Page 32 of Viking in Love

“If Edgar had no qualms about raping a nun and keeping her captive, princesses would pose no obstacle,” he concluded. “We have to get them out of here.”

“We?”

“We.”

“When?”

“On the morrow.”

“I cannot wait to see this. Wake me if I oversleep.”

“By your leave, m’lords, I could not help but overhear,” Rashid injected from Caedmon’s other side. Caedmon had forgotten he was there. “Remember, after the game, the king and the pawn both go in the same box.”

“Thank you for that wisdom,” he said politely to Rashid, then turned to Wulf, mouthing silently, “What does that mean?”

Wulf shrugged, then smirked at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“’Tis not nothing. What amuses you so?”

“You.”

“The princesses will need more than one day to depart,” Rashid interjected again.

“Why?” he and Wulf both asked at the same time.

Bypassing their question, Rashid went on, “May Allah weep, but the princesses are in need of a friend. After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“Huh?” he and Wulf asked together, again. Like minds and all that. Or like lackwits, more like.

Caedmon frowned, trying to figure out what the Arab was implying. “Are you saying that the princesses and I have an enemy in common?”

“As you say.” Rashid stood, seemed to touch his forehead, nose, mouth, and chest in one quick motion, then bowed from the waist at both of them, before walking away.

He and Wulf looked at each other, then both gasped.

“Edgar,” Wulf guessed.

“Bloody hell!” Caedmon exclaimed, pounding his empty cup of ale on the table. “Bloody, bloody hell!”

And then the you-know-what hit the medieval fan…

Breanne awakened slowly in a dark room, except for the light from a single candle on a nearby low table and the embers glowing in the fireplace hearth.

She should feel guilty, having slept all afternoon and into the evening, but she felt wonderful. As she sat up, raising her arms high to stretch, the thin sheet covering her fell, revealing her nakedness.

Her nudity was of no concern. Most folks slept that way, except in the harsh winter cold. But how she got to be unclothed was a puzzle. Last she recalled was the loathsome lout picking her up from Pier’s bedside and carrying her here. Is it possible—

Just then, the door flew open and said loathsome lout stood there, legs braced in a defiant stance, fury dancing in his hard blue eyes.

“Eeeeek!” she yelped, pulling the cloth up to her shoulders. “Get out of my bedchamber.”

“’Tis my bedchamber.”

She glanced around. “Oh. Then, get out of your bedchamber whilst I put on some clothing.”