Page 44 of A Tale of Two Vikings

In the old days, he and Toste would have relished a day like this. Good, hard work provided satisfaction to a man. But Vagn felt nothing. Nothing.

He had no desire to go a-Viking come spring.

He had no desire to amass more wealth.

He had no desire to soldier in battle.

He had no desire to rekindle old friendships.

He had no desire to gain a wife and children.

In truth, he had no desire, at all.

Well, that isn’t quite true. I have a wee bit of desire, low down in my belly, he told himself, chuckling aloud even as his eyes scanned the great hall and lit on the object of his desire.

Then he looked again.

Bloody hell, why is Helga gazing at me like that?

She sat at the high table with her father. Nothing unusual in that. She wore a scarlet gunna, embroidered with gold thread, and her long blond hair lay loose about her shoulders…a bit unusual attire for an everyday dinner, but not extraordinary. After all, Helga dealt in fine fabrics. It was the expression on her face that caused the fine hairs to rise all over his body, even those short hairs betwixt his legs…especially those short hairs. Even as he watched her—probably with his tongue hanging out and drool dripping to his chin—she darted her little tongue out and made a wide, slow lap of her parted, sinfully delicious lips. Her eyes were glazed and her nostrils flared with what appeared to be passion, though he must be mistaken about that. Helga the No-Longer-Homely stared at him as if he were a sweet confection and she a starving glutton.

His cock came immediately to attention, not that it took much to get a rise there, and heat licked out from his core to every extremity. He made his way toward her, but not before he heard Ragnor beside him exclaim, “Holy Thor, why is Sigrud looking at me like that?” And behind him, Bolli the Blacksmith said, “Why is Bera looking at me like that?” And even farther back, Sleipnir the Stable Master concurred, “Why is Eve looking at me like that?”

They all had silly grins on their faces. Vagn wiped a hand across his mouth to make sure he wasn’t grinning, as well.

“Gorm, Helga,” he said, nodding to the two of them as he sat down at the high table and reached for the horn of ale that a housecarl poured for him. He drank it down thirstily and held out his horn for a refill.

“’Twas a good day’s work today, Vagn,” Gorm said, speaking around Helga, who sat between them.

“Yea,” he agreed, and the two of them discussed the day’s events and what was planned for the morrow, but the whole time Vagn was acutely aware of Helga at his side. Was that rose scent he smelled on her skin and hair today? Or the usual lavender? And, yea, she was regarding him in the most peculiar manner.

Finally, when Gorm turned to address a high-ranking soldier on his other side, Vagn gave his full attention to Helga. “Do that again,” he whispered huskily.

“What?” Her eyes darted here and there. She was obviously not comfortable with this game she played.

“Lick your lips. Slowly.”

She groaned softly, low in her throat. Then she lifted her chin with some sort of resolve. “I’m not wearing any undergarments,” she announced of a sudden.

He choked on his ale. When he regained his composure, he replied, “Neither am I,” and accompanied his words with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Are you teasing me?” she asked.

“Mayhap. Are you teasing me?”

She did not answer. Instead, she did that lip-lapping thing with her tongue again.

A certain part of his body liked that a lot. He smiled. He could not help himself. “Thank you.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Why?”

“I find it difficult to smile these days. You made me smile.”

“So I am a joke to you. Another jest—just like the one your brother made.” She started to rise from her seat, and tears welled in her eyes.

Putting a hand to her forearm, he forced her back down. “Do not be so testy, wench. ’Twas a compliment, not an insult.”

She sank back to her seat and let out a long sigh of nervousness.