Sandra Hill (12 page)

“Oh, do not misread me, Rona. I appreciate all your advice, which I am sure is superior, but I need time to digest it all before implementing
my
plan.”

“One step at a time,” Rona agreed.

As she walked away, Helga tried to tell herself that it was all nonsense, but how could she explain away her aching breasts and the woman-dew gathering between her legs? Truth to tell, she’d become aroused just thinking about seducing Vagn in all the ways Rona had suggested. There must be some merit in what Rona and the other women counseled.

But did she have the nerve to try it herself?

“Come see my web,” said the spider to the fly…

By the time Vagn followed a dozen of Gorm’s men-at-arms into the great hall for dinner that night, he was physically and mentally exhausted. By design. If he was
too tired to think, he could not dwell on his brother’s death and how little he had left in this world.

Gorm had called for him and several dozen of his
bird
of guardsmen to ride out with him that morning, circling the far reaches of his estate. They’d patrolled against intruders; after all, Gorm was a Viking residing in the midst of Saxon lands. But they’d also gathered up stray lambs, some of which had the dimwittedness to get themselves stuck in thorn bushes and mud holes. They’d even repaired a few fences that confined a small herd of beef cattle. And, in the end, the bowmen had shot three wild deer, which were now roasting on spits.

Once they’d arrived back at the Briarstead keep, filthy and weary beyond belief, they’d immediately filed into Gorm’s bathhouse, which had been built over a natural hot spring. Now, at least they were clean.

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.

Something strange was going on here, he thought.

He took a strand of her golden hair between his thumb and forefinger, testing its silkiness.

Under normal circumstances, Helga would have slapped his hand away. Instead, she seemed to steel herself for his touch.

Deciding to test the waters, he let his hand drop lower and caress her arm. Just the backs of his fingers, from shoulder to elbow to wrist. She shivered, as if it were bare flesh he touched, not the fabric of her gown. And it was a good shiver, too…not one of revulsion.

“So you are not wearing undergarments,” he said, softly enough so her father would not overhear, though Gorm was still talking animatedly to someone on his other side.

“I lied.”

“Really? ’Tis a shame. I like imagining you with nothing underneath.”

“Why?”

“
Why?
Are you so naive that you do not know the effect a naked woman has on a man?” He glanced pointedly down at his groin.

She blushed but said nothing.

Just as he had thought…something strange was going on with Helga. He downed the remainder of ale in his horn, set it down, then rested his chin in his palm, his elbow braced on the table, and scrutinized her closely. “To be more precise, Helga, you have set my manpart to humming.”

“Hu…humming?” she sputtered.

“Yea—not quite a throb, but certainly not lying still. Humming.”

“That is so crude.”

He shrugged. “Sex is crude.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Would you like me to show you?”

“Nay!” she exclaimed. Then immediately amended it to, “I am not sure.”

Whoa! That was a big, big step for this formerly aloof woman…the one whose father had described as having female parts like a dried-up raisin. An outrageous idea came to him unbidden. “Are you trying to seduce me, Helga?”

“And if I am?”

Not the answer he’d expected! “Then I’m confused. I would flip you on your back and have my way with you in a trice, and you well know it. Why the sudden turnabout?”

Helga’s face was flaming red. She stood and glared down at him. “Never mind, you coarse-tongued lout. I’ve changed my mind.” With that, she stormed off, hips swaying, presumably bare buttocks getting an airing from under her swishing gunna.

“You can’t play games with me, Helga, and end it so abruptly,” he growled at her departing back.

“The game is over, Viking,” she replied without breaking stride and without turning back to look at him. Within seconds, she was out of sight.

“Not bloody likely,” Vagn said to no one in particular. There was one thing women just did not understand about men. You could not plant a sexual idea in a man’s head and expect it to melt away. This game Helga had
started would be played out to the end, Vagn vowed. By his rules, not hers.

He couldn’t wait.

Never play with fire…or a hot Viking…

Later that night, Helga was relaxing in the warm bubbling waters of the bathhouse, berating herself silently for her sad attempt at seduction.

There were certain times of day set aside for males and females to use the steam baths. This was the time for females of the household, although Helga was the only one there now, everyone else having the good sense to go to their bed furs on this cold night.

Just then, the outside door opened and in walked what was definitely not a female. It was Vagn.

“What are you doing here?” she practically shrieked, sinking lower in the water. The room was dim, lit only by a few wall torches. Still, she was naked, for Asgard’s sake!

“Come to take a bath,” he said, already beginning to disrobe. He undid his belt and tugged his tunic over his head.

“You already took a bath,” she pointed out.

“A man can never be too clean,” he said, then winked at her.

That wink did odd things to her breasts and woman-place. She could swear she actually tingled.

But Helga was no fool. She knew exactly what the rogue was about. He was putting her at a disadvantage in this game of seduction she had started. She’d known from the beginning that he was a much more experienced
player, but she hadn’t expected to be outwitted so early. Well, the game was not yet over.

He’d pulled his hair back off his face with a leather thong. His chest was bare by now, and he sank down onto a stone bench to remove his half-boots.

“Stop! Stop right there!”

He stopped.

“You are not getting in this bath with me, naked.”

“I’m not?”

“Nay. ’Tis not proper. Besides, men are not supposed to be in the bathhouse this time of night.”

“Is that a rule?”

“It is.”

He smiled. “Guess what I think of rules.”

Helga rolled her eyes at the hopelessness of arguing with the dolthead. Besides that, she’d lost the power of speech once he’d peeled off his
braies
and loincloth.

She should look away.

She really should.

But she didn’t.

To give the man credit, he didn’t feign false modesty. Nor did he preen. He stood, hands on hips, and let her look her fill. He was a beautiful man, no doubt about it, from his finely sculpted face with its cleft chin to his wide shoulders, narrow waist and hips, and long, sinewed legs. Even his narrow feet were good-looking. And of course there was that part in between which was impressive indeed, as far as those things went.

“Dost like to look at me, m’lady? Nay, you do not have to answer. I see that you do. Know this, I would enjoy viewing your nude body even more. Wouldst like to give me that pleasure?”

Not in a million years!
Oh, what was wrong with her?
This was the perfect opportunity to launch her plan. All she had to do was stand.
All? Hah! It is everything…exposing my skinny body to a man. Can I stand the scrutiny…and probably rejection? Yea, I should stand. Go ahead, Helga, close your eyes and stand
.

But she hesitated too long, and Vagn walked into the circular pool and sat down opposite her on one of the lower steps so that water lapped at him up to his waist. He spread his arms out along the edge with his legs extended under the water. The pool was large enough for two full-grown men to stretch across it, so she was in no danger of his touching her from there. For some reason, that did not comfort her. He could look, which he did…hotly. And he could talk, which he proceeded to do…hotly.

“I want you, Helga,” he said without warning.

“For what?”
Dumb, dumb, dumb. Even I know what he meant by that
.

He smiled, slow and easy. Words were not necessary.

“Wanting is not the same as getting.”
Has my tongue lost its connection to my brain?

“For most men mayhap. But, me”—he rolled his shoulders—“I usually get what I want.”

“With women, you mean.” His arrogance knew no bounds. To her chagrin, she found it oddly appealing.

“With women,” he agreed. “You started this game, Helga. Oh, do not try to deny that fact. What I want to know is, what are you about?”

“What? Only men can play at the game of seduction?”
That’s the way, Helga. Show a little self-confidence. Remember Rona’s advice. To be provocative, a woman must feel provocative
.

“You misread me, m’lady. Some women are born seductresses.”

“And I am not?” Oh, this was too much. So much for being provocative! Apparently, Helga the Homely would always be lacking in womanly ways. She started to rise with indignation, then sat back when she remembered that she was naked.

Just that little glimpse of her nudity and his eyes went wide with interest. He parted his lips and licked them slowly as if she—
Helga the Homely
—had tempted him.

“Oh, Helga, you tempt me without even trying. You do not need artificial wiles to draw me to your bed furs. Just ask. ’Tis enough.”

Whoo!
She gave a little mental exclamation of victory.
This could be fun
. That bothersome tingling started in her body again. And, despite herself, she wondered if a certain part of him was humming. “I do not believe you, but thank you for saying so,” she said politely.
Good gods! Did I just thank a man for lusting after me?

“Do not get me wrong, dearling, I liked your teasing in the great hall earlier tonight.”

“Teasing?” she choked out.
Dearling?