Page 57 of Mastered By the Viking King

“I did it. I let him in.” She straightened and tipped her chin. “The hail was bruising his old skin. He was in need of food and shelter, and in return would tell the boys sagas while I prepared for the feast.”

And in the name of all the gods she didn’t appear in the least bit remorseful.

“I cannot… believe… you disobeyed me this way.” He fought to keep his temper.

“I didn’t disobey you, I—”

“You did!” he shouted. “As true as I stand here now, you disobeyed me. You cannot deny it.”

Her eyes widened, her jaw tensed, but still she held his gaze.

He spun around. “Get this man out. Take him to the boundary and banish him. If he comes back, slice off his head—inch by inch—and feed it to the wolves.”

“Aye, King.” Leif nodded. “Come, wanderer, you walked the wrong way when you came to Halsgrof.”

“What? No… This is not my fate. I—”

“Quiet!” Njal roared. “And you!” He gripped both boys’ clothing, tugging them to their feet. “Go with Wanda. I want you out of my sight, too.”

Frode whimpered and ran to Wanda. Knud hesitated a moment, his little lips pouting, then he did the same.

Wanda scooped them close, tucking them into her tunic. Quickly, she left the Great Hall.

He pointed at Tove. “Go to our chamber. I will deal with you there.”

“But—”

“Go!” His growl hurt his throat but he hurt inside more. His wife, his sweet, innocent wife had let a wanderer into their home. A man, who—if he was like the last wanderer that came to Halsgrof—could take everything away from him in a heartbeat.

Njal wasn’t prepared to go through that pain again, or take any risks with Tove. She was too special to him. She’d melted his heart when he’d thought it frozen forever.

He was angry at her, scared for himself. His energy bubbled inside him, like the hot springs bursting to be free of the earth.

Tove strode past him, chin still annoyingly lifted, her shoulders down, footsteps clipping the floor.

“Do not start the feast without your king and queen,” he barked at Halfdan.

“We won’t, m’lord.” He bowed. “You have my word.”

Njal dragged at his cloak, tossed it aside, then followed his disobedient queen.

His palm was already tingling in anticipation of the hard punishment he’d give her.

* * *

“What if I had not been here?” Njal demanded, yanking the curtain into place so hard it nearly came off its wooden pole.

“Youwerehere.” Tove’s heart was thudding.

He stormed up to her, nose to nose. “Why are you so unremorseful?”

“Because.” She paused, swallowing, trying to stay composed in the face of his anger. “I saw an old man in a hailstorm who needed food and shelter. He was willing to repay that kindness.”

“By spinning sagas to my sons?” He huffed. “Who knows what he filled their heads with. The last wanderer that came by was a liar, and a cheat, and a thief.”

“I am sure that old man…oh!” Tove staggered as her tunic was ripped clean off her chest.

Njal yanked her bodice again, her breasts coming free.

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