The Viking Deception Page 3

  Would her new Viking family accept their children if they were different?

  Her eyes burned and she quickly turned her head back to the window, nearly gasping at what she saw. A man, his hair a bright blond, crouched directly under the window. He held up his hand, a piece of folded paper grasped between his thumb and forefinger. She glanced back at the room, everyone laughing at something said by her future husband, and was thankful that even on this day that was supposed to be so special in her life, nobody here paid any attention to the young woman sitting alone by the window.

  Her hand darted out and she took the piece of paper, quickly tucking it against her side. She checked again to see if she had been noticed, still finding herself ignored. She unfolded the paper and trembled at the words written by her love.

  Leave with him now! Bring nothing!

  5 |

  Acton/Palmer Residence St. Paul, Maryland Present Day

  “What has you so excited?”

  Archaeology Professor James Acton rushed past his wife, Archaeology Professor Laura Palmer. “We’re going to Stockholm.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Sweden?”

  “Unless they moved it.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What’s in Sweden?”

  Acton shrugged as he pulled his suitcase from the closet. “Delicious meatballs and beautiful blondes?”

  She grunted. “You better be focusing on the meatballs, mister.”

  He flashed her a toothy smile. “I’ll be focusing on the ring that Viggo just discovered adorning the finger of a woman named Fatima, wife of Viking Prince Magnus, buried with honors—a runestone marking the site—and with an inscription on the ring.”

  Laura rose from her perch in the corner, putting down her eReader, now giving him her full attention. “What did it say?”

  “One ring to rule them all—”

  “I’m going to boot you in the Swedish meatballs if you don’t tell me.”

  He angled his boys away from her on instinct. “For Allah.”

  Her eyes shot wide. “Bloody hell! She was Muslim?”

  “Yes! At least it appears so. I assume they’ll do DNA testing to at least see where she was originally descended from.”

  Laura fetched her own suitcase then paused. “Wait. That doesn’t make sense. Muslims don’t wear wedding bands.”

  Acton nodded. “Right, but they do wear engagement rings.”

  “So, this was an engagement ring.”

  Acton shrugged. “I assume so.”

  “Then what is a Viking doing giving his bride-to-be an Islamic engagement ring?”

  Acton stood straight, his head cocked to the side as he thought for a moment. “Huh. Good question. And I’m sure we’ll come up with dozens more by the time we get there.”

  Laura resumed packing. “It was nice of him to invite you. When was the last time you saw him?”

  Acton removed a pair of shorts he had tossed in the suitcase, remembering where it was he was going, and what time of year it was. “Five years? Maybe six? It was his twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, so whenever that was.”

  Laura zipped up her suitcase. “I win.” She winked at him then sat on the bed and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. “I’ll arrange a plane. You should tell Greg that we’re leaving town. You have a class to teach on Tuesday.”

  Acton shook his head. “We’ll just pop over, spend a few days, then head back. I’m just curious to see the site and what they’ve found. If we end up staying longer, I’ll let Greg know.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She held up a finger, her call to their travel agent answered, a private plane quickly arranged through their lease-share network. Acton was a poor professor, but Laura, though a professor as well, was anything but. Her late brother had made a fortune selling his Internet business shortly before his death, and had left everything to her.

  She was worth more than he could fathom, though one would never know it to see her. She, like him, lived a modest lifestyle, using her—their—money to make travel more comfortable and frequent than the average person could afford, funding their own archaeological dig sites when necessary, helping friends in need, and desperate though deserving students. They lived in his humble home bought before they met, and she still had her flat in London for when they were in England.

  There were no yachts, no estates, and no gold cutlery in the kitchen drawers.

  Life was simple, though with none of the restrictions most faced. Life was good, though if they were dirt poor, it still would be so long as she was at his side.

  Laura put the phone down. “Everything’s arranged. We can still have dinner with Tommy and Mai tonight, then catch our plane and be there in the morning, local time. We’ll spend two days rewriting history, then be back before anyone knows we were gone.”

  Acton frowned. “We need more friends.”

  Laura pshawed. “I’d rather have the few good friends we have, than dozens of shallow acquaintances.”

  Acton chewed his cheek. “I suppose.” His eyes widened. “Maybe on our way back we can pop in and see Hugh.”

  Laura smiled at the prospect of seeing their old friend, Hugh Reading, a former Scotland Yard Detective Chief Inspector who had tried to arrest them when they first met. Now an Interpol Agent based in London, he had become a dear friend over the years. “That’s a wonderful idea. But we’ll definitely be late, then.”

  Acton sighed. “Stupid job, always getting in the way.”

  Laura laughed. “You can always quit. It’s not like we need the money.”

  He eyed her. “I’ll quit the day you quit.”

  She lay down on the bed, propping her head up with an elbow. “You’re right. We’d both be miserable without our careers.”

  “I think I could live without the career, but I could never give up my students.”

  Laura sighed, and Acton knew why. She had given up a lot to move to Maryland and live with him after they got married. She still occasionally taught at her old school in London, though only as a guest lecturer, and her new position at the Smithsonian hardly filled the void, her time with students limited. There was nothing like standing at the front of a classroom with kids that were empty vessels to fill with knowledge.

  He smiled at her as he zipped up his suitcase. “Regrets?”

  She chuckled. “I’ve had a few?”

  He hopped on the bed, scooching over to be closer. “How about we remind each other why being separated by thousands of miles was interfering with our sex life.”

  She pushed him onto his back and rolled on top of him. “You’ve got two hours to remind me, then we have to start dinner.”

  Acton’s eyes widened. “Two hours? I’m an old man, remember.”

  She leaned closer. “I’m not.” She kissed him, and he opened his mouth slightly, his heart already hammering with excitement.

  Thank God for that!

  6 |

  Al Lixbuna, Islamic Iberia Caliphate of Córdoba 989 AD

  Fatima tucked the note from Magnus up her sleeve then rose. Her mother took notice, for the first time in hours, Fatima was certain, and beckoned her over.

  She obeyed.

  “What are you doing sitting over there? You should be with us. This is an important day.”

  “Yes, Mother.” She gripped two of her fingers with her other hand, staring at the floor. “I’m not feeling well.”

  Her mother rose, the back of her hand immediately on Fatima’s forehead. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

  Fatima shook her head. “I’m just overwhelmed with everything.” She searched for the right words, her mother still feeling her face. “With the joy of it all. I hope you understand.”

  Her mother beamed a smile at her, Fatima’s reasoning behind her sudden illness apparently an acceptable one. “I understand. I was overwhelmed myself on this day.” She patted her hand. “Go lie down, then return when you feel better. The festivities will continue all day.”

  Fatima gave her mother a we
ak smile, and the thought of leaving her grew all the more painful at the love she had just been shown. Her mother truly did love her, and obviously felt this was a good match for her. And perhaps she was right. The sheik was so old, he might not live much longer, and she could find herself a widow in short order. Perhaps another man, a better man, would take over responsibility for her, and she could enjoy the remainder of her days, with her family still in her life.

  She genuinely didn’t feel well now.

  She dragged herself to her room, closing the door behind her, sitting in the chair by the window, her heart heavy with what she was about to do—leave everything she had ever known and ever loved, for an uncertain future in a strange land with even stranger people.

  She closed her eyes and imagined Magnus, his smile warming her heart, their bodies intertwined in passion.

  Then she pictured tomorrow’s husband mounting her, kissing her with his rotting mouth.

  Bile threatened to overwhelm her.

  You have no choice.

  Yet she did. There was only one correct choice. She had to stay for the sake of her family. She had no choice in the matter. Her happiness didn’t enter the equation.

  Yet what was it that Magnus had said?

  “A way for us to be together for the rest of our lives, and for your family to never know.”

  She hadn’t an inkling of what he had planned, but she did trust him, and if her family would never know, then what harm would there be? If they didn’t know she was with Magnus, then there should be no dishonor, no betrayal.

  No broken marriage.

  Yet what could his plan possibly be that would mean their happiness along with her family’s honor preserved?

  She had no idea, but she had to find out. She rose, staring at the room that had been hers for most of her life, then made for the door. She paused, staring at the tiny figurine of a horse sitting next to her bed, a gift from her little sister last year, Magnus’ words echoing in her head.

  “Take nothing.”

  But she had to have something to remember her sister by, the precious girl innocent in all this, her mind so simple she’d never understand why her big sister had left her.

  She grabbed it, sticking it in her pocket before cautiously opening the door. The hallway was clear, and she stepped out of her room, closing the door gently.

  Somebody tugged at her arm. “Where are you going?”

  She nearly soiled herself at the tiny voice behind her.

  It was Samira.

  She gathered herself then turned to face her little sister. “I’m going to get some fresh air.”

  “Can I come with you?”

  Fatima so wished she could. She shook her head. “No. Go back to the party. I’ll be there in a little bit.”

  Samira hugged her legs then smiled up at her. “I’m so happy for you. I can’t wait until I get married.”

  Fatima’s heart broke, and she questioned everything she was doing, every selfish thought she had been dominated by these past two days.

  You can still change your mind.

  She patted Samira on the top of her head. “Go join the party.”

  “Okay.” Samira let go of her grip and began a little dance.

  Fatima hurried for the rear entrance before she lost complete control. She stole one last look at her sister, then nearly cried out in horror as the precious creature bent over and picked up a piece of paper from the floor.

  The paper with her terse instructions from Magnus.

  The paper that must have slipped from her sleeve when Samira tugged on it.

  She opened her mouth to call to her, but it was too late.

  She had already skipped around the corner, back toward the party.

  Oh no! What do I do?

  7 |

  Karlsson Residence Stockholm, Sweden Present Day

  Viggo Karlsson sat in his Stressless Voyager recliner, his feet up, his eyes half closed as two fingers of Good ol’ Sailor Vodka rested on the left arm, the remote control for the TV on his right. He was exhausted but content. It had been a good day, and his friend was arriving tomorrow morning. It was a reunion he was looking forward to.

  “Why don’t you go to bed?”

  His head lolled to the side and he smiled at his wife, Mira. “Trying to get rid of me?”

  She grunted. “You’ve been gone most of the evening.”

  He returned the chair to an upright position. “I’m sorry, dear, but it was a big day at the dig.”

  “It always is.”

  He regarded her. “Do I detect a hint of frustration?”

  She looked up from her book. “You detect a hint of something, that’s for sure.”

  His eyes narrowed and he put his drink on the end table, leaning closer to her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  She huffed, shoving her bookmark into the pages and snapping the book shut. “I’m old.”

  He stared at her blankly. “Huh?”

  “I realize I don’t look like I used to when we first met, and men have needs, and maybe I just don’t interest you anymore.”

  His eyes widened. “Huh?” He could think of nothing else to say.

  “I realize why you’d want to spend as much time with her as possible. I mean, she’s gorgeous. Far more so than I ever was. I could even understand it if you were to have an affair with her. After all, you’re a man. Why, I think—”

  He held up a hand, cutting her off. “Are you talking about Elsa?”

  She stared at him. “Of course I am. Why, is there another?”

  He laughed, rising from his chair and taking a knee in front of her. He took her hands in his and held them to his chest, but not before giving them a kiss. “You silly, not old woman. Elsa is beautiful, yes, but she’s a kid. I’m over twice her age.”

  She scowled at him. “I should say closer to thrice.”

  He laughed. “Exactly! I have no eyes for anyone but you, my dear, and never doubt that. I don’t spend time with Elsa, I spend time at my dig site with my students. It just happens that my most senior student is Elsa. Next year it could be some handsome gentleman that might catch your fancy.”

  She smiled slightly. “Now that sounds promising.”

  He chuckled, gripping her hands tightly. “So, you’re okay? We’re okay?”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just feeling sorry for myself.” She sighed. “I should never have retired early.”

  “Yes, you should have. You just shouldn’t have stopped working on your book. When was the last time you wrote anything?”

  She shrugged. “Months, I guess.” She groaned, leaning her head back. “I’m going crazy in this house. I need to do something.”

  “Then I suggest you start writing again. You were always happy behind the keyboard.”

  She sighed, then nodded. “You’re right. I think I will. There’s a lot I’d like to share before I meet my maker, and I’m not getting any younger.”

  He smiled then rose, groaning from the aches and pains that had rapidly formed just by taking a knee.

  “Are you okay?”

  He grunted. “I’m the one who’s getting old. I am ten months older than you.”

  She laughed. “You did like them young, Professor.”

  He shook his head, returning to his chair, then realized he had forgotten to mention the big news of the day. “Speaking of young professors, I forgot to mention that Jim Acton is arriving tomorrow morning to tour the site. He’s bringing his new wife, Laura Palmer.”

  She brightened at the news. “That’s wonderful! Will I get a chance to see them?”

  His tension eased at her improved mood. “Of course. They’ll be here for two nights. We’ll have dinner with them, I’m sure, at least one of those nights, if not both. I know he’d love to see you.”

  She sighed. “It’s been a while.” She held up her aging hands. “I look so old!”

  He wagged a finger at her. “Don’t you start again!”

  She frowned. “Fine, y
ou’re right.”

  The phone rang and he glanced at the call display, not recognizing the number. He answered. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Professor Karlsson, my name is Abdullah Al-Jubeir. I am the Chargé D’affaires at the Saudi Arabian Embassy in Stockholm. I apologize for the late hour, but I would like to arrange a meeting with you at your earliest convenience.”

  His eyes widened slightly. “I’m not sure what for. What could we possibly have to discuss?”

  “I think you’ll find we have much to discuss. Your recent find, for one thing.”

  Karlsson tensed and his stomach churned. “H-how do you know about that?”

  “One of your students blogged about it and one of our staff noticed.”

  “But we only just found it.” His eyes narrowed. “And why is your staff monitoring my students?”

  The man laughed. “Oh, it’s nothing so nefarious, I assure you. We use Google Alerts for anything that might be of interest to the Kingdom. The discovery of an Islamic artifact in Sweden certainly does qualify, don’t you think? At least from an intellectual standpoint?”

  Karlsson pursed his lips. “I suppose so. Again, I fail to see what we have to discuss.”

  “The Ambassador is eager to meet with you, and congratulate you on your discovery. It shows how our two cultures have been linked for over a millennium, and in these troubled times, I think anything that can peacefully link our two societies is something to be celebrated, and not hidden away, don’t you agree?”

  Karlsson wasn’t certain he did. “I suppose so.”

  “Wonderful! Could you come tomorrow morning, nine o’clock?”

  Karlsson frowned. “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “Excellent. The Ambassador will be so pleased. Have a good evening, Professor.”

  The call ended and he hung up the phone, staring at it for several moments.

  “Who was that?”

  He flinched then looked at his wife. “The Saudi Embassy.”

  Her mouth opened slightly. “What did they want?”

  “They want to meet.”

  She paled slightly. “Meet? About what?”