Page 87 of The Last Viking

She started to laugh, then stopped. “What’s that smell?”

“Dog needs to take a bath,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’ll put him in your tub once you’re finished.”

“Finished what?” she asked dubiously.

“Your bridal bath.”

Once again, Meredith was soaking in a tub full of rose-scented bubble bath. There were a few major differences this time, however.

Number one: The bath salts came from a basket of expensive powders and oils Rolf had presented to her as another bride gift…after he’d carried her kicking and screaming into the bathroom, followed by the wildly barking guard dog.

Number two: The bathroom door was locked from the outside. Rolf had told her that, if she’d been in his land, the ladies of his family would massage aromatic oils into her body after the bathing. It was a ritual to prepare her for the marriage bed. Since he was without female relatives, he’d insisted that either she anoint her own body, or he’d do it for her—which was highly inappropriate for a betrothed, apparently. Either way, the door wouldn’t be opened until she’d completed the task, or asked for his help. As if!

Number three: Her Viking bridal gown was laid out over a chair near the door. On top was the pink Victoria’s Secret teddy Rolf had bought for her last week, the only undergarment he would allow. “You will don the gown, or be wed naked. It matters not to me. In truth, there is appeal in the latter.”

“You are a brute.”

“Yea, I am. But I’ll not bend on this, Merry-Death. We will be wed this day.”

“Even if it’s against my will?”

“Even then,” he’d said adamantly. “My father captured my mother in a Saxon raid. She was wedded and bedded with a gag in her mouth and her body restrained with ropes.”

“I don’t believe that for one minute.”

“Believe it, my lady.”

An hour later, he knocked on the door of the bathing chamber. “Are you ready, Merry-Death?”

No answer. “Damn, she is going to be willful to the end,” he commented to Dog, who lay guarding the locked door. Even Geirolf had to admit ’twas an odd position for guarding: The animal was stretched out flat on his stomach with his four paws spread wide. He’d been snoring wheezily, but he cracked open his one good eye upon hearing Rolf’s voice. “Well, the die is cast, Dog. A man must set the pattern of authority with his woman from the start, or suffer thereafter.”

The beast agreed with a growly rumble and then yawned loudly, stumbling to his feet, watching Geirolf unlock the door.

Meredith had completed her bath, apparently, but that was all. With wet hair combed off her face, she stood on the opposite side of the room, wearing her fleecy robe, instead of her bridal garments. And she dared to raise weapons at him. In one hand, she held a long-handled bath brush and in the other a can of hair spray. “Go away, Rolf. You can’t bully me.”

He lifted a brow. “Dost think to deter me with those? Think again, my lady.”

She, too, saw the weakness of her weapons and dropped them to the floor. “You’re not a violent man. Don’t do this. You won’t like yourself in the morning.”

“Who says I am not a violent man?” Then he asked, “Didst thou perform the anointing ritual?” A quick glance at the basket of oils showed that none had been unstoppered, except the bubbling one he’d dumped in her bath water. He made a tsking sound at her. “Foolish, foolish wench, to test me so.”

Dog ambled in then and Meredith released a little squeak of disgust as he sniffed at the toilet and began to lap up the clear water inside. “Bad dog,” she scolded and reached over to shut the lid in his face.

Unrepentant, Dog padded around the small chamber, snuffling here and there. When he reached the half-full tub, he went up on his hind legs, paws on the edge, to see better. And slipped head first into the rose-scented bath water.

“’Twould seem Dog is going to have his bath sooner than later,” Geirolf remarked dryly as the ungainly beast splashed water on the wall and floor and even the ceiling while he tried to get a firm footing. The whole time, he was barking, “Woof, Woof, Woof.”

“Oh, this is ridiculous! He’s going to scratch the veneer on the porcelain. Do you know how hard it is to get one of these things reglazed?” Merry-Death sliced him a glare as if it was all his fault. “You hold the beast down while I soap him.”

Ah, now this was a step forward he hadn’t anticipated. She’d asked for his help.

Within a short time, Dog was soaped and rinsed and dried off with big towels. Smelling sweetly of roses, the disgruntled dog stood in the middle of the chamber and shook his fur, scattering drops like a summer rain. Then he squished over to the door, gave Geirolf a wounded look, and waited.

Geirolf opened the door to let the dog out, then immediately locked it behind him again.

Meredith was kneeling on the floor cleaning the tub when she heard the door click shut. “Not again, Rolf,” she chided him, recognizing that he was now going to deal with her.

“Again.”