“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?”
“Just picturing you teasing my mother.”
He nodded, then concluded, “Vagn would not be the worst man for you to choose as husband.”
“Do not bring all that up again. I beg you, Father. Do not humiliate me so.” She knew what Vagn’s answer would be, and it would be a crushing blow to her, for many reasons.
“I will not bring up the subject,” he agreed, “but think about what I have said.”
She did. Way too much.
Fathers know more than we think they do …
Vagn, with sweat pouring off his body and his heart beating as if it would burst, wondered idly, Am I having fun yet?
Wearing only braies and half-boots, he was engaged in swordplay with Finn Fairhair in the exercise room at Briarstead, as he had been for the past hour. About them, other soldier pairs did the same. He had to give Finn credit. He gave as good as he got in the warrior arts, despite his coxcomb appearance.
Vagn felt a tap-tap-tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Gorm crooking his finger at him. Another soldier stepped into Vagn’s place to engage Finn.
Wiping perspiration off his chest and belly with a linen cloth, he watched the old man eye him craftily as they walked to a more secluded spot.
“Well?” Vagn asked.
“Don’t you think it’s time you did something about my daughter?”
“Huh?” It was the last thing he’d expected from Gorm.
“You know she’s pregnant, don’t you?”
That was definitely the last thing he’d expected. “What makes you think so?” He would not betray Helga by acknowledging what he already knew.
“Pfff! She weeps at the least provocation. She yawns all the time. She has been ooh-ing and aah-ing over various babes in the village. She has vomited in the morn on occasion and is always munching on dried manchet bread. She is happy as a lark one moment and mean as a boar the next. I would say that spells pregnant.”
I would, too. “Mayhap it is just that time of the month. You know how some women get half-demented just afore their monthly flux.”
“A father knows.”
“Well, whether she is or she isn’t, this is something betwixt me and Helga. I assume ‘a father knows’ when his daughter has been engaged in certain acts, too. So I will not deny my involvement.”
“What do you intend to do about it?”
“I intend to marry Helga.”
“Have you asked her?
“Nay.”
“How can you be sure she will accept?”
“I will wed with her… that, I assure you.”
“Does she know that you know she is breeding your child?”
“Nay.”
“Does she know that she is breeding?”
“I do not know. Probably.”
“What a mess!”
“It is not a mess. Everything will work out in the end.” I hope. “Just… do… not… interfere.”
“You dare to say that to me when I have stood back and allowed you to swive my daughter.”