The Norse King’s Daughter by Sandra Hill Page B

depend on Sidroc’s support? Nay, do not be blushing so. I’m sure others wonder the same.”
    “ ’Tis not just curiosity on my part. I come from a family of independent women, and betimes I have wondered what it would be like to live on my own. I am no longer a young maid, obviously, but still my father pushes me toward marriage.” She could have bitten her tongue for revealing so much.
    “The answer, my dear, is that I can definitely support myself, and well, but that was not always the case. Sidroc set me up with this shop. He discovered me working as a jeweler’s assistant three years ago. To say that the master jeweler was cruel would be an understatement. Sidroc beat the man bloody and took me away, on the spot.”
    “And you have repaid him by becoming his mistress? Oh, please forgive me. I cannot believe I asked you that impertinent question. How rude of me!”
    Ianthe patted her hand. “Friends can talk of intimate things, and I am hoping that you and I are becoming friends. The answer is that I went to Sidroc’s bed willingly a year after we first met. He is a man of many passions. In truth, we share the same . . . um, tastes in lovemaking.”
    Drifa had no idea what she meant and wasn’t about to ask. She did ask another question, though. “Do you love him?”
    Ianthe thought a moment. “I do love him, but only as a good friend and an equally good lover.”
    “How about Sidroc? Is he in love with you?” Drifa really was being intrusive, but her tongue seemed to have a mind of its own.
    “Pfff! I doubt he thinks of me once he leaves my bed. Forget I said that. Of course he cares about me, but I do not think he is capable of the softer sentiments.”
    His crass marriage proposal to Drifa had been proof of that.
    “I make the distinction between loving someone and being in love,” Ianthe went on, “because I know what being in love is like. I was in love with my husband, who died four years ago. I doubt I will ever love another in the same way. Do not look with pity on me, though. I live a satisfactory life.” She laughed then. “Well, satisfactory up ’til now. Since Sidroc has ended our relationship, I will have to find my satisfaction in other ways.”
    Again, Drifa wasn’t about to ask her what she meant by “other ways,” but that was interesting . . . that Sidroc had ended his relationship with her. “Is this something new?”
    “As of last night. Well, truth to tell, this morning.” Ianthe blushed.
    Drifa did, too, suspecting what she meant by “this morning.” The randy goat had stayed all night, and not to eat grass, either. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Why end your relationship now?”
    “He is leaving Byzantium.”
    “He is? When?” So much for the forty-two nights of bedsport threats he’d made to her!
    “As soon as he is able to gain a release from his Varangian duties. It could be within days, or months, I would imagine.”
    Oh. So forty-two nights might not be out of the question. Good gods! What am I thinking? Of course it is out of the question.
    As if reading her mind, Ianthe said, “Sidroc is a good man. He told me last night that you were betrothed at one time.”
    Drifa made a decidedly unfeminine snort of derision. “A betrothal of about three hours! Did he happen to mention that?”
    Ianthe shook her head, clearly puzzled by the vehemence of Drifa’s response. “Perchance you could resume your betrothal? Mayhap God brought you here to Constantinople at the same time Sidroc was here because he wants you to be together.”
    Drifa was fairly certain God had no plans involving forty-two nights of sex, which was all Sidroc had planned for her. “We are at cross wills every time we meet. I daresay we would kill each other if forced to be in each other’s company for more than a day.” Or forty-two days!
    Ianthe glanced at her skeptically, then turned when she noticed a young woman, the assistant who had been helping in her shop, standing in the