Girda had spoken up, though, “Rash my arse.”
“Be nice, Girda,” Cnut had warned.
Now the idiot chooses to talk!
Andrea, Dyna, and Girda all exchanged looks. You could be sure there would be turnips buried in something on the Jól table, maybe in everything.
Needless to say, Andrea found a sleep closet to lay her head down that night. She didn’t sleep much, though. Instead of counting sheep, she was counting fifty ways to kill a lover.
The next morning, the entire castle was in a flurry of activity preparing for the evening’s festivities, which were going to include a wedding between Thorkel and Dyna. Andrea decided to raid Cnut’s treasure room once again to get some fabric to make Dyna a wedding gown. She took Dyna with her. They found some lovely pale blue wool that was so soft it almost felt like silk. There was also some white linen for the apron, with gold braiding for trim. Several of the servants proficient with needle and thread were going to do a rush job for the garment. Dyna was so overcome with gratitude that tears welled in her eyes. “Thank you, m’lady. Thank you. Thank you. Ever since you have come to Hoggstead, things have been better. You must be our good luck token.”
I don’t know about that, Andrea thought. She didn’t feel very lucky herself, not after a sleepless night and a vivid imagination about what Cnut might have been doing above stairs. He certainly hadn’t come looking for her.
She sent Dyna on her way and was about to lock the door and return the key to Finn, who was no doubt having a heart attack somewhere or predicting that Cnut would, when she noticed an emerald-green, already made gown. It was not in the Norse style, more tapered on top, with long sleeves and a rounded neck. Very plain but very Christmasy in color. It was much too big for her, but maybe with a belt . . . She threw it over her arm and emerged from the treasure room and was locking up when she saw Cnut and Reynilda come out of the two bedchambers. Separately.
No time to feel elated over that. Reynilda hadn’t noticed her yet, but Cnut had.
“Good morn, Jarl Sigurdsson. Didst sleep well?” Reynilda cooed.
“Very well. And you?”
“Like a newborn babe. But I am famished now. Dost think your cook Andrea could make me some porridge with butter and sweet cream?”
“I don’t know. What do you say, Andrea?” Cnut looked directly at her and winked.
Reynilda swiveled around to see Andrea standing a short distance away, leaning against the closed treasure room door. Her eyes took in both the large key in Andrea’s hand and the gown over her arm. Though her eyebrows arched with surprise, she didn’t remark on the items.
“I’m sure I could whip up some gruel for you, Princess Reynilda.”
Reynilda nodded and turned her back on Andrea, as if she were of no importance. Instead, she spoke to Cnut, “How handsome you look today! Your housecarl Farle told us at Storm’s Lair what a change there was in your appearance, and I just had to come and see. Not that you weren’t handsome before.”
Should I gag now or later?
“I was sooo distraught when my father forced me to marry Esgar.” She batted her eyelashes at Cnut.
Oh Lord! The batting eyelash gimmick. And men fall for it every time! I never did master the art. Celie, on the other hand, could flutter her lashes like butterflies. Celie! Oh my God! I haven’t thought about Celie all day, or last night. What if . . . no, not now!
Reynilda, after whispering to one of the maids who’d just come out of the bedchamber carrying a huge pile of laundry, swanned off like queen of the castle, making her way to the garderobe. Andrea hoped it smelled particularly bad today.
Once Reynilda left, Cnut turned to Andrea, grabbed her by the wrist of her free hand, and yanked her into the spare bedchamber, and had her backed up against the wall before she could even blink. The key and the gown dropped to the rush-covered floor. “I waited for you last night, Andrea love,” he murmured against her neck, licking the sensitive skin there, causing her to shiver.
I waited for you, too. But you never came looking for me. She kept her lips pressed tightly together to keep from speaking those words aloud. He wasn’t getting off so easily.
“Are you cold?” he asked, leaning his head back but keeping her pinned with his hands and body.
“Of course I’m cold,” she said. “It’s freezing in here.”
It was cold, the small hearth fire having burned out, but that wasn’t what caused her goose bumps. It was the Tinglemaster himself, and he knew it, too.
He grinned and gave her a quick kiss, probably sensing that she would bite him if he stayed too close or too long. And not a sexy biting, either.