by Sandra Hill
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."
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.
"More… do it more," he urged hoarsely.
"Whatever you want, sweetie. Whatever you want."
A laugh escaped through his gritted teeth. "Never say that to a man. You ne'er know what he might ask of you."
Well, she didn't know about that, but she was more than willing to comply with his simple request for more. She undulated against him so that now her breasts and her pubic area brushed his chest and stomach in rhythmic fashion. Between her thighs, behind her buttocks, she could feel his hardened penis… which seemed harder and longer now. A hot wetness pooled in her most secret places.
"Sit up," he urged now. When she did, he added, "Higher," and motioned her to shimmy her body farther so that her bottom rested on his belly. Then he told her exactly what he wanted. "Give me your breast, Angela. You take it in your hand and put it in my mouth."
She hesitated. It was such an intimate thing to do.
"Do it, dearling."
She put an elbow on the pillow beside his head. Then she placed her other hand under her breast, lifting it high so that the nipple stood out turgid and proud. Lowering herself, she gave him her breast, which he immediately began suckling.
She whimpered at the intensity of excitement he generated there with his lips and tongue and teeth. His other hand played with her other breast, pinching it slightly into prominent pleasure-pain. She couldn't hold her body still, so aroused was she. Because she straddled his wide body, her legs were spread to their limits. Thus, rotating her hips in a circle, she managed to rub the slickness of her engorged folds and the protruding bud. Is this masturbation or lovemaking? She decided that it didn't matter if it pleased the man she loved, and there was no doubt in her mind that Magnus was pleased.
"Come closer," he choked out.
At first she thought she hadn't heard right. She glanced up and saw that his lips were slack with arousal and his eyes were glazed with passion. He waggled his fingers at her, indicating he wanted her up higher on his body.
She knew instinctively what he wanted, and, as much as she loved him, she was not sure she could do that. But then some inner voice nagged at her. What greater love is there for a woman to give a man than her total trust… her total surrender?
With a heated face, Angela placed herself so that Magnus could pleasure her with the fingertips of one hand… and with his mouth… without even raising his shoulder. It was the most embarrassing… exhilarating thing she had ever done. And when she came in this way, she felt as if she'd given him a great gift… and herself, as well.
"You are so beautiful," he said, watching her face closely while she came to orgasm.
Angela felt beautiful. Tomorrow she would probably be mortified. Today she felt beautiful.
"Ride me now, sweetling," he said in a voice that was husky with emotion.
"Don't you want me to… uh, reciprocate?" she asked as she moved her hips lower again.
"Not now. Mayhap later. For now what I want is to be inside you."
Magnus was a big man, and he was big there, so it took a little doing to lower herself down over him. She need not have worried about how she looked, though, because Magnus had his eyes scrunched tight and he was panting heavily. She was pretty sure she had excited him to the point of mindlessness. She was pretty mindless herself.
"A little help here, Magnus," she said with a laugh.
Opening his eyes, he laughed, too, especially when he arched his hips up off the mattress, and her eyes almost bugged out. Then, with his one good hand and his other weakened arm, he showed her the way he wanted her to move.
Just before they exploded with mutual bliss, he whispered against her ear, "I love you, Angela, more than life itself. I do not know what tomorrow will bring, but for today, just know this. I love you."
Angela thought that was more than any woman could want. Then Angela was unable to think at all.
Summertime, and the livin' is…
August in wine country was a little bit of heaven.
There was a lush greenness everywhere the eye could see. The air smelled of growing things… vegetables, flowers, grass—and, yes, grapes, most of all. The cycle of life so apparent in the land always drew strong emotions to the surface of even a big man like Magnus.
Grandma Rose reveled in this time of year, too, especially since dozens and dozens of her prized rosebushes were in bloom. She grew almost one hundred varieties, of all sizes and colors, which was amazing to Magnus… first, that anyone would spend so much time and money to cultivate a flower, which yielded only beauty; and second, that so many varieties existed. There were not enough cows in all of the Norselands to produce the amount of fertilizer that Grandma Rose used.
Now that Magnus's shoulder was almost healed, he worked daily in the vineyards, and it was a labor of love. The people in this new land—California—took for granted the good weather, which would have been considered a gift of the gods back in the cold Norselands. Good weather was critical to all growing, and thus far the grapes at the Blue Dragon were flourishing. If there was frost in the spring, the grapes would never reach maturity. If the sun got too hot, the vines would just shut down in self-preservation. Too much rain and the flavor of the grapes was diluted.
There was an element of gambling to a farmer's life, whether the product be wheat or grape. But now Magnus was nervous. Only a few short weeks till harvest, and anything could go wrong.
The vintners who would be buying the Blue Dragon's grapes this year stopped by almost on a daily basis, wanting to make sure the fruit was just right. The man who had come this morning had walked all the aisles with Magnus and Miguel, randomly checking for phylloxera, which had apparently hit a vineyard north of them. Phylloxera was a licelike parasite that killed the vines with its saliva while eating away at the roots. There was no cure, except for digging up all the stock. Luckily the Blue Dragon was safe… thus far.
Traveling workers, known as migrants, would be arriving in early September to help with the harvest. Angela had told him that they would hire at least a dozen for a three-week period to supplement the regular workforce.
Speaking of Angela… well, thinking of Angela… there she was now. He put down the clippers he had been using to thin the clusters of grapes and walked down the aisle toward her. She was looking especially lovely today in silky white braies, leather sandals, and a black tanking-top. But mayhap she was looking so good to him because he had not seen her for the past five days while she worked in the city.
She walked into his arms, gave him a long greeting kiss, then walked back toward the house with him, their arms linked. Dinner would be served in an hour or so.
"Did you stop to see Jogeir?" he asked.
"Yes, and he has improved so much, Magnus. It's hard to believe that the operation was done only a week ago. He'll need lots of physical therapy, and of course we won't know for sure how successful the operation was till the cast comes off… still, the doctors are amazed at his improvement so far."
" 'Tis a miracl
e," he concluded.
She laughed and laid her head against his shoulder. "Well, a miracle of medicine," she conceded.
"I visited him last night, and will go in again this evening. The healer told me that he might be able to come home tomorrow."
"I know, and he's so excited. Grandma fixed up a bed for him in the den so he won't have to go up and down the stairs with his crutches. He's already planning on lording it over his brothers that he will be having a TV in his bedroom."
As they approached the house, they saw Matt Delaney, the young man from You-See-Ell-Aye who had been tutoring Magnus's children these past two sennights. Right now he had Kolbein, Hamr, Njal, and Storvald, even Torolf, sitting at long tables, writing on parchment. Hamr and Njal looked up at him with pleading eyes and Hamr mouthed silently, Torture! while Njal mouthed, Help! Dagny and Kirsten had no doubt already finished their lessons for the day, being the more willing students.
"Hello, Mr. Ericsson," Matt said, standing to shake his hand.
"Greetings, Matt. How are they doing?"
Matt rolled his eyes. "Actually, they're doing very well, considering."
"Considering?"
"Kolbein would rather be watching Sesame Street."
Kolbein glanced up at his father, but he did not appear too unhappy, in Magnus's opinion.
"Torolf would rather be working in the vineyard with you, but he has the motivation of knowing that if he enters high school in the fall, there will be dozens of pretty young girls to meet."
Torolf glowered at Matt, but it was probably the truth.
"Storvald is a pretty good student now that he understands how important measurements are to his woodworking skills."
Storvald did not even look up from the parchment, where he was drawing lines with a pencil and ruler.
"Now, Hamr and Njal, they are a different story," Matt said, and sighed deeply.
Magnus understood that sigh completely. Matt need not say any more.
"These two would rather be doing anything—I mean anything—rather than read or write."
