The Viking's Heartwish, page 12
“Love books.” He gestured around the nicely arranged room. A small table topped with a reading lamp sat next to a comfortable looking brown leather chair and ottoman, finished with decorative upholstery tacks. “Many good books here too.” His hand skimmed over a Kindle on the table. “Favorite room.”
She could definitely see that by the care he’d taken in ensuring the library was an inviting sanctuary.
“Sit.” He patted the seat of the leather chair. “I get Anders favorite brandy.”
She sank into the butter-soft leather while Varik headed for the glass doors of the corner bookcase. He set a half-full bottle of brandy and two glasses on the table. After pouring each of them a small amount, he sat on the ottoman and raised his glass.
“To Anders and Bekka. Skal!” He took a sip following his toast and Delaney followed suit.
As they relaxed and chatted she learned he’d been homeschooled by his grandfather. They traveled to Oslo annually to have Varik tested on his scholastic progress. By the time he was twelve, he was testing at college level and had been called a boy genius.
English was the one subject Anders neglected to teach his grandson. Most Norwegians were taught English all through grade school, learning to speak it fluently. Anders, however, was a proud old-school Norwegian who believed it was important to preserve their native language and not let English take over. He told Varik that one day, when he traveled to America, he’d be able to learn English if it was still of interest. That’s what Varik meant yesterday when he’d said it was his grandfather’s fault that he didn’t speak English.
“Bestefar not usosial eremitt like Heidi’s grandfather.” Noticing Delaney’s befuddled expression, Varik added, “Must to think...” Cradling his head, he massaged his temples. “Ett moment.” He went to the desk at one corner of the room, returning with his Norwegian-English dictionary. After looking up the words, he smiled. “Grandfather not unsociable hermit.” With an apologetic shrug, he said, “Sorry. Hard sometimes.” He stuffed the slim paperback into one of his back pockets.
“Don’t apologize. You’re doing great.”
“We live in small village. Grandpa excellent teacher...excellent friend.” There was a distant look in his gaze as he continued. “Good man. Much love.” Varik knocked his fist against his chest. “Next time I see him in Valhalla.” His smile was wistful.
“How long ago did you lose him?” Delaney was touched by the obvious love he had for his grandfather. It sounded like they’d shared a close bond similar to hers and Bekka’s.
“Two year. Still missing him like you missing grandma.” He reached into his back pocket, drawing out a little maroon colored drawstring bag. Inside was a foil packet. He opened it, holding it beneath Delaney’s nose. The aroma was a pleasant aromatic mix of fruit and tobacco. “Grandpa pipetobakk.” The word was easy enough for her to interpret without his help. “Keep close. Favorite memory.”
“Mmm, smells good. Like cherries. Are you a pipe smoker too?”
Wrapping it again, he stuffed the pouch of tobacco back into his pocket. “No. Maybe someday, when I am grandpa.” His eyes lit up with a smile. “Come now.” He stood, holding out his hand. “Time for play.”
Delaney stiffened.
“Guitar,” Varik added, with a mischievous smile.
“Shame on you. You did that on purpose,” she laughingly accused.
“Maybe. Love see Delaney laugh.” Taking her by the hand, he drew her up from the cushy chair. Once they reached the dining room, she started bringing plates to the kitchen but he stopped her.
“Guest no clean.” He clapped his chest. “I clean later. Time now for relax.”
This was an entirely new occurrence for Delaney.
Draping his arm over her shoulder, he led her to the loveseat in the living room. Back in the kitchen, he uncovered the platter of pepperkaker she’d baked, popping a cookie into his mouth and giving her a thumbs up sign.
“Mmm, very excellent delicious.” He put on a pot of coffee, bringing each of them a mug when it finished brewing, along with the cookies.
After turning the lights low, Varik started a fire in the fireplace. Flickering flames soon gave the room a warm, golden glow along with gentle heat. Perfect ambience for her date with the Viking.
“I’m not used to being pampered like this.” She sipped the good strong coffee, thoroughly charmed by his gallant behavior.
“No? Very sad.” He sat next to her, studying her for a long moment. “Varik change that. Delaney deserve feel special.”
He was so loveable, so caring and considerate. What an exceptional time she was having. It was almost as if she’d stepped into a fairytale.
Delaney cozied back into her seat, watching as he set down his mug and brought the guitar strap over his head. Half expecting to hear a guitar version of chopsticks, she was stunned when his fingers danced across the strings, playing a familiar classical piece.
“I know that. It’s “In the Hall of the Mountain King” by Edvard Grieg.”
“Ja.” He looked particularly pleased as he strummed. “From Henrik Ibsen’s play, Peer Gynt. You like song?”
“Very much. It was my grandmother’s favorite musical piece and Grieg was her favorite composer. When I was little she’d sing it to me in Norwegian. It brings back very fond memories.”
“Good.” Varik patted the guitar like it was an old friend. “You like I sing Norwegian words for you?”
“I’d love that.” This dinner date just kept getting better.
He patted the cushion next to him. Slipping off her heels, Delaney sat facing him, curling her legs beneath her.
Watching his fingers expertly working the guitar strings as he began the song’s introduction was almost hypnotic.
“Slagt ham! Kristenmands son har daret...”
His voice rang out in a bold, clear tone somewhere between tenor and baritone. The man could really sing! The swell of the music had tears brimming in her eyes. Live music moved her that way.
“I understand,” Varik said, momentarily breaking from the song. “Feel music here.” He touched his chest and then hers.
Watching his features change was fascinating. His eyes blazed and his lively, emotion-filled lyrics held her captivated. Hearing him sing and speak in his native tongue, without the frequent hesitation he had when speaking English, presented him in an entirely new light.
With the Viking at her side, so close she felt the warmth radiating from his body, she was in serious danger of swooning.
Once he finished, Delaney clapped with enthusiasm. “Bravo! Bravo, Varik!”
Rising, he performed a sweeping, theatrical bow.
“That was incredible.”
“Takk.” He beamed a smile. “Means thank you.” With a quizzical glance, he asked Delaney, “You know what song story about?”
She shook her head. “Not really.”
“Try my best to tell you English.” He rested his hand on her arm, further igniting the slow burn she felt inside. “Tore teach me English words to song.”
They sat silent for a long moment, gazing into each other’s eyes. Finally, Varik returned his attention to the guitar.
Continuing to play the song’s tune, he half spoke, half sang the words, playing the notes more slowly as he explained the tale to Delaney. It was clear he gave each line much thought so it came out correctly in English.
“Peer Gynt have dream,” he told her. “Enters hall of mountain king. Many trolls, gnomes and goblins there. King on throne. Crown on head, and holding—” He gave Delaney a questioning look.
“A scepter?” she said, acting as if she were holding one.
“Ja, scepter.” Varik nodded. “King’s children and family near. Peer Gynt come close to king. Mighty yelling begin in hall. Trolls of king say, ‘Slay him! The Christian’s son bewitched mountain king’s fairest daughter! Slay him!’”
“Ah, so that’s what the song is about,” Delaney said. “I’ve always wondered.”
Nodding as he continued to strum, he resumed the story. “Other trolls ask, ‘May I hack him on the fingers? May I tug him by the hair?’ Woman troll say, ‘Let me bite his haunches!’ Witch troll say, ‘Boil him into broth for me.’ Troll with big knife ask, ‘Shall he roast on spit or brown in stewpan?’”
Delaney laughed. “Good grief, what a bloodthirsty lot.” Varik’s explanation gave her a better understanding of the gusto her sweet grandmother used when singing the fierce lyrics.
“Ja. At end of song, mountain king say, ‘Ice to your blood, friends!’”
“Wonderful.” Delaney clapped again. “You did an excellent job translating. I understood everything perfectly.”
“Good. Hope so.” He looked quite pleased. “Soon I speaking perfectly English.”
“How long has Tore been tutoring you?”
“To uker. Eh...” Varik took another quick glimpse at the book in his back pocket and held up two fingers. “Two weeks.”
“I think you probably mean two months, not weeks.”
“Nei...no. Mean weeks, for sure.”
Incredulous, Delaney said, “Wait, you’re telling me you just started learning English two weeks ago?”
“Ja...yes. Never speaking English before that.”
Her jaw went slack. “That’s incredible. You really must be a genius.”
Offering a nonchalant shrug, Varik confirmed, “Ja, I told you.”
“And you’re extremely modest too.”
“Not know modest.” He looked confused.
“Yes, that’s obvious,” she teased, although she agreed he had every reason to feel proud and confident.
“Like song better in Norwegian or English?”
“Norwegian. It’s much the same as hearing an English translation of Italian opera. It never sounds right to me.”
“Maybe one day I teach you Norwegian. And you help me English.”
“That would be fun.” In her enthusiasm, Delaney absently touched his knee. As soon as her hand landed, she retrieved it. “If I had paid better attention as a child I’d probably be able to speak Norwegian fluently by now.” Her gaze fell on his hair, studying the way the long, thick sandy strands so perfectly framed his face.
“I see you look Varik hair many time.” He brushed a lock of dark blond from his eyes.
Oops...caught.
She’d never been a fan of long hair on a man but it suited Varik perfectly. “Long hair looks good on you.” She felt the telltale warmth of a blush across her cheeks.
“Long because live in mountains. I cut and shave,” he stroked his mustache and beard, “after finish being in Viking play. Better not to wear parykk.” He patted the top of his head. “Wig. Not to worry. Cutting soon to look American.”
“I wasn’t worried at all. I think it’s very—” She stopped herself from saying sexy. “Attractive. You’re the spitting image of a Viking warrior.” She tried unsuccessfully to picture him clean shaven with corporate-length hair.
“Varik the Bold,” he told her with a conspirator’s wink.
For the longest time after that, he didn’t speak. He didn’t smile. He just sat there watching her. At first she thought it was just wishful thinking, but soon Delaney realized his face was drawing near. He was leaning in for a kiss! A superb squiggly feeling zigzagged up and down her spine. Her heart thumped like crazy. Her breathing stopped.
Varik’s sensuous lips were kissably close. It was taking an eternity for him to reach her lips, which wasn’t really a bad thing because the anticipation itself was delicious. A million thoughts raced through her mind. Should she lean in or stay put? Should she whisper his name or keep her mouth shut? Should she—
“Delaney...” Varik whispered, his hands on her shoulders, his lips an inch from hers. His hot breath on her mouth had her liquefying. “Delaney...” he said once more, looking into her eyes, gazing into her soul.
“Yes, Varik?” she whispered back, her eyes half-lidded as she absently licked her lips.
“You go now,” he said, still within kissing range.
Her mouth formed an O.
An instant later he pulled back from her, abandoned the loveseat, and went to the kitchen, returning shortly with Thursday in tow. The dog had been so quiet and well-behaved, she’d forgotten he was even there.
“Time for end of date,” he told her with what Delaney decided, or hoped, was a look of sincere regret.
“Oh...?” What the hell had just happened? His was a mere breath away when he retreated. Maybe her breath smelled like salmon...or cucumber-onion salad.
“Must be gentleman. Delaney make hard to keep friendly neighbor promise.”
Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. She wasn’t sure what to say. The jumbled thoughts whirring inside her brain left her clueless.
She wanted to stay but if she disregarded his request to leave and did what she longed to do—shrug out of her dress, letting it pool at her feet in front of him so she’d be standing in nothing but her new black silk undies—Varik might think she was from Tramps-R-Us and all this nice platonic time they’d spent getting to know each other would go right down the toilet.
“It’s been a lovely night, Varik.” Her voice was barely audible. “The dinner was delicious.” And so are you. “And I loved your rousing version of the song.” And I feel like I love you but that’s impossible because we’re still strangers and nobody in their right mind falls in love that fast. “And I really enjoyed getting to know you better.”
“Ja, happy night.” He reached out, almost touching her, but let his hand drop, shoving both hands in his pockets instead. “Uh...loving Delaney excellent pepperkaker. Bekka’s recipe good.” His head bobbed.
“Thanks, I’m glad they turned out well.” Her nodding head mirrored his. She took Thursday’s leash and tugged. “Come on, boy, time to go home.” The dog didn’t budge. “Thursday.” Nothing. The dumb dog just grinned up at her. Glancing at Varik she noted, “I guess you’ve got a friend forever since you spoiled him with that soup bone.”
“Maybe Thor’s Day sleep Varik house tonight?”
“Oh I couldn’t possibly impose on you like that.”
“Is okay. He good dog.” He bent to scratch Thursday behind the ears. “We be friends, ja, Thor’s Day?” He got a big lick from his new buddy.
So that’s how the night would end...with her persuasive dog finagling his way into having a sleepover at Varik’s house when the pajama party should by all rights include her.
“Well...if you’re sure you don’t mind,” the green with envy Delaney said. “I can stop by and pick him up in the morning.”
“I bring him to you in afternoon. I take him to English lesson. Tore love hunders...dogs. Return Thor’s Day before I go Viking play, okay?”
“Okay.” Delaney took a step toward his door and smiled. “Goodnight. Thanks again.”
At a loss, she waved.
Varik waved back.
“Bye.”
“I walk Delaney home,” he suggested.
“That’s not necessary. I’m just two doors down.” She gestured. “Goodnight.”
“Godnatt...goodnight,” Varik corrected, waving again.
“Bye, Thursday.” Before she’d even had the words out, the disinterested dog had trotted back to the kitchen and his bone.
Delaney sighed.
In less than two minutes she was home, unwrapping the chocolate bar she’d purchased while clothes shopping earlier. She closed her eyes and sank her teeth into the creamy candy.
It wasn’t nearly as delicious or satisfying as Varik.
Chapter Nine
~<>~
LEANING AGAINST THE kitchen counter, phone in hand, Delaney made an exasperated face as she listened to her mother shoot question after question. She was thoroughly disgusted with herself this morning, greeted by the dirty living room carpet she was supposed to finish cleaning two days ago.
First, she’d let the mess sit overnight while she...dallied with the sexy Viking. Then yesterday, after getting Varik’s invitation to dinner, she merrily abandoned the rest of the task so she could shop for a new outfit.
The room still smelled like dog barf. She doubted she’d ever manage to get all the stains out. It wasn’t at all like her to be so lax.
Her thoughts raced as her mom droned on.
Dear Diary: Here I am, wearing my grubbiest jeans and rattiest sweatshirt the morning after being spurned by Varik the Bold, hauling a scrub brush and a sudsy bucket of pine-scented cleaner from one crusted splotch to another. I guess this is what happens when you turn into a sex-crazed thirty-something.
If she hadn’t answered the phone when her mom called she’d be much further along with her grubby task. But she had a feeling her mom needed to talk about their joint loss of Bekka, which they did at length. Looking around as she spoke to Astrid, she winced. She had to get this cleaned up before Varik brought Thursday home. She couldn’t have him thinking she was a slob, especially after seeing how immaculate he kept his house.
“What? No, I’m listening, Mom,” she lied. “Yes, really, everything’s fine. I’m doing great,” Delaney assured. “No, I’m not feeling blue because I’m thirty-six, divorced and alone. No, I’m not just saying that.” She laughed, wondering if her mother would ever stop worrying about her.
“Yes, I have special plans for tonight. I have a date with a pint of butter pecan ice cream, a jar of caramel sauce, fudge brownie chunks, and a can of whipped cream, which I’ll thoroughly enjoy all mixed together while sprawled on the couch watching Hallmark romance movies. See, Mom? The ideal post birthday celebration.”
Although Delaney thought her reply was rather amusing, it only served to fuel her mother’s concerns. “I was only joking, Mom.” Slapping the heel of her palm against her forehead in frustration, Delaney added, “No, Mom, my plans do not make me sound like a sad, lonely, depressed woman who’s in denial about being middle aged and alone. And, come on, since when is thirty-six middle aged?”
