Viking Series - My Fair Viking Part 21

"Huh?" he and Tyra said at the same time.

If he didn't know better, he would think Ingrith was flirting with him.

"Why are you flirting with him?" Tyra asked.

No one could accuse Tyra of beating around the bush.

"Well, why not? You do not seem particularly interested. I a.s.sumed he was fair game. And Drifa said he is ever so nice."

Fairgame? Me? Nice?He wasn't so sure about being considered nice, but he rather liked the concept of being fair game. So he puffed out his chest and smiled warmly at Ingrith. He made sure it was a smile, not a simper.

Tyra used one of her big feet to stomp on his toes and murmured something about, "Lecherous, loathsome lout."

"Ouch!" he said, pulling his booted foot up to rest on his knee and rubbing it with great exaggeration.

Just then Breanne walked up and sat down in the empty chair on his other side.

"Adam, I need your advice."

Tyra made a most unflattering, masculine-sounding snort on his other side. She'd better not scratch her groin. He could not bear to picture her in the gown, which was temptation itself, performing lewd manly gestures.

He c.o.c.ked his head, indicating Breanne should elaborate.

"I have been thinking about building a hospitium here at Stoneheim. What think you of the idea?"

"Do you have someone to man it for you?"

She batted her eyelashes at him.

Good Lord, another of Tyra's sisters flirting withme. What isgoing on here?"If Father Efrid and the midwife are willing to work in it, then I think it is a wonderful idea. I will not be here much longer, though " He wanted to make it absolutely clear to one and all that his stay at Stoneheim had not been his idea to begin with, and it would end as soon as King Thorvald recovered... or died.

"Planning on going somewhere, Saxon?" Tyra asked, slurring her words.

"Exactly how many horns of ale have you drunk?"

"Not enough, apparently. I can still see your leering face."

Leering? First she saysIsimper, now I leer. The ale must be affecting her perceptions. 'Tis past time for me to take the offensive here."Nay, I am not going anywhere soon... leastways, not till a certain pact is fulfilled. " He watched with great satisfaction as her face bloomed with color Then he turned his back on Tyra and began to discuss the potential hospitium project with Breanne in earnest. They ate and talked at the same time .. about the size of the building, examining tables, chests, windows, its location... over dozens of dishes, each more elaborate or tasty than the previous ones. Ingrith truly was an artisan in the kitchen. Breanne was an artisan in her own way, and brilliant of mind Not to mention being beautiful, both of them . . Ingrith with her Norse blondness and Breanne with her redheaded Irish good looks.

It was some time before Adam turned back to Tyra, only to realize that the meal was over and the entertainment about to begin... and that Tyra had collected her own set of admirers. She was flirting, like her sisters, except not with him. Dammit!

A Viking soldier by the name of Gunter, reputed to be the best swordsman in all Norway, was tugging on one of her war braids, teasing her about some saucy remark she'd made earlier. The maids all swooned when Gunter walked by, but he was too pretty by half for a man, if you asked Adam... which n.o.body did of course Egil Iversson, another noted warrior, was asking her if she'd like to take a stroll with him about the ramparts. Egil'sbraies were so tight you could see his prodigious maleparts. He was wearing an enlarged codpiece, no doubt. Beware of men in tightbraies , that was Adam's philosophy, which he would pa.s.s on to his daughters someday, if he ever had any daughters. Or mayhap he would pa.s.s it on to Tyra... once he was within ducking distance. Adam decided to follow Tyra's suit and downed a horn of ale in one long swallow. He felt it all the way to his toes.

"Really, Tyra, you should come for a stroll with me," Egil was saying. "There is something interesting I would like to show you."

I'll bet there is. What kind of stroll does the filthy fornicator have in mind? 'Tis dark outside. And coldI hopehe freezes off his... codpiece.

"Nay, Tyra cannot go strolling with you. She promised to dance with me later." 'Twas Gunter the Peac.o.c.k speaking now.

"I did?" Tyra appeared a bit disoriented, whether from the ale or the male attentions he could not tell.

Both men's eyes kept straying to Tyra's exposed bosom.

Adam tightened his fingers on the wooden arms of his chair to prevent himself from drawing his sword, which he'd unfortunately left back in his bedchamber... or perhaps fortunately.

"What kind of saucy remark did you make, Tyra?" he asked casually.

"She asked if I wanted to couple with her," Gunter revealed in a gloating fashion.

"Also, she made an astute observation about the size of a woman's b.r.e.a.s.t.s compared to the size of her

brain," Egil added.

Both men were still staring at her chest.

Ihave heard enough!

Apparently, not enough, for Bolthor came up just then and gave Tyra an adoring look from his one good eye. The giant skald looking adoring was a sight to behold... rather like a one-eyed randy bear. "I have a gift for you, my lady." "For me?" Even Tyra appeared startled by Bolthor's interest.

The poet nodded his head vigorously. "A praise-poem, written just for you. Wouldst like to hearit?" Nay, nay, nay!

"Well, of course, Bolthor."

He would have liked to shake Tyra thoroughly, but her b.r.e.a.s.t.s would undoubtedly pop out.

"This saga is called 'Lady in the Red Gown.' "

Uh-oh!

"There once was a lady fair Whose love no man could snare.

All her beauty she did hide Under male garb of leather dried.

A sword she did carry, In battle she did tarry.

Methinks the lady knew not her worth Till the day a crimson gown came forth.

Then the lady did bloom, Like the finest peac.o.c.k plume.

Now the lady gets her pick Of all the men lovesick.

But she best not too quickly stir 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 stillhave women without tupping them," she persisted.

"I would like to b.l.o.o.d.y 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 G.o.d! An entertainment had been planned for that evening. An open s.p.a.ce 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.

DoIdare?Adam wondered, casting a sideways glance at Tyra.

b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, do I dare not? he countered to himself, even as he stood, picked up Tyra by the waist, then sat back down with her straddling his lap, her back to his chest. Breanne immediately took the vacated seat, with Drifa and Ingrith sitting on either arm. The three of them smiled their thanks at him.

"You brute!" Tyra tried to squirm away, to no avail. He had both arms wrapped firmly around her waist, and the table blocked her from the front.

"Keep squirming, wench. It gives me a good view of your nipples," he said into her ear.

She immediately stilled and looked downward... then groaned. "Did everyone else see, too?" she asked in a mortified whisper.

"Nay, just me. And very nice nipples they are, too."

She tried to pry his hands off her waist, but he held tight, like a vise.

"I ought to cut off your fingers with my dagger."

"If you did that, I would be unable to finger-pleasure you."

That certainly caught her attention. He could practically hear her brain pondering what he'd just said. "What... what is finger-pleasuring?" she finally choked out.

He had no idea, that word being a sudden inspiration of his. Well, actually, he could imagine what it might be. But words would do it no justice. That kind of erotic wisdom deserved a demonstration. So, while he still held on tightly to her with his left hand, he deftly slipped his right hand under the hem of her gown onto the bare skin of her leg.

"Oh." That was her only response. He was fairly certain she liked it if her soft sigh of delight was any indication... and the fact that she didn't chop off his fingers.

Because of the table, the dim light, and the fact that all eyes were on Agnis, the young maid singing and

playing the lute, no one noticed what Adam was about.

His hand was only on her calf, but she went stiff as a pike.

Deliberately he spread his knees, which caused her knees to spread as well. He had her exactly where

he wanted her... on his lap, and exposed.

"You cannot," she said as his hand moved in a slow caress from her calf to her knee, then up, up, up to her thigh.