When Jorund had stopped laughing and wiped tears of humor from his eyes, he turned more serious. "Magnus, you always were one to make a mountain out of a molehill. Is Angela willing to act the mother to your existing children?"
He shrugged. "She already does."
"Then is one more child really such a big favor for you to give her?" Jorund's voice was gentle with compassion.
"People will make jest of me… even more than they do now. Her cousin Carmen—you met her, Rolf… the profess-whore—already makes dumb-man jokes about me."
"Since when does laughter hurt a big man like you?" Rolf scoffed.
"Well, the dumb-man jokes do not bother me as much as I pretend. In fact, I get great satisfaction in throwing back nipple jests at Carmen, so we are even… usually."
Jorund and Rolf stared at him, openmouthed. No doubt they were impressed with his great finesse in handling bothersome females.
"Actually, I have been thinking about this baby problem, and the more I think on it…"
"Yea?" his two brothers prodded.
"I really want to have a baby with Angela."
His brothers let out a whoosh of relief, as if they'd already known he would come to that conclusion.
"But just one," he quickly added.
"It is a gladsome thing that the three of us have been rejoined in this new land," Jorund said then.
"Yea, 'tis." Rolf nodded, deep in thought. "At one time, after deciding to stay here in the new world, I was convinced that I would be the last Viking in history, but now it appears there will be three last Vikings."
"And many more to come," Jorund added with a twinkle in his eyes. Jorund never used to twinkle. Must be Maggie who'd taught him to do that.
Magnus cared not about any of that other business, though, whether he was first or last Viking… or whether there were others to come. All he knew was, I am going home.
Home is where the heart is… he hoped…
Angela was in the vineyard with Miguel, checking the various varieties of grapes for ripeness. A wonderfully satisfying experience it was, too, knowing that all the hard work of many months was about to bear fruit. And soon it would all be over, and the cycle would start again. She knew from years of doing the same task with her grandfather how to tell from touch, taste, smell, and texture how many more weeks it would be till harvest. It was her and Miguel's opinion that it would be another week at least. He would begin hiring migrant workers this afternoon.
Angela needed something to do with her hands and body to dispel her out-of-control nervousness. Magnus and the children were coming back today. He had left a message on the answering machine, telling her when their flight would arrive and asking that she pick them up. Angela had sent Juan and Grandma in her place with two vehicles, unable to bear the thought of being reunited with Magnus in a public place.
"Look! They're back," Miguel said with excitement, pointing down the hill to the house and driveway, where the cars were just pulling up.
Her heart began racing wildly. Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her denim coveralls, she began to walk slowly down the vineyard aisle.
"I must go tell Juanita," Miguel said, rushing ahead of her toward the back door leading to the kitchen. "She will want to have food and drinks ready."
Angela smiled, despite her somber mood. She understood Miguel's enthusiasm. Everyone had missed Magnus and all the children. The Blue Dragon had seemed quiet without them.
But it was a quiet they might have to become accustomed to if things went as Angela expected they would.
She saw Magnus hand Lida over to Juanita, who was already out in front of the house, welcoming everyone. She also saw him hold out his arms, halting his other children and pointing toward the house, as if ordering them inside. Uh-oh. She knew what this was about. He wanted to talk to her alone first.
That suspicion proved correct when Magnus began to stomp angrily around the side of the house and up toward the vineyards. She met him halfway.
Magnus was so angry at Angela he could scarcely breathe, and he was so happy to see her he could scarcely breathe.
She looked beautiful to him today, with her black hair drawn high on the back of her head in what modern people referred to as a ponytail. Her sun-bronzed face was clear of its usual paint and rouge. The mole he adored above her mouth stood out.
Is she happy to see me? Why does she look so serious? "Well, wench, you did not come to greet me at the airport," he accused right off. That was certainly a smart greeting to make. Why not alienate her from the beginning? The whole time his eyes were practically devouring her. She seemed to be doing the same, or mayhap she was examining him with disdain. He was so blind with worry he probably could not tell the difference between lust and loathing.
"I couldn't."
"Why not?" Oh, please, just talk to me, Angela. I am dying inside.
"I'm too emotional right now. I was afraid of how I might react."
Too emotional? That sounds good. Does it not? "I was very angry. It seemed an insult to me."
"Are you still angry?"
"Yea… and nay."
She raised her eyebrows in question. "Yea, I am angry, but it matters not because I am so very happy to see you again. I have missed you sorely."
Her eyes misted over and she blinked to hold back the tears.
"Do not dare cry afore I have done and said everything I have come to say. 'Tis hard enough for me to bare my soul without your heartrending tears."
She blinked some more.
"Angela, take your hands out of your pockets," he ordered with a loud sigh.
"Why?"
"Because I intend to kiss you mindless, and you will need something to hold on to. Hopefully, me."
Before she could blink again, or say him nay, he lifted her high in his arms and kissed her hard, then softly, then hungrily, then softly persuading, then hungrily again. She moaned under his lips, but he would not end the kiss for fear she would say something to break off their relationship. His hands roamed her buttocks and back and shoulders; he wanted to touch every inch of her, to make her his by physical force if necessary.
Through the haze of his emotion, he finally realized that Angela was indeed holding on to him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other hand caressing his face.
When she pulled away, ending the kiss, she stared back at him in wonder. "You have tears in your eyes. Oh, my God! You have tears in your eyes. Why?"
"Because I am afraid of losing you."
A soft sob escaped her lips.
He acted quickly, before she could say anything more, and carried her down the rest of the aisle, then set her on a bench. Going down on one knee, he took both her hands in his, as he had been told by both Rolf and Jorund was the tradition in this land. "Angela Abruzzi, will you consent to be my wife?"
"You said… you said you wouldn't mind getting married, Magnus. I don't want a husband under those conditions."
"I am a half-brain. What can I say? Words do not flow from my lips with the smoothness of a polished swain."
She smiled slightly, which he took for a good sign. "I never wanted a polished swain."
Yea, a good sign. "All I know is that I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. I love you, Angela. You already know that, and if marriage is what will keep you with me, then that is what I want… with all my heart."
She squeezed his hands, which still held hers. "But that's not all."
Here it comes. The crux of their problem. Please, God… or gods… let me say this right. "Angela, 'tis true I have far too many children. You have to admit that. But whilst I have been away, I realized something important. There is naught in this world that would give me more pleasure than to have a child with you. I would cherish it, and you. I would even put up with Carmen's dumb-man jokes, which would surely increase on that blessed event. If you would be mother to my children, then surely the least I can do is be father to your—our—child."
"Yes." Tears
were streaming down her face now.
"Yes what?" Oh, God, if you are going to be on my side, now would be a good time.
"Yes, I will marry you. Yes, I love you. Yes to everything."
"Thanks be! Can I get up now? My aging knee is about to crack." I knew I could count on You. Thank You, nonetheless.
She laughed gaily through her tears as he picked her up once again and twirled her around in his arms. As he hugged and kissed her, it was unclear whether the wetness on their faces was her tears, or his.
"Did she say yes?" Torolf wanted to know. He was rushing up from the house with the whole troop following behind, including Grandma Rose, who had her rosary beads in hand, Juanita, who was drying her eyes on her apron, Miguel, who was drying his eyes on a linen pocket cloth, and Lida, who was waddling up at a fast pace, arms outstretched, saying, "La-La, La-La!" As Angela picked up his little girl, Hamr said, "I know just what to get you for a bride gift."
Everyone answered for him: "A bow and arrow."
Kirsten asked, "Can we have a big wedding feast? Please, please?"
"I want to wear flowers in my hair," Dagny said.
"Well, I am not wearing a suit, and that is that," Njal declared.
"Perchance I could carve a statue of the bride and groom for the nuptial cake," Storvald offered.
"Well, you had all best wait a few weeks for this event so that I can dance at the wedding," said Jogeir, who was still on crutches.
Kolbein, ever the soft-spoken one, piped in finally, "I could be the ring bearer."
"Wouldst you have me for your best man, Father?" Torolf inquired hopefully. "That is what they call the main witness in this new world."
"Please, sweetie, tell me that you will have the wedding soon after harvest… while my roses are still in bloom," Grandma Rose said.
"Ay-yi-yi! The preparations we will have to make. The priest, the food, the wines, the music." Juanita was speaking to Grandma Rose, and they were both smiling at each other, clearly jubilant at all the work facing them.
As everyone gathered around to congratulate them then, all of them speaking at once, Magnus put his arm around Angela's shoulder and hugged her closer to him. An immense warmth came over him then, a feeling of Rightness that he had found his place in the new world.
"You know, heartling, Rolf told me that he once considered himself the last Viking, and he took much pleasure and pain in that prospect. But I find there is only one thing I want to be."
"And that is?" she asked, reaching up to kiss him lightly on the lips.
"I only want to be your Viking… Angela's Viking."
Epilogue
Vikings sure know how to party…
Magnus Ericsson and Angela Abruzzi were married on the lawn of the Blue Dragon on September 27, 2003. Father Sylvester officiated at the Christian rituals, but it is said that the Norse gods smiled down on them that day, too.
She wore her grandmother's Italian lace wedding gown, and white roses in her hair. Magnus wore a black tux with a snow-white shirt. All of Magnus's sons wore tuxes, too, and, boy, were they fuming! Kirsten, Dagny, and Lida were pretty in pink—organza gowns, with matching pink baby roses in their hair, just like Angela's.
Rolf and Jorund had tried to convince Magnus to have a traditional Viking wedding, complete with Norse attire and foods and rituals, but Magnus had balked at that. He said he was a modern Viking, and he was putting aside the old ways. Rolf had tried to tempt him by offering to bring several well-fattened acorn hogs from Rosestead for the feast, but Magnus had declined the offer. Thus it was that Magnus allowed his children to select the menu; to no one's surprise, they settled on dome-nose pizzas and chocolate layer cake. Scattered about the heavy boards were tubfuls of feast ale and Kool-Aid, not to mention the Blue Dragon's own fine wines.
The band played Britain Spear and Arrow-smith music, among other tunes. Everyone danced, even Magnus, who claimed to be too big and clumsy, but turned out to be smooth and sexy in his moves. His children were, of course, mortified.
Lida and Kolbein were the flower girl and boy, respectively. Torolf, Rolf, and Jorund stood up for Magnus… though they professed to be standing him up, so shaky were his knees. All three argued over who was to be the "best man," and finally settled on the three being the "best men."
Carmen made only one dumb-man joke: "Why do only ten percent of men make it to heaven?"
Magnus had declined to be baited this day, and prided himself on his silence.
So, when she answered her own jest by saying, "If they all went to heaven, it would be hell. Ha, ha, ha," Magnus just smiled at her and mouthed the word, Nipples.
Carmen gave them a huge box of condoms for a wedding gift.
Magnus repaid the favor by introducing Carmen to Harry Winslow, who took one gander at her big nipples and professed to be in love. Carmen, who'd recently separated from her husband, surprised everyone by blushing.
When the wedding feast was well underway, Angela took Magnus by the hand, leading him toward the old wine-making shed. "I have a groom gift for you," she said with a decided gleam in her eyes.
To Magnus's immense surprise, what he heard when he opened the door was this greeting: "Moo!"
He peeked inside, then peeked again. "You bought me a cow for a wedding gift?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" she said, practically jumping up and down with excitement. "Do you like it?"
"I love it," he said, hugging her warmly. " 'Tis the best wedding gift I have ever received."
"Well, I have another one," she said nervously.
He cocked his head in question.
She put his hand over her stomach. "I'm… I'm going to have a baby."
"But the birthing pills?"
"They don't always work, Magnus. Please don't think that I lied to you about being pregnant when you asked that one time. I was wrong."
"Well, I was wrong about the cow."
"Huh?"
"This baby is the best wedding gift I have ever received. Oh, sweetling, do not look at me like that. Didst doubt I would be anything but happy about a child of your womb… even when I was being blind and bull-headed?"
They hugged some more; then Magnus announced, "I forgot. I have a wedding gift for you, too." Taking her hand, he ran toward the house with her, forcing her to lift the hem of her gown high off the ground to keep up with him. When they got inside the house, he started to lead her up the stairs.
"Not that surprise," she said. "Not with all these people here."
He laughed and chucked her under the chin. "Even I would not be so crude." Lifting her in his arms, he carried her all the way to the third floor, where his bedchamber was located. On a low table sat a sloppily wrapped package in floral paper.
Tentatively she opened the package. Inside were six empty bottles of wine, each with the Blue Dragon label. Pinot noir. Chardonnay. Cabernet sauvignon. Sauvignon blanc. Zinfandel. Sangiovese. But the most amazing thing to Angela was the date on each of the labels: 2004. That was next year.
"Magnus?"
"My gift to you is that we will be resuming wine making at Blue Dragon."
"But that's impossible. Oh, I thank you for the kindness of your gesture, but it would take a monumental amount of money to start up again."
"Well, that is my second surprise, sweetling." He opened the door to the closet, where there were four antique chests stacked one atop the other. He opened one and out spilled dozens and dozens of old gold coins. Likewise the second chest. And the third. The fourth one was different. It had precious gold and silver jewelry… chains, armrings, necklets, brooches… many set with amber, amethyst, or chrysalite stones, and a few with rubies and emeralds.
"You've had all of this and kept it a secret from me?"
"Well, not precisely a secret."
She put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot.
"Not a secret. A surprise."
"This is worth a fortune!"
"Yea, 'tis. More than enough to open the winery again, I figure."
"Oh, Magnus. Thank you so much."
"Save your thanks, wench, for I have a third surprise for you."
"You are full of surprises, aren't you?"
He nodded. "I lied on the stairway when I said I was not so crude a man." He made this confession with total lack of contrition. "In truth, I am very crude. 'Tis one of my better traits. In fact," he said, and picked her up, tossed her on the bed, flipped her gown up to her waist, and crawled up over her, "I have saved the best gift for last. 'Tis something I want to show you."
"And that would be?" Luckily, she was laughing.
"The famous Viking S-spot."
Author's Note
Dear Reader:
I never intended to write a story for Magnus Ericsson, the third brother from The Last Viking and Truly, Madly Viking. Why else would I have created a man who was crude, a farmer, and the father of thirteen children? Definitely not hero material! More like a humorous secondary character destined to stay just that.
But then one day, the title The Very Virile Viking, came to me, and I realized that there was only one man who deserved such a description. Virile, indeed! But how to redeem a man who had had all those wives, mistresses, and "passing fancies"—that was the question.
It is my intention that this will be the last book in this particular series. However, you must note that I left Magnus's son, Ragnor, behind in the Norselands, and I have portrayed him as quite a roguish fellow, even at sixteen. Do you think that was my subsconscious's way of leaving a door open?
I hope you will let me know what you think of Magnus. I personally think he developed into quite a guy.
Your thoughts on my books, your support, and your loyalty are always appreciated. And I'm always willing to listen to what you would like to see next on my creative palette. Another Viking? If so, should it be the twins, Toste and Vagn? Or young Jamie, the Highland Viking? Or one of Tyra's many sisters? Or Alrek, the clumsy boy from My Fair Viking?