A Viking For The Viscountess (25 page)

No matter what the cost.

Harry was still in his room, while the dog was asleep by the hearth.

Juliana breathed a sigh of relief, resisting the urge to snatch her son into her arms. “Good morning,” she said, kissing his tousled blond hair. He hugged her and then said, “Mrs. Haverford said that my papa is here, but he doesn’t want to see me. Why not?”

She took her son’s hand, wishing the housekeeper had said nothing to Harry. “I don’t know why, Harry. But you are a good boy, and you mustn’t worry about him. Tomorrow we will leave London and go home.”

He shrugged. “Will Mr. Thorgrim be there? I want him to teach me how to use my knife.” It was then that Juliana realized that he’d put a sock around the blade like a sheath, and he’d tied it to his waist with a bit of string.

Her heart bled to think that his own father was downstairs, pretending as if the boy didn’t exist…and Harry didn’t seem to mind at all. He was more interested in Arik Thorgrim, a man he’d known hardly a fortnight.

“I don’t know,” she hedged. “He might come with us. He’s downstairs right now.” Arik had said that he would be gone when the moon was full again. She refused to let herself believe that he would go, though he’d said it. After a night in his arms, she wanted to start her life over again, spending time with a man who cared for her. He was strong and bold, a man who would stand up to anyone and damn the consequences.

“I want to see Mr. Thorgrim.” Harry brightened and gripped the hilt of his dagger. “I have to show him my knife.”

Juliana cursed herself for telling her son that he was downstairs. She shouldn’t have told him that. “Not yet. I must speak with your father first.”

“But why?” He started toward the door, but she blocked his path.

“Wait here, and perhaps I’ll send Mr. Thorgrim upstairs. You can show him your knife then.” She didn’t want Harry anywhere near William. Though she didn’t know why her former husband was here, she wouldn’t put it past him to use Harry to his own advantage.

“Do you promise?” Harry took a step back, and she nodded.

“I promise, when I have finished speaking with Lord Hawthorne, I will bring Mr. Thorgrim upstairs. Just stay here and wait for him.”

Her son sighed and returned to playing with his tin soldiers.
Thank goodness.

Juliana bid him farewell and closed the door to the nursery. She walked down the hall and spied one of Lady Traveston’s maids. “Is my grandmother abed?” she asked the young woman in a low whisper.

“Yes, miss. She is suffering from one of her headaches and has asked not to be disturbed until the afternoon.”

That was good. At least Juliana wouldn’t have to face further questioning from her grandmother. She thanked the maid and continued down the stairs, only to find William waiting for her outside the parlor. The butler sent her a questioning look, but she dismissed him with a hand. Undoubtedly Lord Hawthorne was here to stir up trouble, and she preferred that the servants should not overhear their conversation.

There was no sign of Arik, which made her wonder if he’d left. It wasn’t like him at all. But then she spied him at the far end of the hall, watching over her. Her shoulders lowered with relief, knowing that he was here to ensure that nothing happened to them.

It didn’t seem that William was aware of the Viking’s presence, and she approached the parlor, feeling relieved by it.

“William.” She greeted him as if he were an acquaintance instead of her lost husband. “I am surprised to see you.”

“I spoke with my brother last night,” he said, walking toward the stairs. “And I learned that you spent several years at Hawthorne House.”

“I did, yes.”
Because I believed we were married and that I was your viscountess,
she thought. “Marcus allowed us to stay when we didn’t know where you were.”

He eyed her, his gaze narrowed. “I also heard that Lord Thorgraham gave his father half a treasure in gold and silver. Gold that was buried upon my land.”

Though he spoke in a calm voice, she didn’t miss the note of greed in his tone. She didn’t know whether to be upset or relieved. He wasn’t here about Harry—he was here about money.

She should have expected that they were worth nothing at all to him.

“It was a Viking hoard that we found on the Duke of Somerford’s land, not yours,” she corrected. “Thorgrim—that is, Lord Thorgraham—found it and gave it over to his…father.” It was somewhat a lie, but she didn’t know what else to say.

“I don’t believe you.” His expression hardened and he added, “And you were trespassing on my estate, long after you should have left.” His tone grew silken. “Perhaps you stole other things that belonged to me.”

Anger flared up inside her at his insinuation. How did he dare accuse her of theft? “You were the one who stole from me,” she countered. “You stole my dignity, and you stole my innocence.”

“Oh come now, Juliana. What other titled gentleman would have had you? You should count yourself fortunate that I gave you my attentions for a time. I certainly gave you a better life than you would have had as a fisherman’s daughter.” He looked down at her with disdain. It was clear that he believed himself better than her.

He crossed his arms and said, “I know you kept back some of the gold for yourself. And I want my portion.”

Of course he did. Because men like William believed that they deserved more than they had. “First of all, you are mistaken. I have no gold. And even if I did, the last person I would give it to is you.” No longer would she obey him meekly, like a frightened eighteen-year-old girl. She had a son to protect and a life of her own—one that was better without him.

A thin smile spread over his face, and he lowered his voice. “And what if I decided to claim your boy as my bastard? I could easily arrange it so you’d never see him again.”

Fury ripped through her at his threat. If he dared to threaten Harry, she would eviscerate him. “You will
never
threaten my son,” she said. “Leave my grandmother’s house this instant.”

He reached out to seize her arm. “I don’t take orders from a woman, Juliana. Especially you.”

Juliana tried to wrench herself free of the man’s grasp. “I asked you to leave.”

At that, Arik strode closer. His arms were crossed and his mouth was tight with anger. Though he was still wearing a nobleman’s clothes, she saw him reaching for a hidden weapon. The look in his eyes held violence, as if he intended to kill William for touching her.

But before he reached him, she saw Harry hurrying down the stairs. “Let go of my mother.” He glared at William and rested his hand upon the blade Arik had given him, still sheathed in the sock.

She sent a pleading look toward Arik, who closed the distance and used his height to intimidate Lord Hawthorne. “The boy is right. Let go of her, before I break your arms.” His voice was quiet but held the confident air of a man who kept his promises.

“Lord Thorgraham,” William greeted him. “I see that you’ve been enjoying Juliana’s charms while I was away. Like many gentlemen, I’d wager.”

He made it sound as if she’d sold herself on the streets. How could she have ever been charmed by this man? It made her physically ill to think of the nights he’d shared her bed. He had reveled in dominating her, believing that he was a lover of great skill. The truth was, he’d only used and discarded her.

Hatred slid over Juliana, and she finally wrenched herself free of his grasp. William barely spared her any notice at all. The smug expression on his face made her long to strike him down. All the years of frustration and helplessness flooded through her. He’d always looked down on her, never believing that she was worth anything at all.

“And I presume this is your bastard?” Her former husband nodded toward Harry, as he released her arm. “The one you claim is mine.”

Harry appeared confused and uneasy. Juliana couldn’t blame him, for this was the first time he’d ever laid eyes upon his father.

“There is only one bastard here,” Arik said, “and it is not the child.”

The viscount lifted his gaze to the Viking, and a trace of uneasiness crossed his face.
Good
, Juliana thought. He ought to be afraid of Arik. “I have no disagreement with you, Thorgraham,” William said. “I came only to speak with Juliana.”

“And I warned you not to bother her again.” Her Viking seized William’s arm, his hand still gripping the handle of his battle-ax. “You hold no claim upon her.”

“Take her,” her former husband insisted. “She’s nothing to me and never was. All I want is my share of the gold.” He tried to pull back but could not free himself from Arik’s grasp. “Let go of me.”

There was not a trace of mercy upon the Viking’s face. “Come near her or the boy again, and I will kill you.” His voice was low, but his words held an unbreakable vow.

A sudden flicker of distaste passed over William’s face. “I said, let me go, Thorgraham.” The viscount reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small flintlock pistol. He pressed the barrel toward Arik’s throat. “I will not be treated like this.”

Juliana froze in place, uncertain of whether it was an idle threat. Her Viking didn’t appear at all concerned, no doubt because he’d never seen a pistol before.

“Am I supposed to be afraid?” He stared back at William as if he were nothing more than an irritating insect.

“Be careful, Arik,” she warned. Though she didn’t truly think William would fire the weapon, a sudden premonition ripped through her that he was going to die. Hadn’t Arik said that he would only be here until the moon grew full? The cold fear settled over her, and she tried to regain command of herself.

“I will use this, if you don’t let me go,” William insisted. “I swear I will.”

“No, don’t shoot! Leave Mr. Thorgrim alone!” Her son rushed forward, and unsheathed the knife, as if to defend Arik.

No. Not Harry.

Juliana watched in horror as the boy lifted the blade. In that split second, she saw him trying to save the man who had taught him how to fish and sail a boat—the man who had stood by Harry’s side and shown him how to repair the house. They had been covered in mud together, and afterward, Arik had washed the boy’s hands. He’d been patient, listening to her son’s conversation and treating him with kindness. In truth, he been more of a father to Harry than William had ever been.

And in that same moment, she saw the barrel of the pistol pointing all too close to her son.

Juliana ran forward to pull him back, not caring about anything else except protecting him. “Harry, don’t!”

Arik released the viscount and grabbed Harry, pushing him to the ground as the gun exploded. Her son struck the floor, and blood pooled upon the marble.

Juliana’s scream of anguish ripped from her throat, her soul tearing apart as she dropped to her knees. Harry was unmoving, and his shirt was covered in blood. She couldn’t hear the words she was saying, couldn’t grasp the horror of what was happening.

Tears blinded her as she prayed with all her might.
Please be all right
.
Oh dear God, please let him live
. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the way William had treated her…not the shame she would suffer for his deception…not even the night she’d spent in Arik’s arms. All that mattered was knowing her child would survive.

She gathered him into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Harry’s eyes were wide, and he struggled to breathe. “Mama,” he murmured, before he closed his eyes. Terror filled her that her baby, the joy of her life, was dying and there was nothing she could do to save him.

The viscount stared at both of them, before he bolted toward the door, pushing his way past the servants who had come running at the sound of the gunshot. Juliana let him go, too worried about Harry to care about the man who had shot him. There was time to find William later. Her son was all that mattered now.

“Juliana,” came Arik’s voice.

She glanced up at him, and saw that he was on his knees beside her. His face held a gray pallor, and it was only then that she saw the raw flesh and the hole that had torn apart his chest.
Dear God, no.

She stared with dawning realization. The blood all over Harry was not his own. It was Arik’s, from when he’d tried to save the boy’s life. Her son was moving in and out of consciousness, and it soon became clear that he’d struck his head on the marble floor when Arik had pushed him away.