Heart of Honor (4 page)

“Leif! Stop it! If you hurt him, they will put you back in a cage for sure!” she cried in Old Norse.

His eyes swung to hers and she could read the turbulence there. For a moment, he continued to hold the man up off the ground. Then her words seemed to penetrate his rage and he tossed the beefy man away as if he were a sack of garbage.

“My friend,” the professor said to Leif. “You must learn to control that magnificent temper of yours if you are going to live among civilized people.”

“I
am
controlling my temper,” Leif said. “If I were not, the son of a whore would be dead.”

Krista bit back a grin.

“I think it is a good time for us to leave,” her father announced.

“I do not leave without my things.” Leif glared at Snively, who hauled himself up out of the dirt. “Tell him I want my sword and the rest of my property they stole from me.” He flicked a glance at the tiny monkey that clung to the bars of the cage. “And tell him Alfinn goes with me.”

“Alfinn?” Krista repeated.

He pointed to the small animal, not much bigger than his hand. “Alf is the only friend I have had for the last six months. I will not leave him here.”

Krista sighed. “I will see what I can do.” She translated the blond man’s words and pointed toward the monkey, and Snively grumbled something she didn’t quite hear.

Leif took a threatening step toward him and Snively held up his hands and retreated. “Tell the bloke he can have the damn monkey. Tell ’im I’ll go get his things.”

Leif reached for Alfinn, who scrambled up his arm and sat down on his shoulder, looking ridiculously pleased. Krista had to admit the little fellow was cute, though she had no idea what they were going to do with him.

For that matter, she had no idea what they were going to do with Leif, either.

A few minutes later, the beefy man returned. He laid Leif’s heavy sword, encased in a thick leather sheath, on the ground, along with a carved staghorn pendant and an armband that apparently also belonged to him.

“Tell ’im ’is clothes was torn to pieces on the rocks.”

Krista nodded, translated for Leif and the man hurried away. Her father started walking and Leif, after collecting his few possessions, fell into step behind him. Krista ignored the people staring at them as they walked past: two men, one of them nearly naked, and a woman as tall as an average man. The threesome stopped when they reached the carriage and their waiting coachman.

“Well, Father, what do you suggest we do now?”

“What? Oh, yes…yes, we do need to speak about that.” He looked up at the huge blond man. “You have nowhere to go, Leif of Draugr. That much is clear. You may stay with us until you have time to sort things out.”

Though she knew this was coming, Krista inwardly groaned.

Leif seemed to ponder the notion. “I will need a ship to return to my home.” He gazed at the busy London streets. “This place you live…What is it called?”

“London,” the professor told him.

“In Draugr, for many years the young men dreamed of seeing faraway places…places our ancestors spoke of in sagas. But there was no more wood, no way to make a sailing vessel like those built by our forefathers, great Viking warriors of their day. Then a ship crashed onto the rocks along the north end of the island and we finally had the chance we had been seeking.”

His eyes strayed toward Krista, so blue and intense she felt as if they touched her. He spoke once more to her father. “I left the island to discover the world…to learn all that I could. So far, I have known only cruelty, but I believe good may be found here, as well. Now more than ever, I need to learn all that I can. Will you teach me?”

The professor fairly beamed. “We will make a trade, you and I. I will teach you—if you will teach me!”

The blond man’s face broke into a wide smile, revealing a flash of white teeth through his heavy beard. It transformed his features, made him look young, and his eyes even bluer against his sun-browned skin.

He stood there nearly naked, and for the first time Krista saw him as a man. He had the body of a Viking warrior, an amazingly masculine physique that sent a funny little shiver down her spine.

Her father must have noticed the direction of her gaze, for he opened the carriage door and removed a blanket from beneath the seat. He draped it over Leif’s powerful shoulders, the monkey scrambling out of the way for an instant, then returning to its perch.

“I am sure you’ve had enough of people staring at you.”

Leif merely nodded. Clutching the blanket around him, he waited while Krista climbed into the carriage and settled herself inside.

The professor entered next and Leif followed, filling the interior with his massive frame. As the vehicle lurched into motion, Krista found herself studying his face, the high cheekbones and incredible blue eyes.

She couldn’t help wondering how old he was and what he might look like without all that long hair and scraggly blond beard.

“I
am not quite certain where to go from here,” the professor said to Krista, once the three of them stood in the entry of the town house.

“He needs some clothes.” Krista tried not to stare at the powerful legs revealed beneath the blanket he clutched around his massive shoulders. “He needs to shave and he needs a haircut.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Her father repeated the words to Leif, whose jaw subtly tightened. “If you wish to live here, you will have to learn our ways,” the professor told him. “Is that your wish?”

Leif glanced from her father to her and nodded. “I am here. I have no other choice.”

Surveying his surroundings, he looked up at the light dancing through the crystal prisms on the chandelier above his head, then down at the black-and-white marble floor beneath his bare feet. The place was fashionable and elegant, Margaret Hart’s finest handiwork. The drawing rooms, morning room and guest rooms were all done in light, airy colors and delicate wallpapers. The men’s rooms—the study, library and billiard room—were paneled in dark wood and filled with heavy, ornate furniture.

Leif studied his elegant surroundings and Krista could see the amazement on his face. He walked over and picked up a cut-crystal lamp. “This is for light?”

“Yes,” she said. “It burns oil.”

“We use candles and torches. This is a good idea.”

She bit back a smile. He wandered away from them, into the drawing room, sat down on the rose velvet settee. He moved up and down, testing the springs, then looked over to where she stood next to her father in the doorway.

“No furs? We use wolf pelts to keep warm.”

Wolf pelts!
She pointed to the marble-manteled fireplace. “We burn coal,” she said.

She watched him moving around the room, lifting one item after another, a cloisonné vase, a small painted portrait of her mother, a silver candlestick that held a beeswax candle. Her father gave him a few moments to get comfortable in the house, then moved toward him.

“I’ll show you around in a bit,” he said. “Point out some of the things you have probably never seen and might find interesting.”

Leif just nodded, his eyes moving ceaselessly over the items in the house.

“In the meantime, why don’t we go upstairs and I’ll ring for my valet?” The professor’s glance moved over Leif’s long hair and heavy beard. “We’ll need to do a bit of work. Let us see if Henry is up to the challenge.” He smiled at Krista. “If you will excuse us, my dear.”

She nodded. “While you’re at it, I’ll see what I can do about finding him something to wear.”

The professor’s gray-flecked brown eyebrows went up. “That could certainly pose a problem.”

“I’ll think of something.” Krista left her father to his task and made her way out to the stables. The coachman was a large man, not as big as Leif, but perhaps his clothes would do until they could have some made.

“Skinner!” she called out, and the big, burly man appeared. “I have a favor to ask. If you agree, you will be well compensated.”

The coachman listened to her offer and grinned.

Twenty minutes later, she returned to the house carrying a pair of brown trousers and a full-sleeved, homespun shirt. They would probably be a snug fit, but better than what Leif was wearing now—which was nearly nothing at all.

Krista gave the men enough time to finish what had to be a Herculean task, then headed upstairs, the clothes draped over her arm, a pair of Skinner’s boots clutched in one hand. She started down the hall toward her father’s bedroom, then froze where she stood as the door to the bathing room swung open and she caught sight of Leif standing in the center, naked except for the small, white linen towel tied round his trim hips.

He shook his head like a big wet dog, flinging drops of water all over the bathing room and clear out into the hall. Krista’s eyes locked with his and her breath caught.

With his hair cropped short and his face clean-shaven, Leif of Draugr was unbelievably handsome. High cheekbones, a straight nose and well-formed lips…a jaw that was lean and hard…And when he smiled, he had very white teeth.

With a will of its own, her gaze moved down his body. Now that his bushy blond beard was gone, his chest was completely exposed. It was heavily muscled and lightly furred with golden-blond hair.

Her eyes dropped lower, over the only part of him decently covered. The towel moved, jerked and began to rise, and her eyes widened in shock. Her gaze flew back to his face and she saw the corner of his mouth edge up.

“I hope you are pleased with what you see, lady. You can see how much you please me.”

Krista whirled away, her face flaming. She could hear the little monkey chattering as if he were laughing. Barely holding on to her temper, she stormed off down the hall, banged on her father’s bedroom door and walked in.

Seated in front of his dresser reading a book, the professor pulled off the silver spectacles curled round his ears. “What is it, dearling?”

“That…that
man,
” she sputtered. “You have to do something about him.”

“I am doing my best, dearest. Henry gave him a shave and cut his hair. He bathed himself quite thoroughly. I thought he looked rather a good deal better.”

He looked better, all right. Leif of Draugr was handsome as sin and built like a Viking god, the finest specimen of man Krista had ever seen. She held out the clothes. “He is still very nearly naked and he is…he is…”

“Yes?”

What could she say? That it was extremely clear the path of the man’s thoughts where she was concerned? Then again, perhaps she wasn’t being fair. After all, the poor fellow had been locked in a cage for the past six months and he was, it was clear, a very virile man.

“Never mind.” She pressed the clothes into her father’s arms. “They’ll be a little tight, but at least he will be decent.”

Her father nodded. “I’ll take them to him straightaway.”

She watched her father’s thin figure walk down the hall and disappear into the bathing room. He returned a few minutes later.

“He is getting dressed. I’m sure he is hungry. I asked him to join us for supper. Have Cook set an extra place, will you, my dear?”

Krista tried to imagine the huge man sitting down with them at table. The man was a barbarian. He came from a culture that was supposed to have disappeared more than three hundred years ago. Though she found the Vikings fascinating, they were wild, crude, primitive people.

Krista inwardly groaned. She just wished she could think of a way to send Leif of Draugr home.

Leif finished toweling his hair, enjoying the feel of his close-cut blond locks and smooth, hairless cheeks. In his world, men wore long hair and beards. But in the months since his capture, he had grown to hate his unruly mop and scraggly face hair.

Mayhap this place, London, had a few worthwhile customs.

He pulled on the clothes Pax-ton Hart had handed him. The breeches—
trousers,
they were called—were too short and fit so tightly he thought they might split right down the seam. His manhood bulged at the front, pressing into the fabric so hard it was painful.

At home, men wore comfortable, loose-fitting breeches beneath their kirtles, the long robes that came to below their knees. For summer the tunics were shorter, leaving their legs completely bare except for their knee-high boots.

Leif pulled on the white, woven garment, a
shirt
, Pax-ton had said. Pax-ton was a
professor.
That was what they called a mentor here. In Leif’s world, there were no formal places of learning. Information was passed down from generation to generation: how to grow crops, how to raise sheep and goats and cattle, how to harvest fish and seals from the sea, how to fight to protect your family. It was, he had always thought, a good way to live.

Still, there was a written language on Draugr, and much of their history was scribed so that each generation would remember. In this new world, information was written in what the professor called a
book.

“I have a very large room filled with books,” the man had said with pride. “Once you learn to speak English, once you learn to read, the entire world will be open to you.”

Just then tiny Alfinn appeared, prowling the bathing chamber, inspecting the tub and sink. Leif turned and caught a glimpse of himself in the reflecting glass, saw how the white shirt stretched over his shoulders, pulling at the seams. And his arms were a little too long for the full, gathered sleeves.

Still, he was covered, his dignity restored to him.

He felt the beginning of a smile. He had learned during his months of captivity that women here were prudish and pretended to know little of men. But their eyes often betrayed them, revealing their curiosity, or thoughts of a more prurient nature.

Even the blonde had been curious. She had liked his appearance, too. Liked the way his body looked without clothing. He figured he would like to see her that way, too, though he didn’t think the professor would approve.

Even on Draugr, a father protected his daughter’s virtue. A young woman’s virginity was meant for her husband. Still, there were women who enjoyed an evening of pleasure as much as a man, and if there was money enough, a man could afford to keep several concubines in his household as well as a wife.

Before he had left Draugr, Leif had considered taking a woman to wife, and there were any number of females who would have been willing. But he’d been determined to see the world outside his island, and when the chance arose, he had taken it. He had suffered for it, but there were bad men everywhere, and the kindness shown by the professor and his daughter renewed his hope that his journey would not be in vain.

Turning away from the glass, he left the monkey in the bathing room with a promise to return with food, and made his way downstairs, the tight trousers rubbing his manhood and making him think of the blonde. He tried to shove the thought away, but then he saw her, standing next to the professor.

She was wearing a gown of smooth, finely woven cloth the same bright green as her eyes. The top fitted closely over her voluptuous breasts, and her waist was smaller than that of any of the women on the island. The bottom half of the gown was full and flared out over her hips in a tantalizing manner.

Though in some odd fashion the clothing appealed to him, it appeared to be even more uncomfortable than the men’s garments here. Still, he liked the slight glimpse of creamy flesh he caught where the top dipped into a vee. Nice, round breasts, he could tell, and his trousers became even tighter.

“Good evening, Pro-fes-sor,” he said, using the English word. “Lady.” He didn’t know the English for that, but he imagined he would learn it very soon.

“The proper way to address me is ‘Miss Hart.’”

“Miss…Hart,” he repeated, having only a little trouble saying the words. He had been listening to the language of the people in this country for more than six months. From the start he had known his chances for freedom would improve if he could master some of the sounds, learn some of the words. Now that he was free, it was even more important.

“We will begin working on your speaking lessons tomorrow,” the professor told him. “For tonight, we will converse only in your language. You must be hungry, Leif. Why don’t we all go in to dinner?”

His stomach growled in answer, and he nodded. He prayed these people ate something more substantial than the gruel he had been living on for the past six months.

Krista watched Leif of Draugr walk ahead of her into the dining room. Though a woman was respected in Viking society, she came second to a man. The thought did not sit well. Leif of Draugr had a lot to learn if he intended to make his way in the civilized world.

Krista started to correct him, tell him that here a lady entered in front of a gentleman, then remembered her father had said that for tonight there would be no lessons. She supposed the Norseman deserved an evening to simply enjoy his freedom.

They sat down at the table, her father at the head, Leif to his right. He looked a little surprised to see her sit down in the chair across from him.

“I imagine you are hungry,” she said, determined to put him at ease.

“I could eat the hindquarters of a sheep,” he said with a grin that formed a dimple in his cheek. Dear God, there ought to be a law against one man looking so good. It wasn’t fair to the rest of the male population. Still, his crude remark reminded her he was nothing more than a pretty face, and she had never been interested in that sort of man.

Her father cleared his throat, warning her not to correct Leif’s manners, and started asking him questions. They spoke rapidly, and Krista missed some of the conversation, but thought she heard that Leif was unmarried and had no children, the eldest son of the chieftain of the island.

“I have known twenty-seven summers,” he said. “And like many of our men, I was restless to see what lay beyond my island.”

Krista drew her napkin across her lap. “You said the ship you built sank somewhere north of here.”

He nodded and followed her example. “My father feared something like that might happen. As his eldest son, I am meant to rule in his place when his time on earth is over. He forbade me to go, but I would not listen.”