Chapter 20
Maybe she should go a-Viking...
Britta was cold, and damp, and lonely, and miserable, as she stared out over the vast snowy estate that was Everstead. Being landlocked here for more than a month in deep winter, she began to understand why Norsemen went a-Viking every year at first thaw.
“Britta! Britta, is that you?”
Britta rolled her eyes. As if it would be anyone else! Why did Jarl Rolf Thorsson, a visitor from a neighboring estate, continue to pursue her when she had made it more than clear that she was not interested?
And he was not the only one. It was strange, really, what had happened on her journey here with Angelique from Northumbria.
For years, she had held no appeal to men.
Too tall, too big-boned, too manly. But now, ’twas like she was honey and the entire male race a horde of randy bears.
She suspected there was something in her bearing since she had engaged in bedsport with Zachary that shouted to men: Here is Britta Asadottir.
She is one hot bedsport companion. And she had not even mentioned multiple orgasms to any of them.
“Yea, I am here, Rolf,” she said with a long sigh.
“What are ye doing, wench?”
He only called her wench to get a rise out of her, so, today, she refused to rise to the bait.
“Just admiring the fjord.” Trying to evade you.
“Why?”
Wondering how I might escape. “Does there have to be a reason?”
“Well, I would think so.” His handsome face brightened. “Have ye given any more thought to my proposal? Really, dearling, it makes sense for us to wed. We could merge our two estates and—”
Rolf was a fine-looking man. Huge in stature.
And fairly young, having seen only thirty winters.
If her father had offered him as husband, mayhap back then she would have accepted.
But her father had never chosen him, because Rolf would not have played puppet to her father.
Rolf’s first wife had died childless five years past. He would be a prize catch for most women.
Perchance Angelique would be interested.
“I have gifted Angelique half of Everstead.”
Rolf inhaled sharply. “Why would you do that?”
She had not told Rolf she was increasing.
She would have to soon. Being five months gone, she did not yet show much because of her height and size, unless she was naked, and she had not been naked in many a month.
Not since... I must stop myself from dwelling on the past. ’Tis not healthy for me or the babe.
“‘Tis only fair that I share with Angelique. I owe her much.”
In truth, marriage to Rolf might not be so bad. And speaking of fairness, she had not given him a chance. She leaned up and gave Rolf a gentle kiss, to test the waters, so to speak. Both of their lips were ice-cold.
Rolf was surprised, but not for long. He was a Viking, after all, and Viking men did not have to be invited twice. When she started to pull away, he yanked her into a tight embrace, taking command of the kiss which was no longer gentle, but devouring.
Britta tried to be objective, which was telling in itself. It was not a bad kiss. His breath was sweet. Fresh shaven, his skin smelled of hard soap and the outdoors.
And she felt nothing.
She was not repelled, but she was not aroused, either.
Had Zachary ruined her for other men?
That thought caused her blood to rise and she shoved Rolf away, gently. Truly, not only had Zachary got her with child, but now it appeared she would never find joy in the bedsport with another man.
Rolf’s head was tilted to the side in question. “Come back to my bed furs with me, dearling, and we will warm each other up.” He was not being forceful in his request. More like inviting, as any virile men would do in the circumstances.
Britta thought briefly of telling Rolf of her pregnancy to test how great his yearning was to wed with her, but, really, it made no difference. She would not have him in any case.
She shook her head. “I am sorry, Rolf.”
He was about to argue, but then caught himself. Pride was great in Norsemen, and he was no different.
She watched him go, then decided to walk down to the fjord. It was a clear day, and exercise was supposedly good for breeding women.
Was it really only five months since she had last seen Zachary? Did he miss her as much as she missed him? Hah! A man as pretty as him would have women lining up to take her place. Not that she had had a place, precisely, other than as a bedmate.
Aaarrgh! Always it comes back to Zachary. Placing both hands over her stomach, where even now a part of him grew, she wondered if motherhood would be enough. Well, it would have to be.
A niggling thought tugged at her mind, though. Zachary had laughingly said that he had “wish-prayed” her to the future.
Could I do the same?
Nay, I would not risk the babe. Whether in the womb or already born, a human life would be in her hands.
Whilst she could step freely into the magic of time travel herself.
..not that she had a clue how to do that.
..a child was frail and dependent on her.
It was selfish of her to be unsatisfied with her lot.
A small part of her wondered if mayhap sometime in the future, when her child was born, they might both travel to the future.
But, nay, that was wishful thinking, and she must needs be practical, resigned to her fate.
Tears filled her eyes, a common and vexing malady of her pregnancy, and she decided she’d best go back to the keep where Cook would have a hearty broth prepared. Angelique, who loved Everstead already, was doing inventory of all the supplies for winter.
And yet she lingered. Miserable beyond bearing.
Britta eased down to her knees, and did pray then, whether to the One-God of the Christians, or the Norse gods, it mattered not. In truth, they were probably one and the same.
“Please, God, help me. I know not what to do. A miracle, that is what I need. Barring that, help me to be content with my lot.”
She stood, and, as if in a trance, began to walk closer to the water’s edge. In fact, she placed a booted foot into the icy water, and shivered. What kind of lackwit put a booted foot into a winter fjord?
But wait, it did not feel so cold. It was rather warm. And soothing. Without thought, Britta walked into the water which first seeped over her ankles, then knees, then hips and bosom.
Have I finally, truly gone barmy? Am I going to take my own life? The babe! Remember the babe. I must go back.
A voice in her head whispered to her, You are taking your own life, yea, but into your own hands. Go home, Britta. Take the babe home with you.
Where is home?
You know, Britta, the voice said. You know.
And she did.
Standing stock still, she was like a statue, unmoving, as a wave lapped up and covered her head. There were no waves in this fjord, or never had been before.
Amazing!
With a sigh, she sunk into a deep, sea-going sleep.
And that was that.
God was calling her home.
Or someone was.
I see dead people...
“I saw Britta today.”
“What?” Zach slammed on the SUV’s brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. They were on their way to the grocery store, but that could wait. “That was not funny.”
“I wasn’t jokin’. The school bus was goin’ down that road by the sea, and I saw this lady walk out of the water. She was soakin’ wet, an’ her hair looked like snakes, an’ she wore this long fur coat, and—”
“Stop it, Sammy! Just stop it!”
Sammy awakened from dreams at night on occasion, crying. Apparently, Britta was alive and well in those dreams and holding out her arms for him to come to her. But those were dreams. Was he now fantasizing in the daytime? That was not healthy.
“Britta is gone.”
Sammy ducked his head. “I know,” he said in a small voice.
“Besides, no one could survive a dunking in the cold Bering Sea, even for a short period. It’s frigid.”
“I know,” he repeated, “but it sure looked like her. Honest. She even had a frowny face on, like she did sometimes.”
Zach shook his head but couldn’t suppress a grin. Britta with her frowny face. Yeah, Sammy had gotten that right.
“Maybe it was just a walrus.”
Yeah, right. “Can we change the subject?”
“Can I have a dog?”
The Ice Woman thaweth...
For two days, Britta lay shivering in a cot piled high with woolen blankets.
At first ,she feared that the babe would die from the shock of the ice-cold near-drowning, and she believed she was back in the Everstead keep. But neither of them died. Nor was she at Everstead.
Britta had walked out into the Norse fjord, but she came out of the Bering Sea, in another part of the world, frozen nigh solid. Out of her mind with fever at first, she’d eventually discovered that she was in a land called Alaska, which was part of America.
A wonderful couple had taken her into their home.
..Daryl and Dottie Woolever, lawyers here in Alaska.
The young couple had even called a doctor to come care for her.
To everyone’s surprise, she had not only survived her foolish dunking, but she had not even gotten hippo-thermi-yah, a condition where body appendages often fell off.
She was rather fond of her fingers and toes, and especially her nose.
Once the confusion of her fever wore off, Britta realized that she had time-traveled forward again and survived, along with her unborn child. And if she had her way, this time-travel business was ended for her, in either direction.
The bad news was that she was cut off and isolated from anyone and anything that was familiar to her. Why she was sent here to Alaska, she had no idea, but then she had had no idea why she had been sent to California, either. Mayhap Zachary was here, and he’d wish-prayed for her again.