Page 76 of The Viking’s Captive

“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 Rashid’s flapping tongue, that I have been chaste for two years. So, no women!”

“You can still have women without tupping them,” she persisted.

“I would like to bloody 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 God! An entertainment had been planned for that evening. An open space 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.

Do I dare?Adam wondered, casting a sideways glance at Tyra.

Bloody hell, 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.