Page 69 of Mastered By the Viking King

Tove knew that was true. Her husband, the king, provided her with love and discipline, protection and pleasure. The gods had smiled on her the day her mother had put her name forward to be queen. Even though she had been angry, it had been her fate.

Tove realized she didn’t always know what was best for her. Luckily, Njal did, and she would spend her life at his side, giving and receiving the pleasure he gifted her. Obeying him. Supporting him.

And, she hoped, providing him with many sons to fight, raid, and explore at his side in the years to come.

Epilogue

Eleven months later

Tove gazed down at her precious daughter, Helga. She had her father’s intense dark eyes and a little pink rosebud mouth.

She’d been born when the spring flowers had bloomed. Wanda had been at the birth, as well as Tove’s mother who had made it through the pass as soon as the snow had melted. Gunnar, the warrior who had delivered the supplies, had been at her side.

Njal had taken to the seas the day after Helga’s birth, intent on seeking vengeance for the slaughtered Viking farmers. He’d returned quickly. His voyage with Leif had been successful, their losses few. King Egbert was dead; his son Athelwulfe ruled now.

A new deal had been struck. Only time would tell if Wessex would uphold it.

“My little star.” Tove stroked Helga’s soft baby cheek. Had she ever loved with such intensity, with so much protectiveness? “Sleep now.”

The curtain flicked open, and Njal strode into their private dwelling area. “Ah, you are here. Good.”

“Shh.” She held Helga tighter and rocked her. “She is sleeping.”

“As a babe should.” He unbuttoned his sleeveless tunic and flung it off. The day was warm, the sun shining upon Halsgrof. He’d mostly shaved his beard, leaving only the small plait on his chin, which now had a single golden bead at the end. The hair over each ear had been shorn, too, now revealing swirling ink upon his scalp she hadn’t known was there.

Tove liked her husband’s new look. Even though he’d said it was for practical reasons—to be cool in the summer months—it suited him.

“Put her down,” Njal said. “It is time for us to have sex again. It has been too long.”

She looked at his broad chest and her stomach fluttered. Oh, she wanted him, wanted sex, but she was holding her beautiful, sleeping babe and her arms didn’t want to let go.

“Tove?”

“I don’t want to wake her, Sire. She will if I put her down.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you denying me, my queen?” His voice was low and grating, daring her almost.

“No, it’s just…”

“It is my right to claim you. You are mine.”

“I know.” She swallowed. Helga was so comfortable in her arms.

“Here.” He stooped and quickly picked up his daughter. “Give her to me.”

“Oh, Njal, please.” She stood. Tove hated the way Njal held their babe. His big hands were awkward; he seemed to balance her on them rather than hold her close.

“You are a motheranda wife, Tove. And now it is time for you to be a wife to me.” His tone was firm. “Remove your tunic. I intend to have sex with you.”

She swallowed; it had been a few months since his cock had been inside her, and during that time she’d gone through the agony of childbirth.

“Now!” he snapped.

“Aye, my king.” She peeled off her tunic, revealing her nakedness beneath.

He stared at her, taking in her swollen breasts and her new curves.

Helga wriggled.

---