TimeSlip by Caroline McCall Page B

his forehead and chest
as he thrust. Pleasure spiraled low in her abdomen, spreading out like a flame.
She was conscious of her own breathing, her soft, high-pitched cries and his
deep, guttural groans. Then she was free, flying, caught in a torrent of mindless
pleasure. Strom collapsed against her, his sweat mingling with hers, holding
her as she shuddered.
    When she opened her eyes again, her viking was smiling a
smug, male smile. “I think we just found your G-spot.”
     
    Through a small opening in the curtains, Ingrid watched the
dawn coming. Strom’s big arms were still wrapped around her. He hadn’t spoken,
but she knew that he was watching too. His mouth kissed a path tenderly along
her shoulder. They still had a little time. Afterward he dressed quickly. Strom
didn’t bother to shower, so anxious was he to keep her touch, her smell on his
skin for as long as possible.
    “I want you to have this.” Strom took her left hand and
placed a heavy gold ring on her third finger. It looked as though it belonged
there. “Cerulian rubies,” he said, “it belonged to my grandfather.”
    “Strom, I can’t take this,” Ingrid protested.
    “Ingrid, didn’t you write about morning gifts, about how a
viking shows his pleasure in his new wife on the morning after their wedding. I
love you, Ingrid. This is my morning gift to you.”
    The precious time they had was over. She wouldn’t cry yet,
there would be time for that later. Ingrid pressed her lips against his in a
slow kiss goodbye. Then she pulled away and tried to smile. “I love you, Strom.
I will always love you.”
    He stroked her face and turned to walk away. “Wait,” she
called.
    She hurried to her jewelry box and took out her father’s
wedding ring, engraved with a tiny viking longboat. He had big hands too. It
was one of her most precious possessions and there was no one else she would
ever want to give it to. Ingrid pulled on her robe and followed Strom into the
sitting room. Jake and Pete were already there. This was it. He was going. She
kissed him one last time, pressing the ring into his hand. Jake winked at her.
Then Strom spoke into his com badge and he was gone, just like that.
    Her viking was gone.
    * * * * *
    Ingrid didn’t sleep. She couldn’t eat. Even when the
director of HR at the museum rang to say that she could come back to work, she
pleaded illness, just to have a few more days. She spent endless hours lying in
bed clutching his pillow, trying to hold on to the last faint scent of him.
Finn stayed with her the whole time, listening to the same stories, over and
over, without complaint.
    David and Barbara’s funerals took place the following week.
Finn accompanied her to the service and she cried along with everyone else.
With David gone, the museum needed her until a new curator could be appointed.
She couldn’t hide behind her misery any longer, she had a job to do and she
needed to move on. Ingrid struggled back to work, still trying to accept that
Strom was gone, but the museum was full of memories of him. Every time she
opened her office door, she secretly hoped that he would be standing behind it,
waiting to kidnap her. Of course he never was and life gradually settled down
into a dull, empty routine.
    The sickness started a month later. The smell of her
favorite latte made her want to throw up. The following morning was the same.
She was tired all the time, but put that one down to being miserable about
Strom. A third morning of vomiting made her leaf through her diary. Oh no. Oh
no, no, no. She couldn’t be. The trip to the pharmacy at lunchtime confirmed
her suspicions. She was most definitely pregnant. Ingrid sat in the ladies’
room of the museum, not sure whether to laugh or cry. This was a miracle, a
wonderful, terrifying miracle. She did another test to be sure and the results
came back the same. She was pregnant, Strom was gone and she was on her own.
What was she going to do now and what the hell was Finn going to