Page 41 of The Viking’s Captive

“Well, he was in your bedchamber. Conductin’ inter … inter … interviews, I think he called ‘em.”

“Interviews?” she and Adam both said at the same time.

“Yea, and what a mess it was, too! Had a dozen women lined up outside in the corridor, he did.”

“Interviews for what?” Adam asked through gritted teeth, though he and Tyra both knew the answer.

“Yer harem. We wuz helpin’ him with the interviews. Openin’ and closin’ the door, holdin’ back the pushy ones. When we kept askin’ him questions, that’s when he said, ‘Why do you not go hunt for Master Adam?’ What does buxom mean, anyhow? And belly dancin’? I have heard of dancin’ round the Friggsday bonfire, but belly dancin’ … I jist can’t picture it.”

Adam stood abruptly and began to stalk away. “I am going to kill the man, I truly am.”

The children were staring after him, worried, no doubt, that they had said the wrong thing. Tyra, on the other hand, had her palm pressed over her mouth, stifling a laugh.

Just before he reached the outside staircase, Adam halted and turned. Pointing a finger at her, he asserted, “You and I have unfinished business.”

Tyra didn’t even bother to disagree.

In truth, she couldn’t wait.

Harems, anyone? …

Adam had to shove his way through two dozen milling women—the number appeared to be growing by the minute—to get to his bedchamber.

I am going to kill him. Forget about my newfound dedication to healing. I am going to kill him.

As he opened the door a crack, he heard Vana the White—Tyra’s very own sister, for the love of God!— asking, “Does it matter if a new harem houri is a … a … virgin?” The last word came out on a mortified whisper.

I am going to kill him.

“Nay, it matters not.” Rashid was waving a hand airily. The other hand held a parchment on which he’d presumably been taking notes on the harem candidates. “There is an ancient Arab proverb regarding this very thing. ‘Virginity is like a blister. Once pricked, ‘tis gone forever.’” Then he smiled widely, enjoying his own wisdom, no doubt.

“Rashid!” Adam practically bellowed, opening the door wider.

Rashid jumped, and so did the young woman.

“Out!” he ordered Vana, then slammed the door after her.

“Do you have a death wish?” he asked his assistant, who had the nerve to stare back at him with wide-eyed innocence, not the least bit repentant.

“Nay, but I do have a wish to be happy. Is that too much to ask? That a man may be happy in this lifetime? Allah says—”

“Do not dare quote me a proverb now. I am in no mood. Did I not tell you, over and over, that I do not want a harem?”

“Who said the harem is for you?” Rashid placed a hand flat against his heart as if Adam’s charge had wounded him greatly.

Hah!Rashid wasn’t fooling him. “And who might this harem be for? The sultan of Baghdad? A desert caliph?”

“Nay, nay, nay! Just for me.”

“Oh, really? And where were you planning on setting up this harem? My weaving shed in Northumbria?”

Rashid raised his chin stubbornly. “You cannot tell me what to do with my free time. And if I want a harem, and have the funds to support it … which I do … then that is precisely what I will do.”

Rashid stormed out then. Adam wasn’t sure if the hasty exit was because he was offended, or if he just wanted to escape his wrath.

I have insulted my best friend.

I have gained a triple shadow of pestsome children.