Page 66 of A Tale of Two Vikings

She pointed to the narrowest and said, “I suspect that one is too small.” Then she pointed to the second largest and said, “That one might be all right…but, nay, I think I will try the big one. What do you think?”

Big one? “Uh, Helga, exactly what do you want this candle for?”

“Practice.”

Don’t ask, Vagn. Do…not…ask. “Practice?”

“Yea. Rona says I should practice tupping with a candle.” She looked pointedly at his groin, which was indeed blooming into a big candle, and said, “Which one do you think is the right size?”

So shocked was Vagn that he lost his hold on the ladder. His foot slipped. And he toppled to the floor, flat on his back, staring up at a smirking Helga.

“Are you all right?” she asked sweetly.

“Nay, I am not all right,” he grumbled, getting to his feet.

She took the big candle which he still clutched in his hand and sashayed away, saucy as you please, having accomplished another of her goals in this seduction game of hers.

Vagn planned to wring this Rona person’s neck, but first he was going to wring Helga’s neck.

What to do during the winter doldrums?…

The betting was fast and furious at Briarstead in the early weeks of December. Would there be a yule wedding or not?

It was the most outlandish situation Vagn had ever found himself in. And there had been more than a few.

On first hearing of the wagers, Vagn vowed, “It will be a hot day in Niflheim afore I wed…and certainly not when forced to the bridal tent.”

Helga, equally indignant over the wagering, vowed, “I will melt all my embroidery needles and take up cooking, a job I abhor, afore I will wed, and certainly not to a loathsome lout like Vagn. Though I wouldn’t mind…well, never mind.”

Gorm couldn’t stop grinning.

If it didn’t stop snowing soon, Vagn was going to attach ice skates to Clod’s hooves and find a way to escape Briarstead.

But first…

Chapter Nine

Lady with a mind of her own…

“The stables? Why are you taking me to the stables?” Esme asked Toste as he dragged her the short distance from the keep, slamming the barn door behind him. It was bitterly cold outside but warm in the barn from the heat of fifty or so horses.

He did not answer her at first, just scowled and continued to pull her along beside him down the center aisle between two long rows of horse stalls. The Viking was driving her half barmy with his changes of mood.

But, really, she was changing moods by the minute as well. In one instant she was kneeling-down thankful for his help getting her out of St. Anne’s Abbey and into a safe haven. Although I will never in this lifetime forgive him for his manner of rescue. The next time my teeth are that close to a man’s most precious part, he is going to find half of it gone. Yeech! What a picture!

In the next instant she was brain-boiling mad at his teasing antics and overbearing male arrogance. Why do men always think they know what is best for women? And if this lout thinks he can wink and grin at me and I will do his every bidding, well, he needs to have his brain rearranged…with a mallet. Although he does have a nice wink and grin.

Then, in a third instant she felt overpowering sympathy for him that he had lost a brother he loved so much. I have never loved another person so much in all my life and certainly never had such affection thrown my way. I envy him this love. I really do.

In a fourth and most alarming instant, she found herself being attracted to the knave. His person was exquisite, from his endearing cleft chin to his well-muscled form. But it was more than that.

Will I ever forget that kiss in the convent hallway?

Will there ever be a repeat?

I should not care.

But I do care.