Page 46 of Kiss of Wrath

“Doesn’t seem fair to me.” Maggie continued to scowl at him as if he were personally responsible for the inequality of the sexes back then.

“How come you talk like you lived back then?” Larry asked.

Good question! “It is just a way of telling a story about our history,” Mordr fabricated.

“Go on,” Linda encouraged as she pressed her blond head against his knee. Although he wore blue denim braies today, he could feel the fine hairs on his legs stand on end at the sweetness of the gesture.

“So, it was time for me to go on my first adventure. I had been training with the older men, of course, since—”

“With swords?” Ben asked with awe.

Mordr nodded.

“Real swords, not wooden ones?” Sam specified.

Mordr nodded again. “We practiced with wooden swords as youthlings, my brothers and I, then moved on to short swords, then later broadswords.”

“How many brothers do you have?” Larry was picking his nose and examining his find as he asked the question.

“Six.”

“And sisters?” This from Maggie, of course, who was still disgruntled over girls being barred from manly ventures.

“No sisters.” Then, as a concession to Maggie, he added, “I did not mean to imply that women always stayed at home. There were always exceptions. Like Boudicca, the Celtic warrior queen. And female pirates. And, on the rare occasion, a Viking woman on a longship adventure.” But only when their lackwit fathers or husbands permitted such foolishness.

“Whoa! Pirates?” Ben exclaimed with a wishful gleam in his eyes.

“I want a real sword,” Sam declared. “If Viking boys got real swords, why can’t I have one?”

“Can I have a kitten?” Linda asked with absolutely no relevance.

Larry continued to search for booty in his nose and wipe his fingers on his pants. Which reminded Mordr that he should make him wash his hands afore dinner.

Maggie had her little arms folded over her little chest, still upset over the female situation in Viking times. “If I lived then, I would organize all the women to demand our rights.”

And end up locked in some tower or minus a tongue. “Good for you!”

Just then, all the children spoke together, each with different opinions, each with different questions. Ben tackled Sam ’til he was face first on the floor and sat on him because Sam called Ben a wuss. And Maggie shoved Larry for making a rude remark about girls doing girl things. And Linda was singing some song for him that she had learned in school that day, something about the wheels going around. So much for his story!

Mordr put his face in his hands as chaos reigned around him. Maybe he should suggest more Oreos. Just then, he smelled something floral. Light. Not overpowering. But compelling. Oh no! Lilies. He raised his head and saw Miranda standing in the open doorway. He hadn’t even realized that she had come home.

The children’s backs were to her; so, for the moment, they were unaware of her presence. Which gave Mordr a chance to study her. She wore a seemingly modest dress today. Green silk, ending at the knees. But it seemed to wrap around, one side, then the other, with a bow tied on the left at her small waist. He wondered idly—or not so idly—if that bow was the only thing holding the garment together. What would happen if he walked over and leaned down to her neck to see if the floral scent was truly her skin’s natural odor or some artificial perfume and at the same time, slipped the knot on the bow, then stepped back to see what treasures lay hidden under—

“Aunt Mir!”

“You’re home!”

The children jumped up and ran to Miranda, giving her a group hug, even the older boys. She smiled down at them, kissing the tops of their unruly heads. She couldn’t appear more maternal if she was their real mother.

They were all talking at once then, telling her about their day. The night crawler incident was noticeably absent. She listened intently to each of them, then ruffled the hair on Ben and Sam and told them all, “Take your school things up to your rooms and you can play out back until dinner. Maybe you could set up that new croquet set and . . .”

Her words trailed off as the kids grabbed their books and notebooks and rushed for the stairs.

“I call dibs on the red ball.”

“I get yellow.”

“You always get yellow.”