Free Sandra Hill by The Last Viking Page B

would take eleven oak trees, at least sixteen feet tall, not to mention a fifty-or sixty-foot tree for the keel, to make just one longship of this size.
    Rolf frowned and made tsking sounds of disgust as he knelt before some of the wood, rubbing it with his fingertips, testing its weight, even smelling it.
    Meredith walked up to his side. “What’s wrong?”
    “Who was the fool who left this wood to dry out? Every good shipbuilder knows green timber is best for the planking. Once seasoned, it becomes too brittle to work.” He stood and glared at her as if she was to blame for the gross incompetence.
    “There was no fool, you fool. My grandfather died suddenly last October—” Her voice broke and she couldn’t immediately go on. Finally, she cleared her throat and continued. “There was no one to take over the project.”
    He tried to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she shifted away. She didn’t want his pity. “All of Gramps’s notes were available, and his assistant, Mike Johnson, was here, but no one really had the expertise to supervise such a project. Ever since I got here in January, we’ve been trying to hire someone to take over my grandfather’s position, and this project.”
    Rolf nodded. “’Tis a question of honor.”
    Meredith’s eyes shot up at his perception. How did he know she’d felt that way? That leaving her grandfather’s dream incomplete was somehow a disgrace to his memory? That finishing the longship would be a gesture of love and respect? Fighting back the emotion that choked her, she asked, “Can we do anything to salvage the wood?”
    “Some of it,” he said, “and the discarded pieces will not be wasted. They can be put to good use as rudders, blocks, clamps, and skids.”
    “Look at those peculiar tree limbs,” she called out to him. Rolf was already on the other side, examining each of the trees and cut planks. Among all the straight trees and precisely cut wedge planks, there were some curved limbs, even forked jointures of tree limbs.
    Rolf shook his head sadly. “Those are useless now. The curved timbers are needed for the ribs and knees of the ship, and the forks for tholes and keelsons, but they should have been stored underwater to keep the wood flexible.”
    As they moved over to the longship, Rolf gave it equally professional scrutiny. Meredith was more and more impressed with his knowledge. Wherever he’d come from, the guy was the answer to her prayers…well, her prayers for a shipbuilder, anyway.
    Yeah, right. Like I’m not noticing all that suntanned skin and the muscles bulging under those upper-arm bracelets. Like my heart doesn’t skip a beat when he smiles. Like I’m not gawking when he bends over and stretches the material of those black sweatpants .
    “What did you say?” Rolf said, straightening.
    “Nothing,” she said, hating the blush that heated her face. The little grin that twitched at his lips told her he knew exactly where she’d been staring. “Let’s go backinside and start on your English lesson. You’ll never be able to read Gramps’s notes or understand his blueprints unless you have a rudimentary ability to read English.”
    “I told you, I can read English,” he protested.
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah! We’re back to the Viking prince stuff again,” she grumbled as they walked back toward the house.
    He swatted her on the behind and cautioned, “Best you curb your tongue, wench, or I will show you what else a Viking can do, besides build longships.”
    She should have chastised him for taking such a liberty, but she saw the teasing glimmer in his eyes. He was an arrogant beast, really he was. Too bad he was so attractive, as well. “Not all women are impressed with virile Viking clods, you know.”
    “Truly?” he asked with amazement. “Whene’er my brothers and I go a-viking, women always fall over themselves to get to us, no matter the country. Especially Saxon women. They claim we are much taller and more