Page 52 of Viking Unchained

Truthfully, she was still confused, but even the remotest possibility that Dave had sent him, or that God had sent him to make up for Dave, had her willing to accept him as he was. Even his stupid Viking time-travel story.

“Let’s go for a swim,” she suggested, standing and tugging the long T-shirt off and over her head. “Then I’ll run with you.”

He just stood, staring at her.

“What?”

“In that garment”—he waved a hand to indicate her one-piece maillot bathing suit, nothing scandalous— “there are other things I would rather do with you.”

“Don’t you think we need to give it a rest?”

“It? Dost mean my manpart? Believe you me, it needs no rest.”

Still, he followed her out in the shallow water, then dived into an oncoming wave after her. Once on the other side, however, he proved that he did, indeed, need no rest, and he gave new meaning to the term “a dirty swim.”

Later, he showed her the famous Viking S-Spot on her body, which resulted in a number of unending, spectacular multiple orgasms. Once sated, or rather depleted . . . both of them . . . Lydia stared up at Finn, too stunned to speak.

“We Vikings are a generous people,” he told her with one of his rare, dimple-flashing smiles. “We like to give gifts.”

“Some gift! I have none to give you in return.”

“Well, I do not know about that.”

That night, she did a dance demonstration for him in her basement. With the pole as a stripper prop and Aretha Franklin belting out “A Natural Woman.”

Afterward, with both of them splatted out on the carpet, naked, and the mirrors all fogged up, he said, “Are you sure you are not Viking?”

She was pretty sure that was his way of saying he liked her gift.

The lackwit maiden thought he was the answer to her

prayers . . .

In the middle of the night, Thorfinn awakened to find himself alone in bed.

Quickly, he pulled on his den-ham braies and stomped out into the solar, where he stopped dead in his tracks.

The room was dark, but dim light filtered through the windows from a half-moon outside. Wearing a silk robe, Lydia was on her knees, hands folded in front of her breasts.

“Dear God,” she prayed. “Yeah, I know. Long time no see.” She sighed, then continued, “Ever since Dave’s death, I lost my belief in you and everything holy, but this Finn . . . God above, did you send him to me? Did Dave ask you to send him? It feels like a healing since Finn’s arrival, and I can’t help but think . . .”

He realized then that she was weeping. Conflicted, he leaned against the wall, not sure whether to interrupt her and proclaim the idiocy of any god having an interest in him, never mind sending him on a blessed mission, or whether to just back up and pretend he had never missed her in the bed. He did neither. He stayed and continued to listen.

“Please, God, let Finn be the answer to my prayers. Let him stay and be a family with me and Mike. Let him be Dave, but if not Dave, let there be love in my life again. Just not another military man. I cannot face the fear with every mission.”

Uh-oh! Thorfinn realized in that moment that she did not know he had been a warrior, or that he planned to become a SEAL. Somehow, deliberately at first, but later, without planning, he had failed to inform her of those crucial facts. And why do women always have to confuse lust or liking for that love pap?

“If you do these things for me, I promise to be a better person. To go to church. To have Mike baptized.

All the things I’ve neglected these past five years.”

Lydia put her face in her hands and began to sob.

He could stand by and watch her pain no more. Without warning, he walked over, picked her up in his arms, and carried her outside, where he sank down into the cushioned glider. Using his feet to propel the gliding motion, he rocked them forward and backward, over and over, her on his lap, his arms wrapped around her, his lips in her flower-scented hair.

Several times, she tried to speak.

“Did you hear everything I—”