Page 116 of Kiss of Wrath

Epilogue

A garden party, Viking style . . .

Mordr Sigurdsson and Miranda Hart were married three weeks later in the backyard of their new home.

A rental company provided a large tent to accommodate the fifty family members and guests who attended. Caterers provided a fancy buffet for the reception that followed. Some folks were surprised to see Oreos on the table. The bartender was told to make sure there was plenty of beer. Vikings did like their beer! There was also a case of Fake-O in the basement refrigerator for any vangels in need.

To show that he was a modern man and willing to live a modern life for his new wife, Mordr wore a black tuxedo, not the usual Norse wedding attire. Because he’d been out on a mission last week, saving sinners threatened by Lucipires in Atlantic City, his skin was a deep tan, a handsome complement to his blond hair, which was growing out, something his new wife encouraged. She had loved his war braids, which she preferred to call “love braids” when they were in the privacy of their own room.

His brother Vikar, his best man, and his five groomsmen, Trond, Ivak, Cnut, Harek, and Sigurd, wore tuxedos, as well. Darla, who was Miranda’s maid of honor, said it was the best eye candy she’d ever seen and soon had everyone calling Sigurd Dr. McDreamy, to which he just smiled, not at all embarrassed. He probably got that a lot at Johns Hopkins. Also, Vikings liked to embarrass one another. It was in their genes.

Miranda wore a calf-length, long-sleeved, scoop-necked cocktail dress of cream-colored lace. Her red hair was piled atop her head, interweaved with a circlet of miniature cream roses and white baby’s breath. Mordr whispered to her that the best thing about lace was the skin that peeked through. Pure temptation. She wore an amber heart in an ancient gold pendant about her neck, a bride gift from Mordr the night before. She’d thanked him appropriately.

Sam and Ben gave Miranda away. Larry served as a junior groomsman. All looked adorable in their child-size tuxedos.

Maggie and Linda were bridesmaids in frothy green dresses. Linda wore a tiara, as well, one Mordr had bought for her in a costume store. And Vikar’s twin children, Gunnar and Gunnora, served as ring bearer and flower girl, when they weren’t scurrying around, chasing a big white bear of a dog wearing a huge green ribbon. Green was the color theme of the wedding, to match the bride’s eyes, Mordr told everyone.

The minister, who arrived to perform the ceremony and left immediately after, wore austere clerical garb, which only enhanced his almost celestial appearance. Some said the sun shone down directly on the priest as he stood at the improvised altar, creating the illusion of a halo, which was impossible, of course. When he was performing the rites, he used an aspergillum to sprinkle holy water over the rings the bride and groom would exchange. He managed to wave a goodly amount in Mordr’s direction, too, dousing his entire face with holy water. “A Viking can never be too holy,” the archangel explained, clearly unapologetic.

Mordr wiped off his face using a St. Jude handkerchief, passed up to him by an old lady from Louisiana sitting in the front pew. Tante Lulu, she was called. Miranda had met her during her short visit to Ivak’s home after the kidnapping by Roger. Because the wedding was in Las Vegas, Tante Lulu was dressed like a ninety-year-old showgirl. (Don’t ask!)

Before he left, Michael took Harek, Cnut, and Sigurd off to the side and he was seen, stern-faced, wagging a forefinger at them. Everyone surmised it was a warning not to follow their brothers’ suit in pursuing mortal women.

The star of the day, aside from the bride, was two-week old Michael Sigurdsson, nicknamed Max, to distinguish him from that other Michael. The archangel who had been there soon after the birth—possibly during, no one knew for sure—had told Ivak, “Do not think to get on my better side by naming your child after me.” To which Ivak had replied with wide-eyed innocence, “There is a better side?” Everyone could see how Michael doted on his namesake, appointing himself as the little one’s personal guardian angel.

But the one who almost brought the house down—rather the tent—was a young vangel named Armod, who was an avid fan of Michael Jackson. He did a rendition of “Billie Jean” that had the crowd clapping and shouting for more. With that encouragement, he performed “Beat It,” and “Don’t Stop ’Til You Get Enough.” After which he was seen teaching all the children how to do his killer break-dance routine. Jack Trixson, who’d provided a deejay for the event, said Armod could join his dance revue any day. Mordr said it was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard of, a Viking who break-dances, but he was seen to tap his feet during the songs, too.

Miranda told Armod how impressed she was with his dancing.

“If you think I am good, you ought to see the VIK dance!” Armod rolled his eyes at her. “They do a cool version of the ‘Chains, Chains, Chains’ dance from that John Travolta movie Michael.”

“Who or what is the VIK?” Miranda asked, wondering how anyone could describe Mordr as “cool.”

“The seven Sigurdsson brothers. Our commanders.”

“Really?” Miranda turned to address Mordr who was talking to Tante Lulu. “Mordr, you told me that you couldn’t dance. Now I find out that you do a wonderful Michael dance. And you’re cool!”

Mordr shot Armod a scowl, and the boy hurried away, laughing.

“I saw Ivak do the chains dance one time in Loo-zee-anna when my family was doin’ a musical revue at Angola Prison. Talk about!” Tante Lulu piped in.

There had to be a story there, Miranda decided.

“They were really, really good. Even better than Richard Simmons, my all-time favorite fella.”

Still another story, Miranda thought.

Mordr steered Miranda away, toward the side of the house. “I am not dancing today. Do not even think of asking the deejay to play that song.”

“Whatever you say, sweetling.” She rather liked the Viking endearment, and by his grin, Miranda assumed that Mordr liked it, too, when she reciprocated. “Will you do the dance for me later when we’re alone?”

“I intend to be naked when we are alone.”

“That works for me.”

“Miranda!” He grinned. “How daring you are when we are in the midst of a party! I will dance for you if you will do something for me.”

She laughed. “I think I’ve already done that.”