Nordic Heroes: In the Market and a Wholesale Arrangement (34 page)

Thor must have sensed her insecurity. He crossed to her side, standing tall and firm before her.
“God morn, kjæreste,”
he said, bowing low.

Kjæreste
. She’d heard Alaric use that word. Sweetheart, Sonja had interpreted.
“God morn, mannen man,”
she replied, giving him a curtsy in turn.

His eyes darkened and he took another step forward. She stared at him, instantly lost in his gaze. “Husband. I like the sound of that,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.”

She blushed, unable to say another word. He offered his arm, and she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, walking with him to their position in line. When she reached her horse, she stroked the velvet nose, smiling wryly. How ironic that Thor looked at her with all the passion and desire she could ever want, and she’d been unable to respond. What had gotten into her?

“The horses are lovely. What kind are they?” she asked with genuine curiosity, as well as a desperate need to say something . . . anything.

“They’re Norwegian fjord horses, very rare in this country.”

Her brows drew together. That sounded expensive. “Where’d you get them?”

“From a cousin with a farm near British Columbia.”

She relaxed somewhat. “Another cousin?”

“Frightening, isn’t it?” Thor stroked the docile animal. “He breeds these beauties and loaned us two for today’s parade for his wedding gift.” He introduced her to the youth holding her reins. “This is his son, Erik. He’ll lead your horse.”

Andrea nodded in relief. She discovered riding sidesaddle was much more difficult than it appeared. Ever since she’d heard the details of their wedding, she’d dreaded this part. She’d been haunted by the image of tipping over and tumbling to the pavement, her skirts around her ears. Perhaps Erik would prevent that from happening. Better still, perhaps Erik could ride and she could lead.

Before she had time to suggest it, Thor placed his hands around her waist and, in a single easy movement, swept her off the ground and onto the horse. He waited until she’d settled into a comfortable position, shooting her a wicked grin. Taking his time, he rearranged her skirt and petticoats.

“Now you look perfect,” he said as if to excuse his protracted attention.

She shivered, the brush of his callused fingers along her calves and ankles heightening her awareness of him. “Please,” she murmured, darting a swift look around. “People are watching.”

“We won’t always be in the middle of a crowd,” he answered in an undertone. “What will you say then?”

Yes! “No.” Maybe.

“We’ll see when the time comes, won’t we?” With seeming reluctance, he released her and vaulted into the saddle of his horse. The animal shook its head, tiny silver bells attached to the halter tinkling gaily in the still morning air. “We should start in a few minutes. There’s a certain order to all this, a tradition.”

As though they’d heard him, the people joining in the parade scurried to get into line, their laughter and boisterous comments drowned out by the unexpected strains of a violin.

Andrea turned and spotted a man standing in front of the procession tuning up his instrument. Minutes later, he broke into a lively march and danced into the blocked-off street. With a slap of the reins, a large, keg-laden cart driven by Caesar Milano rattled after him.

“Why is Caesar first?” she wanted to know.

“He’s the
kjøkemester
, the host or master of ceremonies. In Norway, he’d be an important figure in the town, a prominent landowner, or a successful merchant.”

She shot him a speaking glance. “Very diplomatic of you to pick Caesar.”

“I thought so.” Thor grinned. “Since the host is in charge of the food and Milano’s is catering our reception, it seemed a logical choice. It’s also the host’s duty to see all the guests get to the ceremony sober. And considering some of my relatives, he’ll have his hands full.”

She burst out laughing. “So why the keg?”

“They can have all they’d like of that. It’s full of apple cider.”

“Fermented by any chance?”

Thor shook his head. “Not according to Caesar, though I didn’t quite trust that gleam in his eye.” The cart bearing his parents creaked down the driveway behind Caesar, and he explained, “Normally both fathers would come next. But since that’s not possible, my mother is riding with Dad, instead of behind us with your mother.”

“That means we’re next.” She stated the obvious.

“Are you nervous?”

“A little.” She reached up to check the position of her crown, tucking away a wisp of hair.

“It’s perfect,” he assured her. “You’re perfect. I want to thank you.”

She glanced at him uncertainly. “Thank me for what?”

He gestured around them. “For going along with all this. It can’t be easy for you.”

She didn’t deny it. “Or you.”

“It was my choice.”

True. Which reminded her of Jordan’s earlier comments. She fixed him with a determined stare. “I’ve been meaning to ask, why did you decide on such a—”

“Hang on, love. It’s our turn,” he interrupted.

Andrea’s eyes narrowed. Did he suspect what she planned to ask? Suspect, and preferred to duck the question? Sonja turned and waved, the ribbons of her bonnet rippling behind her. Deciding to drop the issue, Andrea waved back. Her horse danced forward and she quickly grabbed the pommel. Instantly Thor’s arm shot out, steadying her.

“Easy,” he murmured, his hand lingering on the curve of her elbow long after the necessity passed.

Crowds of people lined the street, fascinated by the spectacle. At first, Andrea felt self-conscious, aware of being the focus of all eyes. She kept her gaze fixed on the horse’s white forelock, reluctant to look left or right.

“Relax,” Thor urged. “They’re all happy for you. Try to enjoy yourself, sweetheart. This will only happen once in your entire life. Savor it.”

Andrea peeked at the sidelines. A small girl jumped up and down and pointed at her. Never before had she seen such an enraptured expression on a child’s face. It gave her an odd, humble feeling. She smiled hesitantly and waved.

Thor was right. She should savor these moments. Then and there, she determined to save up each little memory, preserving it for a time when memories were all that remained.

“How long will the ride take?” she asked after a few minutes.

“About an hour. Once there, we’ll file into the church in the same order as the procession.”

“The fiddler, too?” She pictured herself dancing down the aisle behind him. “That’s different.”

“No.” Thor’s glance was indulgent. “He’s not allowed to enter. He’ll stay outside and play until all the guests have arrived.”

She scowled, taking insult for the poor man. Dancing down the aisle would have been fun. And it would have taken her mind off the real reason for her presence at the church. “Why can’t he come in?”

Thor nudged his horse nearer and adjusted the tilt of her crown, his fingers lingering on her cheek. The crowd reacted instantly, the laughter and applause causing warm color to flood her face. He must have noticed her embarrassment because he flashed a teasing grin.

“Devilry, my love. Fiddles and fiddlers are not for the pious. The church frowns on all the carousing and carrying on they represent.”

Just then four riders, two on each side, broke rank, and with loud shouts galloped out ahead of the procession, disappearing down the street. Instantly Thor moved closer, grabbing her horse’s bridle. His cousin, still in the lead, kept a firm hand on the reins, speaking softly to the startled animal.

Andrea clutched at the pommel, oddly defenseless. In business, she’d always been the one in control. She’d made the decisions, handled the problems. For the first time she felt vulnerable, aware the man beside her assumed the role of her protector. It unsettled her, while at the same time offered an odd reassurance.

“What just happened?”

“They’re foreriders.” He held up a hand. “Don’t blame me. This one’s Rainer’s bright idea. I’d never heard of it before.”

“What are they doing?”

“They ride back and forth between the church and the procession three times, raising as much ruckus as possible.”

Her dark eyes gleamed with laughter. “That sounds like something Rainer would dream up. I assume there’s a good reason for it?”

Thor lifted an imperious eyebrow. “Of course. It’s to guard you against attacks by evil powers.”

Evil powers? With a grin she made a production of peering around. “Thank you. It seems to have worked. I feel much better knowing I’m so well championed.”

He gazed at her, his expression dead serious. “I’d never let anything hurt you,” he promised.

For a long minute, she couldn’t look away. She knew he meant every word. She also knew nothing could hurt her more than Thor himself. How could he protect her from himself? Only she could guard her heart against such a risk. And right now her guard was practically nonexistent.

The hour passed in a blur of sights and sounds and laughter. The people gathered along the way waved, and the members of the procession waved back, calling to friends and family. Finally, they approached a large, gray stone church set in the middle of a stand of pines. The fiddler stood on the church steps playing a lighter, gentler tune.

Thor dismounted and approached her horse. Without a word, he gripped her waist and pulled her to him. She rested her hands on his shoulders, the firm muscles bunching beneath her fingers. Their eyes met and locked.

Slowly he set her on the ground, holding her in a secure embrace. Murmuring something in Norwegian, he lowered his head and settled his mouth on hers. She shut her eyes and clung to him, distantly aware of the cheering crowd, acutely aware of the incredible power of his kiss.

Eventually, he released her. “It’s time,” he said quietly, and took her hand, leading her up the steps of the church. In front of them walked Thor’s parents, behind came their attendants, Rainer and Jordan. An organ played within, the lovely strains of Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream filling the chancel.

They paused in the vestibule and Andrea’s grip tightened in his. He leaned toward her, speaking close to her ear. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Don’t panic. Look around. The greenery along the aisle is myrtle, symbolic in Norwegian ceremonies of Aphrodite. The candles are scented with spices. Can you smell them?”

She nodded, taking in all the decorations. “And they’ve put white roses all around,” she whispered. “I’ve never seen so many.”

“Jordan told me they were your favorite.”

She knew his words were significant, but couldn’t seem to think straight. Nor did they have time for further conversation. At that moment, the organ played the bridal march and they started down the aisle. Arriving at the altar, they sat in the chairs provided. Once the rest of the congregation joined them, the ceremony began, taking on a dreamlike quality.

She knew the pastor spoke of marital responsibilities, but all she could think of was how irrevocably her life would change. He talked of faith and endurance, and she thought of her prisms and their promise of a better tomorrow. He mentioned love and commitment, something she knew couldn’t be hers. Yet glancing occasionally at Thor, she felt strangely reassured. Instead of adding to her nervousness, his presence eased her fears.

Time passed. She watched the sun gleam through the stained-glass window, the muted colors enclosing them in a special world all their own. She listened to one of Thor’s aunts sing, her lilting voice filling Andrea with hope and a quiet contentment. Thor’s hand cupped her elbow. Together they stood and faced the solemn pastor.

He first addressed Thor.
“Har du lover å elske og ære hverandre til døden skiller dere ad?”

“Ja,”
Thor spoke in a firm, carrying voice.

The pastor turned to her and repeated the question. Quietly Thor translated. “Do you promise to love and honor each other until death do you part?”

She hesitated, suddenly aware she did want to make such a vow. She wanted it with all her heart. Tears pricked her eyes. It didn’t matter what happened in the coming months. For today, and perhaps for tomorrow, she’d have Thor. He tensed beside her, and she realized he and the entire congregation awaited her response. Did he doubt her answer? She smiled mistily, intense joy rising within her.

“I do,” she said clearly.

Together they knelt for the blessing. Soon the ceremony would end. In another minute, she’d be married to Thor. Standing once again, they exchanged rings. She stared at the gold braided band in wonder, noting the care and attention taken with the intricate design. Had he chosen the ring with her in mind? She glanced at him uncertainly, wishing she could ask.

“Join hands,” the minister requested, interrupting her musings. In a booming voice, he offered his final pronouncement. “I declare you to be husband and wife, to live together in good days and bad for the rest of your time on this earth.”

They turned, facing the congregation. She heard the organ music swell. Hand in hand, she and Thor started down the aisle. At the doorway of the church, the sound of cameras whirring and clicking startled her. With a muttered exclamation, Thor swept her into his arms and kissed her.

“Andrea Thorsen,” he growled in a satisfied voice. “At last.”