“I do not need a guard at every moment,” she protested. She had her own weapon and knew well how to use it. It had taken time to regain the courage to walk alone, but she rarely went anywhere beyond the settlement walls. There were always men and women nearby.
Right now, she wanted some space from both of them and a chance to think. She took a step back. “Perhaps I will go and see Leif. Then, at least, you needn’t worry about the need for someone to guard me.”
Her brother’s expression darkened. “Katarina, not now.” Although Hrafn had not forbidden her to wed Leif, neither had he supported the match. It was likely because Leif came from lands far away, and his customs were different from their own.
“If I want to go and see Leif, I will.” Her words came out harsher than she’d intended, but she didn’t want her brother to begin shadowing her. She refused to allow herself to be ruled by fear.
She signaled for Astrid to accompany her and left the longhouse, letting the door fall shut behind her. Once she was outside, the tension tightened within her. Her mind was filled with such turmoil at Arik’s return.
Why did one man have such an effect upon her? She had never anticipated the old feelings coming back. But when Arik had come to stand beside her, a flare of interest had returned. His very presence was dangerous to her heart—especially when his eyes fixed upon her. Andthatwas why she had decided to go to Leif. Right now, she needed the reminder that she should marry someone else, not the man who had sailed away and left her behind.
Leif had never mistreated her and had always been kind. And the sooner she set aside idle dreams of Arik Thorgrim, the better.
“Your father has reclaimed the tribe for his own,” Hrafn said. “You will have to see him tonight to take your rightful position asjarl.”
Eric searched through the visions in his mind for memories of thejarl.The man was Thorgrim’s father, and he vaguely recalled that Arik had been chosen by the people as the successor. But Thorgrim hadn’t wanted the position and had left Rogaland.
His head was aching while he tried to make sense of his surroundings. He was beginning to recognize this place from the Viking era. An icy chill filled his veins, unnerving him.
“Were you listening to what I said?” Hrafn demanded, interrupting his thoughts.
Eric shook his head. “Forgive me, but my mind went astray.” He knew the man had been speaking about their leader, and he offered, “I will go and speak with him if you wish.”
That seemed to pacify Hrafn, and Eric went to stand near the door. Despite his promise, he was still concerned about Katarina. It did not seem that her brother approved of this man called Leif.
“Who is Leif?” he asked Hrafn. “I do not remember him.”
Hrafn shrugged. “He asked Katarina to marry him. But I don’t like the way she changes around him. She becomes nearly a servant to him, and she was never that way before.”
His expression held wariness, and he added, “Leif says all the right things, as if he knows what you want him to say. Have you ever met a man who appears to be perfect and wonder if he can be trusted?”
No, he hadn’t. Usually men like that were trying to hide something. And although it wasn’t his concern, Eric considered whether he should meet her intended. “Do you want me to follow her and ensure that she is safe?” Then, he could determine if there was any cause for worry. Eric started to open the door, but Hrafn stopped him.
“My sister grieved for you. She was not the same after you left, and she hardly ate or slept. Unless you plan to take her as your own wife, do not interfere with this. Let me handle Leif.”
Eric met the man’s gaze, understanding her brother’s protective instincts. Although he had not been the one to break Katarina’s heart, he recognized the need for distance. It was a vivid reminder that this was not his life—not truly. It didn’t matter what broken memories he had about this woman—none of them were his.
He was Eric Fielding, the Marquess of Thorgraham. He had been born in the year 1787, and he lived at the family estate in Somerford, England. His father was the duke, and one day, he would inherit the title. It was the life he’d always known. Not this.
All around him were men who carried battle-axes and wore furs. He was speaking an ancient language and living in a home where the floor was made of earth. Nothing was the same, and he didn’t want to even imagine that he was trapped within this primitive world. There had to be a way out of the nightmare.
If he thought about it too much, he would go mad. It was easier to live moment by moment, trusting that the answers would come.
Hrafn stepped in front of him. “Did you hear what I said, Arik? Leave my sister alone.”
“I will not confront Leif,” he acceded, “but I do intend to watch over her. If there is danger…”
“You will send for me.”
Eric gave a nod. Hrafn was a strong enough fighter, even one-handed, but was it enough? “Even so, I will help you protect her, if there is the need.” He wasn’t certain how he could fight against men like these, full-bred warriors with the strength beyond any he’d ever seen. Yet, he believed that a strong mind and swift movement could overcome a lack of brute strength.
Hrafn sent him a doubtful look. “You need a blade.” He went to his belongings and withdrew an iron dagger with a bone hilt. “Arm yourself with this, and I’ll come with you.”
Eric tucked the knife into his belt and followed Hrafn outside. The sun rimmed the horizon, and all around him, he saw men and women working. Some men were seated, sharpening their weapons, while on the far end of the settlement, he saw a woman carrying a jug of water. Nearby, the skin of a reindeer was stretched over a frame, and the sight of it made him uneasy.
No one treated animal hides for clothing anymore. He stopped for a moment, taking in his surroundings. This was not the Norway of 1811. It was more like the Norway from 811, over a thousand years ago.
His jaw clenched at the sight. None of this was real. It couldn’t be. But there was one way to test his theory.
