Page 120 of Down and Dirty

“Yeah, I love you, too,” he finally said. But then he added, “I’d still like to have a dog.”

Chapter 20

Maybe she should go a-Viking…

Britta was cold, and damp, and lonely, and miserable, as she stared out over the vast, snowy estate that was Everstead. Being landlocked here for more than a month in deep winter, she began to understand why Norsemen went a-Viking every year at first thaw.

“Britta! Britta, is that you?”

Britta rolled her eyes. As if it would be anyone else! Why did Jarl Rolf Thorsson, a visitor from a neighboring estate, continue to pursue her when she had made it more than clear that she was not interested?

And he was not the only one. It was strange, really, what had happened on her journey here with Angelique from Northumbria. For years, she had held no appeal to men. Too tall, too big-boned, too manly. But now, ’twas like she was honey and the entire male race a horde of randy bears. She suspected there was something in her bearing since she had engaged in bedsport with Zachary that shouted to men: Here is Britta Asadottir. She is one hot bedsport companion. And she had not even mentioned multiple orgasms to any of them.

“Yea, I am here, Rolf,” she said with a long sigh.

“What are ye doing, wench?”

He only called her wench to get a rise out of her, so today, she refused to rise to the bait.

“Just admiring the fjord.” Trying to evade you.

“Why?”

Wondering how I might escape. “Does there have to be a reason?”

“Well, I would think so.” His handsome face brightened. “Have ye given any more thought to my proposal? Really, dearling, it makes sense for us to wed. We could merge our two estates and—”

Rolf was a fine-looking man. Huge in stature. And fairly young, having seen only thirty winters. If her father had offered him as husband, mayhap back then she would have accepted. But her father had never chosen him because Rolf would not have played puppet to her father. Rolf’s first wife had died childless five years past. He would be a prize catch for most women. Perchance Angelique would be interested.

“I have gifted Angelique half of Everstead.”

Rolf inhaled sharply. “Why would you do that?”

She had not told Rolf she was increasing. She would have to soon. Being five months gone, she did not yet show much because of her height and size, unless she was naked, and she had not been naked in many a month. Not since… I must stop myself from dwelling on the past. ’Tis not healthy for me or the babe.

“’Tis only fair that I share with Angelique. I owe her much.”

In truth, marriage to Rolf might not be so bad. And speaking of fairness, she had not given him a chance. She leaned up and gave Rolf a gentle kiss, to test the waters, so to speak. Both of their lips were ice cold.

Rolf was surprised, but not for long. He was a Viking, after all, and Viking men did not have to be invited twice. When she started to pull away, he yanked her into a tight embrace, taking command of the kiss, which was no longer gentle but devouring.

Britta tried to be objective, which was telling in itself. It was not a bad kiss. His breath was sweet. Fresh-shaven, his skin smelled of hard soap and the outdoors.

And she felt nothing.

She was not repelled, but she was not aroused, either.

Had Zachary ruined her for other men?

That thought caused her blood to rise, and she shoved Rolf away gently. Truly, not only had Zachary got her with child, but now it appeared she would never find joy in the bedsport with another man.

Rolf’s head was tilted to the side in question. “Come back to my bed furs with me, dearling, and we will warm each other up.” He was not being forceful in his request. More like inviting, as any virile man would do in the circumstances.

Britta thought briefly of telling Rolf of her pregnancy to test how great his yearning was to wed with her, but, really, it made no difference. She would not have him in any case.

She shook her head. “I am sorry, Rolf.”

He was about to argue but then caught himself. Pride was great in Norsemen, and he was no different.