Read Online My Lord Viking by Jo Ann Ferguson - Free Book Online Page A

edging the steps down toward the pool.  
          Linnea did not pause as she went down the stone stairs to the garden or up the stone risers in the pavilion overlooking the water.   Untying her bonnet ribbons, she grimaced when a piece of the brim fell off in her hands.   She tossed it into her bonnet and set it on the newel post at the top of the steps.  
          In horror, she stared at the destruction.   The bench was in pieces on the floor as if someone had taken an ax to it.   Two of the shutters had broken slats.   She tried not to think of how they looked as if someone had been shoved viciously against them.   Feathers from the pallet rested everywhere, and two blankets were torn into shreds.   The canisters had been burst, and water pooled in every low spot on the floor.   Her stomach cramped when she saw the pinkish shade of one pool.  
          Olive rushed to her.   “He just woke, my lady.”  
          “Just woke?”   She grasped Olive’s hands.   “Then who did this?”  
          “I am not sure.”
          “But how can he be awake already?   I thought you put a tincture of opium in his water.”
          “I did, but I must have misjudged the amount.   He is a brawny man.”   She sighed.   “I was not certain he would wake when he seemed to be so lost in his own world.”
          “What do you mean?”
          “He spoke strangely.   I could not understand anything he said.”
          Linnea clasped her own taut hands together.   “That is because English is not his customary language.   He speaks another.”
          “Oh.”   Olive’s eyes grew round, and Linnea guessed her maid had never given that idea even a thought.  
          “How long did you leave him alone?”
          “Just moments, my lady.   I went out to call after Jack to bring more bandaging from the stable.   I don’t know how anyone could have slipped past me.   When I came back...”   Olive shuddered and wrung her hands in her apron.
          “Lady Linnea!”   The command rang against the roof of the water pavilion.   “I will speak with you now.”
          Sending Jack back to the stillroom with a list of supplies, including hops that she could put in a tea to bring sleep to Nils, Linnea skirted the puddles to go to where Nils was struggling to free himself from the blankets that had become tangled around him.   “What happened?”
          “Do you need to ask?” he spat back.   Grasping the knife he had kept by his side, he held it up.   The tip was stained crimson.   “I told you Kortsson was near.”  
          “But no one saw him enter the pavilion.”  
          “He was here.”  
          “Mayhap you thought you saw him here.”  
          “And attacked a shadow of my mind?”   He laughed coldly.   “Do you think I could do this damage when you have me bound up like a swaddling babe with all these bandages?”  
          “You are badly hurt.”   She frowned as she tried to loosen the blanket from around his hurt shoulder.    He must have been tossing about like a small ship on a wild sea.   That suggested he had been in the midst of a brain fever.   Yet, he seemed quite sane now.   “Be still.   You are making things worse.”
          “Things cannot be worse,” he growled.
          “You could be dead.”
          “Then I would not be here.   I would be—”   His hand fisted on the floor when she drew the blanket from around his broken arm.  
          “I am sorry.   I do not mean to hurt you more.”
          Nils raised his head.   “Why are you sorry?”
          “I just said why.   I did not want to hurt you more.”
          “Why not?   You are my enemy, too.”
          “You are mistaken.   I have no reason to be your enemy.   You should concentrate on finding your true blood-enemy.”
          He flinched, then