Viking King (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors, Book 1) (3 page)

“No, it’s fine.” Megan turned to grab more plates. “It’s just the weather.”

Heavy gusts of wind blew yet the raven didn’t budge as it watched her.

The same couldn’t be said for the dozen or so ravens behind it.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

Birds started to slam into her windows in a rapid tangent.

God not again…

The ravens had come.

“Your sisters would’ve understood.”

Megan remained crouched, head bent, arms wrapped around the helm of her small boat.

Sean twisted the cap off a bottle. Then silence. He would wait her out at this point. Which suited her just fine. The storm had come and gone. Nothing but a cold wind and errant drops of rain were left.

“You didn’t show them it, did you?”

Rolling back on her heels for at least the hundredth time in the past hour to disperse her weight, she gave no answer but pressed her cheek against the cool wood.

“God knows I can’t help you with this but maybe they can, Meg.” Sean sighed. “I’ve stood by you for the past few months but this is getting out of control.”

A long silence passed. She wasn’t ready. “It’s past midnight. You shouldn’t be drinking.”

Low laughter preceded more silence until he relented. “I live my life at sea. There’s no such thing as the right time to drink.”

Megan murmured, “I know.”

“So tell me.” Sean’s voice was soft and gruff. “Why am I out here worrying about you when I could be warm in bed with Amber? What happened with those ravens tonight? Because there are at least two dozen who managed to fly off despite hitting the window. Yet that big one is still perched there. He hasn’t budged an inch.”

“She,” Megan whispered.

“All right.
She
.”

Megan kept her cheek pressed against the wood and hoped with all her heart he’d go back to bed. Then she heard the heavy thump, thump of his boots propping up on the table. She clenched her jaw. She might’ve hoped for a lot. Sean leaving her in peace? Not a chance.

“Wait until you see the sketch Amber did of her.”

“Okay, I’m just going to say it,” Megan muttered. “Go away.”

A piece of paper slid across the floor and hit her foot.

“You know Amber. She gets a thought in her head and watch out, she’s gotta draw.”

Megan bit her lower lip. That was Amber for sure. Which made her wonder how fulfilling Sean’s night had likely been thus far. She lifted tired eyes to him. “Sorry, did I ruin it for you?”

The corner of his lips inched up slightly. “What do you need to hear right now, Sea Siren? Amber’s my free flying girl till the day she dies.”

So Amber slept with him but he was still out here worried about her. Thank god for best friends. Still, she hurt for him. Sean got that Amber was fly-by-night. He accepted it, probably always had. But it was hard for Megan to wrap her mind around. She’d been devoted to her ex, Nathan, and no one after.

“Listen—”

“No,” Sean said. “Not if it has to do with Amber.” He arched both brows. “Right now I need to know what’s up with you. Lotta crazy stuff happening lately.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” She really wasn’t up for a heart to heart. The etching Amber drew caught her attention and she whispered, “
Jesus
.”

“Not bad, eh?”

“Haunting to say the least. She depicted the raven well.” Megan stood, unable to tear her eyes away from it. “And drew a Viking ship into the background.”

“Yup, floating the bay, riding those waves better than most I’ve seen out there.”

Amber had done an amazing job. She’d used the pencil in such a way that it appeared a ghost ship swung toward the shore... almost as if it was steering directly toward her house. “Odd how it almost seems the raven is calling the ship forward and all the other birds are getting caught in an incoming gale.”

“I thought the same thing,” he murmured. “Your sisters know you’ve got a thing with Viking ships. You should share what’s been going on lately.” He nodded at her pocket. “And tell them about that.”

Naturally he knew the rock was there. She carried it everywhere. Megan set aside the drawing, pulled out the worn stone and absently trailed a finger along their newly constructed boat. Though she’d meant to keep it to herself, Megan couldn’t help but share with Sean. “The Viking’s name is in that manuscript.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She perked a brow. “Since when do you go anywhere near a book?”

“Since you spent more time staring at it than eating lobster.”

“Ah, well.” She sighed. “Couldn’t be helped.”

“Sooooo,” he watched her closely, “I’m at a loss here. Must be some strange coincidence that his name popped up in a book.”

Megan opened a drawer and pulled out the small, ancient metal box she’d found almost a year ago. This is what held the stones. Each had a runic symbol carved into either side. She dumped the other rocks into her palm and held out the box to him. “Seriously, what are the odds? The same name is carved into the inner lid of this. Naðr Véurr. Identical.”

Sean took the box, eyed the words and shook his head. “Sorry. I got nothing, hon.”

“And what about the whispers I’ve been hearing on the wind since the ravens went haywire?” She resumed trailing her fingers along the smooth edge of the boat. “Always the same name.
His
.”

“Are you sure this manuscript was written recently?” Sean frowned. “Maybe it’s been sitting on a back burner and you somehow saw it years ago.” He shrugged. “
Or
it could be a name used before by other people and someone buried this box as a game or something.”

“Yeah sure I guess both of those scenarios are possible but neither explains me hearing voices or why the ravens are going nutty.”

“I wouldn’t overly worry about the birds. I’ve seen ‘em do strange things this close to the shore.” He shot her a pointed look. “They get caught in wind shears, especially during hurricane season.”

“And the voices?”

“You know as well as me that sound travels differently here. Voices carry over the water sometimes from miles away. No offense but you’ve been pretty hung up on that rock and his name since you found the box.” Sean shook his head. “Sometimes we just hear what we wanna hear, sweetheart.”

“Why would I
want
to hear his name,” she mumbled and took a sip of his beer before returning it. “That’s crazy.”

“Hey, I understand more than most the whole idea of hearing what a person wants to hear instead of the reality of things,” he said. “And while I love the hell out of you being here, I know damned well you made some pretty big life changes when you moved to Winter Harbor.”

Megan looked skyward. “Don’t you start on me too.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “So what are you wanting to hear instead of the reality of things?” She regretted it the minute she said it and sighed. “Awe, shoot, Amber?”

Sean swigged his beer and nodded at the boat. “We gonna put her in the water soon?”

Megan sat next to him and knocked shoulders. “Way to evade the question.” She softened her voice as she eyed him. “I thought you were good with your arrangement with my sister?”

“Most days I am,” he said, voice rough. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want more sometimes.”

The sadness was obvious in his voice and she did well to keep pity out of her response. “Who knows maybe one day down the line…”

“Naw, not Amber.” He stared at the boat. “She needs more adventure than I can offer her. More of a challenge.”

If nothing else, he knew her baby sister well. But she wouldn’t drown all hope. “People change.”

“Not her,” he promised and shrugged a shoulder. “And honestly, I wouldn’t want her to.”

Megan set aside the box and rested her head on his shoulder. There were all sorts of comforting words she could offer, but he’d see through them. The truth was he’d cast the line dead on when it came to Amber. Best to lead the conversation out of troubled waters and back to calmer seas. “They’re calling for good weather. I thought we’d take our boat out tomorrow morning.”

“No can do,” he said. “I’ve got to work. How about the day after?”

“No good. Nor’easter coming in. Saturday then?”

“Nope, made plans with Amber.”

She lifted her head and frowned. “You’d go on a date with my sister before taking our new baby out for her first swim?”

Sean chuckled. “Heck yeah. Besides, the storm won’t be clear of us by then.”

“Maybe not,” she conceded and started to walk alongside the boat again, running her palm over the hull. “But you know a little bit of rough weather doesn’t faze me.”

Sean crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ve built a miniature replica of a Viking ship and everyone in Winter Harbor knows about it. You row this thing, which by the way is far different than anything you’re used to, alone into turbulent water you’ll make the local newspaper in a
bad
way.” His lips pulled down. “Besides, I should be with you for its maiden voyage.”

“Then tell Amber you have plans and we’ll take it out.” Megan grinned. “Give her a dose of her own medicine. Make
her
wait for
you
.”

He shook his head. “If only I were that strong. Nope, I get her a few times a year and intend to take advantage.”

“Ugh.” There’d be no gaining ground here. “Fine, we’ll aim for early next week.”

Sean nodded, swigged the last of his beer and stood. “Enough moping out here. Come inside and get some rest.”

“Safe to assume you’re sleeping over then?”

He chuckled. “Where else would I be?”

“Right. Go on then. I’ll be in soon.”

“Will you?” Sean nodded at the boat. “Or am I going to find you sleeping in that tomorrow morning?”

Megan shot it a contemplative look. “Not such a bad idea.” Then she winked at him. “Kidding. I’ll be in soon. Go on.”

Sean eyed what she suspected were her bloodshot eyes for another long moment before he nodded and turned away, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll be back out in ten if you haven’t turned in.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered under her breath and tucked the metal box back into the drawer. Leaning against the workbench, she continued to eye the boat. Though Sean had certainly helped, she had put in most of the work building it. Regardless, it would always be
theirs
. And though he said it’d make the local paper if she went down in a storm, Megan knew it’d make the paper no matter what. It was a work of art. With clean, smooth lines it was built historically accurate.

Made of oak, they’d fastened the boards with authentic iron nails to a single sturdy keel and then to each other so that one plank overlapped the next. The Viking’s had called it the ‘clinker’ technique rather than the more conventional method of first building an inner skeleton for the hull. Then they’d affixed evenly spaced floor timbers to the keel and not to the hull. This insured resilience and flexibility. After that, they added crossbeams to provide a deck and a few rowing benches, and secured a beam along the keel to support the mast.

Yes, it was all done on a much smaller scale but she was proud.

Though she’d dabbled in making model ships, this offered a whole new sense of accomplishment. It provided more fulfillment than those cut-throat real estate deals in her past. Sure, she’d felt a certain amount of pride back then but it always had more to do with her competitive nature rather than anything else.

But perhaps age and her relationship status had something to do with that. After all, half the reason she pursued real estate like she did was because Nathan had. Right out of college, they’d made a contest out of it. They were young and ambitious…and talented.

Megan ground her jaw and flicked off the lights. About the last thing she wanted to do was think about her ex-husband. She wanted thoughts of him nowhere near this beautiful boat and all the love she’d put into it.

While she had no trouble pushing thoughts of Nathan aside, Naðr Véurr continued to haunt her through the night. It was too damn uncanny that his name was in that manuscript. And though she’d gone along with Sean’s theory that his name might’ve been mentioned before, she’d spent a great deal of time researching it. When she had no luck on the internet beyond the actual meaning of the name, she’d hit the local libraries. Nothing. But there
had
to be something out there. So not for the first time, Megan tossed and turned restlessly through the night until the sun cracked over the horizon.

A few loud woofs made her sit up in bed.
Uh oh.
She flung the blanket over herself moments before a Husky/Shepard mix burst into the room and jumped on the bed. With a hearty laugh, she flung her arms around the excited pooch. “Hello my sweet girl.” Burying her face in the thick fur, she smiled. “Welcome home, Guardian.”

She’d only been in Winter Harbor a few months when a local suggested she keep a dog around for protection. Though relatively crime free, it was rather isolated.
Absolutely not
had been her initial response. Megan didn’t do dogs. Then she relented…okay, maybe a small one that wouldn’t get in the way too much. Instead, she ended up with a light tan little mutt with a gray racer stripe down her back. As it turned out, the pup grew into a great beauty that currently weighed ninety pounds.

Amber sauntered in and flung herself down on the bed beside them, laughing as Guardian smothered her in kisses. Around heavy licks, she said, “Sean picked her up from the groomers before he went to work.”