Page 72 of My Fair Viking

Or she will have a spillover,

And more suitors than she would prefer.

Praise be to Tyra, Warrior Princess

And her crimson dress."

"That was truly awful," Tyra murmured under her breath. But to Bolthor she said, "That was wonderful."

"Would you like another?" He was gazing at her like a moonstruck calf.

"Perhaps later," she said graciously. "Right now, methinks Ingrith is in need of a good saga. She is in the scullery, I believe, overtired from preparing this fine meal. Dost think you could cheer her up?"

Bolthor's one eye lit up as if he'd just been handed a great treasure. "I know just the one. 'Praise Be to Pork.' "

Well, Bolthor's saga-saying had accomplished one thing, to Adam's mind. Gunter and Egil were nowhere to be seen… for now, leastways. Adam had feared having to challenge them to a duel, or some such gruesome feat of challenge.

"You certainly handled Bolthor well," Adam congratulated Tyra, trying for a pleasant tone.

"Go away," she replied.

That rules out pleasantries. Apparently, she was still upset with him, and he couldn't even remember why. Oh, now he recalled. She thought he was flirting with her sisters.

"Tyra, dearling, I have no interest in your sisters."

"Do I look as if I care? And do not call me dearling."

"Yea, you do… dearling."

"Well, I don't. And stop, stop, stop with the endearments. It makes me feel as if I am just one of your women."

"Women! For pity's sake, Tyra, you already know, thanks to Rashid's flapping tongue, that I have been chaste for two years. So, no women!"

"You can still have women without tupping them," she persisted.

"I would like to bloody well know how," he muttered. Best to change the subject. "It would be nice if you would reciprocate now, and say that you have no real interest in Gunter or Egil… or Bolthor."

"I do have an interest in them. A huge interest."

His shoulders sagged. "Why must you always be at cross-wills with me, wench? Can't you be biddable just this once?"

"In fact, I have decided to share my bed furs with them."

"All at one time?" he asked, barely stifling a laugh at her ludicrous lies.

Her eyes went wide. Obviously, she had no idea what she might do with three men in her bed furs at one time.

So, of course, he told her.

Her jaw dropped.

"Can we start over? Why don't you say something saucy to me like you did to Gunter and Egil? 'Tis unfair for you to say saucy things to other men and not me."

She said something so vulgar and outrageous that he was speechless for a moment. It took saucy to a new level. He was spared having to react because of the shuffle of chairs and tables. Thank God! An entertainment had been planned for that evening. An open space was being created in front of the dais by moving the trestle tables and benches to the outer edges of the hall.

A number of people moved up to the dais—all the sisters, Rafn, Bolthor, Tykir, Alinor, and their oldest son, Thork. It was a better vantage point for watching, but there were not enough chairs. Tykir lifted Alinor onto his lap, resulting in a little shriek from her before she nestled sweetly into his embrace, and he motioned for Thork to sit at their feet, thus emptying a chair. Thork was being punished for his wild shenanigans that day. Rafn sank into the empty chair and pulled Vana onto his lap. Vana just sighed, not even bothering to protest.

Do I dare? Adam wondered, casting a sideways glance at Tyra.