Page 19 of Chosen

Her hand shot down the front of my pants and I nearly dropped her. I wrestled her until she pulled her hand back out, laughing.

“If you’re afraid of women, I’m probably not the one for you,” she slurred. “Truth does not apologize for celebrating.”

Gisla laughed and reached up to cling to Truth’s shoulder. It made it twice as hard for my father and I to wrangle them out of the bar.

“Just one more… one more,” Gisla stressed.

“You can have all the wine you want at the palace,” Father informed her.

“I don’t want wine. I want whiskey,” she protested.

The men at the front of the tavern nodded with approval at our efforts to escort the women out.

“Shame. No one taught them to be women,” some bastard with only two teeth crowed as we were about to pass. “Oh well, can’t blame a whore for being a whore.”

I didn’t think, I just dropped Truth and swung. My fist caught him right on the edge of his chin and the fool crumpled from his bar stool like a sack of potatoes.

“She’s no whore!” I growled. “She is my wife.”

“Come on, Siggy.” My father laughed, looking down at the man.

He patted my shoulder encouragingly and I slowly realized the man wasn’t going to get up. I helped Truth back to her feet and we somehow made it back to the horse.

“You hit him,” she drunkenly mused.

Her eyes were wide and glossy. When I didn’t say anything, she reached for my jaw and cupped my face.

“You hit him for Truth,” she whispered, “I will never forget it.”

“You speak like a slave when you’re drunk,” I blurted out, despite her tender moment.

I twisted my head away from her hands and started moving again. I didn’t care how much she appreciated me; I was furious with her.

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