Page 84 of Viking Unchained

Only a few more days.

Chapter 16

A regular melting pot in a

farm kitchen . . .

There were eleven people seated at the kitchen table, and another three posted outside who would eat later. Lydia’s mother was in her glory.

Her father and mother kept glancing at Finn. They were suspicious of his silver eyes and the instant affinity he had with Mike; they had told her so.

They were also suspicious of what she and Finn had been doing in the barn, as well. Lydia hadn’t realized why ’til she’d gone to her old bedroom and seen in the mirror that her lips were kiss-swollen, her neck whisker-burned, and her T-shirt all wrinkled. Not to mention her eyes, glistening with postcoital satisfaction. Then there was Finn, who looked like a man who had just had the time of his life and was happy that everyone knew it. The louse! The lovable louse, that is.

Also at the table were Geek, JAM, Torolf, Magnus, and one of his other sons. And a babbling Mike, who had attached himself to Finn’s side like a burr, one he welcomed. Slick and two more of Magnus’s sons were outside. If the situation weren’t so serious, it would seem like a joyous occasion. While he talked with Mike on his one side, Finn clasped Lydia’s hand under the table on his other side, occasionally, almost distractedly, using his thumb to caress her wrist, which kept her in a constant state of arousal, probably obvious in her flushed face.

Her mother had made her famous pot roast with dark gravy, potatoes, carrots, corn on the cob, homemade bread and butter, salad, and a red-velvet chocolate cake with whipped cream icing, which had won her a blue ribbon at the county fair three years in a row when Lydia had been in high school.

Everything was made in quadruple amounts to what she usually prepared. Pitchers of cold milk, equally cold beer, and ice water were consumed in vast quantities.

Before they ate, her father said grace, which everyone respected, but she could tell it was not a common occurrence. Not with the Vikings, nor the SEALs.

But Magnus soon rid her of that notion. “My mother was a Christian who also insisted on grace afore meals. I lost the habit for many years, but started again when I married my wife, Angela, who was raised in the Catholic faith.”

“Obviously, I am not unaccustomed to prayer,” said JAM, who had once studied for the priesthood.

“Well, here on the farm, we keep with traditional values, ” her father said. His remark seemed to be directed at Finn. Was he hinting that he didn’t want him sleeping with his daughter? Too late for that!

Out of the blue, Mike told Finn, “I saw a cow making a baby today.” He spoke with a slight lisp because of his missing front teeth. The second teeth were already peeping through the gums.

Finn choked on a mouthful of beef and quickly washed it down with water.

“Mike!” Lydia’s father cautioned.

“The breeder guy came and stuck his arm all the way up Lubelle’s butt, then he put a long straw in. There was sea-man in the straw. Betcha doan know what sea-man is.”

“Mike, honey, this really isn’t appropriate conversation for—”

“That ol’ Lubelle was mooin’ and mooin’ and mooin’. I was scared ’cause it sounded like she was screamin’, but PopPop said she was jist tellin’ the breeder what a stud he was.”

“Dad!” Lydia glared at her red-faced father.

“Travis Hartley! How could you?” Her mother walked over and smacked him with a dish towel. “What a thing to show a little boy!”

“I’m not little,” Mike protested. Then, turning to Finn again, he said, “Maybe we can go see the breeder makin’ babies again tomorrow. PopPop sez Vanessa is horny ’n oughtta be in heat by now. That means a cow is hot ta trot.”

"Let me guess. PopPop told you that, too.” Lydia was shaking her head at her father. But she couldn’t really blame him. Life tended to be earthy on a farm, by necessity. She’d seen many a cow serviced by a bull in her day, then inseminated by artificial breeders as the herd grew and modern technology took over.

Meanwhile everyone at the table was laughing now, including her mother. Her adorable son, with his milk mustache and two missing front teeth, was beaming at his audience.

“I do not understand. What is wrong with the usual way of breeding? A strong bull. A willing cow.” This from Magnus, who supposedly had had a huge farm in the old country. “All this science when the old ways work just as well.”

“Too dangerous now,” her father explained. “Bulls can be mean sons a bitches . . . I mean, they are a danger to other animals and people, too. Besides, there are more accurate results with artificial insemination.”

“When I first came to this country, I would have considered a farm like yours sheer paradise . . .

Valhalla, to us Vikings,” Magnus told her father. “To this day, I yearn to return to farming, even with the fancy new methods.”

“Not to worry, father,” Jogeir said, patting Magnus’s shoulder. “I will be the farmer in our family.”