Adrian by Heather Grothaus Read Free Book Online

river. He fell heavily onto his right side but gained his feet quickly, only noticing as he did so that he had not cried out in agony.
    His leg felt fine.
    He took a moment to look across the width of the ship—perhaps a span of only fifteen feet—and saw an identical set of oars on the far side of the vessel, moving in perfect, silent unison with its counterparts on portside.
    Adrian turned to inquire of Maisie Lindsey as to the miraculous nature of this unique ship, but she was gone, the low black square of the doorway the only clue as to where she had disappeared.
    Adrian turned back toward the river once more, looking around at the land that was blurring into a black wash as the vessel picked up unlikely speed. The frigid air blasted Adrian’s skin, but his stance on the decking was sure; it was as if the ship glided through the river as a bird in the air.
    This is starting off to be quite a strange adventure indeed , he said to himself, not realizing the small smile that had sneaked across his mouth.
    Then he ducked into the black doorway to find Maisie Lindsey.
    Â 
    Maisie threw off her cape onto the low chair as she came into the cabin and lit the lanterns without thinking. She held her breath and spun around, but Adrian Hailsworth had yet to follow her down the short ladder. She would have to mind herself a bit until he got used to her. It would not do to have him attempt to throw himself overboard into the sea halfway to Wyldonna. Maisie would have to turn around and go back to Melk to fetch a replacement, and there just simply wasn’t time for that nonsense.
    She raked her fingers up into the tangle of curls caught at her crown and blew out a stiff breath as she looked across the tall cauldron to the table laid for two on the other side of the cabin. Her shoulders slumped as she stared at the white fish with lingonberry relish on the metal trenchers, the chalices she knew contained fermented, spiced goats’ milk.
    She’d been expecting a Norseman.
    Maisie glanced over her shoulder to make certain she was still alone as she strode past the cauldron, absently patting its rim twice as she passed. She heard the whoosh and crackle of the flames behind her as she lifted the heavy lid of her provisions trunk at the table’s edge. She turned quickly and squatted down to peer out the doorway and saw the outline of Adrian Hailsworth’s body coming toward the entrance to the cabin. Then she rose and pulled the meal from the tabletop into the trunk with both arms, resulting in a terrible crash, and then dropped the lid of the provisions trunk closed, just as the Englishman gave a shout of alarm.
    â€œWatch yourself,” Maisie called out. “’Tis a ladder rather than steps.”
    â€œYes, I see that now,” he said wryly, backing down the short set of rungs.
    â€œClose the hatch, if you would,” Maisie said. She watched him carefully as he slid the thick, square wooden panel into place and latched the bolt.
    Englishman, Englishman. Long away from home, probably missing Cook’s hearty meals. A meat pie, then. And . . . and what?
    Adrian turned to face the cabin, and his look of amazement at the tidy space was impossible to miss. “Where was this ship built? I’ve never seen any of its kind—it’s neither a longship nor a cog. But the oars . . . ?” He moved deeper into the cabin toward her, his eyes taking in every corner of the wood-paneled room.
    â€œIt’s called a crawler,” Maisie supplied, continuing to watch him closely. It was important to get this right. “I’d wager you willna see another of its kind, as they’re only made on Wyldonna.” Ah ha! She reached for the lid of the provisions trunk and swung it open, reaching inside until she felt the handle of a jug. Maisie lifted it out and gestured toward the Englishman. “Mead?”
    He paused and looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Truly?”
    Maisie