Page 74 of The Last Viking

Thea was babysitting tonight so that Sonja and Mike could go out to dinner and a movie. Her niece would be back by midnight, but Meredith wasn’t taking any chances. Rolf would make sexual mincemeat of her if he got her alone for more than an hour. So, employing the weapon women have been using throughout the ages to ward off aggressive men—hiding—she’d stayed intentionally late at her office, then had done some unnecessary shopping at the mall and supermarket.

She felt a bit guilty, knowing Rolf would be chagrined that she hadn’t taken him to the mall with her. It was one of his and Thea’s favorite places.

As she pulled into the driveway, Meredith noted that the students had left for the day, but the house was fully lit, as well as the side yard with its floodlights. How different it was from the dark, lonely house she’d approached just one week ago! It seemed impossible that she’d only known Rolf for seven days.

She could see him now in jeans and T-shirt pounding away on the project ship. The man never stopped working. He was obsessed. In more ways than one.

She blinked away the tears that filled her eyes, knowing the inevitable day would come when she’d drive home like this and he’d no longer be here. How could he have become such an important part of her life in such a short time? Was their love destined, as Rolf believed?

In any case, he’d been a godsend to her in at least one respect. Since he’d reassumed control of the shipbuilding project three days ago, it was moving along at a surprisingly rapid pace. His small ship, Fierce Destiny, was almost completed, thanks to his fifteen- to twenty-hour work days, though there was much finishing work to be done. And the new Trondheim vessel was fully framed out and ready for the planking. Fierce Eagle was going to be a spectacular ship, as great as any of its Viking forebears. Once the students returned to classes next week, they wouldn’t be able to come out so often; so, she was elated to see so much done this week.

With the brisk efficiency of a born leader, Rolf had taken over management of all the various activities related to the ship construction and its ancillary Viking projects. But, even as he concentrated his efforts on his job, overseeing the students and working hands-on himself, he was relentless in his crusade to win her over. Among the arsenal of weapons he employed, the most obvious were the bridal gifts that he lavished on her.

“Rolf, I can’t accept this,” she’d said Wednesday when he slipped an engagement ring on her finger. It was a heavy gold ring of intertwining wolves, the center stone being the yellow citrine eye of the beast in profile.

“’Tis not the traditional-style betrothal ring in your land,” he’d explained huskily, “but it seemed perfect when I saw it in the antiques dealer’s shop. Some refer to Vikings as sea wolves, and Geirolf means wolf in my language, you know.”

I know, she’d thought, but what she’d said was, “I will not marry you.”

“Whate’er you say, dearling.”

And somehow the ring had stayed on her finger.

Then came the soft-as-silk bridal bed furs yesterday. He’d caught her in the kitchen before she’d left for the college. No hiding that time.

“Sable? You thick-headed dolt! Do you ever listen to anything I say? I will never—absolutely, positively never—sleep on the fur of some poor endangered species.”

“Ah, but you must look closer, sweetling. ’Tis a high-quality fake fur. See, I do listen to you.”

“Hmpfh! Well, anyhow, I will not marry you.”

“Whate’er you say, dearling.”

“What’s that I smell on your breath? What have you been eating?” she’d asked then. His lips, and hands, and body, were never far from her when they were in a room together. It was as if he had a homing device implanted in his brain with a magnetic pull toward her. Or maybe it was implanted in another body part.

“Ah, I have discovered another food from the gods…almost as good as Oreos.” He’d held a sandwich in front of her face.

She’d sniffed. “Peanut butter?”

“Yea. Thea introduced me to this delicacy. At first, I thought ’twas a prank she played on me. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, but she advised me on the proper method of making the sand-witch. The key is in the jam, you know?”

“It’s not a very filling breakfast,” she’d said dubiously.

“Oh, but I’ve had ten,” he’d countered brightly.

“Don’t tell me…washed down with beer?”

“Of course.”

She’d laughed then, something she did a lot these days. He might frustrate and infuriate her with his insistence that they would marry and then part, but he also brought a smile to her face. It was hard to hate a man who made you smile. Not that she even remotely hated him. Lord, no. Just the opposite.

So, now it was Friday—their anniversary, in a way. She cringed to think what outrageous bride gift would greet her now.

Oh, who was she kidding? She could hardly wait.

Meredith was putting groceries away when Rolf came in. The first thing he did was kiss her…thoroughly. It was what he always did, whether there were people about or not. He claimed he couldn’t help himself, any more than he could resist touching her. She no longer resisted…his kisses, at least. She enjoyed them too much. She probably had a sexual homing device, too.

“Why did you go to the food mart without me?” he complained, nipping at her shoulder as she shrugged out of his arms. Then his eyes latched onto a bag with a mall store imprint. “And the mall, too! Oh, you are a cruel, cruel woman. I will have to think of some suitable punishment.”