Page 9 of Viking in Love
CHAPTER NINE
T he highs and lows of love…
Caedmon was in a foul mood.
The trip back from the borderlands should have taken less than a day, even with the stop for Rashid and a check on the injured man. To no one’s surprise, the father of the Scottish lass’s bairn-to-be was nowhere to be found. Which meant that Maire traveled back to Larkspur with them. At a sloooow pace. They must have stopped two dozen times for her to relieve her bladder.
“I wish I had never brought her with us,” he muttered more than once.
Rashid told him, “Wishing does not make a poor man rich.”
I am going to kill the man, or cut off his always-blathering tongue.
As they crossed the moat to the lower bailey of his keep, Caedmon’s temper calmed a bit. Peace seemed to have settled over the place, and he could not dispute that it was tidier than it had been on his first arrival home. And, yea, the rosebushes added a nice touch.
Once their horses made their slow plodding way up the incline to the upper bailey, the smell of honey permeated the air.
Wulf sniffed the air and smiled. “Three guesses who is stirring the honey pot.”
“Ingrith does have a way with honey,” Rashid agreed. “No doubt you will have a goodly supply of honey and candle wax from this harvest.”
“And mead, I hope.” This from Wulf.
Well, Caedmon could not argue with that, and, really, he was grateful, but not grateful enough to allow the murderesses to stay here. And he had to thank the stars that Rashid had refrained from one of his irksome proverbs this time.
“Uh-oh!” Wulf said.
“What?” he asked, then lifted his head to gaze where Wulf was staring. And smiling.
Bam, bam, bam!
The red-haired princess witch of the north was up at the top of Larkspur’s roof, pounding at one of the slates. Thank God it was not a high-pitched roof.
Bam, bam, bam!
“Ah, Breanne is fixing your leaky roof,” Rashid told him, as if he had not come to that conclusion himself, as if he could not repair his own roof.
Bam, bam, bam!
“By the cross! I swear, this time I am going to paddle her arse ’til it is black and blue.”
“Oh, good! Can I watch?” Wulf asked.
Bam, bam, bam!
Maire was moaning in that way which he had come to recognize meant that she had to piss again. He ignored her. Instead, Caedmon alighted from his horse in one fluid move and stomped over to the ladder. Within minutes he was atop the roof as well.
Bam, bam, bam!
“You lackwitted, stubborn, outlandish excuse for a woman!” he snarled as he made his way, then balanced himself on the slanted roof.
She jerked backward, having been unaware of his approach from her back, with all her pounding. With a rough snarl, she turned, slipped, and teetered forward, hitting him in the chest.
Which caused him to totter against her, forcing her backward. He grasped her about the waist.
For several scary moments, they swayed, forward, backward, forward again. Then they both hit the roof at the same time. Hammers and nails slipped downward. They did, too, for a moment before they caught on a metal snow guard.
He lay still atop her. They appeared to be secure, but still he waited. Finally, he lifted his head to look down at her. Her green eyes were wide open with shock.
“Are you all right?”
She blinked several times, then tried to push him off. “You big oaf. You almost killed us both.”
“Be still. We might die yet.”
She stopped moving.
And in that moment, they both realized that he had somehow landed betwixt her widespread thighs, and his favorite body part was planted smack dab up against his favorite woman’s part. And it was growing.
“Oh, good Lord!” she muttered. “Can you not control yourself?”
“Apparently not,” he replied, bracing himself with hands planted on each side of her head, “especially when you insist on squirming about.”
Being stubborn, she just had to squirm against him even more.
“Oh, God!” he said on a husky moan. He felt faint-headed and excruciatingly aroused, tingling in some interesting body parts. “I need to kiss you,” he said, staring down at her tempting, too-generous lips.
“Do not dare,” she replied, even as she ran the tip of her tongue over said lips.
She probably moistened her lips in nervousness.
He preferred to take it as a clear invitation.
He took his time settling his lips over hers, just so. They fitted perfectly. Relishing the tactile sensation of skin on skin, nerve endings on nerve endings, he pressed, moving his mouth from side to side until her lips clung to his. Drawing back, he murmured, “You taste like honey,” licked her lips, and added, “Sweet.”
“You are still a loathsome lout,” she said, even as she raised her head slightly to meet his next kiss.
This time he was not so gentle. “Open for me.”
She refused, muttering, “Mrfpghh.”
So, he nipped her bottom lip, causing her to gasp, which allowed his tongue to slide inside her honey-sweet mouth.
He could tell she was shocked. It was probably the first time any man had tongue-kissed her. If that was so, it was definitely the first time a man had lain atop her with his cock nestled in her crotch.
But then, praise God and all the saints, she relaxed and opened for him even more. Better yet, her arms went up about his shoulders and tugged him closer.
He smiled against her mouth, but did not raise his lips. Thus, a smile-kiss, he thought with a smile.
Now, not only was he kissing her voraciously, but she was responding. Sucking at his tongue when he thrust inside, moving her hips from side to side as if to create a friction in her female parts. In fact, when he put a hand to her sticky breast, she did not resist, or slap him as would be her wont in any other situation.
He used his wet tongue to stab at her ear, then blow dry, over and over. “Your breast is sticky,” he told her, which was a marvel that he could notice such an irrelevant thing when her nipple was budding against his palm.
“Your son,” she said, and licked his ear, then nipped at the lobe.
He felt the lick and nip all the way to his fingertips, toes, and rock-hard staff, all of which were tingling. “What?” he gasped out.
“Your son Piers got my tunic sticky with honey,” she explained.
“He is not my son,” he answered with lust-sodden irrelevance. “Not really.”
“Well, he is adorable nonetheless, whoever his father is.”
“Mayhap I am his father after all.”
She took him by the ears and lifted his head. Smiling through kiss-swollen, slick lips, she said, “What are you doing to me?”
“Kissing you?”
“More than that!” she huffed. “I am tingling all over.”
“Breanne, Breanne, Breanne. You should not be telling me that.”
“Why not?”
“I will use it against you.”
She gave him a saucy grin. “You cannot use me unless I allow you to.”
“Oh, you naive wench! There are ways, believe you me.”
He kissed her again, voraciously. He could not seem to get enough of her lush mouth. And her body. Cupping her buttocks, he raised her up so she was forced to brace her feet on the slate roof and bend her knees.
She began to moan.
Or mayhap it was him.
Through a haze of mind-melting arousal, he heard a discordant voice. “KAA AD -mon! KAA AD -mon!”
Raising his head, disoriented, he tried to clear his fuzzy brain.
“Someone is calling you,” she told him, her voice sounding sex-husky.
“’Tis Wulf,” he said when he recognized that the loud voice came from below.
He could see her slumberous facial expression change as she slowly realized where they were and what they had been doing. Soon, her cheeks and neck were a deep rose color.
“Get off of me, you big lout.”
He rolled over to his side, being careful to keep his balance. He did not even try to hide his enthusiastic erection.
Which she noticed, then quickly glanced away.
“You touched my breast,” she accused him with outrage.
“Oh, was that what it was? I thought it was a roof slate.”
She growled. She honest-to-God growled. “I cannot believe you seduced me on top of a roof.”
“Hey, you were the one who seduced me. If Wulf had not called for me, I would have been swiving you from one end of this roof to the other, and you would have been loving it.”
“Modesty becomes you, braggart.” She rose carefully to her feet and made her way slowly toward the ladder. Glancing down, she gasped, then looked back at him with ill-concealed disgust. “Another baby! There is a woman down there about to pop out another of your whelps, you randy goat.”
He smiled, figuring he could set her straight on that matter later. For now, he was enjoying the sight of her bending over in those tight breeches…and wondering how soon he could get into those breeches.
But then, reality hit him like a hammer to the head, as he recalled the promise he had made himself on the long journey back to Larkspur.
The princesses would be gone by nightfall.
She was going to be nice, dammit!…
Breanne had never been so embarrassed in her entire life. As she climbed down the ladder, it seemed as if everyone in the world was standing below, staring at her bottom in the tight braies, including the loathsome lout who had gone before her, after kissing her senseless.
What was I thinking?
I was not thinking!
“What are you all gaping at?” she snarled. “Have you ne’er seen a woman in braies afore?”
“’Tis not that, m’lady,” Caedmon said, taking her by the waist and lifting her down the last few steps. “’Tis a barefooted woman in braies standing atop a roof that has them stunned.”
She slapped his hands away now that her feet were on the ground. “My feet are shoeless because I have learned from experience that I get better purchase with my bare feet.”
“Do this a lot, do you?”
“Stop smirking, you dolt.”
“That is not a smirk. ’Tis a smile.”
“Well, do not smile then.”
Ingrith sidled up to her and whispered in her ear, “Breanne! You are supposed to be seducing the man, not antagonizing him.”
She turned to look at Caedmon. “Does he look antagonized?”
“Well, nay, now that you mention it, he looks—”
“Hail, all! Did you miss me?” Geoff, the blond god, rode up then on a black stallion fit for a king.
“Nice piece of horseflesh,” Wulf remarked.
“A bride gift.”
Caedmon and Wulf both grinned at their friend.
“Are you already wed, then?” Caedmon asked.
Geoff shook his head. “A sennight from now. You are all invited.” He looked from Caedmon to her, then back to Caedmon, and arched a brow. “Is it possible you are to be wed again, Caedmon?”
“Huh?” Caedmon said. “What would give you that barmy idea?”
“Weeeellll,” Geoff drawled, his golden brown eyes dancing mischievously, “as I rode in, from a distance I could swear I saw two people atop the roof swiv—”
“That will be enough, Geoff,” Caedmon interrupted.
Breanne’s face heated even more, realizing there had been a witness to her insanity.
“My apologies, m’lady. Uh, didst know that your lips look…ripe?”
“Ripe?” she asked on a groan. When she put her fingertips to her mouth, she realized that her lips were puffy, and no doubt abraded with color.
“Yours look ripe, too, Caedmon. Not to fear. No doubt you have both been eating berries.”
A quick glance at Caedmon showed her that his lips were in the same condition as hers. Instead of groaning with dismay, he winked at her.
The man dared to wink at her.
Geoff’s face turned serious of a sudden. “Did I mention that Sybil has invited Archbishop Dunstan to officiate at our wedding since he is expected in the vicinity? She sent the invitation afore I realized what she was about.”
Breanne’s sisters exchanged looks of horror.
Caedmon appeared equally horrified.
She wondered how soon he would be packing their bags and shooing them off to parts unknown. Belatedly, she recalled that she was supposed to be seducing Caedmon into an extension of their visit.
Releasing a long exhale, she drew her shoulders back with determination and turned to the loathsome lout. “Wouldst care to meet with me after dinner this evening?”
“Why?” the loathsome lout asked.
She fisted her hands behind her back to keep from punching him. “I would like to talk to you in private.”
“Why?” he repeated.
Biting her bottom lip and counting to ten, she glanced up to the roof, then back at him. In as sultry voice as she could muster, she said, “Unfinished business.”
Then she spun on her heels and rushed back to the keep, not wanting to see if he was laughing.
He was not.
“C’mere, baby,” sayeth the cat to the mouse, “wanna see my cheese?…”
“What is this cat-and-mouse game you are playing?” Geoff asked him that evening.
Ah, that is an appropriate name for this insanity. “I do not know what you mean,” Caedmon replied and continued to eat from a shank of wild boar that was covered with the most delicious sauce.
“They have been doing it all day long,” Wulf spoke across him to Geoff.
“Who?” As if I do not know! Caedmon licked his fingers and frowned. “What is this unusual flavor?”
“’Tis garlic and onion mixed with black pepper and a dash of wine,” Geoff told him.
“You and Breanne,” Wulf said.
“Wine? They are using my wine for cooking?” One more grievance to lay at their door.
“Tell us,” Geoff insisted.
“Tell you what?”
“What is your game plan?” Geoff elaborated.
“Are you demented? I have no game plan. Why do you not go off again to woo your betrothed and leave me alone? I have enough problems without your bedevilment.”
“I have done enough wooing.”
“There is no such thing as too much wooing.”
“I beg to differ. Any more and her expectations will be set too high.”
“Well said, Geoff,” Wulf said, again speaking across him. “Do as you intend to go on. Excessive wooing will wear your cock to a nub in the end.”
Geoff and Wulf grinned at each other as if they had made some grand jest.
Idiots!
Then they both turned to him.
Knowing they would not cease their questions until he revealed all, Caedmon leaned back in his chair. “Which cat and which mouse?”
“You know very well which,” Geoff said, slapping him on the shoulder. “You and the red-haired thorn-in-your-arse have been changing roles all day. First, you were the cat chasing her about so you could send her and her sisters on their merry way, but she evaded your chase. A milkmaid told Gerard, who told me, that she was hiding…I mean, working in the stable, repairing a stall door or some such. Then, when it was too late to leave this day, she was after you, attempting a meeting, and you hid from her.”
“I ne’er hid from anyone.” Avoided, but not hid.
Wulf raised his eyebrows. “Oh? There was some urgent reason why you needed to inventory the storerooms?”
“Someone needed to do it afore our supplies are depleted.” And that is the truth.
“I saw her under the table in the steward’s room at one point,” Wulf remarked. He, too, was enjoying the wild boar, taking two more slices off the shank.
“She was in my steward’s room?”
“Yea. On the floor. Said she was searching for a lost quill.”
“That is naught,” Geoff told Wulf. “I found Caedmon in the bathing house, having his toenails clipped. In the middle of the day, for saints’ sake!”
“Must be he has some need for clean toes.” Wulf stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “I wonder…oh, please tell me that it is a new perversion you are contemplating?”
“Or mayhap it has something to do with unfinished rooftop business.” Geoff winked at him.
The only activity I am planning of that nature will be a solitary endeavor. Unfortunately. “Enough! Both of you, desist!” Caedmon said, laughing.
Just then, he felt a hand clamp on his shoulder. With humor still twitching at his lips, he turned.
Oh, no!
It was the mouse.
Or is she the cat?
I wonder if her tongue is abrasive when she licks.
Does she purr?
Does she scratch when in the throes of…
Nay, nay, nay! I am not thinking THAT.
He stood, as did Wulf and Geoff.
“M’lord. I wish to speak with you.”
Stick out your tongue, sweetling. I just want to check…God’s breath! I am losing my mind! “Uh, mayhap later.”
“Now!” she demanded, and shoved Wulf aside with her hip, sliding into his chair.
Caedmon arched his brows at her action, which had Wulf smirking as he displaced Henry from his position in front of the next chair. Truth to tell, Caedmon had to admire the lady’s persistence, even if it was at his expense.
“Have a caution, Breanne,” Rashid spoke up. “Spurs that are too sharp make even the mule rear.”
“Shut your teeth, Rashid,” she said.
“Is he referring to me as a mule?” Caedmon asked.
“Jackass would be more appropriate, I would think,” Breanne said sweetly.
“Wouldst care for some boar?” he inquired just as sweetly, picking up the whole, half-eaten shank and plopping it on a wooden trencher between the two of them. Some of the juice splashed up onto her gown. “How clumsy of me!” He dipped a linen square into a cup of water and began to dab at her bodice. Immediately, he felt her nipple bud under his whisking fingers, and his fingers started to tingle with heat.
She slapped his hand away. “You oaf! I mean, that is not necessary, m’lord. It happens to all of us betimes.”
And betimes it happens deliberately. “Getting aroused?”
“Oh, you are insufferable! Spilling something, that is what I meant. Blessed Freyja! How can you make the most innocent remark sexual?”
With ease.
“Mayhap because he always has sex on his mind.” Geoff leaned forward to speak across him to her.
’Tis true.
Geoff continued, “My friend is very virile…”
Oh, good God!
“…in case you had not noticed all the bratlings that abound here.”
How can you miss them?
She glared at Geoff as if he were something objectionable beneath her shoes. Apparently being the blond god did not give him license to be a clod.
Caedmon glared, too, though he knew it would not stop Geoff when he was on a teasing tear.
“Where is your bride-to-be?” Breanne asked Geoff.
“Busy fluffing up the marriage bed.”
Good retort!
She bristled. “Does she know what she is getting herself into?”
“Oh, yea, she does, but ’tis more like what she wants me to get into. A tight squeeze, if you get my meaning, but, not to fear, she is well-satisfied with what I got into.”
“Coarse lout!” she muttered. Then turning back to Caedmon, she smiled.
A smile from the witch? I do not think so. “Why are you smiling?”
“Can a lady not smile if she wants?”
I smell the devious turns of a vixen’s mind. “Do I have boar meat betwixt my teeth?”
“Nay! Stop picking your teeth. I was just smiling because…because I just want to talk with you. Pleasant talk.”
Talk, talk, talk. She is ever chirping about talk. “You are never pleasant to me. Must be you are up to something. What?” Look how she is gritting her teeth to stifle her temper. How odd! “Did you go up on the roof again?”
“Of course not.”
There is no “of course not” with you, m’lady. “Did you rethatch the entire village betwixt building me a new chicken coop? Or did you just make me a dozen benches in your spare time?”
“Do you enjoy making mock of me?”
Tremendously. “You wound me with your accusations.”
“You make it very difficult to carry on a pleasant conversation.”
Jabber, jabber, jabber. “Let us put aside all this flummery. What do you want from me?”
“A few weeks’ respite.”
Respite? That is a new word for being a bloody nuisance. “Explain yourself.”
“My sisters and I need…I mean, want…to stay here a bit longer.”
“Nay.”
“Can we talk about it?”
“Nay.”
She picked up the table knife and examined it closely, then glanced up through half-lidded eyes at him.
“Are you thinking about putting that through my heart?”
“Do you have a heart? I am weapon-skillful, you know.”
He laughed.
“I could spear you through your laughing mouth.”
“If you want a quick death, best you aim for the fat line. That is the section betwixt neck and crotch.”
“Who says I want a quick death for you?”
Her sister Vana rushed up. “Breanne! You are supposed to be nice to him, not kill him.”
Huh?
Another sister, Drifa, was shaking her head at Breanne as if she were a lost cause.
Ingrith, who had just come from the kitchen, assessed the situation from across the hall, then came running up. She, too, chastised Breanne. “That is not what you are supposed to do.”
Huh?
Amicia, his cook, whispered something in Breanne’s ear that sounded like, “Do not slice the lout, seduce him.”
Seduce? Seduce whom?
Breanne’s shoulders slumped. Then she straightened and turned, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “Wouldst care to walk in the garden with me?”
Oh, nay! She could not mean to seduce me. Never in a million years! Although… “What garden?”
“The rose garden.”
“I have a rose garden?”
“Forget the bloody garden.”
Progress! I got the wench to swear.
“Dost want to walk or not?” As if an idea had come to her belatedly, she fluttered her eyelashes at him.
With any other woman, he would think she was flirting. With Breanne, he had to assume she had soot in her eyes.
“We will walk,” he said, standing suddenly and holding his arm out for her. He was intrigued to know what she was up to.
She stood and ignored his arm, swanning ahead of him to the end of the dais and across the great hall. He had to admit that she did have a nice bottom, which swayed from side to side. Just then, he glanced back and saw Geoff and Wulf watching him watch her backside. They grinned and gave him salutes of encouragement.
He caught up with her halfway and grabbed her hand, twining her fingers with his. She tugged, but he would not release her.
He led her then, not outside to any garden, but instead up to the wall walk on the ramparts, which were pleasant this time of night.
“Before we go any farther, there is something I must tell you,” Breanne said.
“Oh, God! Not another secret.” If she killed another person, I swear I will kill her.
“Not exactly a secret. Not my secret, anyhow. “Tis about your son Hugh.”
He stopped in his tracks, displeasure heating his blood. “You have no right to interfere with my family.”
“I must speak up since he will not tell you himself. You are punishing him unjustly.”
“The boy ran away from his fostering.”
“Do you know why?”
Woman, you overstep yourself. “Of course I do. Earl Graystone told me that he could not accept discipline.”
“Pfff! One of Earl Graystone’s hersirs was trying to abuse your son.”
Shock swiftly turned his displeasure to white-hot anger, mostly at the wench who dared to suggest such. “Mayhap he put a switch to his arse when he turned laggard in his duties.”
“Oh, Caedmon! Do I have to speak explicitly? ’Twas not a switch the hersir wanted to put to Hugh’s arse.”
It took a long moment for her suggestion to sink in. Nay! Nay, nay, nay! It cannot be so! “Are you saying that some man tried to sodomize my son?”
She ducked her head with embarrassment at his blunt words, but then she raised her chin with defiance. “Yea.”
“Did he succeed?” His shoulders slumped.
“Nay, Hugh ran away first.”
Thank you, God! “Why would Hugh not come to me?”
“He was ashamed. And I suspect you started yelling afore he could begin to explain.”
“I will set things aright,” he said. Then, grudgingly, he added, “I appreciate your telling me.”
She nodded acceptance of his apology.
He resumed walking then, taking her with him.
“I like to come up each evening, just before dusk,” he said, leaning on the ledge. He still held her hand in his, which he could tell rankled her, but was all the more reason not to let her go. His mind still dwelled on the horrific news she had laid on him.
“It is pretty, especially with all that larkspur.”
“Pretty is fine,” he said, “but it is land itself which is important to me.” For me, and for my children. For Hugh.
She tilted her head at him.
“I was landless, like Geoff and Wulf, with no prospects, being a third son, but then my Uncle Richard died ten years ago and bequeathed Larkspur to me. An unexpected gift.”
“But one you cherish.”
“Yea, I do. You have to be homeless to appreciate what having a home means.”
“Homeless? Really?”
He smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “Not really homeless, but I moved about from place to place, wherever my military skills were needed.” And my son Hugh, little bigger than Piers at the time, still with his reluctant, negligent mother, a chambermaid in my father’s home, who put the babe in peril more than once. What a fool I was! A careless fool.
“And that is why you went a-wooing this past sennight…to gain more lands. Why then did you bow out to Geoff?”
“’Tis enough that I have a comrade-in-arms in place at an adjoining property. And Geoff needed a home.”
“You are a good friend.”
“A compliment? Forsooth! I must mark this date in stone.”
It was she who squeezed his hand then as she leaned slightly against him. She probably did not realize that her body pressed against his side, from upper arms to thighs. The faint rose scent wafted up to him from her hair. He had never been over-fond of red-haired women, but hers was amazing, taking on different lights through the day, from darkish blonde to deep crimson. Tonight, in the dimming light, even in its long single braid, it was more like burnished silk. Forgetting himself, he reached out a hand to touch it, but caught himself just in time.
“And that is why you and your sisters must leave on the morrow.”
She stiffened and put a small distance between, as much as she could with her hand still restrained. “What has one to do with the other?”
“Everything. I walk a tight line betwixt ownership of Larkspur and duty to my king. Edgar’s court is like a vipers’ pit, awash with greedy land-hungry men. If I offend my king, he could take my lands away.”
“Surely the law would not allow that.”
He shrugged. “The Witan would make the final decision, but many of the noble members are the king’s puppets.”
“Chances are he would never find out, either that Lord Havenshire was killed, or that we are responsible.”
“Suspicion is enough. Mayhap if you had all stayed at Havenshire to answer questions—”
“Nay. ’Twas impossible. Other than our two Norse guardsmen, we had no one to support us there. My father and my family-by-marriage have friends in high places, but until they were at our backs, the best plan was to leave.”
“No one accused you?”
“Nay, but everyone knew how Oswald was treating his wife. It was a natural conclusion that she would have just cause to get rid of him. Women have been executed for less.”
He nodded. “Guilt by accusation.”
“All we are asking is that you let us stay a few sennights more until…” She let her words trail off.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I noticed that your two Viking bears are back. Ah! You have had word, have you not? And it is not good.”
Even though the light was fading, he could see her blush.
“The truth, wench,” he demanded.
“I hate it when you call me wench.”
“I know,” he said. “Enough evasion!”
She made a clucking sound of disgust. “Ivan and Ivar brought a missive from my sister Tyra.”
He released her hand. “Give it to me.”
Reaching into a side flap on her gown, she took out a piece of crackling parchment, which she unfolded. “Can you read?”
Saying a foul word under his breath, he grabbed for the letter. Once he had read through quickly, he read it again more slowly.
Handing it back to her, he stared at her with consternation, fisting his hands at his sides to keep from throttling her. “When did you receive this?”
“Several days ago.”
He swore again. “Search parties are out,” he repeated from the letter, “not just for the earl of Havenshire, but for Vana, as well.” He glared at her. “The same Vana who is residing under my roof?”
“You know it is.”
Reading again from the missive, he said, “Dunstan is on a rampage.” Then he tipped her chin up so she could not avoid his gaze. “You are aware that Archbishop Dunstan nigh sits on Edgar’s shoulder. If he comes here, and it appears he will be coming for Geoff’s wedding—”
She gasped, having been unaware of Dunstan’s upcoming visit to Heatherby.
“…do you not think he might stop by Larkspur?”
“We could hide Vana,” she suggested.
“Where? In the new pigsty with the flower carved trim?”
“Do not be snide.”
“Snide? I will give you snide. How about the rest of you? Am I to hide four princesses? And if I am found out, what then?”
“Listen, we could pay you well.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yea, we could. Tyra and Vana’s dowries are long gone, but Ingrith, Drifa, and I still have substantive dower wealth. We could pool our coins and give them to you.”
“Not that it matters, but how much?”
She quoted a figure that gave him pause, but only for a moment. “And if any of you decides to marry, what then?”
“I am sure our father will be so happy to have Vana back, he will replenish Ingrith and Drifa’s dower, and as for me,” she waved a hand dismissively, “I have no intention of getting wed-locked.”
I should not ask. “Why?”
“Well, look at me. I am not a great beauty…”
Oh, I do not know. I see a certain attraction.
“…and, besides, I plan to open my own market stall in Jorvik.”
“How will you do that if you give me all your coin?”
Red flags appeared in her cheeks. “That is a problem I will solve when the time comes.”
Typical female illogic. In other words, she would give me her future. “You insult me with your offer, woman.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, so outraged was he by this whole situation and by her most of all, for laying the solving in his lap. He had not realized how hard he was shaking her until he heard her teeth chattering and looking down, saw that her breasts were jiggling. Whaaat?
He shook her another time to double-check the jiggling business. Definite jiggling. “I did not realize your breasts were so big.”
“They are not,” she said, squirming out of his grasp and folding her arms over her chest.
“They look big to me.” Wouldst like me to check?
“Oh, please, can we stop talking about my nonexistent breasts?”
Must we? “If they are not breasts, what are they?”
“Aspics.”
That is the first I have heard them called that. Despite her slapping hands, he pressed a fingertip into one of them, and, truth be told, it was the texture of aspic.
He could not help but laugh.
She glowered at him for finding humor in her…bosoms.
“Why would you put aspics on your chest?” In case your lover gets sudden hunger pangs whilst in bed?
“Please, can we drop this subject?”
When it is just getting interesting? “Not a chance!”
“Amicia said men are attracted by big jiggling breasts.”
“And you wanted big jiggling breasts to attract…oh, good Lord! Me?”
“Well, not precisely. I mean, yea, you, but not because…Oh, what is the use!” She threw her hands in the air, as if in surrender. “Seducing you is a lost cause, and one which I find extremely distasteful.”
“If that was seduction, you could have fooled me. You drew a knife on me, woman. And telling a man he is ‘extremely distasteful’ is not an inducement to do anything.”
“I did not draw a knife on you. I only contemplated knifing you.”
“Oh, that makes it better, then.”
His lips twitched with humor, which would probably earn him a slap if he let it show. “Why, pray tell, were you trying to seduce me, if you find me so repugnant?”
“Not repugnant. Just insufferable.”
His lips twitched some more.
“You are laughing at me,” she accused.
“Not at you. It is the whole situation.”
Her lips twitched with humor, too. “It is funny…that I could attract such as you, let alone tempt you to our cause.”
“I do not know about that.”
She raised her brows at him.
“You are tempting, all right.” He ran his knuckles over the smooth skin of her cheek, then rubbed a loose strand of hair between thumb and forefinger. It was silky.
They both stared at each for a long moment, transfixed.
Her shoulders dropped then. “Is there really nothing we can offer that would change your mind?”
“Nay.” Except…nay, I will not think of that.
“I would do anything.”
He should have said nay then. He should have turned and walked away. He should not be entertaining mind images of a naked red-haired witch, spread-eagled on his bed with a come-hither smile on her face. “Anything?”
“Yea. Just name it.” Her face bloomed with hope.
God, stop me. Quick, afore I jump into the quicksand of lust. All you saints, can you not put a lock on my tongue afore I say something I will surely regret? Unfortunately, all the celestial beings must have been busy elsewhere. As if drawn by a compulsion beyond his control, his fingertips traced the skin of her collarbone exposed by the round neckline of her gown. How can a collarbone be so sensual?
She whimpered at his touch, but did not shove him away as was usually her wont.
“Ten nights,” he told her, before he could bite his tongue.
“Wha-what?”
“You want protection under my shield, you forfeit your virtue. Ten nights in my bed, dusk to dawn. Simple as that. You will let me do whatever I want. You will do whatever I ask of you.” He waited for her to slap his face or kick him in the shin or lambast him with ugly descriptions of his character, but that did not happen. The quicksand is getting deeper and deeper.
“You cannot be serious.” She looked as if she might upheave the contents of her stomach.
“Serious as sin.” Oh, this is fun. She will no doubt attempt to push me over the wall. I’d best be ready to sidestep her assault.
“You are a wicked man.”
“Yea, that is one of my better attributes.” Come, m’lady, show me what a fierce fighter you are.
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Because I want to.” It will come now. I am ready.
“Any acts, you say?”
Whaaat? Is she actually considering my insane proposal? I have really gone too far. Well, what the hell! “Any and all.”
“Would that include…perversions?”
He started to laugh, then coughed when he tried to stop. “Definitely,” he said. Oh, I wish Geoff and Wulf were here to witness this. They will never believe me.
“’Tis a deal,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand.
At first, he did not realize the implications of what she said. When he did, he stared down at her outstretched hand as if it were a snake.
But she took the initiative and grabbed his hand to shake. The grin on her face was like that of a cat who had just licked up all the cream.
Caedmon realized, too late, that he had made a big, big mistake, underestimating a Norse witchy woman. He was caught. And he was tingling, all over.