Page 85 of Truly, Madly Viking

"That is a nonanswer if I ever heard one," he scoffed.

"If time travel exists, why not Santa Claus?" He saw the grin she was trying to stifle and realized that she jested with him. He made a harrumph of disgust.

"Anyhow, you won't have to worry about Santa Claus downtown. Oh, he'll be there, by the dozen, I'm sure, but the Strand is much more Christmasy in a traditional, old-fashioned sense."

"What is the Strand?" he asked, gazing at Mag-he's lips, which were swollen from his numerous kisses.

He rather liked the idea that she carried his mark in some way.

"The Strand is the district at the heart of Galveston. In its heyday, which was the late 1800s and early 1900s, Galveston was even called the New York of Texas."

Jorund thought about letting Mag-he blather on, but he had to refute that last preposterous statement of hers. "How could a city in Tax-us be the New York? Everyone knows that York—-or Jorvik, as we Norse call it—is in England. Even I know they cannot move a city across the ocean."

Mag-he turned toward him, taking her eyes off the roadway for a brief second. "Not that York. I'm referring to New York City. Oh, never mind. It's not important."

She was correct: it was not important. What was important was that his attention had snagged on her red Christmas sweat-her, which had a green tree on the front... a green tree with colored balls, two of which were stationed right about where her nipples were—nipples for which he had developed a particular fondness. He was also fond of what was beneath her black silk braies on the bottom.

"Are you wearing undergarments?" he asked of a sudden.

"Joe! What a question to ask!"

"Are you?"

"What would make you think that I'm not?"

"A man can be hopeful, can he not? Methought you might have wanted to surprise me, since I must go celibate today."

"I think celibacy refers to a longer period than three or four hours."

" 'Tis a long time for me," he grumbled. Sighing with disappointment, he stared out the window on his side at the passing scenery.

"I'm not," she said softly, "wearing underwear."

His head swerved to the left. She was blushing profusely. Suddenly he decided shopping would not be as boring as he had contemplated.

Mag-he returned her attention to her driving, and went on talking, probably to cover her embarrassment.

"Many of the spectacular buildings erected then are still in existence on the Strand, surviving even a devastating storm in 1900. I think you'll like it."

He thought he would like to go home and practice some more oral sexing, or mayhap he would just polish Mag-he's belly button ring for her... with his tongue. And he still wanted to try licking her toes, which he had discovered were very ticklish.

"What are you grinning about?" she asked.

"Toes," he said, and winked at her.

She blushed again. But she did not turn the car around. Apparently she was bound and determined to go shopping.

He slumped down into his seat, disgusted. Oh, it would be interesting to watch Mag-he today, knowing she was nude for him beneath, but there were dozens of sexual exercises he wanted to experiment with, and only a limited number of hours left till the girls came home tomorrow night. And what did the feckless wench propose? Shopping!

In truth, women were the same throughout the ages. It mattered not if it was a shopping mall in a city or a trading stall in a market town. He didn't doubt that the first Christian man, Adam, was as beleaguered by his woman, Eve, as all men were. It would not have mattered to Eve that she had everything she could possibly need, living in the Garden of Eden. She would have wanted to go shopping, he would warrant.

For apples.

"Did you see that?" He sat up straight, undid his seat belt, rolled down the window, and leaned his head outside.

"What? What?" Mag-he asked, swerving her car over to the side of the roadway, then turning off the motor.

"Out there." Jorund pointed over the water. "I thought I saw a killer whale jumping into the air. Do you think... Yea, it must have been Thora."