Page 63 of A Tale of Two Vikings

“Mayhap I could imply to Vagn that Finn is called ‘fine’ for other reasons—reasons not visible at first glance,” Helga said.

Rona laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. “Methinks you have a knack for sex games.”

Oh, my gods!

Let the games begin…

Vagn was in the guardroom honing his sword with a whet stone when Helga came sashaying in. And, yea, “sashaying” was the best way to describe the deliberate, sultry sway of her hips.

It had been two days since the “event” in his bedchamber, and he had not forgotten one single bit of it. His male member remembered even more, apparently, because it was always half-hard these days.

Never in all his misbegotten days had a woman approached him with such an outrageous exercise in blood-boiling, bone-melting temptation. And he’d bloody well liked it. Helga, in all her innocence, was a born seductress. If she only knew!

That was why he’d kept his distance these two long days, and would continue to do so. Like right now.

“Go away, Helga. I am not interested,” he lied as she got closer to him. He continued to rasp the whet stone along the blade of his sword as if he were not even aware of her presence. Hah!

She stopped directly in front of him. “You thought I was looking for you? Foolish man!”

Did she just call me foolish? I think I’ll use her tongue to hone my sword.

“Ha ha ha.”

Is she laughing at me?

“I have given up on my efforts with you, Vagn. So you can relax and stop hiding from me.”

Who are you attempting to fool? Me or yourself?

“Actually, I have come searching for Finn. Oh, I see him over there.”

What? WHAT? Vagn’s eyes shot up.

But Helga was already sashaying off to the other side of the guardroom, where Finn was practicing swordplay with another soldier. Finn was a good enough soldier, Vagn thought, but he spent way too much time on personal grooming. A coxcomb, through and through. The only man Vagn had ever met who was more full of himself than Finn was his old comrade, Rurik the Vain. Not only did Finn trim his facial hairs to excess, but he wore his braies so tight that his manparts stood out like two big apples holding up a snake. Probably padding. Helga was too smart a lady to be interested in such a foppish man. She wouldn’t give him a second glance. With a resolute shake of his head, Vagn concluded, She wouldn’t want Finn’s seed.

Even so, he narrowed his eyes and watched helplessly as Helga called out to Finn, who stopped his swordplay and leaned down to listen to what she was saying. Before he did so, though, Finn reached down and adjusted the sack of apples at his groin, and Helga the Porridge-Brain watched him do so with interest.

She would want Finn’s seed!

Vagn couldn’t hear from this distance, but he saw Finn smile and at one point throw his head back with laughter.

Is she serious? Or just playing more games?

She placed a hand on Finn’s wide chest and giggled. She actually giggled.

Vagn saw red. He literally saw a haze of red afore his blazing eyeballs. Has she really given up on her quest for my seed? And is she now about to glean seed elsewhere?

He should not care. What business was it of his? Let her make a fool of herself.

But what if Finn agreed?

I do not care.

Finn would not.

I do not care.

Finn might.