Part 21 (2/2)
But she best not too quickly stir Or she will have a spillover, And more suitors than she would prefer.
Praise be to Tyra, Warrior Princess And her crimson dress.”
”That was truly awful,” Tyra murmured under her breath. But to Bolthor she said, ”That was wonderful.”
”Would you like another?” He was gazing at her like a moonstruck calf.
”Perhaps later,” she said graciously. ”Right now, methinks Ingrith is in need of a good saga. She is in the scullery, I believe, overtired from preparing this fine meal. Dost think you could cheer her up?”
Bolthor's one eye lit up as if he'd just been handed a great treasure. ”I know just the one. 'Praise Be to Pork.' ”
Well, Bolthor's saga-saying had accomplished one thing, to Adam's mind. Gunter and Egil were nowhere to be seen... for now, leastways. Adam had feared having to challenge them to a duel, or some such gruesome feat of challenge.
”You certainly handled Bolthor well,” Adam congratulated Tyra, trying for a pleasant tone.
”Go away,” she replied.
That rules out pleasantries. Apparently, she was still upset with him, and he couldn't even remember why. Oh, now he recalled. She thought he was flirting with her sisters.
”Tyra, dearling, I have no interest in your sisters.”
”Do I look as if I care? And do not call me dearling.”
”Yea, you do... dearling.”
”Well, I don't. And stop, stop, stop with the endearments. It makes me feel as if I am just one of your women.”
”Women! For pity's sake, Tyra, you already know, thanks to Ras.h.i.+d's flapping tongue, that I have been chaste for two years. So, no women!”
”You can stillhave women without tupping them,” she persisted.
”I would like to b.l.o.o.d.y well know how,” he muttered. Best to change the subject. ”It would be nice if you would reciprocate now, and say that you have no real interest in Gunter or Egil... or Bolthor.”
”I do have an interest in them. A huge interest.”
His shoulders sagged. ”Why must you always be at cross-wills with me, wench? Can't you be biddable just this once?”
”In fact, I have decided to share my bed furs with them.”
”All at one time?” he asked, barely stifling a laugh at her ludicrous lies.
Her eyes went wide. Obviously, she had no idea what she might do with three men in her bed furs at one time.
So, of course, he told her.
Her jaw dropped.
”Can we start over? Why don't you say something saucy to me like you did to Gunter and Egil? 'Tis unfair for you to say saucy things to other men and not me.”
She said something so vulgar and outrageous that he was speechless for a moment. It took saucy to a new level. He was spared having to react because of the shuffle of chairs and tables. Thank G.o.d! An entertainment had been planned for that evening. An open s.p.a.ce was being created in front of the dais by moving the trestle tables and benches to the outer edges of the hall.
A number of people moved up to the dais-all the sisters, Rafn, Bolthor, Tykir, Alinor, and their oldest son, Thork. It was a better vantage point for watching, but there were not enough chairs. Tykir lifted Alinor onto his lap, resulting in a little shriek from her before she nestled sweetly into his embrace, and he motioned for Thork to sit at their feet, thus emptying a chair. Thork was being punished for his wild shenanigans that day. Rafn sank into the empty chair and pulled Vana onto his lap. Vana just sighed, not even bothering to protest.
DoIdare?Adam wondered, casting a sideways glance at Tyra.
b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, do I dare not? he countered to himself, even as he stood, picked up Tyra by the waist, then sat back down with her straddling his lap, her back to his chest. Breanne immediately took the vacated seat, with Drifa and Ingrith sitting on either arm. The three of them smiled their thanks at him.
”You brute!” Tyra tried to squirm away, to no avail. He had both arms wrapped firmly around her waist, and the table blocked her from the front.
”Keep squirming, wench. It gives me a good view of your nipples,” he said into her ear.
She immediately stilled and looked downward... then groaned. ”Did everyone else see, too?” she asked in a mortified whisper.
”Nay, just me. And very nice nipples they are, too.”
She tried to pry his hands off her waist, but he held tight, like a vise.
”I ought to cut off your fingers with my dagger.”
”If you did that, I would be unable to finger-pleasure you.”
That certainly caught her attention. He could practically hear her brain pondering what he'd just said. ”What... what is finger-pleasuring?” she finally choked out.
He had no idea, that word being a sudden inspiration of his. Well, actually, he could imagine what it might be. But words would do it no justice. That kind of erotic wisdom deserved a demonstration. So, while he still held on tightly to her with his left hand, he deftly slipped his right hand under the hem of her gown onto the bare skin of her leg.
”Oh.” That was her only response. He was fairly certain she liked it if her soft sigh of delight was any indication... and the fact that she didn't chop off his fingers.
Because of the table, the dim light, and the fact that all eyes were on Agnis, the young maid singing and
playing the lute, no one noticed what Adam was about.
His hand was only on her calf, but she went stiff as a pike.
Deliberately he spread his knees, which caused her knees to spread as well. He had her exactly where
he wanted her... on his lap, and exposed.
”You cannot,” she said as his hand moved in a slow caress from her calf to her knee, then up, up, up to her thigh.
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