Page 109 of The Last Viking

“Never!” How dare she liken him to that misbegotten past-husband of hers! He had just cause for his actions. Love for her had been his guiding light. “Merry-Death, if you would only listen. I had good reason for pretending to have died.”

“Nothing—nothing—in this world could justify that.” She slipped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. Turning on the ignition, she revved the motor, then glared at him as he prepared to slide into the seat next to her. “Out! You are not coming home with me now.”

“Where should I go?” he sputtered.

“I don’t know,” she wailed. “I don’t care.”

Stung, he removed his body from her vehicle and slammed his door shut with equal vehemence. “You don’t mean that, Merry-Death. Have a caution with your harsh condemnations. Some words, once spoken, can ne’er be taken back.”

She pressed her forehead against the steering wheel for a moment. Then with a long sigh, she looked up at him. “I care, Rolf, but some things are more important in life.”

“More important than love?” he scoffed.

“Yes. Like trust. Commitment. Honor. I need some time alone to think this through, Rolf. Don’t follow me. Please.”

Before he had a chance to tell her that she would be unable to reflect on the matter without all the facts, Merry-Death’s car roared away in a cloud of exhaust fumes. And Geirolf’s Viking pride kicked in.

Trust went both ways. Where was Merry-Death’s trust in him?

And what made her imagine he would chase after her like some milksop swain? He’d suffered much these past sennights, trying to find a way to stay in her time. And did she appreciate his efforts? Nay!

Worst of all, Merry-Death had questioned his honor. That insult he could not countenance. That slur to his integrity was the verbal knife wound that hurt the most.

Well, let her come to him when her common sense returned. He was a Viking. No more would he demean himself in pursuit where he was not wanted.

It was not the homecoming he’d envisioned.

Chapter Twenty

“Oh, my God! Aunt Mer, hurry! You’ve got to see this,” Thea called from the living room.

Meredith wiped her hands on a dish towel and turned down the flame under the pot of chicken soup simmering on the stove. With deliberate care, she plastered a smile on her face as she prepared to go into the other room, not wanting her niece to see how she was splintering apart inside.

It had been a week since Rolf had returned…a week during which pride had prevented each from approaching the other. Despite the urging from Mike and Thea, who’d both spoken with Rolf on numerous occasions—in fact, Rolf was staying with Mike—she’d refused to meet with him. Her feelings were still too raw.

And she feared for her baby. Did she want to bring the baby’s father into its life if he might leave at a moment’s notice? Or choose not to be in their lives, as he’d done so callously those past six weeks?

Meredith groaned as she saw why Thea had beckoned her into the living room. The girl was watching Home Improvement on the television. Dog slept at her feet, all four legs spread out.

Then Meredith did a double-take.

Was that Rolf on the screen, conversing with Tim “The Toolman” Taylor, his friend Al, and the neighbor Wilson?

It was.

Somehow, the insufferable brute had managed to get himself on the network program. He’d better not be planning on bringing the show here. I already warned him about that. He’d better not involve the Trondheim Venture. He’d better not…

Hah! The thick-headed fool would do whatever he wanted, as evidenced by his face being plastered on nationwide television—just the kind of exposure she’d warned him could be dangerous.

Rolf was dressed in full Viking regalia: thigh-length deerskin tunic, cross-gartered ankle boots, and a wide leather belt with a gold buckle. In fact, the TV cast members wore similar attire as they stood admiring a Viking longship that sat, incongruously, in Tim’s driveway.

But how had they gotten a longship on the set with such short notice? This particular model must have come from a museum, or else it had been whipped up hastily with plywood and hot glue. Or duct tape—the dumb man’s favorite tool toy.

“It’s a show about how Tim soups up his motorboat to be a ‘real man’s motorboat,’” Thea apprised her hastily, giving her a quick catch-up on what had already transpired in the program. “When he and Al tried it out on a local lake, the speedboat went about one hundred and fifty miles per hour. Of course, the stupid thing ran into the wharf, where Tim met this Viking character, played by Rolf, who had just come in from sailing his longship. Isn’t that a cool storyline, Aunt Mer?”

Yeah, real cool! Studying the screen, Meredith decided that all the men looked ludicrous, especially Tim, who sported an anachronistic horned helmet. Al had a battle-ax propped over one shoulder. Wilson’s face was screened by a battle shield.

On second thought, Rolf didn’t look ludicrous. He looked absolutely gorgeous. As usual. Darn it!