“Toste. Kidnapped by Esme. Woodcutter’s hut. Tied to bed. Naked.”
Within seconds, Eirik was pulling on his braies, laughing heartily. “I cannot wait to see this. Finally the rogue has met his match.”
Laughing his arse off…
In another bedchamber several doors away, Alinor was sitting atop her husband’s stomach. Naked, the way he liked her.
Tykir was splayed out, arms and legs extended, panting for breath. Sated well and good, the way she liked him.
“Tykir, heartling, there is something I must tell you.”
His eyes cracked open a bit. “Uh-oh. I suspect trouble is on the way, especially when you call me heartling whilst sitting on my limp cock.”
“Tsk tsk tsk!” she chided him. ” ‘Tis about Toste.”
“I already know about Toste. Gone missing, he is.” He proceeded to tell her about meeting the priest from the Jorvik minster.
“Not missing, precisely,” she told him. “Actually, he is here at Ravenshire. Never left.”
“Really?” He frowned. “I did not see him when we arrived.”
“Well, he could not come to the hall.”
“Because?” he prodded her.
“He is tied to a bed in the woodcutter’s hut, naked,” she said in a breathy rush.
“Stop talking in riddles. Who did this to him?”
“Esme.”
Tykir gaped at her for only a moment, then burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that his manpart jiggled inside her woman-place, which caused her woman-place to clasp and unclasp him, which caused him to make love to her another time, the whole time laughing. Once they were both fully dressed and preparing to leave the bedchamber, Tykir said, “I cannot wait to see this.” He was still laughing.
Out in the hallway, he met up with Eirik and Eadyth. Eirik was laughing, too. Downstairs, they told the story to Bolthor, who started laughing, too.
So, it was quite a hilarious entourage that made its way down the still snowy path to the woodcutter’s hut. Bolthor was already composing a saga. In fact, he said he expected to get two or three poems out of this happenstance.
Just before they opened the door of the hut, Eirik squeezed his wife’s shoulder and said, “Methinks this is going to be the most lively yuletide season we have had at Ravenshire in years.”
Sweet revenge…
Ten days of captivity and Toste was grinding his teeth once again at Esme’s stubborn streak. Despite all manner of threats, she just would not release him. He was running out of torture ideas.
“Stop chewing on your fingernails,” he snapped. “There will be none left for me to pluck out. And your whistling is not melodious, believe you me.”
She looked up from her chair by the fire, which she’d been gazing at pensively. And continued to gnaw nervously on her thumb. “Eirik and Tykir and Bolthor should be home soon, now that the weather has turned warmer,” she commented. Water could be heard dripping steadily from the roof into a rain barrel outside. “Dost think the news will be bad for me?”
“The news will be bad for you no matter what the Witan has decided.”
“How so?”
“Even if they rule in your favor, you will have me to contend with.”
“I had no choice, Toste.”
“Oh, you had a choice, m’lady. I know of no other noble-born woman who would have done what you have.”
She shrugged. “If a man had done what I have, people would have said he was justified. Why must women be treated differently?”
“Because women are different.” He told her explicitly how they were different.
She ignored his crudity and asked of a sudden, “Have you ever been in love… with a woman, I mean?”
Nay, only with men. By thunder, she insults me even when she doesn’t try to. “Nay. Why do you ask?”
“Methinks that if you ever loved a woman the way you loved your brother, well, that woman would be very fortunate.”
“Are you trying to win your way into my favor with compliments? Forget it!”
“Nay. I am just making conversation.”
“Are you a virgin?” he asked, figuring she wasn’t the only one who could change the subject at will.
Her eyebrows shot up with surprise. “Yea, I am. Why would you think otherwise?”