“Oh, I don’t know about that. Does Toste love you?” Leave it to Alinor to get right to the heart of the matter.
Esme threw her hands in the air. “If he did not tell me he was going on a chivalrous errand on my behalf, dost think he would inform me of his inner feelings?”
“Betimes a woman can sense these things,” Alinor said.
“Well, his lovemaking was spectacular,” Esme revealed with a flaming face.
“Do tell,” both women said with avid interest, placing the objects they’d been sorting back on a table and giving her their full attention.
“I couldn’t speak of that, except to say that he did that thing for me that men don’t like but which women adore.”
“And that would be?” Alinor asked, a suspicious tone in her voice.
“You know—the woman’s favorite position in bed-sport.”
Eadyth grinned at Alinor and said, “I cannot wait to hear this.” They both looked at Esme.
There was no escape now. So Esme said bluntly, “Like a dog.”
Eadyth looked at Alinor, and Alinor looked at Eadyth. Then they both burst out laughing. And they continued to laugh till tears rolled down their faces. Esme just gaped at them in puzzlement.
Woof, woof, woof…
‘Twas said that, in many bedchambers at Ravenshire that night, dog-sex took place. Bolthor swore he would write a saga about it.
Next day, male voices were heard to make barking noises in jest as they elbowed each other. Many a woman walked about weak-kneed, with a perpetual blush on her face.
And they all had Toste to thank.
The road trip from hell…
“Stop touching me,” Helga said, slapping at Vagn’s hand which had once again crept up to the side of her breast.
“Stop jiggling your arse. You’re tempting me.”
“I was not jiggling… oh, forget it. Just put me down.”
Helga was riding in front of Vagn on Clod. They were on their way to Ravenshire, and everyone was getting tired of having to stop so often so that she could rest her churning stomach. It seemed that the bouncing rhythm of the cart had made her sick. Riding on the horse with Vagn made her feel better, but he made her sick.
“How is your stomach?”
“Just fine.”
“Do you have to piss?”
“Do you have to be so crude? Nay, I do not have to relieve myself.”
“Do your breasts hurt?”
“Vaaaagn!”
“Well, I was just concerned about your well-being. I would be willing to massage them, if need be.”
She exhaled with a whoosh of exasperation.
“Has the baby moved yet?” he asked, placing a hand on her flat belly.
“I am less than one month pregnant, Vagn. Babes do not move in the womb this early.”
“How was I to know? This is the first time I have been pregnant… I mean… well, you know what I mean. When precisely will it be moving?”
“I have no idea.”
“Will you let me know when it moves?”
“Yea, if you are around.”
“I will be around.” There was a brief period of silence and then he said, “Marry me, Helga.”
It was only the hundredth time that he’d urged her to marry him. She had to admit she liked to hear him plead, but she was no more convinced now than she had been the first time around. “Give me one good reason why I should.”
“Because it is the right thing to do.”
“Wrong answer.”
“What do you want me to say, Helga?”
“Nothing,” she said wearily. “Nothing at all.” Soon she was nodding off to sleep, rocked by the soothing motion of the horse and the warm comfort of Vagn’s cloak wrapped around them both.
Through a haze of near-sleep, she heard Finn Finehair ride up and inquire too sweetly, “Have you won her over yet?”
“Nay, but methinks she is softening.”
“I could give you tips,” Finn offered magnanimously.
Vagn told him, “Go pluck some arse hairs.” Whatever that meant. Finn just laughed.
Her father rode up then. “Did you ask her again?”
“I did,” Vagn said.
“I presume she did not agree.”
“Nay, but methinks she is softening.”
“Best you soften her quick. Ravenshire draws near, and there will be little time for softening once we arrive.”