One Touch of Magic by Amanda Mccabe Read Free Book Online

pleasure of displaying her work. Or, as Mary Ann called it, “her” village. It was not hers, of course—it belonged to the long-dead Vikings who had inhabited it. But sometimes it felt like hers, just for this small span of time. It was coming back to life under the labor of her hands. People would know again how those Vikings had lived because of what she was doing.
    “This was not an enormously large settlement, since Jorvik—or York—was so near,” she said. “It was meant to serve the needs of the nearby farmers, I am sure.”
    Lord Ransome looked about, a small frown of concentration on his brow. “Do the main streets mostly consist of shops and businesses, as it does in modern towns?”
    “Mostly, yes. We have uncovered the shops of wood-workers, leather-workers, and a jeweler. Over there are some small houses, but we have only fully excavated one so far—‘House A,’ it’s called. It is a very simple house, with only the main hall, where the hearth is, and a couple of other small rooms. It should be very interesting, though, with many clues as to how the Vikings lived when they settled in England.”
    “How do you know what every shop is?” Lord Ransome asked. He gazed around, obviously taking in the veritable sea of ropes and markers and rubbish heaps. “Judging from your markers, I would say that each one is the same size and shape.”
    “Indeed. We can only know—or rather, can guess—because of the objects we find in each one. I was working in the smithy this morning, where we uncovered a charcoal kiln and many metal objects.” Sarah suddenly remembered the odd little hook she had found, and pulled it out of her pocket. “Including this. I’m not sure what it is.”
    Lord Ransome took it carefully from her, turning it over in the sunlight. “I fear I know very little about Viking history, Lady Iverson, but if I were to make a guess, I would say it was a link of chain mail.”
    “Chain mail?” Intrigued, Sarah leaned over to examine the tiny fragment. It lay securely on the capable hand of Lord Ransome, the palm vulnerably pink in contrast to the sun-browned, scarred back. She had to clench her fist to keep from reaching out and tracing the calluses at the base of his fingers. “I do believe you are right. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before! What a clever antiquarian you would be.”
    He laughed ruefully. “I doubt I would be intellectual enough to do the work you do, Lady Iverson. I was the despair of my tutors. But my father owned quite an extensive collection of ancient weapons, including a shirt of chain mail. I was fascinated by them, and when my father’s back was turned, I often took them down from the wall in order to play with them. I am surprised I never chopped a foot off! But this looks exactly like the links of mail in that shirt.”
    Sarah had to smile at the image of a young Lord Ransome, towheaded and curious, clambering up to lift swords and maces down from the wall. “You must have been the despair of your poor mother.”
    “Oh, I was. I believe I still am, since she lives in Bath and London all year, and won’t come live here with me.”
    Sarah was fascinated by this tiny glimpse into his family life. “Do you have any siblings?”
    “One sister, but she is married to an officer in an Indian regiment, and she lives with him and their two children in Calcutta. She has plenty of time to worry about me, but fortunately she can only express that worry in long letters.” He smiled, and held the link out to her.
    Sarah wondered what his sister could possibly find to worry about him. “No, you keep it,” she said, pressing it back into his hand. “You were the one who identified it so quickly.”
    “Are you certain?”
    “Of course.”
    He gave her a smile of such sweetness and humor that Sarah almost melted beneath it. He acted as if she had handed him a diamond. “Thank you, Lady Iverson. It will remind me of my father’s collection, until I can unpack