“Well, let us hope that the idiot Viking takes the bait from your pole-dancing seduction,” Hilda said. “I mean, lust is a given with Viking men, but that’s not what you want to accomplish with this video . . . or at least not everything. Love is what you are aiming for, right? Love induced by jealousy.”
Twist and shout: she twisted,
he shouted . . .
Torolf was putting his bratling to bed, and Thorfinn had just showered. It had been a hard day of physical exercise, but satisfying. When he was panting for breath and his muscles screaming, he could forget about Lydia.
Liar! Lydia was on his mind, even then.
Unfortunately, there had been no opportunity these past few busy weeks for them to be alone. What little time he had was consumed with Miklof. Of course Lydia was usually there, too, but it was not the same.
Truth to tell, he had come to a surprising conclusion, especially after that talk he had had with Torolf and his comrades on the beach. He was in love with Lydia, if this constant ache in the region of his heart was an indication. Or the way he thought of nothing but her night and day. Or the way he walked about with a half-thickening at the most inappropriate times. Yea, he must be in love.
Lydia would be so happy. He could not wait to tell her. He called her number, but there was no answer, just her voice telling him to leave a message. Even he knew it would not be romantic to tell a woman for the first time that you loved her over a telephone. Mayhap on the morrow if he was able to get away from the SEAL command center.
So, it was with a smile of anticipation on his face that he walked into the solar to hear Lydia’s voice. He stopped short, not having heard her arrive. But no one was there, except the shrew.
“Go away, Finn,” Hilda ordered.
That of course meant he had to enter the room.
“What are you doing?” he inquired lazily as he plopped down into a soft chair. Hilda hated it when he used that lazy tone, or when he plopped onto her furniture.
“Watching an instructional video Lydia made. She’s going to sell it to an Internet company.”
He turned his attention to the TV box, and there Lydia was, stark naked. Nay, not naked. Wearing that skin-tight, flesh-colored garment. Not to mention tup-me-quick shoes that made a woman’s body arch with the pelvis thrust forward. An invitation for sex play, if there ever was one. But, whoa, what was that dance move? It was as if she were making love to the pole. And the dreamy expression on her face! Save me, Odin!
As aroused as he was, instantly, he was also horrified. “Who will see this?”
“Everyone who buys it.” Hilda did not even have the grace to look his way, so intent was she on watching the video.
“Men?”
“And women.”
“Are you saying that strangers will pay to watch Lydia bend her . . . oh, my gods . . . did you see what she just did?”
“Yes. She is good, isn’t she? Thousands of people will buy this video.”
“Over my dead body!”
“You have no say over Lydia.”
“Dost think so?”
Hilda did look at him then. “You do not love her, Finn. Why would you care?”
“I ne’er said I did not care.” He could tell Hilda of his newly discovered love for Lydia and mayhap reduce her contempt, but why should he? And, really, Lydia should be the first to know. “I care too much.”
“Bullshit!” Hilda was way too frank of manner and had taken on too many modern expressions, if you asked him, which nobody did.
“Coarse talk ill suits you, wench.”
“Call me wench again, and I’ll castrate you with that bloody sword of yours, which, incidentally, I want out of the linen closet.”
Keep it up, shrew, and I will use said sword to slit your irksome tongue. “Mind your own business, Hilda.” He was watching the video with his head cocked to the side. Who knew a woman could twist her body like that? He wondered what it would be like to have sex in that position. Nay, nay, nay! I did not just think that. Disgusted with himself, he walked up to the TV box and pressed the eject button.
“What are you doing?” she shrieked. “I need to watch that video. Lydia wants my advice on some of the moves that need work.”