Page 26 of My Fair Viking

I'm going to wring Rashid's neck.

"Me, too," said Breanne, who was peeling apples for one of Ingrith's far-famed tarts, "but only if the harem is in the Eastlands. I would love to study their building methods there."

"How silly of you, Breanne!" Drifa said with a soft laugh. "My mother told me much about her homeland, and I do not think houris would be permitted such freedom… to roam the cities gaping at buildings and such."

"They can, too," Breanne countered. "Rashid told me a good harem concubine can do anything she pleases."

I am going to wring Rashid's neck.

"Well, none of you are going to join a harem. So forget that. Father would never permit it. And, Drifa, stop putting those flower petals in my bathwater. I'm going to smell like a posy."

"That is the purpose, Tyra. To remove the stink of horse and ship and battle from you and make you smell more like a woman," Drifa said. Under her breath, she muttered, "Good practice for being in a harem, too. They smell like flowers there, I would wager. Desert flowers."

That last comment about houri practice didn't even merit a response from Tyra, who was the least likely to become any man's desert flower.

"As to Father not permitting it," Drifa said, "that is the best part. Rashid said the harem is the perfect solution to our problem. Since none of us can marry till you do, Tyra, and since it appears you will never wed, then how can Father object if we settle for being the next best thing? Concubines."

I am going to wring Rashid's neck.

"I think you have all gone barmy. Harems! Not in this lifetime!"

"Perhaps one of us could try it, and if it works out, the rest can follow," the ever practical Vana offered.

Borrowing a phrase of Adam's that she herself had used before, Tyra said, "No harem. Not now. Not ever."

Silence permeated the room then as her sisters harumphed their discontent and murmured such comments as "Tyrant!" or "She never wants us to have fun," or "Who named her master?" Tyra ignored the muttering and began washing her long hair with the aid of one of the kitchen thralls.

When she came up from rinsing the soap from the heavy strands, it was to hear that her sisters had given up on one objectionable subject only to move on to another equally objectionable one.

"What is he like?" Ingrith asked.

"Who?" Tyra answered, as if she didn't well know whom her sister referred to. Adam was the subject of everyone's conversation at Stoneheim. She stood and wrapped one linen towel around her head turban style and began to towel off her body with another.

"The healer, of course," Ingrith said.

"Arrogant," she replied flatly.

"Really?" Ingrith was leaning over the shoulder of the heavyset cook, Signe, who was kneading the flat, unleavened manchet bread dough for baking. The cook's assistant, Arva, also got her attention. Ingrith watched closely as Arva ground grain—rye, barley, and even peas—on the large round stone known as a quern. Little by little, Arva poured grain through a hole in the top, then turned the top stone around and around with the handle, thus squashing the grain between the two stones and eventually turning it into flour. It was a long, tedious process, especially in a keep this size, where at least one hundred loaves were consumed per day. Meanwhile, Ingrith continued to talk. "Seems to me I heard Rashid say something like 'Confidence is a great aphrodisiac.' "

I am really, really going to wring Rashid's neck... and his tongue, as well.

Vana stopped her flower arranging and tilted her head, as if pondering some great question. "So, you say Adam is arrogant? Hmmm. Arrogance is not such a bad thing… especially in a handsome man."

"He is not all that handsome," Tyra lied.

"Are you demented, Tyra?" Breanne exclaimed. She had finished peeling apples and set her knife down. "The man is godly handsome, and you well know it."

Tyra felt her face heat with embarrassment. In truth, she'd had the same thoughts about him being godly handsome.

"Did you notice the way he moves?" Vana asked Drifa. "So smooth and… well, sensual, rather like a large cat."

Her other sisters agreed with a communal, "Yea."

Moves? He moves sensually? Holy Thor! Now I will be watching the way he moves.

"And his hands," Breanne added. "I like a man with competent hands. Long-fingered. One could just imagine what those hands could do when…" Her voice drifted off as she bit her bottom lip and got a dreamy look in her eyes, imagining the gods only knew what.

Drifa, Ingrith, and Vana all sighed. Their eyes glazed over, too.