Page 123 of The Viking’s Captive

“I told you nay, and I meant it. I look like a plucked chicken.”

“It will grow out,” he said, trying for a consoling tone, but ruining it with his continuing grin. “Won’t it?”

“I suppose. But not for a long time.”

“How long?”

She shrugged. “Six months, mayhap.”

“And you think you can keep me from your bed furs for six months?”

“I can try.”

“Wedding or no wedding, I will be betwixt your hairless thighs by nightfall. That I promise you, you silly wench.”

“Nay, you will not.” She lifted her chin stubbornly. “And do not dare tell anyone about this. I swear, if I hear Bolthor compose a saga about this atrocity, I will blame you. And I had absolutely better not hear any chicken jokes, or your life is in peril.”

“Ch-chicken jokes?” he sputtered out.

“Yea. I can just hear it now. ‘What chicken laid that egg in the courtyard?’ ‘Oh, never mind, ‘twas just Tyra.’”

She had shocked him with her bluntness, she could tell.

“This really bothers you?”

“Did I not say so?”

He stood suddenly and kicked his chair aside. Then he began to remove his clothing. His belt, his tunic, his boots, for a start.

“What are you doing?”

“You will see.”

When he was totally naked—and what a sight that was! The man was too handsome for his own good—he walked over to a table on which were a pitcher, bowl, and jar of soft soap. With deliberate care, he lathered the hairy region around his manparts. Then he walked back to her and handed her a sharp dagger which had been in his belt.

“Shave me,” he ordered.

She dropped the dagger to the floor. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Nay, just my heart,” he said with such simplicity it melted all her resolve.

Just my heart.Did the man know how much those words would mean to an affection-starved woman such as herself? There wasn’t a woman alive who didn’t yearn for a special man to say those words to her. And Adam was special. Very special.

“If it will make you feel better to have us both be hairless, it is a small price to pay.”

She jumped to her feet and wrapped her arms around his wide shoulders, kissing every part of his face. “I love you. And not just because of that sweet gesture. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“Does that mean I will remain unshaven?” he asked against her ear.

“It does.”

“Whew!” he said. “Two plucked chickens in one bed is a bit too much.”

She smacked him for his teasing.

He tried to tickle her … in the area of her mortification.

She really did punch him then, and while he wrestled with her to restrain her pummeling, he lowered himself to the bed, taking her with him. Then he rolled over smoothly so she was on the bottom.