Page 105 of Viking in Love

She shook her head at his hopelessness.

I am. Hopeless, that is. “Rashid says that we cast lustsome glances at each other all the time, that anyone with even a speck of a brain could guess what we have been doing.”

“Just so Dunstan and the king do not suspect.”

“Will someone tell your father of our doings when you go home?” That is all I need…an angry father with a sword at my throat.

“Nay, but Rashid might tell Adam, my brother-by-marriage.”

That could be just as bad. He started to say something, then stopped. His nostrils flared, and his heart skipped a beat, then began to race. He looked downward, where they were still joined, then back to her face. “By the saints! What are you doing?”

“Practicing my exercises.”

His thankful, growing cock, if it could talk, would be saying about now, “Insanity be damned!”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Help came from the lone stranger…

Caedmon and Geoff had been sitting before a reduced version of the Witan, “holding court” at a long table in the solar for more than two hours and no end in sight. You would have thought they were being tried for some high crime.

When Archbishop Dunstan announced the meeting several hours after the king’s arrival, he said there were three things on the agenda. Geoff’s wedding to Lady Moreton. Caedmon’s betrothal to Lady Breanne. The disappearance and possible murder of Lord Oswald, earl of Havenshire. Why the king’s council would need to be involved in those first two was beyond Caedmon’s understanding, and he had told the members so, to no avail. Ealdorman Orm of Donchester, the royal magistrate, had informed him in no uncertain terms, “Lands held by the nobility in Britain may be gained by Odal rights, but they are still under the king’s sufferance.”

“I take exception! Geoff and I have both served you well, Your Grace,” Caedmon told the king, who was leaning back in his chair, indolently examining his fingernails. “You have no cause to think we have acted in any way contrary to your wishes, had we known of them.”

King Edgar was very short—coming barely to Caedmon’s shoulder—tow-headed, and pudgy, but he considered himself a prize to females, none of whom dared to disagree. Of late, he had been encouraging the title “Edgar the Peaceable,” because he had managed to avoid any new wars, no matter that he paid Viking brigands to stay away.

And he had been giving Dunstan free reign to build one monastery after another, reinstating the Benedictine rule of poverty, chastity, and obedience, none of which applied to himself, of course, whose style of living was anything but religious. Secular clergy were being ejected without warning, and to date he had built twenty-five new monasteries and repaired that many existing ones.

An odd dichotomy, really. A king with a legendary sexual appetite aligned with a priest who hated women.

“We do not question your loyalty, Caedmon. Nor yours, Geoffrey,” the king said, although his tone said otherwise. “But we do question your timing. Why the haste?”

“I fell in love on first sight,” Geoff said with a perfectly serious expression on his face.

“With a hunchback?” the king scoffed.

“Who lisps,” Lord Orm added, also with skepticism.

“Sybil is beautiful on the inside,” Geoff claimed with a long sigh.

Caedmon almost bit his tongue. Geoff was the most superficial man when it came to appearances, his own and his women.

“Well said, Geoffrey. A good sentiment,” Archbishop Dunstan said, impressed with Geoff’s piety.

What an idiot!

“Truth to tell, Geoffrey, I came here this morn, expecting to dissolve your presumptuous handfast marriage. There are others of more merit who could benefit from the Heatherby estates.” The king glanced pointedly at the two thanes, sons of his cousins, who sat on either side of him, sulking. “However, after some consideration, methinks that the marriage should go forward on the morrow.” Under his breath, he muttered to the two thanes, “And I wish him joy of her.”

In other words, the two thanes did not want the lands enough to bed a hunchback. Caedmon had no idea what would happen in future times if Geoff and a beautified Sybil ran into any of them. He supposed they could say that a holy relic rubbed over the hump had caused it to disappear. Bloody hell!

“That is not to say there will be no penalty,” Dunstan was quick to add. “Let us say, twenty mancuses of gold.”

Geoff was about to protest, but Caedmon squeezed his forearm in warning. Now was not the time to argue.

“Now, ’tis your turn, Lord Caedmon,” Dunstan said.

“You may leave us, Geoffrey,” Dunstan added.