Page 113 of The Very Virile Viking

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 halfbrain. 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."