Page 111 of Viking Unchained

Something new and beautiful—and frightening—took root inside Lydia’s chest and unfurled with exquisite intensity. She had thought she loved him before, but this was so much more. It took their love to a higher plane.

Still holding her arm fast, Finn flicked open the velvet box, one-handed, then took out a heavy, ornate gold ring in a writhing dragon motif. He slipped it on the third finger of her right hand. “’Tis the first of my arrha gifts for you. At our wedding, you move it to your left hand, promising obedience to me.” He chuckled. “Well, mayhap we could substitute fidelity for obedience.”

Lydia admired his gift, closing her fingers to keep the huge gold band from slipping off. Looking closer, she saw that the dragon had a tiny ruby star in its mouth. “Where did you get this? It’s so unusual.”

“The Super Highway. And fast delivery from the FedEx man. Geek helped me. Really, Lydia, someday we must travel there. They have products from ’round the world.”

She smiled. “Tell me again why you got this . . . what did you call it . . . arrha?”

“It means earnest gift. Vikings give three bridal gifts. The ring was the first.” Then he handed her a pink satin ballet-type slipper. “Normally, I would have brought one of my mother’s.” He shrugged at the impossibility of that. “So, Wal-Mart had to suffice.”

“Only one?” she asked with a laugh, pleased, despite herself, that Finn had taken the time for all these ritual items.

He grinned. “The husband swats the wife on the head with it during the marriage ceremony.”

“Marriage?” she squeaked out.

“Yea, marriage. What did you think we were pledging here? Lust? Well, that, too. In the Norselands, the bride’s father hands the shoe to the groom, transferring authority over his daughter. Dost think your father would do that?”

“Hah! Since I left home, my father has had no control over me. Actually, he likes you so much, he’d probably do anything if it meant bringing you into the family.”

Thorfinn continued to grin. “On the wedding night, I will place the other shoe under my pillow on the marriage bed to show who is in charge.”

Lydia shoved the slipper back into his hands. “Keep your slipper, but I’ll keep the ring, thank you very much. Well, if that’s all—”

“Nay, you forget. I mentioned there were three earnest gifts.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“The traditional betrothal kiss.” Before she could demur, he leaned forward. And he kissed her with such warmth that tears formed behind her eyelids.

He laughed then. “I give you four weeks to arrange a wedding, but know this: my interfering family will probably insist on a Viking ceremony.”

“We can do both.”

He nodded. “We will be happy together. That, I promise. ”

“I know we will be.”

He flashed her a wicked grin then. “Now, time for one more gift. I propose to reciprocate with the bed gift you gave me.”

She frowned in confusion, then laughed. “Ah, the infamous intimate kiss.”

“With a Viking slant to it.”

“Hmmmm. Sounds . . . interesting.”

That night she and Finn explored a new erotic spot, not the Viking S-Spot, or the modern G-Spot. No, this was the I-spot, thus named because all she could gasp out was, "I ... I ... I...”

It was a Viking feast fit for a

king . . . uh, farmer . . .

Thorfinn Haraldsson and Lydia Denton were set to be married four weeks later under a tent at Mill Pond Farm.

Torolf Magnusson was his best man, and Kirstin Magnusson was the maid of honor, a modern designation that did not exist in his time. There were so many Vikings and SEALs in attendance that someone said they could form two football teams. So, they did, and a pickup game was held in the middle of the reception later that day.

But before that, they were married by a clergyman and then in the Norse tradition. Lydia’s father led her over a white carpet . . . not an easy task on a farm. Later, people remarked that they had never heard a wedding march with a mooing backbeat. The bride walked under a canopy of swords. Viking and military dress swords. The SEALs wore white dress uniforms, often referred to as ice-cream-man attire, whatever that meant. The Viking men wore traditional garb befitting high Norse nobles, embroidered velvet and fine wool tunics over slim braies, belted with silver chains or tooled leather. Some wore fur-lined surcoats with shoulder mantles held together with ancient penannular-style brooches. Those with long hair had thin war braids framing their handsome faces. Thorfinn himself was dressed all in blue . . . a blue so dark it appeared black, from leather half-boots to braies to tunic, the darkness broken only by the gold-linked belt at his waist, and gold-embroidered stars along the edges.