jewels and her strong manner of speaking, he was certain she was a woman of wealth. But even if Juliana and Harry were safe and cared for, their land was still in the hands of an enemy. He had to find out how to get it back.

Juliana was worried about her future, but she was entirely too soft about the matter. If someone had taken this home from her, she needed to take it back with force of her own. And yet, he did not understand this world. It seemed that men fought with words instead of weapons. And even if he did successfully conquer these lands, he might not be here to ensure that Juliana kept them.