Page 122 of Hot & Heavy

Madrene studied Kolbein and saw the same quiet demeanor he'd had as a boy. Yea, she could see him in the religious life.

"This is Hamr."

Madrene clapped her hands together and laughed. "Did you ever get the bow and arrow you always wanted?"

Hamr, as tall and burly as their father at… what?… nineteen?… gave her a fierce hug. "Oh, yeah. A long time ago."

"But he is more interested in football and wenches now than archery," her father joshed.

Madrene looked down the long line of people waiting to meet her and felt overwhelmed.

"Jogeir, dance for your sister," her father said then to a handsome man of about twenty years.

"Father!" Jogeir protested, but came forward, lifted her in his arms and twirled her about.

When he set her back on the ground, Madrene recalled that Jogeir had been lame. She glanced down at his straight leg in question and understood her father's odd request that Jogeir dance for her.

"He had an operation to fix his leg," her father explained. "So fit is he now that he is a runner in the Olympics when he is not studying farming in college."

Madrene smiled, not understanding half of what he said. The gist, though, was that Jogeir was no longer lame, he could run well, and he still wanted to be a farmer.

Njal, ever the mischievous one, came next. Wearing what she recognized as a Navy uniform, he winked before giving her a loud kiss on the mouth.

Storvald, at twenty-seven, worked as a craftsman at Uncle Rolf's Viking village, Rosestead.

And next was Dagny, who stood staring at her with tear-filled eyes. Her father had said she was a talented painter. They hugged warmly, but Madrene did not know this young woman of twenty-five. Last time she'd seen her, Dagny had been twelve and Madrene seventeen.

The woman next to her, only one year older, had to be Kirsten. It was Madrene who hugged fiercely now. Kirsten and Madrene, even at a young age, had often been left to manage the large household when one nursemaid after another left in a huff. Kirsten told her that she was a teacher at a large university, which was a school for adults.

That comprised her immediate family, and Madrene's head was swimming with all the new faces. None of her brothers and sisters had married yet, except for Ragnor.

Finally, her father introduced her to his wife, Angela, who took both her hands in hers and said with great sincerity, "Welcome home, honey. This is your home, as long as you want."

Madrene glanced about. It was a pretty place, but it did not feel like home to her.

She also met Angela's eighty-nine-year-old grandmother; Ragnor's wife Alison, who was Ian's sister—

Madrene wanted to speak with her later; Uncle Rolf's wife Meredith and their children Foster and Rose; Uncle Jorund's wife Maggie and their children Eric and the twins, Magnus and Mikkel, along with his stepchildren, another set of twins, Suzy and Beth, who were studying medicine.

After that, mayhem ruled… just like it had back at Norstead. Everyone talking at once. Laughter. Rough play among the boys. Shrieks from the girls. An occasional shout from one of the men. Loud music in the background. Pots and pans clattering. The only thing different was there were no babies crying, but that would come in time. Madrene realized in that instant that she had become accustomed to a peaceful, ordered life.

Can I live in such noisy chaos again?

I hope I don't have to.

As if sensing her discomfort, Angela took Madrene by the elbow and said, "Let me show you to your room." They went into the house, but before they went up the stairs to her sleeping chamber, Angela led her into a solar where a large portrait hung over the fireplace mantel. It depicted a stunning woman with long blond hair, dressed in regal Norse attire.

"That's you," Angela told her. "Dagny painted it from memory."

"Me?" Madrene, who had never had a mirror till she came to this country, was shocked. A polished piece of brass sufficed back in the Norselands. Praise the gods! Does my bosom really look like that?

No wonder men stare at me! She recognized the gown, but she did not know that woman in the portrait. Worse, she was beginning to suspect she did not know the woman she had become. I am truly lost.

When great minds gather, make sure there's enough beer…

It was late at night, and everyone was asleep at Blue Dragon except for the Ericsson and Magnusson men, who sat about the kitchen table making important plans. Beer… not wine… flowed in abundance.

Even Torolf had managed to fly in for the night, and would return to the base and his training expedition early the next day. Which brought to mind Ian, who was glaringly missing. If Torolf had come, Ian could have, too.