years ago.”
Arik stared at the man, not knowing what to say. He could not relinquish the belief that this man was somehow connected to his lost father. Even the name of his son was similar to his own.
He’d believed that he was sent here to help Juliana of Arthur. Now, he was beginning to wonder if there was a greater purpose for him. He stepped nearer to the man and replied, “I am Arik Thorgrim. Not your son.”
Juliana’s mouth dropped open when he spoke her language. A moment later, a fierce anger stole over those stormy gray eyes.
“Forgive me,” the duke said. “But…you look so much like him.”
The broken pieces were starting to come together. Perhaps his memories were tangled with the memories of this man’s son. Perhaps they had both crossed through time during the storm. There was no way to know for certain.
“This is Gregory Fielding, His Grace the Duke of Somerford,” Juliana said. He detected the note of unrest in her voice and didn’t know if it was anger or fear.
The duke dismounted from his horse and approached. “Did the sea bring you here?”
Arik inclined his head. “It did.”
Juliana caught his arm, her expression furious again. He knew she would want an explanation about why he was now speaking her language. But from the wrath in her eyes, she might not believe the truth.
Arik took a breath and opened the sack at his feet. Then he unfolded another sack he’d brought with him and filled it with half of his brother’s hoard. He couldn’t say what provoked him to give the treasure to this man, but the duke resembled his father so strongly, the urge was impossible to deny.
Then he held out the sack. “I give you half of this hoard freely. It belonged to my brother.” He made no mention of where he had found the hoard, for the man might believe he had a right to it. “The rest I am giving over to Juliana’s son, since his lands were stolen from him.”
The duke paled, examining the contents for a moment before accepting the sack. “Come to my house in the morning. There is a great deal I should like to discuss with you.”
Arik agreed with that. But even more, he wanted to better understand the connection between the strange visions and this man. “This I will do.”
It almost felt as if he should go with this man now, so strong was the instinct to follow him. The look in the man’s eyes reminded him so strongly of Valdr, it was all Arik could do to turn away. He guided Juliana back to their horses, still carrying half his brother’s hoard in the sack. Though he helped her onto her mare, her silence was damning.
Once they were back upon her husband’s lands, she drew her horse to a stop. “I cannot conceive of how I almost believed your tales. I must have been dreaming to even imagine it. I don’t know if you’re the duke’s bastard son or—or someone Marcus paid…but you are not a Viking.”
“I have told you who I am. Arik Thorgrim, son of Valdr.”
Her face held a blend of anger and frustration. “This was such a mistake. I never should have come here with you. You’ve done nothing but tell lies, and I was too eager to hear them.” She started to ride away, but he quickened his pace and caught up, taking her horse’s reins.
“You will go nowhere, woman. We have not finished talking.”
“Talking? In which language?” She swung down and began walking toward the grounds. “Norwegian? Or the English language that you supposedly couldn’t speak.”
“I could not speak your tongue, until the dream.” He strode alongside her, catching her arm. “One morning, I awakened with knowledge of your manner of speaking, and while there are some words I do not know, more has become clear.”
“Lies!” she exploded. “Now take your hands off me.” Her rage was so great, her gloved hands were trembling. “I went along with this, because I know something happened that night. Something I cannot explain. But I will not stay with a man who has told
Arik stared at the man, not knowing what to say. He could not relinquish the belief that this man was somehow connected to his lost father. Even the name of his son was similar to his own.
He’d believed that he was sent here to help Juliana of Arthur. Now, he was beginning to wonder if there was a greater purpose for him. He stepped nearer to the man and replied, “I am Arik Thorgrim. Not your son.”
Juliana’s mouth dropped open when he spoke her language. A moment later, a fierce anger stole over those stormy gray eyes.
“Forgive me,” the duke said. “But…you look so much like him.”
The broken pieces were starting to come together. Perhaps his memories were tangled with the memories of this man’s son. Perhaps they had both crossed through time during the storm. There was no way to know for certain.
“This is Gregory Fielding, His Grace the Duke of Somerford,” Juliana said. He detected the note of unrest in her voice and didn’t know if it was anger or fear.
The duke dismounted from his horse and approached. “Did the sea bring you here?”
Arik inclined his head. “It did.”
Juliana caught his arm, her expression furious again. He knew she would want an explanation about why he was now speaking her language. But from the wrath in her eyes, she might not believe the truth.
Arik took a breath and opened the sack at his feet. Then he unfolded another sack he’d brought with him and filled it with half of his brother’s hoard. He couldn’t say what provoked him to give the treasure to this man, but the duke resembled his father so strongly, the urge was impossible to deny.
Then he held out the sack. “I give you half of this hoard freely. It belonged to my brother.” He made no mention of where he had found the hoard, for the man might believe he had a right to it. “The rest I am giving over to Juliana’s son, since his lands were stolen from him.”
The duke paled, examining the contents for a moment before accepting the sack. “Come to my house in the morning. There is a great deal I should like to discuss with you.”
Arik agreed with that. But even more, he wanted to better understand the connection between the strange visions and this man. “This I will do.”
It almost felt as if he should go with this man now, so strong was the instinct to follow him. The look in the man’s eyes reminded him so strongly of Valdr, it was all Arik could do to turn away. He guided Juliana back to their horses, still carrying half his brother’s hoard in the sack. Though he helped her onto her mare, her silence was damning.
Once they were back upon her husband’s lands, she drew her horse to a stop. “I cannot conceive of how I almost believed your tales. I must have been dreaming to even imagine it. I don’t know if you’re the duke’s bastard son or—or someone Marcus paid…but you are not a Viking.”
“I have told you who I am. Arik Thorgrim, son of Valdr.”
Her face held a blend of anger and frustration. “This was such a mistake. I never should have come here with you. You’ve done nothing but tell lies, and I was too eager to hear them.” She started to ride away, but he quickened his pace and caught up, taking her horse’s reins.
“You will go nowhere, woman. We have not finished talking.”
“Talking? In which language?” She swung down and began walking toward the grounds. “Norwegian? Or the English language that you supposedly couldn’t speak.”
“I could not speak your tongue, until the dream.” He strode alongside her, catching her arm. “One morning, I awakened with knowledge of your manner of speaking, and while there are some words I do not know, more has become clear.”
“Lies!” she exploded. “Now take your hands off me.” Her rage was so great, her gloved hands were trembling. “I went along with this, because I know something happened that night. Something I cannot explain. But I will not stay with a man who has told
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