How to Seduce a Queen: A Medieval Romance Novel by Stella Marie Alden

pallets.”
    She dared not look up until the monks departed out the front door along with her knights. After all her boys were settled, she stopped in the kitchen where Haddr put the last of the dishes away.
    Fay cleared her throat and said quietly, “I’ve missed you so.”
    “And I you.” Her friend held out her arms and gave her a warm hug.
    “I’m so sorry you were forced to work in the tavern. Who would make up such ugly rumors?”
    Haddr smiled sadly and adjusted the cloth tied about her hair. “You should go. We’re in the same room without chaperone. Even now, your small court may be questioning what goes on in here.”
    “But I have things I must discuss or I shall burst, and they’re not for men’s ears or even Aunt Aggie's. For the first time, I have felt . . . something for a man. I’m not broken.”
    Haddr jumped up and down. “Truly? Which one? Is it Sir Ferguson?”
    “Sadly, not him. It would make my life easier. It’s the monk.”
    Her brilliant smile dropped to a pout. “Oh. I was hoping for a romp with that one myself.”
    “Brother Nicodemus?” A pang of jealousy hit her gut.
    Haddr touched her arm. “Oh nay, nay. The jolly one. The one who pinches my arse and steals kisses.”
    Relieved, Fay brushed the crumbs off the serving tray and folded table linens. “Don’t you find that a mite strange? That monks lust?”
    “Not at all. The priest in the village? He’s one of the most immoral men about. He’s bartered forgiveness in exchange for sex.”
    Fay’s stomach turned at the thought. “Och. I shall run that awful man off the island.”
    Haddr reached for a broom. “Well, mayhap eventually, but not tonight. Tell me more about these feelings.”
    “I cannot stop thinking of kisses. And more.” Fay leaned back against a tabletop. She pictured herself in front of a warm fire, atop a pile of furs, soft lips locked with his in passion.
    Haddr danced with her broom partner. “I’m so happy for you!”
    “Stop, stop. Tell me. What am I to do?” She bit her lower lip and glanced toward the arch that led to the hall. Some of the men had returned and were talking in low voices to the boys.
    Haddr grinned and kissed her straw lover. “Does he return your affection?”
    “Of course not. He’s a monk.” Fay grabbed the broom and shook one finger at it, like an ill-mannered boy.
    Loki bounded in, wagged his tail, and barked once. Haddr kissed him on the nose and spoke in doggy-nonsense, “Tell me, does he gaze into your eyes and his voice grow low? Hmmm?”
    “Aye.” Pieces of straw and crumbs flew as Fay rigorously swept the black stone floor.
    Laughing, Haddr shooed Loki out the back door when she’d had enough.
    “Does he lean in? Does he touch you when he leads you? Does he try to find excuses to get you alone?”
    When Fay followed Haddr outside, the oven’s heat hit her face. “Aye, aye, and aye.”
    “You must be very careful to not get pregnant by him.” She removed the ladle from the kettle, placed a heavy iron cover over the steaming broth, and set it by the fire.
    Fay stopped her sweeping. She had not thought of it. “Thor’s balls. I could not. Could I?”
    “When a man gets his snake near your den, ’tis hard to close the door. Do you understand?”
    “Not really.”
    “Mother Frigga. Then don’t spend time alone with him.” Haddr stepped back into the kitchen.
    Fay followed. “He’s promised to help me find my faith. I can’t do that alone.”
    “You’ve got all those bastard orphans. Keep one with you at all times.”
    She shot her a gaze of warning, pulled her pallet from under the shelving, and pounded the straw mattress.
    “You should’ve seen him stand up to that priest today. The old fart almost pissed himself.”
    “I wish I had been there.” Fay sat next to her friend, sighed, and pictured her monk as Lancelot in King Arthur’s court.
    “I’ve never seen the likes. I bet Saint George was like that when he met the dragon.”
    Fay