Page 34 of The Very Virile Viking

Magnus took one startled look at the teenage girl with Torolf—a typical blond California girl wearing a thong bikini. Magnus's gaze went wide at her outfit, and Angela just knew he would be rolling his eyes if the girl were not watching. Reaching into his leather pouch, which lay beside the still sleeping baby, he was about to hand Torolf a hundred-dollar bill. Angela halted him with a hand over his and took out a ten-dollar bill instead. Magnus nodded his thanks to her. He still hadn't mastered the currency values.

Once they were gone, Magnus asked, "Do you ever wear one of those thongs?"

Not where anyone can view my backside. "Not on the beach."

"Other places?"

Hardly ever… unless it's in a dark room, and my backside is hidden. "Sure," she said. "There is thong underwear, too, you know."

"Is it not uncomfortable?"

"No. In fact, a good pair, properly fitted, can be more comfortable than traditional underwear." Angela, you are such a fraud. Victoria's Secret material you are not, and never will be .

"I can hardly fathom that."

She smiled. "Would you like me to buy you a male thong?"

He looked horrified at the suggestion. "Absolutely not."

She couldn't see him in such attire, either. He was male enough without such a blatantly teasing garment.

It would appear obscene on him.

"I would like to see you in yours, though. I would really like that." She could tell by the smoldering glint in his eyes that he meant his words. But that was a road she did not want to travel with this man…

especially this man who claimed she was his destiny, of all things. Best to change the subject. "Where is the mother of all these kids?"

"There is no one mother. There have been four wives, six concubines, numerous passing fancies, and at least one barley-faced maid, which I can only attribute to a fit of mead-head madness on my part. All of my women, one by one, have had the temerity to die on me, desert me, or, to my shame, divorce me, as my most recent wife, Inga, did publicly at an Althing. Claimed she was tired of playing slave to all my babes, she did. Norsemen from here to Birka are still laughing about that happenstance."

She could tell this long spiel of Magnus's was a pat answer he gave to a question he'd no doubt been asked many times.

"You're embarrassed," she teased.

He shrugged. "I do not have much woman luck… leastways in keeping women. Attracting them and

pleasing them has never been a problem, though."

Not much trouble pleasing women, huh? Now that posed some interesting questions that she was not going to ask.

Apparently disapproval was evident in her expression, because he asked, "You disapprove of my children?"

"Just the number of them."

"I take good care of all my children. They want for nothing," he informed her defensively.

"How about a mother? Children need a mother."

"There is that lack, but I try to make up for it." Whatever anger he had felt at her condemnation quickly melted as he admitted, "It is an excessive number of children. I cannot help that my seed is so virile, but—"

Oh, my God! Did he really say that?

"—that is why I took my vow of celibacy. There will be no more babes born of my loins, if I can help it."

Oh, my God! Did he really say that? "You… you are celibate?" she finally sputtered out.

"I am trying."

My mind is boggling here. A man this hot, and he's celibate. Well, at least he's not gay. "All those sizzling looks you keep giving me, and you are celibate?" Those words were blurted out before she had a chance to curb her tongue.