The Viking Takes a Knight (7 page)

He shook his head. “Bees usually don't like to go far from the hive…no more than the equivalent of a hundred and twenty-five or so paces.”

“You really are an expert on all things regarding bees. But you must need help to maintain all these fields.”

“I have four gardeners.”

She moved farther away from him to wait, sitting on the ground, then leaning back on her elbows. He kept glancing at her every few seconds, probably checking to see that she wasn't tampering with his precious flowers or bees. Or mayhap he was nervous. She knew that she was.

Finally, he took the beekeeping outfit off and folded it neatly, setting it to the side on a tree stump that also held a leather-bound journal, a quill, and a small pot of ink.

Looking down at her, he said, “You look pretty, lying there.”

“A compliment? I sense a ‘but' coming on.”

He smiled. “But you should not be here alone with me.”

“Why? Do you plan on attacking me?”

“I might.” And by the serious expression on his face, he might actually do so; however, she suspected the attack might be of an irresistible nature.

He sat down next to her, also leaning back on his elbows. Then he sighed with satisfaction as he surveyed his beekeeping domain. It was a lovely, well-maintained area.

“So give me the news.

“The first news is that Bolthor's wife has arrived.”

“Uh-oh!”

“With her children.”

“How many?”

“Five.”

He stared at her as if stunned. “Five on top of the eight you brought. I am being invaded.” Then he said a foul word.

“I did not bring eight children. Two of the girls are really young women, at fourteen.”

“And speaking of those two
girls
…why are girls that age in an orphanage?”

“Uh.”
To save them from a brothel? Nay, I cannot tell him that. Not yet.

“Hamr remarked that they seem very…experienced.”

“They are only fourteen!”

“Your point, m'lady?”

“There is no point,” she huffed.
Lies, I am wallowing in lies.

“But you said ‘first.' Please, God, let the other news be better than this.”

“I wish!” She sat up and reached into the side flap of her
gunna
, taking out two folded parchment sheets. He sat up, too, and she handed him the one still sealed with his name on it.

The expression on his face got stonier. He appeared to read it through twice before she handed him the second parchment. “This one was addressed to me. I assume it is similar to yours.”

When he was done reading both, he said, “I cannot marry you, Ingrith.”

She gasped. “I ne'er asked you to. I merely wanted to let you know the status of Loncaster's search. And do not pretend that you cannot marry me. Let us at least be honest with each other. You
will not
is more accurate, because you do not want to.”

“Not true. If it were not for certain conditions, you would be the perfect wife for me.”

“Hah!” Then she could not resist asking, “Perfect in what way?”

“You can cook, and you have a streak of lust in you as wide as a Viking fjord.”

“Oh, you!” She swatted him on the arm.

He frowned with confusion then. “Who is
Henry? I do not recall any of the orphans being called Henry. Or is he a lover?”

“Do not be ridiculous. Henry is Samuel.”

“The green-haired boy?”

“Exactly.”

She explained about Henry being the king's illegitimate child, and how the mother wanted him raised in the orphanage. She told him that she was hiding the boy because she feared the king wanted him for nefarious purposes.

“Nefarious? How?”

“I suspect he will be killed to remove yet another heir to the throne, as far removed as Henry would be.”

“Oh, my God! That is why you shaved the boys' heads.”

She nodded.

He inhaled sharply. “And you speak of honesty! Pfff!” he said, the iciness thick in his voice. “Continue your confession, and try to stick to the truth for once.”

When she was done, John considered all she'd said and did not respond for a long time. When he did, she could tell he was furious. “You brought a horde of orphans into my keep. You told me that it was to escape Loncaster's lascivious intents.”

“It is. That part is true.”

He snorted his opinion.

She stood and walked a short distance away, trying to blink away the tears welling in her eyes.

He stood, too, and followed her. “Tears will gain you naught, you devious creature. You dared to hide a child of the king in my home, knowing I would be judged equally culpable when he is found. How could you?”

“I had no other choice.”

“You had many choices. And damn your lying tongue for involving my mother in this scheme, too.” He combed his fingers through his hair with frustration. Then his eyes sliced her as another thought occurred to him. “You attempted to seduce me as further part of your plot.”

“Are you demented? I wouldn't know how to seduce a man if I could. I have not the equipment.” She waved a hand to indicate her face and body.

“Oh, you have the equipment, all right. You probably suck on the fingers of all your men.”

“All my men?” she sputtered. Then she stiffened. “I will go now and gather the children together. Mayhap if we travel by night we can reach Jorvik undetected, and find your stepfather's ship.”

“You are not going anywhere.”

She put her hands on her hips. “And how are you going to stop me?”

“Mayhap I will tie you to my bed. Naked. That way, when Loncaster arrives, as he surely will, he will at least believe that part of your story.”

“You are a loathsome lout. What a crude thing to suggest!”

A smile twitched at his lips. “Tempting though, isn't it?” He chucked her under her gaping chin and walked away.

Leaving her stunned. And tempted.

“I am still not going to marry you,” he called back over his shoulder.

She made a rude gesture she'd once seen her father's chief
hirdsman
make to a passing Saxon.

C
lueless men will believe anything when it comes to sex!

John explained the situation to Hamr, Bolthor, and Ordulf, his chief
hersir
, that afternoon when they went to the bathing house following several vigorous sessions of swordplay on the exercise fields. They were all dripping wet, and not just from the muscle-straining practice in weaponry. Steam filled the room and invigorated the body.

“This is to be kept betwixt us,” John warned. “No one must know that the king's son is here.”

The three men nodded.

“Should I send to Gravely for more troops?” Ordulf asked, fingering his impressive mustache that matched his well-trimmed beard. He was as tall and big a man as Bolthor, but a good twenty years younger.

“Nay. Not yet. Too many fighting men on hand might make Loncaster suspicious.” John did not
want everyone looking guilty. That was another reason for keeping the boy's identity secret.

“It might all be a ruse to trap you,” Hamr suggested to John.

“Trap me how?”

“Into matrimony.”

“Pfff! Nay, Lady Ingrith's story speaks true. We all know that King Edgar will tup anything with breasts. His by-blows must be innumerable.”

“Yea, 'tis true. And I recall how Eric Bloodaxe killed a dozen of his brothers to pave the way for his rise to the kingship once held by his father, Harald Fairhair,” Bolthor related. “In fact, John, didst know that your stepfather's father, Thork, another of Harald's sons, escaped Eric's terror only because he renounced any claims?”

“Men in power do extreme things,” John agreed.

“Ah, that is why the boylings were shaved,” Bolthor said.

John nodded, and they all chuckled at Ingrith's ingenuity in coming up with the idea to hide Samuel's, rather Henry's, unique hair color.

“I think I will shave my head,” Hamr said.

“Whaaat?” the rest of them exclaimed.

“It would help reinforce the head-lice tale Lady Ingrith spouts.” Hamr looked at each of them, seeing they needed further convincing. “Besides, I have heard that women like bald men. It has something to do with bedplay.”

They were all silent then, wondering exactly what that bedplay might involve.

“Ordulf, you would look particularly good with a bald head but keeping your mustache and beard.” When Hamr got an idea, he beat it to death.

“Dost think so?”

“Women would certainly give you a second look,” Hamr contended. “Especially your wife.”

“Now that I think on it,” Ordulf was tapping his chin thoughtfully, “Balki the Bald, that Danish berserker, claimed he could make a woman peak five times in just one bout of bedsport.”

“He also claimed he could lop off three enemy heads with one swing of his battle-axe,” John scoffed.

“I do not understand.” Bolthor's brow furrowed with confusion. “How would a bald head help with bedplay?”

“Has something to do with a woman riding a bald horse, methinks,” Hamr said, just before sliding down into the water where he stayed for a long moment. When he came back up with a splash, swinging his long hair over his shoulder, he found them all laughing.

And when they left the bathing house a long time later, they were all bald.

 

It was a hairy situation…

Ingrith was in the kitchen teaching Ardith, the
woman she was training to take over as cook, how to prepare a leek-and-dill brine for freshwater fish when Katherine rushed into the kitchen and said, “Come. Quickly. You must see this.”

Ingrith wiped her hands on a cloth and followed Katherine to the back door. Coming from the bathing house, their strides wide and confident, were four big men. All of them bald as a baby's behind.

And one of them was John.

“Are they not the most handsome sight you have e'er seen?” Katherine sighed. “Methinks I will be forgiving my husband tonight.”

Ingrith's eyes were filling with tears, and she held a hand over her heart. She knew why they'd done it, and it touched her to the core. And, yea, they did look handsome as sin.

“What? You are crying?” John said when he got closer. “Do I look that bad?”

“Nay, you look that good.” And it was the truth. His hairless, fine-shaped head only called attention to the sculpted features of his face and his compelling blue eyes.

John shook his head at her. “Ingrith, Ingrith, Ingrith! You should not tell me that.”

“Why?” She was swiping her wet cheeks with the edge of her apron.

“Because I like it too much.”

“See,” Hamr said, elbowing John.

Bolthor and Katherine were in close conversa
tion. Very close. And one of John's soldiers, Ordulf by name, was surrounded by several young maidens, all wanting to touch his head, but his wife came up and dragged him away by the ear, which he allowed, whispering something in her ear. Something naughty, if his wife's blush was any indication.

Drawing John to the side, Ingrith said, “You didn't have to do this.”

“I know.”

“But I am forever grateful that you did.”

“How grateful?”

“Tsk-tsk-tsk! You give me so many mixed signals, John. You tempt me, then repel me.”

“I am mixed up inside, that is why.” He gave her a look so hot her insides felt as if they were melting. “But I still cannot marry you.”

She slapped him on the chest for making that objectionable statement. Again. “I have been so afraid. I felt as if a heavy burden was weighing me down.”

“You are too independent by half. Mayhap you need to step back and ask for help betimes.”

“I am the only one I can truly depend on.”

“Not true. You have a family. Friends.” He paused. “Me.”

She stared at him, still weepy-eyed, then launched herself at him, hugging him tightly with arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, her body pressed against his, chest to knees. So startled was he that he enfolded her into an embrace, to keep from falling over, no doubt, but he
was soon hugging her back, whether intentional or not. And it felt good.

Against the shadowy hollow of his neck, she breathed deeply of the clean, musky skin and whispered, “Thank you.”

He chuckled and swept his hands from her back to her buttocks and up again, settling at her waist.

Tingles of warm sensation followed in their wake.

“My pleasure, m'lady. Definitely my pleasure.”

When her emotions over this latest turn of events calmed down, Ingrith realized something startling…and not altogether unwelcome. John wanted her. As a man wanted a woman. She could tell by the ridge of his arousal pressing against her belly and by the fast beating of his heart still pressed against her chest.

Still maintaining her hold on his shoulders, she leaned back to study him. He did not look happy.

“This cannot happen betwixt us, Ingrith.”

“Why?” Holy Thor! She could not believe she had asked that question.

“Because I cannot offer you an honorable end result.”

“Marriage again! Why do you keep harping on that subject? I ne'er asked to wed with you.”

“Ah, but you and I both know something is sizzling betwixt us. If we do not stop it in the
bud, we will end up in the bed furs, sure as salt. For a fortnight, I suspect, if we were not interrupted.”

What would we do for a fortnight? The prospect boggles the mind…and other body parts.
She smiled, a wicked, wanton smile she did not even know she was capable of.

“Ingrith!” he moaned and pulled her tight again, kissing her neck, then murmuring against her ear. “I want you. So much!”

“I want you, too.” For the first time in her life, she knew what her sisters meant when they said that women could turn lustsome, too.

To her disappointment, however, he put her away from him with his hands on her upper arms. “Enough!”

“Coward!”

“Bloody damn right I am. Your father would have my head on a platter.”

“Not if he did not know.” By the gods, she was begging the man. How pitiful was that?

“This is not going to happen.” He walked away from her without waiting for her response. If he had waited, he would have heard her say, “Wouldst like to bet a Saxon coin on that, m'lord Hawk?”

Once Ingrith got an idea in her head, she followed through to the bitter end. Except the end she had in mind now would not be bitter at all.

 

Men weren't the only ones who were clueless…

John stared with dismay at the sight before him.

Hamr had left a short time ago for Jorvik with a half dozen
housecarls
to see what he could learn about Loncaster and to check on the sea readiness of the Ravenshire longship. In his wake, after spouting his baldheaded sex tales, Hamr had left at least twenty-five other males with shaven heads, and some of them very bad jobs, with bloody nicks and hairy patches in back. Even Ubbi had shaved his little head and now truly resembled a gnome. The few Norsemen in his ranks…everyone knew that Norsemen were known for their vanity…made an art form of the shaving. Some with bald pates except for war braids, some with only the back and sides shaved, some with just a narrow strip of hair left from forehead to nape.

They were creating a new fashion for men's hair here at Hawk's Lair, news of which was sure to spread far and wide. Just what he wanted. More attention directed on his home!

“Is it not nice that so many men care about protecting the boy?” Ingrith whispered to him from her seat beside him at the high table.

“Huh? No one knows about Henry, except you, me, Bolthor, Hamr, and Ordulf. The rest have been led to believe that a bald head equates with better sex.”

“Oh,” she said, as if she understood, which she could not have.

While on the subject of fashion
, he thought,
did Ingrith have to make herself look so good?
Instead of her Norse
gunna
and apron, she wore a jade green gown in the Saxon style, its brightness contrasting with the blue of her eyes. The gown was high necked and long sleeved but formfitting enough that he was picturing what was underneath in vivid detail. Her hair, which was usually braided into a coronet atop her head, was loose tonight, long blonde waves hanging down to her waist in back but held off her face and behind her ears with a thin silver diadem.

If she only knew how much he wanted to taste the tiny lobe that was exposed, trace the whorls with the tip of his tongue, breathe into the channel.

But then he was staring with dismay at the other sight just being presented before him. A sea bass the size of a small whale sat on what had to be a specially built trencher. How she had obtained such a saltwater fish this far inland was beyond him. It was stuffed with God-only-knew-what, swimming in a sauce that resembled curdled milk, with a large apple in its mouth. The dish probably tasted delicious, but what in hell was happening in his life that he would have such a repast on a common everyday table?

“What do you think?” Ingrith asked.

“Amazing,” was the best he could come up with.

“Thank you.”

He had not meant it as a compliment. “Ingrith, my men will get fat if you keep feeding us like this.”

“They seem to like my food.” She bristled.

Did she know that when she stiffened like that it caused her breasts to thrust outward? But what was that she said? Something about his men liking her food. “Of course they do. What is not to like about such wonderful fare?” He tried but failed to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

“You are in an ill-temper again. You oaf! Your grumpiness is not about food, is it? You want me to be gone.”

“You know that is not true.”
And that is the problem. I want you to stay too much. In fact, I want you, period.

“What I know is that you are hiding your emotions behind some wall.” She tossed her head so that a swath on her shoulder swung to her back. The torchlight caught in the golden shades and he caught the scent of something…mead?

Blather, blather, blather. Now she is going to analyze my feelings. How like a woman! I wonder what she would do if I leaned over and smelled her hair.
“Do not accuse me of cowardice again, I warn you.”

“What I know is that you deprive yourself of what you want out of some misplaced nobility.”

“Nobility is the last thing I cherish.”
Definitely mead.

“What I know is that I am sick of your seesawing gestures toward me.”

“You know nothing, Ingrith. Nothing at all,” he spat out, then gave in to his inclinations and put his face to her hair, sniffing deeply. “Why do I smell mead? Did you bathe in the brew?”

“I rinse my hair in beer…or ale…or mead. It makes it softer.”

He touched her hair. Definitely soft. “I swear, woman, you are going to deplete my stock of honey as well as mead.”
And turn all my good intentions to mush.

“Do you begrudge me a cup of mead?”

“Only if it is wasted on hair. Unless…did you drink it afterward?”

“What an idiot!”

“Methinks I might need to investigate further. Perchance you need to remove your gown later, in my bedchamber, so I can see if you are mead-scented elsewhere,” he teased.

But she did not seem to appreciate his lack-witted attempt at humor. “Lecherous idiot!” She shrugged away from him, giving him a look of such disgust that he flinched.
What an overreaction! I was not that lecherous…or idiotic. Was I?
She would have stalked out of the hall if Bolthor had not stood just then and coughed for attention.

John put a hand on her knee to force her to continue sitting.

She slapped his hand away.

“This is an ode to clueless men,” Bolthor announced.

“That is just bloody wonderful,” John muttered.