Rough and Ready

by Sandra Hill

  “Must you be so crude?”

  Sometimes the only thing that will do is a good F word. “Must you be so stubborn?”

  “I prefer to forget the event ever happened.”

  “Events, honey, events! As in four friggin’ times.”

  “Aaarrgh!”

  Torolf figured he was making some progress if he provoked a growl out of her. It meant he was wearing her down. Still, he paced back and forth in the small dairy. He was tamping his temper down by taking long breaths in and out. “I’m sorry.” Wanna have sex?

  “For what?”

  “Everything.” I said I’m sorry. That’s usually the cue to have makeup sex.

  “Convenient apology. Covering thus and all.”

  “Yeah. Listen, what’s done is done. What do you want us to do now? I’m not going to send my cousins and their soldiers away. Looking a gift horse in the mouth and all that.”

  “What horses? Thor’s Teeth! Do not tell me they have brought horses with them. How will we ever feed all those men . . . and horses, too? Not only have you destroyed our biggest means of defense, but you will wipe out our food supply as well.”

  I’ve always wanted to have sex on a horse. But there are no horses here. Hmmm. Sex on a goat? Not quite the same. “There are no horses that I know of. That was just an expression. As for food and drink, tons of both are being carried from the longships as we speak. You’ll have enough food left over to last you two winters. Besides, I’ll send men out to hunt for game and to fish.”

  She nodded. “I have conditions.”

  “For what?”

  “For allowing you and those other men to stay here.”

  Talk about backhanded hospitality! “And what’re those conditions?” There better be sex in there somewhere.

  “One, I do not want those men raping my women.”

  “Whaaat?”

  “There are sixty women here, and hundreds of lustsome men out there . . . men who are wont to take what they want without asking. I insist they be warned of the consequences if even one woman is breached against her will. And I mean death for rape.”

  “Agreed. But I can’t stop them from having consensual sex. So, if you want to avoid trouble, tell your women to keep their legs crossed. Some of your so-called nuns are hot to trot.” How about you, honey? Don’t you feel even a little hot to trot?

  She didn’t bother to ask what he meant by hot to trot. The curl of her upper lip indicated she understood. “I’ll talk to them.”

  “You should know that Steven and Thorfinn have their eyes on you.” Dammit!

  “For the love of Frigg, why?”

  “Marriage.” Dammit!

  “Are they barmy? Are you barmy?”

  Yes and yes. “They’re younger sons, looking for landed estates. You have odal rights to Amberstead. Marrying you would be the smart thing to do . . . for either of them. You could do worse. Steven is particularly interested.”

  “Pffff! He’s younger than me. And too merry of heart. Even if I were in the market for a husband, which I am not, it would not be someone like him.”

  Yay! Torolf felt inordinately pleased at her outright rejection of Steven.

  “The grim one is more to my taste.”

  Boo! Torolf felt inordinately displeased now.

  She waved a hand dismissively. “I want those two no more than I want you.”

  “I could make you want me.” Holy shit! Why did I say that? I must have a screw loose.

  “Talking with you is like nailing gruel to the wall,” she remarked with a shake of her head. “You say these things just to bait me. Well, I will not react to such folly.”

  He had to bite his tongue from saying something even more baiting. Like, “You have the most kissable mouth. It’s big and pouty and fits mine just right. I especially liked the way you used it to—”

  “Now, condition two. Britta and I and the other women you have been training must be a part of this mission . . . both in the planning and the execution.”

  “It won’t be necessary now.”

  “Do not say me nay on this. We were good enough to play a role afore. Besides, I have a personal reason for going.”

  He quirked a brow at her.

  “Steinolf put a Blood Eagle on my father’s back. I plan to do the same to him.”

  “Personally?”

  “Personally.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. I doubt whether you’ve ever killed anyone, let alone butchered a body in that way. Not that he doesn’t deserve it, but you won’t be the one to do it.”

  “Have a caution, Torolf, you are not my master. I will come on this mission.”

  “We’ll see.” Not in this lifetime.

  “And I expect that Britta and I will be involved in all the planning sessions.”

  “We’ll see.” This ought to make Thorfinn thrilly-thrill-thrilled. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Condition three. No more bedplay betwixt us.”

  She’s probably right. Nope, she is definitely right. But he couldn’t resist saying, “We’ll see.”

  “Hear me well: you will not take your ease on me again. So, stifle your brutish urges.”

  My brutish urges weren’t so bad last night. “How about you taking your ease on me?” What a ridiculous way to say “having sex”! “You can be as brutish as you want.”

  “Why must you gainsay me at every turn? Will you agree to keep your lewd fingers to yourself?”

  Lewd fingers, huh? She must be hot for me. “I’ll try.”

  “Condition four. I will welcome you and your SEALs, your two cousins, and only a dozen of the hesirs into my hall for dinner tonight. After the meal, those chieftains will all bed down with their troops outside the keep.”

  “And what if your women invite them to stay?”

  “I will speak with them first. None of my women will be allowed in the hall if they do not agree aforehand.”

  “Good luck outlawing sex.” Especially with me. He grinned.

  “’Tis not a subject for mirth. Not to me.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell them, but you’ll probably hear the laughter all the way up here from the tent city down below.”

  “Assuming that you are able to unseat Steinolf and his vicious wolves, and that is not a certainty, how long will you remain here in the Norselands?”

  “After I rebuild the dam?” he joked.

  Her mouth didn’t even twitch with a smidgen of laughter.

  “As soon as we’re able to leave to return to the future, we will. Don’t you have any desire to see all the modern marvels?”

  “Is that an invitation?” He must have blanched, because she laughed. “Do not worry, Torolf. I have no inclination to leave the Norselands, despite your hugely self-touted charms, not even to time-travel to the future . . . not that I believe that is possible. ’Tis just another of your jests.”

  I wish!

  The wheels of the mission go round and round, round and round . . .

  Hilda listened carefully as Torolf led the meeting with his SEAL friends, Thorfinn, Steven, several chieftains, and fifteen of the women. She was impressed, despite her best intentions.

  On the outside, Torolf portrayed himself as a no-care rogue, more intent on bedeviling than serious undertakings. Apparently, it was a facade.

  The meeting, held in the lower end of the hall, started with Thorfinn protesting the presence of her and the other women. “What need have we of twittering females doing men’s work?”

  Before Hilda had a chance to leap forth and slice off the haughty knight’s tongue, Torolf raised a halting hand. “The women stay. Their stake in this mission is as great or greater than our own. You seek riches. I seek revenge. The women seek a return to peaceable times.”

  “You take responsibility then,” Thorfinn said.

  “I will. My men and I can do a tight package on Hilda.”

  “A tight package?” Hilda and Thorfinn asked at the same time.

  “We surround the person a
s we are going into the kill zone,” he explained.

  “You will not package me in any way,” Hilda ordered. “We women carry our own weight in this mission. Yea, we are not as strong as men, but we can be used in other ways.”

  “I agree,” Steven said at her side, putting an arm over her shoulders. The man had become like a gnat on her backside.

  She shrugged out of his arm and noticed Torolf glaring at Steven, who smirked back at him.

  “Okay, we’ll use Rakel and two of the other women if it becomes necessary to lure the guards out.”

  “I can lure, too,” Hilda insisted. He better not hint that I am not lure-worthy; he will get more than goat milk on his head.

  Torolf hesitated, but then he said, “If you want.”

  He wasn’t fooling her, though. He would still resist.

  “I view this as a three-pronged attack,” Torolf said then. “By surf penetration to Norstead, by land to Norstead, and by land to Amberstead. The other estates can be taken care of later. Two SEALs assigned to each prong. Thorfinn, you can lead the sea insertion, if that’s okay with you?”

  Thorfinn nodded. “I can take two hundred men in four longships and leave the other men for land entry. I know the sea area well. A rock portage to the north side would be best.”

  “Steven, you can lead a hundred men—and, yes, Hilda, some women—to Amberstead. I’ll take Norstead. Each of us will have a hundred or so men with us. Hilda, will you go to Amberstead with Steven since you know those secret tunnels?”

  She shook her head. “’Tis Norstead for me. That is where Steinolf is reputed to be.”

  Torolf was about to argue with her, knowing her intent, but then he relented and went on to other subjects. “I suggest that we put off our D-day for one week so that we can all work together on plans and exercises. Agreed?” He looked at each person individually, but there was no disagreement.

  “It’s important that we engage the enemy in all places at once,” Geek said. “Inserting into the kill zone has got to be synchronized for optimum surprise.”

  “We SEALs prefer to operate at night. I’m thinking ten o’clock, when Steinolf ’s men will be less alert, ready for sleep, probably drunk.” Torolf walked back and forth in front of the rest of them, who were seated. “Usually we SEALs hit the ground running. Arrive fast, engage, then leave fast, but in this case, I assume we’ll be sticking around to clean up and establish order and new leadership.”

  “How will we all know it is ten at night?” Thorfinn scoffed. That cousin seemed to have some grudge with Torolf, or mayhap he was just a surly sort.

  “Watches,” Torolf said, pointing to a piece of jewelry on his wrist made of leather and glass. At a motion of his head, Geek and JAM took off their watches, showing them to Steven and Thorfinn, who were seemingly amazed. When Torolf showed Hilda his watch and explained its working, she was amazed, too. Truly this land where Torolf had come from must be a wondrous place if it had these kinds of marvels.

  Much time was spent oohing and aahing over the watches, before Steven and Thorfinn were given one each for the mission.

  “The logistics of all this can be worked out among us over the next week. We all use different weapons and have different styles of fighting, but I think we can complement each other’s talents. For now, I say, let’s eat, suck a little foam, and start working hard early tomorrow morning.”

  Thorfinn glanced at him and then at Hilda, questioning. Torolf had already told the man of her rules, which must have offended him, that she would imply they were rapists, but she could take no chances.

  Hilda stood and addressed them all. “Everyone is welcome to stay for the evening meal. Mayhap the SEALs will even entertain you with their music. We have no sleeping quarters for you, being a small keep and a women’s sanctuary, but you may take turns using our bathhouse.”

  “We have been long at sea,” Thorfinn said, standing to stretch. He was a fine-looking man, though lacking in good sense, for he blathered on, “We need our clothing washed. And send some women to tend us in the bathhouse with fresh linens.”

  Hilda bristled.

  Britta snorted.

  Several of the SEALs snickered, and Cage said, “In the bayou, we call this an uh-oh second.”

  Thorfinn, the lackwit, looked about him, unaware of his blunder. It was true that many households provided hospitality to their guests, including help with bathing and washing their clothes. But these were uninvited, could hardly be classified as guests, and there were bloody four hundred of them.

  “Behave, Hilda,” Torolf whispered in her ear.

  “Hah!” she whispered back. “On second thought, methinks you men should bathe in the fjord . . . both your clothing and your bodies. My bathhouse will be in use by my women, who have much other work to do.”

  A silence descended, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the nearby hearth and by the noises at the other end of the hall, where casks of food and ale and Frankish wine were being carried in.

  The men shuffled outside then. Steven stayed behind, much to Torolf’s apparent displeasure. “I just wanted to tell you . . . my brother means no disrespect. He has suffered much at the hands of a woman and is betimes unable to repress his hostilities.”

  She tilted her head in question.

  “His wife left him two years ago, ran away with an outlawed Viking, and took Thorfinn’s infant son with her. Pirates attacked their longship, killing everyone on board except his son, whom they carried off to only the gods know where . . . possibly the Arab lands. It is believed the child is dead, too, since no trace has been found of him, and, believe you me, Thorfinn has tried.”

  “How terrible!”

  Torolf came back in then and yelled from the doorway. “If you’re done sucking up, Steven, maybe you could come out here and tell your brother to stop pissing off everyone in sight with his sweet personality.”

  Steven laughed and went out the door.

  Torolf stomped up to her, kissed her hard, and shoved her out the door in front of him with a familiar hand on her bottom.

  The lout! she thought, but she was smiling.

  I’m not thinkin’ about you, baby, except when I walk and talk and eat and sleep and . . .

  Torolf felt like he was in the eye of a tornado, totally at the mercy of forces beyond his control. It didn’t help that he was half-blitzed from his cousins’ stash of French wine.

  No wonder he was disoriented, though. Time travel. Landing in a sort of nunnery. Training female soldiers. Now helping to plan a combined mission of know-it-all Vikings, women, and SEALs. It gave new meaning to the term special forces. And then there was Hilda. Lordy, Lordy, he was in deep and drowning fast.

  He could only imagine what his buddies must think of this bizarre scene surrounding them. Hell, he’d been here before—in the past—and he found it beyond belief.

  Pretty Boy was enjoying himself, though. Right now, he had Britta trapped between a bench and a hearth, giving her the full-throttle assault with his accumulated store of seduction techniques. Britta looked a bit shell-shocked.

  Thorfinn was in a serious discussion with JAM, something about the similarities between Viking and Christian religions.

  Cage had Hilda’s good friend Inge sitting on his lap wearing his cowboy hat. This, despite Hilda having given her women orders not to have men in their bed furs while the Norsemandy Vikings were in the area.

  Dagne was playing the lute, and a young man on another lute accompanied her to some soft medieval-style songs. They could hardly be heard over the volume of noise. There were only a dozen or so of the Norsemandy Viking men here, but add to that the five SEALs, about three dozen women, and the Norstead and Amberstead men who had come to The Sanctuary the day before . . . talking, laughing, playing dice or the board game, hnefatafl , and drinking . . . lots of drinking.

  Hilda flitted in and out of the hall as she supervised the meal and cleanup. His eyes followed her everywhere, and he was not happy to see Steven at he
r side, helping her, making her laugh, touching her arm or shoulder.

  He was becoming obsessed with the woman. Why, he had no idea. Ha, ha, ha! Sure, there had been the mind-blowing sex. But so what? Sex was sex. Some of it mind-blowing. Some of it so-so. Note to Torolf: you are full of shit. And he was worried about her. If Steinolf ever got ahold of her . . . And she annoyed the hell out of him. Big time. And he wanted to nail her so long and so hard that her blasted hot blue eyes rolled around in her head like the cherries on a slot machine. You gotta love the male imagination. Yep, he was losin’ his mind. Testosterone: God’s way of reminding men that, cut to the bone, they are only dumb men.

  “Why are you muttering to yourself?” Hilda asked, pouring more wine into his goblet. He hadn’t realized she’d come back into the hall. Her hair hung down her back in a single braid, but many tendrils had escaped due to the heat in the hall from the fires and body heat from so many people.

  I am not picturing it as it looked loose and spread out like a silver blanket, the dark red of the fox pelts beneath her, and me above her. And that lurch of pleasure between my legs is just an alcohol buzz. Oh, this is just great! Half-blitzed and now half-hard, too!

  She wore a finer gunna tonight than she had previously . . . a dark blue wool. Nothing like the silks she’d no doubt owned in the past, but pretty nonetheless.

  Is she dressing to please Steven or Thorfinn?

  He bit his bottom lip to keep from growling.

  Steven came up then and smiled at Torolf as if they were good friends. “Hilda, come rest a bit, and we can discuss those hidden tunnels of yours at Amberstead.”

  Hah! I know which hidden tunnels you’re interested in, Steve-o-lech, and they aren’t at Amberstead.

  Hilda set the urn of wine on the head table beside him, then wiped her hands on her apron before removing it. She was about to walk off with Steven when she glanced his way, then did a double take. “What ails you, Torolf? Your face looks fierce, as if in some pain.”

  Oh, yeah, I’ve got a pain all right. “Gas,” he said, and stood, waving a hand for them to take the empty seats at the head table, while he walked off to join his buddies. Time to take this half blitz to a full-tilt boogie, knee-walking, mind-numbing drunk.