Free The Seducer (Viking Warriors) by Jianne Carlo

rocked on his heels. “Malcolm approaches.”
    None but King Cnut dared address King Máel Coluim by his given name.
    “Cnut the Great. ’Tis not oft you travel to the border.” Máel Coluim, like Cnut, wore no weapons, nor did any of the other men.
    “The Peacemaker senses trouble from the Moraemers.”
    The Scottish king halted. His nostrils quivered, and his lips thinned. “I would hear of this after we have supped. And after I greet the wife you wed last eve, Seducer.”
    Jarvik had fought with King Máel Coluim for one winter, and he knew well the signs of the monarch’s rising temper. What had the king heard?
    “I suggest we repair to the Great Hall.” Cnut stroked his salt and pepper goatee. “I have learned that ’tis best not to risk my queen’s ire. She is well pleased with The Seducer’s bride. I, too, have heard the gossips, and I would have the truth of this tale.”
    Every hair on Jarvik’s body rose. He could not risk the ire of both his liege lord and King Máel Coluim. Mayhap he should have allowed Elaina to continue her disguise.
    The brothers exchanged wary glances, but ’twas naught to be gained and much to be lost in refusing a king’s command. Jarvik scanned the crowded hall and noted all in order. He trailed the monarchs and his brothers to the dais, and took his seat, his thoughts sunk dark and deep. The women had not yet arrived and the men indulged in talk of new weaponry, battle tactics, and the Moraemers. The low conversation at the high table contrasted sharply against the rising din of the male-packed hall, for not a female was in sight. Even the kitchen wenches had disappeared.
    Spit boys tossed loaves onto tables from the baskets they carried. The appetite-inducing aroma of fresh-baked bread competed with the pine scent wafting from the floor rushes.
    Magnus examined the hall. “Where are the women?”
    “Mayhap the queen kept them long with gossip.” Jarvik had seen Ælfgifu hold court for many an hour. “’Tis of no import.”
    “Nay. My neck hairs bristle like a rabbit facing a pack of wolves.” Magnus scrubbed the back of his neck. “’Tis always of import when all the women all at once disappear.”
    “By Odin.” Njal set his goblet on the table so hard wine spilled. “I envy you not, brother.”
    “What?” Jarvik’s head whipped in the direction Njal stared. His stones gathered into blistering nuts.
    Magnus grabbed Jarvik’s left arm and Njal the right. “Stay down.”
    “By Odin, I will cover her head to toe on the morrow. I will tar her backside.” Jarvik’s flesh fired, and sweat beaded his temples and neck.
    For Elaina had dressed the Arabic concubine. She wore a short, tight bodice that showed her magnificent titties to perfection. Her bared navel held a ruby jewel. His hands fisted.
    After King Cnut’s jaw returned to its normal position, he fingered his goatee, and asked, “What have we here?”
    Elaina stood before the dais in front of Cnut and Máel Coluim, Ainslin on one side, Queen Ælfgifu on the other.
    The raucous hall had fallen silent. Not a dog growled, not a cat mewed. Even the roaring blaze in the fireplace ceased to hiss and snap.
    All three women curtsied and ’twas then that Jarvik saw Elaina’s pert rump snug in the harem pants, the cheek of one ass peeking from the cloth, her long legs bared save for the diaphanous material caught at the ankles with gold chains. Bells on her toes tinkled when the king waved permission for the females to rise.
    Queen Ælfgifu placed her stout form in front of the two other women. “A most fascinating tale, husband, King Máel Coluim. I present to you Princess Elaina, daughter of King Crínán of Strathclyde. I have copies of letters sent many years afore by Jarl Torsten, The Bear of the North, to King Crínán proposing his brother’s betrothal to Elaina. Nigh on three years have passed since Norse raiders destroyed Strathclyde keep and castle and murdered all. Elaina escaped the firing of