Noelle was his greatest hope, and their unborn child his future. He would appease Odin . . . in time. Sometimes his patron played games. Allfather possessed many countenances, a god of war and poetry, and a skilled prankster.
Together, they entered the great hall. Women surrounded Anundr, and he drank from two ale horns. One gripped in each hand. Randvior laughed. His father was making up for lost time, happy to be free of a woman who had dominated and destroyed his spirit. Their eyes met, and Anundr’s face lit up. Did Odin want him to take the old man along?
“I said your family
.”
Guiding his bride to their suite, they stopped at the top of the stairs and embraced. Too many diversions had kept him away from her. And all this death. He opened the door and went straight to the hearth. By the time he finished building the fire, she was stripped half-naked. Her lovely, full breasts rose and fell in a hypnotic rhythm. Her gown bunched around her knees. The soft thatch of hair between her thighs glistened and she touched the special spot in the middle.
“I love you,” he choked. “Immeasurably.”
Noelle stepped out of her dress. Her pulse skated as he kissed her neck, his fingers caressing her belly. The world was ripe with opportunity now, and Randvior Sigurdsson would never allow anyone to interfere with their lives again.