Page 60 of Kiss of Wrath

Cnut gave Harek a warning look.

Harek apparently agreed with Cnut’s warning. “I have said more than I should have. Anything else on the subject will have to come from Mordr.”

“Be forewarned, however, Mordr does not talk about his children,” Cnut told her. “He can go into a rage at mere mention of the tragedy that befell his family.”

“Just one more question.” Miranda couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to her before. “You mentioned children. How about their mother? Is Mordr married?”

“Not anymore. His wife was killed, too.” In an obvious attempt to change the subject, Harek asked Miranda, “Is there any more beer left in your refrigerator?”

“Sure. Stay here and relax until dinner.” She pointed to the patio chairs. “I’ll bring the beers out to you. First, I need to see how much damage my gremlins have done inside. Leave them alone for five minutes, and you never know what you’ll find.” Sure enough, there was water and dirt splattered everywhere, and their attempts to clean it up were making it worse. First things first. She took two beers out of the fridge.

Mordr walked in just then, emerging from the small guest bedroom she’d assigned him yesterday. He wore the same light blue Minnesota Vikings T-shirt as before, but he’d changed into a pair of navy-blue cargo shorts and leather flip-flops.

His eyes widened at the mess in the kitchen after he, or Mrs. Delgado, had gone to so much trouble to clean it so well earlier. Immediately, he took charge. “Miranda, take those beers outside to my brothers.” Through the sliding doors, they could be seen talking. Harek stretched out on the chaise lounge and Cnut at the patio table. “The children and I will get dinner ready.” Turning away, as if he expected her to obey his commands in her house, Mordr began ordering the children to various tasks.

“Sam, get the table extension from the hall closet.”

Sam objected, “It’s too heavy.”

“Oh really? Mayhap Linda can do it.”

Insulted, Sam stomped off. “I’ll do it. Dammit!”

“Swear jar, swear jar,” the other children hooted.

Muttering under his breath, Sam dug into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a quarter, dropping it with a clink into the five-gallon amber jar sitting on the floor by the fridge. Before he did that, though, Sam shook his wet hands in Ben’s face.

Ben was about to chase after Sam with a glass of water until he saw Mordr’s scowl. “Toss that water anywhere but the sink and you are going to find yourself doing five laps around the house before dinner.”

Ben paused, contemplating whether doing laps would be fun or not, but then he emptied the glass into the sink.

“Now, wipe off this table and the countertops and that puddle on the floor. How could you bratlings splatter water from the sink all the way over there?”

“Is bratling a bad word?” Linda wanted to know from her position under the table where she was sitting with Ruff. The dog was there, tongue lolling, waiting in his usual spot for dinner and any food that dropped his way. Linda had presumably wanted to escape the water battles.

Ben protested, “How come I have to do so much, and all Sam—”

“Now!”

Sam shot out of the kitchen, and Ben began vigorously wiping the floor. With a dish towel!

“Larry, set out nine placemats with nine dinner plates. Linda, put cutlery next to each plate. Maggie, will you help me slice the bread and set out the food?” He suddenly noticed that Miranda still stood there, a long-neck bottle in each hand. “Well? What is the problem? Are you waiting for the beer to warm up?”

“Uh.”

“Back in my time . . . uh, country, we had naught but warm beer, except in the wintertime, but now . . .” He made a shivering motion. “We find it too flat and unpalatable. I know what you are thinking. Spoiled, we Vikings are becoming.”

He had no idea what she was thinking. It had nothing to do with beer, but more with how attractive he looked to her. Or that he smelled good, too. That delicious limey sandalwood scent that tempted her to walk over and lean in to lick his neck. And she didn’t even like limes. Or at least she hadn’t in the past.

He was a tall, gorgeous package to begin with. All muscles and sinews and sharp Nordic features, with beautiful eyes and hair nicer than hers, darn it, but now that she knew a little about his past, that he’d lost two of his children, he was even more attractive to her. And that was dangerous territory for a woman who had way too much responsibility at the moment and no time for an affair.

Affair? Where did that idea come from? Mordr hadn’t offered her anything like that. Just a kiss.

Hah! There was no way that was just a kiss. More like a lesson in eroticism.

If he could affect her so with a kiss, what would happen if—

“Miranda! Are we playing statues now?” Mordr said in a tone that was as close to teasing as he was capable of. “If so, dinner will be cold afore we are done.”