A TALE OF TWO VIKINGS By Sandra Hill

“Play chess?” she offered.

“For three months?” He arched his eyebrows at the ludicrous idea.

“I’m sure Father could use your help in training his troops, or running the estates.”

Vagn braced his arms on the wall on either side of her head, trapping her. His eyes homed in on her mouth.

Her eyes darted right and left, as if seeking some means of escape.

Too late, my lamb. Too late. “You know what that would lead to, don’t you? He would be grooming me for son-by-marriage.”

“I had not thought of that.”

“Do you know, Helga, it has been a year and more since I have lain with a woman?”

“What has that to do with me?” she asked in a near shriek, as he gave in to temptation and nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck.

He relished the softness of her flesh and the silkiness of her blond hair. And, yea, it was lavender he had smelled. Did she bathe in lavender-scented water? Intriguing picture, that.

“Everything,” he said and took a small nibble at her earlobe. Then another. And another. He licked, too.

What a delicacy! Better than any sweetmeat in a royal harem.

“Don’t,” she protested.

“Don’t what?”

“Play with me. You are bored and seeking a dalliance to pass the time. I will not be used so.”

What a perceptive maid! Play is exactly what I have in mind. “You would enjoy it.”

“I doubt it, but that is neither here nor there. Do not dishonor me this way, Vagn.”

Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk! Why do women feel the need to discuss everything to death? “Why is it dishonorable for a man and woman to pleasure each other?”

“Highborn men and women do not tumble in the hay without a marriage commitment.”

They do where I come from. “Do you want such a commitment from me?”

“Nay!” The hands she placed on his chest to shove him away trembled, but he did not budge.

“Besides, do not be too sure about what highborn men and women do in private. You might be surprised.”

“I do not care one way or another. I care about myself, and I will not allow you to play your games with me. Do not misread me, Vagn. You have the ability to turn me mindless with your touches and kisses, no doubt due to years of womanizing—”

“No doubt.” His voice was droll with amusement, but what he thought was I make her mindless with my touches and kisses? Very, very interesting!

“—but that does not mean I am willing.”

“You would be willing, believe you me.”

“Spare me your boasts, braggart.”

“Helga, Helga, Helga. There are two things I do exceedingly well. They both begin with the eff-sound. One of them is fighting. Do not force me to tell you what the other is.”

“Crude lout!”

“Open your mouth for me, sweetling. Just so, with the tip of your tongue peeking out.”

Her response was to bite her bottom lip with determination, just as he’d expected.

“I hate being vulnerable,” she admitted then.

“Must you always be in control?”

“Yea, finally you understand.”

“You are wrong, m’lady. I do not understand.”

“You are vulnerable, too, Vagn. Do not frown at me. ‘Tis true. You are unsettled by your near-death and the loss of your brother. You are looking for some stable, though temporary, lodestone to latch on to. Well, it will not be me. Someday you will come to your senses again. Then where would I be?”

“You think too much.” And talk too much.

“You think too little. I am a challenge to you. Nothing more.”

“Mayhap.” Probably.

“Find some wench to relieve yourself with. There are willing maids aplenty about my father’s keep.”

“I do not want them,” he said, leaning in close so that she could feel his breath when he said, “I… want… you.”

She moaned. “I am not to your liking. I am not buxom or beautiful.”

Your lips alone are enough to turn my legs to water. “You are beautiful to me.”

“Liar. You called me homely.”

“That was my brother.”

“I suspect you and Toste have often traded places over the years. I suspect you called me Helga the Homely on as many occasions as he did.”

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