Page 98 of A Tale of Two Vikings

“Holy Thor!” Vagn said within seconds. “I will show you what this pole can do when it does its own churning.” And he did.

Unfortunately…or fortunately…there was no more talk of marriage or babies that night.

And then the other boot drops…

Vagn knew that Helga was pregnant, but she did not tell him, and it hurt him deeply.

Obviously, she wanted him to play no part in her life or that of the babe. His heart wrenched at the thought. No wonder he held off telling her of his growing affection for her. She would no doubt interpret it as directed toward his child and not her…which was far from the truth, although he did feel almost weepish whenever he thought of a child of his loins. Where these newfound paternal feelings came from, he had no idea—possibly from his love of the mother.

There was only one thing of which Vagn was certain. He would marry Helga, come hell or high water. They would raise this child together, no matter what notions of independence she held close to her heart. His son or daughter would know both parents. That was a fact she would have to accept.

How this would fit in with his plans to search for his brother, he had no idea yet. First of all, he had to make absolutely certain that Toste was really gone to the Other World. Once they returned from Ravenshire, he would settle everything. He could wait that long before making his proposal to Helga, and her father.

In the meantime, Helga could keep her secret if she wanted. And she could churn his butter all she wanted. He didn’t mind one bit.

Daddy dearest…

“Helga, this has got to stop,” her father said sternly.

He was standing in her sewing solar, being fitted for a new tunic. It would be black wool, embroidered with a hem of silver briars in honor of Briarstead. Everyone was getting at least one new garment for the trip to Ravenshire, including Vagn, who wore fine raiment like he was born to it, which he was.

“What has to stop?” she asked distractedly as she let out the seams to make more room for her father’s massive girth.

“Your diddling with Vagn.”

She gasped. Did her father know about their clandestine lovemaking? Did everyone know?

“You cannot tease a man so and not expect him to want something from you. Like marriage.”

She breathed an inner sigh of relief. By “diddling” her father meant teasing, not…well, diddling.

“Vagn is not interested in me that way,” she said.

“I am not so sure of that.”

She stopped fussing with his garment. “What makes you think that?”

“The way his eyes follow you everywhere. The way he refrains from bedding any of the women about the keep. The way he teases you incessantly.”

She decided to make light of his warning. “Teasing equals a desire to wed? I think not. Otherwise we would have lots more marriages at Briarstead than we do. Teasing is an innate part of the Viking man’s personality. I swear, Viking males must come out of the womb laughing.”

Gorm shrugged at her easy dismissal of his views. “Teasing can be the way of lovers. I used to tease your mother.”

“You did?”

He smiled dreamily in remembrance. “I teased her and teased till she gave in and—”

“Father!”

“—and agreed to marry me.” He widened his eyes at her. “What did you think I meant?”

“Tsk tsk, now you are teasing me.”

“Take heed, daughter, Vagn Ivarsson is a man full-grown. A warrior of note. Yea, he has a mirthsome side, but do not delude yourself that you can grasp such a man by the tail.”

And a very nice tail he has, too, Helga thought.

“Why are you smiling?”