Page 103 of Viking Unchained

“I thought that referred to crawfish, or oysters, or somethin’,” Sly said.

“Same thing,” Cage countered.

Their risqué banter was giving him a headache . . . that and the sap that ran in his body without release.

“Where do I find this head doctor? I think you all need him more than I do.”

If all else failed, she could

become a porn star . . .

“This is fun,” Alison said. “Can you do me when you’re done doing Lydia?”

Four women giggled at her wording.

Using a rented video camera, Kirstin was filming Lydia in a flesh-colored leotard and in stilettos made up of two thin bands of black leather . . . one across her toes and the other around her ankles. When she stood, her body was forced into a porn-star posture, pelvis thrust forward and butt arched back. Her hair had been curled and teased into one of those big bimbo “I Just Got Out of Bed” looks, and she wore enough lip gloss to lube a truck. She was doing some of the sexiest pole-dancing moves this side of a strip joint to the beat of “Wild Thing.”

Amongst all the laughter and advice and praise, there was narration, as if Lydia were teaching moves to a class. When the video was “accidentally” shown to Finn, he would be told that it was a demo that Lydia had made for an instructional video company that might buy it.

Mike had joined Finn, Torolf, and Ian, with their kids, at some youth arcade place. Lydia had been there before and practically had to wear earplugs by the end of the evening. She hoped Finn suffered, just as he was making her suffer.

Later, up in her kitchen, where they were eating take-out Chinese, Lydia told Hilda, “Make sure no one but Finn sees this video.”

“Why?” Hilda was licking soy sauce off her thumb.

“Because I would be embarrassed.”

“Maybe you really should market the thing,” Kirstin offered.

“Not on your life. As it is, I have fears the thing may end up on the Internet.”

“Men!” Madrene said. “They do not know what they want. We have to lead them by their ears.” She grinned. “Or their manparts.”

“Truth to tell, I do not see what you want with the loathsome lout,” Hilda remarked. “Dost know what he calls me? Hilda the Hun. I had to have Torolf explain it to me. It was not a compliment.”

“I like him,” Alison said. “Any man who shows such caring for a child is to be commended.” When everyone turned to Alison, she blushed.

“Alison,” Madrene said tentatively, “since when are you such an advocate for fatherhood? Could it be . .

. ?”

“Yes!” Kirstin jumped up to kiss her sister-in-law. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

Alison nodded, happy tears streaming down her face. Lydia knew that Alison had been pregnant before she’d married Ragnor six years or so ago, but she lost the baby. She suspected it had taken her all this time to get pregnant again.

Once all the congratulations and hugs were over, they sat down to resume eating.

“Would you like to have more children?” Lydia asked Hilda. She already knew Madrene had had a tubal ligation, and Kirstin wasn’t married.

“Mayhap one more. And you?”

“I didn’t think so. But now . . . I think I would. Yes, definitely.”

“What I don’t understand,” Kirstin said, “is what caused your abrupt reversal about not being with a military man.”

“Love,” Madrene, Hilda, and Alison answered for her.

“Love does make a difference,” Lydia conceded. Now, if only Finn could realize that.