Sandra Hill - [Vikings II 03]

by The Very Virile Viking

  “Quack, quack, quack…” It was Lida coming through on her established route, living room to bathroom.

  “How about if I stay here and take a nap while the rest of you go to the mall?” Grandma suggested. She was probably dying for a cigarette. But more than anything Angela was afraid Grandma would scoot back to the Blue Dragon, which she hadn’t left for this long in more than five years.

  “Quack, quack, quack…” Lida was on her return trip.

  “If I go to the mall, Grandma, you go to the mall,” Angela insisted. “Unless I can leave Lida and the duck here.”

  “Quack, quack, quack…” Lida was passing through again.

  “I’ll go to the mall,” Grandma said.

  “Can I have my ears pierced?” Dagny wanted to know.

  “Well, I don’t see any problem with that…as long as it’s only one hole per ear.” Lots of girls her age had their ears pierced, so Magnus probably wouldn’t object. Heck, some people even had infants’ ears pierced.

  Kirsten sat up straighter, suddenly taking her eyes off the Britney Spears video playing on TV. “I would rather get a piercing in—”

  “No!”

  “You did not even let me finish,” Kirsten complained.

  “It doesn’t matter. No piercings anywhere except the ears without your father’s written permission.”

  “Faðir said I could buy a bow and arrow,” the sly little Hamr said. It was such a bold lie that Angela had to laugh.

  “Good. Show me his written permission.”

  “He does not write so well. ’Twas a message he gave me in person.”

  “Any witnesses to that exchange?”

  “Nay, just the two of us.” The little snot was beaming. He actually thought she was buying his story.

  “Good try, Hamr, but the answer is no.”

  “I’m thinking that we should get Rollerblades for everyone,” Njal suggested. “I saw them on some young people when we were driving into town. They look like great fun.”

  Rollerblading sounded harmless enough, but then Angela got a clear picture in her mind of all these kids Rollerblading around her apartment, or down the condo halls. “Maybe sometime later…when we’re back at the Blue Dragon.”

  “You are no fun,” the usually quiet Kolbein commented.

  Luckily she was spared any more requests by the ringing of the phone. She was laughing when she picked it up. “Magnus?”

  “No, Miss Angela, it is me, Miguel.”

  The fine hairs stood up on the back of her neck. “Miguel? What’s wrong? Oh, God! Are those sirens I hear in the background?”

  “Sí,” but you are not to worry. Mr. Magnus told me to call and tell you it is all over. Gunther has been arrested, and the police have taken him to jail.”

  She exhaled loudly, not even realizing that she had been holding her breath.

  “There are six police cars here. My Juanita is making coffee for the men now…and sweet buns. Ay-yi-yi! What a scene it was here tonight, but it is all over now. Will you be coming back tonight or tomorrow? Juanita wants to know.”

  “Tonight,” she replied without hesitation. “Where is Magnus? Can I speak with him?”

  “That is the thiiiiiiing,” Miguel drawled out ominously. “He cannot come to the phone.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they have taken him to the hospital.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Falling for a fallen hero…

  By one A.M. Angela had dropped Grandma and the children off at the house and was on her way to the hospital.

  She knew from frequent cell-phone calls she had made to Miguel and Torolf during her return trip that Magnus had sustained a gunshot wound to the shoulder. Although not a deadly wound, it could have been if the bullet had entered only a few inches lower.

  She also knew from her phone conversations that doctors were still holding Magnus in the hospital emergency room, where he was resisting being admitted…even for overnight observation. Torolf said they finally had to knock him out with a tranquilizer just to settle him down for the examination.

  When she walked through the hydraulic doors leading into the emergency room, Torolf was waiting near the entrance for her. Standing next to him was a physically fit older man with a GI haircut, whom she assumed was Harry Winslow.

  “May Odin be praised, you have arrived,” Torolf said, after giving her a quick hug. “Father is acting like a bear in a hunter’s trap.”

  “Ms. Abruzzi, so glad to meet you. I’m Harry Win-slow,” the other man said, extending his hand.

  She wanted to ask for the details of what had happened, but she needed to see Magnus first.

  “You are not sticking another needle in me,” she heard a male voice roar out suddenly.

  Magnus. Following the voice, she found him in a curtained area arguing with a hefty nurse who appeared well able to handle herself with the difficult Viking.

  “Look,” Magnus was saying. “I pissed in a cup for you. I let you take large amounts of my blood to be tested. I let you sew up my wound, even though ’twas a mere scratch. No more bloodletting, I tell you.”

  “Buddy, one more shot. That’s all. You either roll over and show me your pretty butt, or I’ll strap you down.”

  “Angela!” Magnus had just looked up and noticed her standing there. He opened his arms wide for her to come to him. “Best you beware, healing maid, my lady is here now, and she will protect me from the likes of you.”

  Thank God, he’s all right. He couldn’t be hurt too badly if he’s roaring like this. Angela sat on the edge of the mattress, on his good side, and hugged him gently. She didn’t realize how pent-up her emotions had been till the tears began to spill out with her loud sobs.

  “Angela! What is wrong? Has someone been hurt?”

  Is he for real? “You’re hurt, you thickheaded fool,” she wailed. “That’s why I am crying.”

  “Oh,” he said, immediately followed by, “Get me out of here, Angela.”

  Angela glanced over at the nurse, who stared pointedly at the needle in her hand.

  “One more shot,” Angela told Magnus. “Then I’ll go see about getting you released.”

  “All right,” he said, rolling over onto his stomach. “But then I am walking out of here, even if I have to wear this arse-baring garment.”

  His behind was in fact bared by the hospital gown. And a fine-looking behind it was, too. Even the brusque nurse thought so. Angela could tell because the woman winked saucily at her after giving his butt a good once-over, then jamming the needle into the firm flesh.

  While he was dressing with Angela’s help, Magnus spoke with Harry and Torolf. “You did a fine job, Harry. We ne’er would have been able to catch Gunther without your help.”

  “Thank you. It’s what I do. But you are the one who made yourself a target. Can’t tell you how much I admire your courage, man.”

  “Target?” Angela repeated.

  “Yep, we set Gunther up. Magnus made himself very visible the last few days…at the Blue Dragon, around town. Had him boasting in bars and local stores about how things were going to improve at the Blue Dragon now that he was here. Despite all the evidence we had gathered, we needed to catch the perp in the act…which we did.”

  Angela glared at Magnus, who gazed back at her with utter innocence.

  Calm down, Angela. You can’t smack a wounded man. Inhaling deeply for inner strength, she said, “I love the Blue Dragon, but I never wanted you to put your own life on the line.”

  “Sometimes a man must be a man.”

  She rolled her eyes. Is there such a thing as an adorable male chauvinist?

  “We will discuss this later…that I promise you,” she said, now that he was dressed and frankly looked a bit white-faced and weak, despite his macho bravado, “but for now, let’s go home, honey, and put you to bed.”

  “Will you come to bed with me?” he cajoled in an exaggerated little-boy voice.

  “No.” She laughed. “You never
give up, do you?”

  “Never.” He laughed, too, then winced when that slight movement pained his shoulder. “’Tis the third-best thing about a Viking.”

  She wasn’t about to ask him what one and two were. She was pretty sure she already knew.

  Sleepless in Sonoma…not…!

  The trouble at the Blue Dragon was over. All that was left was the cleaning up…both physically and legally.

  But first Angela slept till noon the next day, so exhausted was she by the night’s events. Magnus was even worse…or better. He slept off and on for a full twenty-four hours. Every time she heard him up and about, whether just visiting the bathroom or brushing his teeth or taking a quick shower, she was waiting for him in his bedroom with a glass of juice and more pills. Sleep was the best aid to healing at this point, the doctor had said.

  It was one A.M. of the second night, and Angela was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of wine, working on the Blue Dragon account books. She heard a loud noise, as if someone had tripped over something, followed by what was probably a swear word in Old Norse. It must be Magnus.

  She put together a tray of chicken-salad sandwiches with dill pickles, Juanita’s famous potato salad, and a pitcher of lemonade. Magnus would be starving once he finally awakened for good.

  When she got there, though, he was sleeping again. The sheet covered him only to the waist, making visible in the moonlight the white bandage wrapped around his shoulder and under his armpit. Her heart dropped every time she saw that evidence of his wound…a wound that could very well have been fatal to him.

  The sheer curtains were billowing inward with a building breeze that portended rain. In fact, heat lightning was already flashing across the sky, filling the room with short-lived brilliance.

  Because there was a chill in the air, she attempted to raise the bed linen up over Magnus’s bare skin. She wouldn’t want him to catch a cold on top of everything else. Bending over the bed, she had managed to draw the sheet upward without awakening Magnus…or so she thought.

  A hand snaked out, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her down onto the bed beside the prone figure. Luckily it was Magnus’s good side where she hit.

  He lifted the sheet high, tucked her up under his arm, with her face resting on his chest, then covered them both. She was wearing a thigh-length nightshirt and nothing else. He was wearing a shoulder bandage and nothing else. All that cool bare skin touching cool bare skin was giving her warm ideas…ideas that were out of the question considering Magnus’s condition.

  “I thought you were still asleep,” she said, snuggling closer. “I brought you some food.”

  “Later.” He kissed the top of her head.

  “You could have died, Magnus.”

  “Yea, I could have. But then, I could have tripped over a rake, hit myself in the head, and died on the spot, too…just like Hord the Hairy did. Do not make too much of this incident. Death is a part of life.”

  “Even so, when you are feeling better there are some things I need to tell you…things I would have been devastated to have never told you if you had…well, died.”

  “Secrets, eh?” He laughed softly, then winced when that movement apparently caused him some pain. “Actually, there are some things that I have neglected to say, too.”

  Her heart soared suddenly.

  “It is about my children.”

  Her heart deflated just as suddenly.

  “It occurred to me afterward, in the hospital, whilst the healer-witch was jabbing needles into me, that I had been negligent in regard to my children. I made no plans for their future, if something happened to me. Would you have taken on that responsibility?”

  “Of course.” That she responded in that way, without hesitation, was a marvel to her. Magnus wasn’t her husband; they were not her children. But then the answer came to her. “They feel like family to me.”

  He nodded. “I thought as much, but it might be best if we call on a lawmaker one day to make legal provisions for such.”

  “Are you planning on dying soon? Is there something you’re not telling me?” She was only half kidding.

  “Nay! I am much better, except for this dull ache in my shoulder, but ’tis best to be prepared.”

  “You know, Magnus, this might not be the right time to mention this, but since you mentioned lawyers…well…I’m not sure how to say this….”

  “Just spit it out, sweetling.”

  “I’ve been led to believe that not all of your children are your blood children. Did you know that you can have DNA tests done that would prove beyond a doubt whether they are truly yours or not? And all it takes is a simple swab of saliva.”

  “Really? That is amazing. But what purpose would it serve me? They are my children, regardless of what any tests show.”

  “That makes sense. It’s not like you’re back in the tenth century and could return them to their mothers or other relatives.”

  He shook his head. “I would feel the same even then. Once I took those children under my shield, they became mine. No turning back. Ever.”

  Her heart swelled with pride that he felt that way. In an age when absentee fathers were often the norm, this man knew the meaning of fatherhood.

  “Now, what did you want to tell me?”

  She raised her head so that she could look at him. It took all the nerve she had, but the words had to be said. “I love you, Magnus.”

  He leaned up and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I know that, heartling.”

  “You know that?” she asked, softly at first, then added more shrilly, “You know that? And that is all you have to say?” Tears filled her eyes and she started to roll out of bed.

  He tightened his arm around her shoulder and would not let her move.

  “What? What is wrong now?”

  “Surely you aren’t so thickheaded that you don’t understand what is expected of you when a woman says she loves you.”

  He thought a moment. “But I already told you that afore.”

  “Once! Once, you told me, and then it was in the middle of sex…or almost-sex…and that doesn’t count.”

  “It does not?”

  “Not by a long shot.”

  “Aaah, Angela, do you really need the words? I thought it was apparent in everything I do how much I love you.”

  She wanted to be angry with him, but she couldn’t be, not with her pleasure at his heartfelt words.

  “I think of you every moment of every day…when I am hoeing Grandma Rose’s vegetable garden…when I am spraying the grapevines…when I am playing with my children…when I watch you eat, or drink, or walk, or sleep. You have become the most important person in the world to me.”

  “A woman needs the words, Magnus.”

  “I love you, Angela.”

  She put the back of her hand against her mouth to stifle a sob.

  “Why are you crying? I hand you my heart and you cry. Truly, I will ne’er understand women.”

  “I’m crying because I’m happy. These are good tears.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said dubiously. “If women need the words, then men need action. We want to be shown affection.”

  It took her several seconds to understand. “You can’t make love. You’re hurt.”

  “That part of me is not hurt. It is hurting, but only for want of you.”

  “Magnus, you are in no condition to make love to me.”

  “True. But I am in perfect condition to have love made to me…by a woman who purports to love me. Of course, she would have to be very gentle. Hmmm. Gentle love. I like the sound of that. You and I have engaged in almost-sex, bed games, hard loving, and everything in between. ’Tis time for some gentle love, do you not think?”

  “Magnus, no.”

  The hand that was wrapped around her shoulder dropped lower, under her back, and the fingertips caressed the side of her breast. Even with the nightshirt, she felt his touch, and it was tempting.

  “Magnus, no.”

&nb
sp; The hand slipped lower and began to bunch up more and more of her nightshirt, thus raising the hem inch by inch till not just her legs were exposed, but some other places besides.

  Oh, Magnus. “No, Magnus.”

  “Come on, Angela,” he coaxed. With his mouth he nudged her face up so that he could kiss her. Between his kisses he kept murmuring, “Please…please…please…”

  Don’t tempt me like this. I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you,” she groaned out. He was nibbling at her ear now, when he wasn’t inserting his tongue in it, then blowing softly.

  “I’m afraid you’ll hurt me if you don’t. Take off that shert now, sweetling. You are making me hot.”

  “That’s not why you’re hot,” she said with a laugh as she looked down between his legs. Still, she sat up and pulled the shirt over her head.

  “I know.” He put his hand on her nape and pulled her down so that he could kiss her in earnest now. She lay on her left side with her right hand cupping one side of his face. Her breasts rested against his chest, and his hand continued to press against the back of her neck, but that was the only way in which they touched. His other arm lay useless on the mattress…useless as far as their lovemaking, that is. When he moved that arm, his shoulder would hurt.

  “I love you…I love you…I love you,” he said against her mouth, in between kisses.

  And she responded with, “I love you…I love you…I love you,” as well before taking the aggressive role he seemed to want. Opening her mouth over his, she licked his lips and moved from side to side till he allowed her entrance. Then she used her tongue to taste and plunge, over and over, in the movements he usually employed to simulate the sex act.

  He must have liked what she was doing because he groaned…then groaned again.

  “On top,” he grunted out. “Lie on top of me, Angela.”

  Oh, boy! It’s a lot harder playing the lead than I thought it would be. She followed his directive and arranged herself carefully over him. She couldn’t resist then. She moved her breasts from side to side over his chest hairs, thus proving that “playing the lead” had some advantages. That sensuous abrasion was enough to send ripples of pleasures coursing across her skin in wave after wave. Yep, definite advantages. She closed her eyes briefly, wanting to savor all the delicious sensations.