Leaving Norway: Book 1: Martin & Dagny (The Hansen Series - Martin & Dagny and Reidar & Kirsten) by Tualla Kris

Author:Tualla, Kris [Tualla, Kris]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2012-12-11T05:00:00+00:00

***

Dagny noticed straight away that the chain was gone from her door. Gratitude and relief loosened a constriction around her chest that she hadn’t been aware was there. She drew a deep and easy breath for the first time in three days.

Martin reached around and opened the door for her. Apparently, he was more a gentleman than Torvald. Dagny smiled inwardly. Like a fjord is deeper than a stream.

Inside her cabin there was only the one small chair. Martin glanced around before he sat on the bunk. Dagny dug to the bottom of her small chest and pulled out a corked pot of salve and a strip of linen. She poured the cooled water from the pitcher into the basin and wet a towel.

Dagny couldn’t bring herself to sit next to Martin on the bed, so fully aware that they were alone in the small space. Though he was her husband, they were hardly intimate. Yet.

Instead she stood in front of him, lifting his battered hand.

“Your strike landed true,” she said as she washed the blood away. “Have you fought before?”

One of Martin’s cheeks lifted and his eyes brightened. “I have an older brother.”

Dagny laughed at that. “So your answer is yes.”

“So my answer is yes,” Martin echoed. His crooked grin faded. “Though I haven’t been forced to defend a woman’s character before.”

“No one forced you,” Dagny replied, her eyes fixed on the two smashed knuckles.

“I forced myself, Dagny.”

She looked up at him, surprised.

Martin lifted one shoulder. “What Torvald said to you was not remotely acceptable in polite company. Even if our situation had not been so radically changed, I still would have hit him.”

“Thank you,” Dagny murmured, her surprise deepening. As she rinsed the bloodied cloth she became aware that there was a lot more depth to Martin Hansen than she knew.

“It was my honor,” he replied.

Dagny uncorked the pot, freeing its savory and pungent aroma. Martin grabbed it from her hand and sniffed.

“Garlic?” he asked, incredulous.

“And beeswax. And a few other herbs.” Dagny retrieved the pot from Martin, dipped a finger in, and daubed the mixture on his knuckles. “It might sting.”

If it did, Martin didn’t react. “Why garlic?”

“Garlic and oregano oils prevent infection,” she explained. “The beeswax makes the salve thick enough to stay put.”

“The smell must chase the infections away,” Martin groused. “My aunt uses lavender to treat my uncle.”

Dagny nodded. “And that’s the third oil which has proven itself.”

Martin sniffed his hand and wrinkled his nose. “And it smells better.”

Dagny re-corked the pot and pointed it at him. “And when lavender grows in Norway in the midst of winter, I shall make the change. But for today, you have garlic. Now stop your complaining.”

She set the pot on the table with a loud thunk.

Martin blushed, his cheeks turning a very attractive pink. “Perhaps it will grow in America.”

The sudden reminder that Norway was no more than a mere memory stopped her.

“Perhaps it will,” she said softly. A wash of homesickness dampened her mood. She lifted the linen strip and turned to face the man who was her future.

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