Page 73 of The Caged Viking

“I am trying to woo Signe.”

“Woo?”

“Seduce.”

“With serious intent?”

Thorkel hesitated, but then nodded. “’Tis past time I wed and start a family.”

This was something new for his friend who had quite a reputation for his numerous female conquests. Rumor was that he’d once served three women in his bed furs, at the same time. “And Signe is not jumping with delight?”

“Pfff! Not even a little.”

“Why? You are passable in appearance.” In truth, he was godly handsome. “And you should have wealth enough by now to establish your own homestead.”

Thorkel nodded his agreement with Hauk’s assessment, but then he explained, “She says I am like a randy bull who will mount any cow that lifts its tail.”

Hauk let loose with a hoot of laughter, but Thorkel appeared so doleful that Hauk put a hand over his mouth to hide his mirth.

Kirstin leaned forward to look at Thorkel and advised, “Have you tried celibacy for a while?”

Both Hauk and Thorkel drew back with horror. Hauk knew from recent experience how difficult it was to go without sex for a long period of time, but in his case the celibacy had been forced. He couldn’t imagine doing it willingly.

“You would not be practicing the more danico if Signe agreed to marry you, would you?” Kirstin persisted.

Thorkel’s face heated with color. “I hadn’t considered that question.”

“Well, you should. If Signe objects to your past horndog behavior, she would certainly insist on fidelity in marriage. That’s just my opinion, of course.”

Both Hauk and Thorkel mouthed “horndog?” at each other, then grinned when they understood.

“My wife has very strong opinions,” Hauk told Thorkel.

Kirsten elbowed him.

“What? That was a compliment.”

“A half-assed one.”

“You do have a way with words, wife,” he said, hugging her to his side and kissing the top of her head.

Zoya soon stormed out of the hall, her chin in the air. To her chagrin, no doubt, no one protested her leaving early. But now that Zoya was gone, the rest of the evening proceeded without problems.

“Too bad you don’t have a skald,” Kirstin said. “It would be nice entertainment.”

“Hah! The first thing any poet would do is tell some saga about a Viking in a cage. I can think of a dozen other things, mayhap two dozen, that would give me more pleasure.” In fact, just sitting here in his hall, minus any entertainment, was one of the best evenings Hauk had enjoyed in a long time, not the least of which was attributed to the presence of his wife beside him and the promise of what was to come when they left the hall.

“I think you’re too sensitive over the cage thing,” she said.

He shrugged, not wanting to discuss that horrible cage and how annoyed he got every time someone brought it up in jest. Looking for a change of subject, he glanced around the hall at all the happy faces and told her, “You’ve stolen my people’s hearts.”

“Me? Are you sure? How do you know?”

“Look how many toasts they’ve raised to you.”

“Hah! They’re Vikings. They would raise a toast to a troll if it meant more booze. That means ale or mead or wine or whiskey.”

He tilted his head in agreement. “You may be right.”