“Some of the turnips are asleep…I hope. The others are on guard duty in the vineyard.”
“And how did you escape?”
“I told Torolf I had to visit the bathchamber.”
“Ooookay.”
“It was not really a mistruth.” Actually, Torolf had wanted to know why he couldn’t just piss against a nearby tree, and he’d told him he had “more serious business” to handle, which was not a lie either. Making love to a woman was serious business, indeed.
“You mentioned something about plowing, Farmer Brown.”
Laughing, he lifted her into his arms, naked flesh pressed against naked flesh under the warm shower spray.
“Uh-oh!” Magnus said against her ear.
“What?”
“I sense some rough terrain. We must needs smooth it out afore doing any plowing. You would not want to break the tip, would you?”
“The tip?”
“The plow tip…you know, that iron-hard bit that is…well, you know what I mean.”
“And how do you intend to do that smoothin’ thang, plowboy?”
“Odd that you should ask. I just happen to have available two shovels,” he said, holding out his big, splayed hands. Magnus took her wrists in his hands and arranged them high so that she gripped the shower head. Then he filled his hands with liquid soap and began to rub it into her “rough terrain.” Hill and dale got equal attention. Rosy pebbles. Boulders. Limbs. Even “grassy” areas.
She was making that little mewling sound deep in her throat that he had come to love. The more he slathered, the more she mewled. And when he moved the slickness on his hands to the slickness between her legs, she almost shot off the floor with a jerk. Lowering her arms, she shoved his chest and said in a low growly voice that nigh melted his…plow, “My turn, sweetheart. The farmer’s lady has got to work, too.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
So he was the one raising his arms to circle the showerhead, and it was Angela who was soaping him up and he was the one gasping his pleasure. With an expertise known to women throughout time, she rubbed his shoulders and neck, the muscled planes of his chest, the tendons in his arms and legs, the hard flatness of his belly, the hard curves of his buttocks and even the crease between them. She left the most important part for last. With slow deliberation, she poured more soap into her palms, encircled him, and began to milk him like a true farmer’s wife. She must have paid more attention today than he had thought.
But Magnus was a simple man, and he could only take so much. “Enough!” he roared, and backed Angela against the far wall of the stall, lifted her off the floor, arched her hips outward, and entered her. He felt as if every bone in his body were red-hot and rigid. He felt as if the blood in his body had turned molten. He felt as if every hair on his body were standing tall. All this because of the intensity of his arousal.
But then he looked at Angela, who was staring at him with wide eyes. And no wonder! Down below, her inner muscles were already contracting around him with the beginning of her “coming,” as they referred to it in this land.
He could not wait then. He wanted to—desperately—but it had been too long—a sennight, by Thor!—and she had excited him too much with her farmer-wife play…and so he began the hard, hard, hard strokes that pressed her backside against the tiles with a delicious rhythm that was enticing in itself.
Angela’s contractions were never-ending as he plunged in and out. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders. Her legs tightened around his hips. And still the ripples of pleasure in her inner walls tortured him with their clasping and unclasping till he thrust deep and hard and cried out his ecstasy.
For several long moments they both panted into each other’s necks, neither noticing that water still sprayed over them, cold by now.
Finally, taking great joy in the passion daze that still covered her face, he leaned forward to give her a soft kiss of thanks. There was nothing he could say that would express how deeply she touched him with her response to his lovemaking. So he just kissed her softly once again.
“Have you naught to say, dearling?” he asked in the end, beginning to be alarmed by her silence. Mayhap he had misinterpreted her quiet. Mayhap she was offended by his hard and quick loveplay.
She studied him for a long moment and said, “You are some farmer, Magnus.”
Relief thrummed through him at her playful retort, which was surely a sign that she had been pleased. Still, he had to ask, “I plowed straight and true, then?”
“And deep.” She laughed.
But not for long.
Reaching behind him, he turned off the faucets, released Angela so that she sank weakly to the floor, then immediately picked her up in his arms.
“Now that you know about farmers, methinks you need a lesson in farm animals.” He was carrying her into her bedchamber, which adjoined the bathing chamber. They were both very wet, especially their sopping hair, but neither noticed.
“Farm animals? That sounds kinky to me.”
“Definitely kinky,” he agreed unabashedly. What is kinky?
He dropped her to the bed and lay down on top of her. Angela would have some explaining to do to her grandmother the next day about the wetness of the coverlet, but he could not be concerned about that now. He was too aware of the wonderful naked woman beneath him.
“So what animals are we talking about here?” she inquired friskily, even as she combed his hair behind his big ears with the fingers of both hands. He did the same to hers.
“The stallion and the mare,” he replied without hesitation.
Instead of shrinking back with revulsion, Angela surprised him once again with her laughing reply: “Yippee!”
Chapter Fourteen
A family Thing…
In the Viking culture, matters of great importance were settled at a meeting called a Thing, or an Althing. Everyone had a vote in these assemblies, though the chieftain’s opinion usually carried extra weight.
Magnus decided the next day that it was past time to call a family Thing to discuss this time-travel dilemma in more detail with his children. He wanted Angela present, too.
So gathered that afternoon in the gazebo were Torolf, Kirsten, Dagny, Storvald, Njal, Jogeir, and Angela. He figured that the other children were too young to understand, or to keep a secret. In truth, Hamr would no doubt take great delight in announcing to the world that he was a “free-can time traveler” who had damn well better get a bow and arrow “free-can soon.”
“Does everyone concur on this point at least…we have time traveled to another country and a thousand years into the future?” Magnus asked.
No one immediately replied, which did not surprise him. It was hard to accept such a bizarre notion.
After a few minutes, though, each of them nodded reluctantly, except for Angela.
“What other explanation can there be?” he asked her.
“I don’t know, but I live in a society that probes for scientific explanations for everything…and usually there is a sound, logical reason for even the most unusual events. But this…” She just shrugged.
“I think I know what happened.” It was Kirsten speaking, and every one gaped at her with astonishment.
“My grandmother, Lady Asgar, was a Christian. She always said that she could not accept all the Norse legends and mystical ideas, like dragons and trolls and such, but she did believe in miracles. She said her One-God could do anything. That is what I think happened to us.”
“A miracle?” Torolf scoffed. “For what reason?”
Kirsten shrugged. “That is not for me to answer.”
“Why would the papist God care about us Vikings?” Njal wanted to know.
It was not such a ludicrous question.
“I suspect that God doesn’t differentiate between cultures and peoples as much as we do,” Angela said. “And I must tell you all, my grandmother has been praying a novena for a miracle for some time now…some knight in shining armor to come save the Blue Dra
gon.”
“And she thinks I am that knight?” Magnus was horrified and pleased at the same time.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Why unfortunately?” Magnus put his hands on his hips, a mite offended at her choice of words. It wasn’t that he wanted to be a knight in shining armor, precisely, but he did not like someone—anyone—thinking he could not be one if he chose.
“Don’t get your jockeys in a twist,” she said with a laugh. “I just meant that if you were indeed the miracle she pleaded for, you were given no choice in the matter.”
Mollified, he nodded his understanding. I will show you a knight, m’lady skeptic. Just you wait and see. I can be knightly…especially at night. My brain is melting here.
“Perchance you are correct, and the reason we time traveled is because Grandma Rose conjured us here with her papist beads, but methinks there may be another reason, as well.” Torolf was rubbing his chin in a bemused fashion as he spoke. “I have been wondering if mayhap Uncle Rolf and Uncle Jorund time traveled, as well, and that for some reason we were meant to join them here.”
A half dozen jaws dropped with amazement at this theory…a theory that was not entirely implausible. Actually, when he had first left the Norselands, Magnus had had a notion to search for his brothers, but somewhere along the way he’d forgotten, or been distracted by all the other things that had happened. Never had he considered, though, way back then, that his search might involve travel through time.
“And I have another idea,” Jogeir spoke up, his chin jutting out defiantly. It was so unlike the boyling to appear belligerent that they gave him their full attention. “Has anyone…just one person…considered that in this new land, with all its modern inventions…there might be a way to repair my clubfoot?”
It was such a simple question and so fervent that Magnus felt immediate guilt that he had not brought it up himself. He put a hand on Jogeir’s shoulder. “You shame us, Jogeir…with good cause. We have all been so full of ourselves and our own complaints that we did not consider your greater need.” Magnus looked toward Angela with an unspoken plea for help.
“I cannot promise anything, Jogeir, but as soon as I get back to the house, I will make an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon. We will find the best possible doctor. I should not say this without seeing a doctor first, but I cannot imagine that there isn’t an operation to help you.” She cocked her head in question then, staring at Magnus. “Didn’t you ever consult a doctor about his…uh, handicap?”
“Of course. But those were tenth-century healers. I did my best, but that was then; this is now.”
They were silent for a while, pondering everything that had been said and the implications.
“Okay, assuming I believe all this time-travel or miracle stuff, and I’m not sure I do, what next? Are you guys all going to bop off back to the past without warning one day? Are you deliberately going to try to go back? Or are you here to stay? Do you even have a choice?”
“That is the question,” Magnus said, and he could tell by the somber expressions on all his children’s faces that they agreed. Angela had good reason to ask the question, too, because she was involved in a relationship with a man who might disappear any moment.
“I do not want to go back,” Kirsten said vehemently. “I like it here.”
“It would be hard fitting in here…at first,” Torolf said, “but I think I could adapt. Mayhap someday I would want to go back, but right now my vote is to stay…if our voting even matters.”
“Me, too. Me, too. Me, too,” the rest of the children said.
Magnus looked at Angela, held the eye contact, and said in as meaningful a way as he could, “Me, too.”
“What would we do here, Father? What work would you do? Where would we live?” It was the ever-logical Storvald speaking.
“I can answer that,” Angela said, much to his surprise. “Since your father invested almost a million dollars in gold coins into the Blue Dragon, you all are welcome to stay here indefinitely…at least till it’s clearer what is happening and what you all want to do. There are some immediate things that can be done, like tutors for all the children, school enrollment in the fall, driver’s training for you, Magnus, and for Torolf…and dozens of other things.”
He cast Angela a thank-you smile. That was one worry off his mind—where they would stay and what he would do in the immediate future. The far-off future remained a mystery.
“But I would advise all of you to keep this time-travel theory to yourselves,” Angela cautioned. “If the news got out, you would have every scientist and quack entrepreneur at your doorstep, dissecting you physically, emotionally, intellectually. You would never be allowed to live a normal life.”
No one disagreed with that admonition as they sat contemplating how they would be regarded by this modern society. Not favorably, Magnus was sure. More like freaks.
“I have thought on everything we have discussed here today, and I have come to a conclusion,” Magnus said. “My brothers are the key to our future.”
“How so?” Angela asked.
“If I am able to locate my brothers in this new land, in this time, then my brothers would surely know, after all this time, whether ’twas possible to stay here or not. It would mean that time travelers can relocate and stay in the place where God, or the miracle, has sent them…if they so choose.”
Angela focused on only one short phrase in all that he had said. “If they so choose?” she repeated.
He wanted to say that he did so choose, but he could not do that yet. Not till he had a surer idea of what the future held.
His silence must have been telling to Angela, though, because tears welled in her eyes before she turned, stricken, and left the gazebo.
If you don’t succeed, try, try again….
“Angela, Mrs. Abruzzi, be reasonable,” Gunther Morgan pleaded.
He was sitting with her and Grandma in the front living room the next morning. After apologizing for his behavior the previous week, he began his usual campaign to buy the Blue Dragon. It was more than a coincidence that he chose to return at a time when Magnus and the boys were busy in one of the far vineyards with Miguel.
“Why is it so important to you?” Grandma wanted to know. “You have a bigger property than ours. Why can’t you be satisfied with what you’ve got?” Since Lida was ensconced in a high chair in the kitchen with Juanita, and the girls were off at the mall with Lily, Grandma lit up a cigarette and took a deep, satisfying inhalation. The bliss on her face almost made Angela want to take up the filthy habit herself. Almost.
“I have four sons, Mrs. Abruzzi. Yes, I have a large property, but not big enough to satisfy all of them and their families. Plus, we are growing…the market is growing…but the amount of land remains the same.”
“Look to the other sides of you, then,” Angela advised.
“I have.” Gunther sighed. “My neighbors are in the same situation as I am. They all have family dynasties they want to establish and only so much land.”
“I won’t be pressured to sell, Gunther. I won’t,” Grandma said fiercely. “As long as I am breathing, the Blue Dragon will stay in Abruzzi hands.”
“But Angela isn’t even married,” he argued. “She may never have children to carry on your line here.”
“Whether I marry or not…whether I have children or not…is none of your business.” Angela wanted to slap the false pity off the man’s face, but she fisted her hands instead. “Never lose your cool” had been her motto in business for years, and it had served her well thus far.
“You aren’t even making wine here anymore, for chrissake!”
“We’re planning on starting up again,” Angela lied.
“You are?” Gunther asked, clearly shocked.
“We are?” Grandma asked, then quickly covered her tracks by saying, “I mean, we are…very soon now.”
Gunther recovered his cool. “Be reasonable, ladies. You must have sustained severe damage f
rom the recent fire. That, on top of your financial problems…well, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see you’re in trouble here.”
“You know an awful lot about what’s happening at the Blue Dragon, don’t you, Gunther?” Angela inquired, her eyes narrowed.
“Only what everyone in the valley has heard.” Gunther’s beet-red face belied his words.
“The answer is no, Gunther,” Grandma said, “and that is final.”
Gunther stood and picked up his straw hat from the love seat where he had been sitting. “This is all because of that giant Viking, isn’t it? He’s convinced you to hold on here, hasn’t he? Big, steroid-ridden ape! Doesn’t know good wine from pig spit, would be my guess. Thinks he can run a vineyard with that old codger, Miguel. Hah! They will never make this place prosperous again. Never!”
Angela stood and advanced on Gunther. “Who are you to look down on Magnus? He’s a better man than you are any day of the week. He’s honest, hardworking, and a good father. Don’t you dare disparage him. Don’t you dare.”
Grandma was staring at her strangely. “Way to go, granddaughter!”
“I’ll tell you one thing,” Gunther said, just before jamming his hat on his head and going outside. “Someone had better tell the Incredible Hulk to watch his step.”
Never make a Norseman mad….
“Magnus, why are you mad at me?”
Magnus was so blisteringly furious with Angela that his only response to her lack-wit question was to glare at her. She had dishonored him mightily by declining to call for his assistance and placing herself in danger’s way.
For the past ten minutes, Angela had been sitting at the large kitchen table with Magnus and his family, and he had barely spoken to her. Everyone was uncomfortable with the silence that hung in the air between them. Grandma Rose and Juanita kept exchanging worried glances intermixed with the rolling of their eyes. The children sat with their eyes downcast, eating a tasty dish called shrimp paella over rice that Juanita had just served along with a long loaf of crusty bread and a zesty arugula, tomato, onion, and mozzarella salad. Rose kept refilling the frosty glasses of iced tea. Jow had his head between his two front paws under the table, where he awaited droppings from Lida. Even Lida was especially quiet as she dug into the rice with her own tiny toddler spoon and drank milk from her sippy cup.
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