Chapter Twenty

It was so easy to mortify his lady, even when he assumed she would take his comments in good part. Astrid would have, but she had been raised in the Viking way where modesty was usually mocked and men and women alike were comfortable with their nakedness. Though, he had to admit, his half-sister and Sigurd would need some time to adjust to their new relationship. Were it not for her unfortunate past he might have bedded her already, but the easy jokes had not returned and his face was serious more often than not, which added up to only one thing: they hadn’t yet consummated their love.

With Miriam, he had simply assumed it would never happen. Loving her from afar as he did was enough, until she fell into his lap because he could not allow anyone else to buy her. He had been so angry; he still was. Rumours abounded about the Masked King, claiming he dined regularly on human flesh and tore apart the women unlucky enough to find favour in his eyes. Had he spread those himself or was some