Lights out at ten, candles out at eleven …
Vagn came to Helga’s tiny bedchamber carrying candles. Her room was right next to the garderobe—not the most desirable location, but he suspected she found it a welcome spot, what with her often uneasy stomach and her frequent need to relieve herself.
“What are you doing here, you bothersome oaf?” were her first words of welcome. Her second were, “Those candles had better not be for what I think you intend.”
“Tsk tsk, Helga, get your mind out of the midden. I knew you were in a small room and would welcome some light when we talked.”
She was under a bed fur, naked he hoped, but not asleep, though the room was dark. Her long blond hair hung in a single braid down over her shoulder. “I do not welcome the light.”
Too bad. He’d already lit four of Eadyth’s precious beeswax candles and placed them about the chamber, which was so small there was scarce room for him to turn around.
He smiled cheerfully at her.
She stuck out her tongue at him.
He took that as a good sign.
He got down on one knee beside the bed and took her hand in his. “Helga, will you marry me?”
“Do you have a moat betwixt your ears, Vagn? Nay, nay, nay! How many times do I have to say that?” She tried to pull her hand out of his grasp while clutching her bed fur with the other. The fur had slid down to her breasts. She was indeed naked underneath.
Thank you, gods. “Till the answer becomes yes.”
“You have your brother now, Vagn. You have no need of me.”
“Well, yea, I do have a need of you,” he said, staring pointedly at her breast area.
“Not that kind of need, you libertine.”
“You say libertine in the most affectionate way, Helga. Didst know that?”
“Aaarrgh!”
“It is cold in this room without a hearth, Helga. I’d better slide under that bed fur with you… to warm you up.”
“Don’t you dare.”
He was already daring. He removed his half-boots and pushed her against the wall with his hip. The bed was barely big enough for one person, let alone two. Good! Then he turned on his side to stare at her.
He put a hand on her bare belly and asked, “Has the babe moved yet?”
She slapped his hand away. “I told you, babes don’t move this early.”
“Let’s have sex.” There are times when directness is the best policy.
“Let’s not.”
And sometimes not. “Are your nipples more sensitive now, sweetling? I have heard that pregnant women have exceedingly sensitive breasts.”
Before she had a chance to slap him away or clout him on the side of the head, he placed a cool hand on her warm breast and fondled the large nipple.
She groaned. He could tell that she did not want to groan, but that his brief ministration had been more pleasurable than she could resist. Like any good soldier who knew to take advantage when given an opening, he flipped the bed fur downward and placed his mouth over one of her breasts and at the same time fondled the other. Wet and hot, he laved and flicked at her till the only words out of her mouth were, “Oh, Vagn.” And somehow—more thanks to the gods—her hands were at the back of his head holding him in place.
He moved his face lower then. There was something he’d been wanting to do for days now. He placed his mouth against her belly and whispered, “Hello, babe. Here I am. Your father. Are you a handsome fellow like your father? Or a pretty girling like your mother? I cannot wait to see you. I will be here when you come, that I promise, little one.”
When he moved over her then, belly to belly, chest to breasts, he noticed that she was weeping silently. “What?” he asked, wiping away some of the moisture with a thumb.
“You do wear a lady down, Vagn. I swear, you could charm the fleece off a lamb.”
He took that as his cue to do some more charming. He unlaced his braies, then spread her thighs with his own, resting himself on the cradle of her hips. He would be a fool to risk getting off the bed and removing his clothing, giving her a chance to have second thoughts. With no forewarning, he slid into her welcome sheath and remained still for a moment. “I think I felt the babe move,” he murmured with awe.