THIRTY-SEVEN
Rudolf stepped into the lord's chambers and slammed the door shut. Why in heaven's name had he agreed to be their king?
"Congratulations, my king." Portia stepped out of the shadows. The laces across her breasts had come untied, and her gown was in danger of slipping off her shoulders.
Rudolf's fingers itched to help, though whether to help her out of her gown or touch her breasts as he retied the laces for her, he wasn't sure. He knew now why he'd accepted the questionable honour of a crown. "I did it for you," he said simply. "As long as the Southern Isles are your home, this is where I shall be."
She frowned. "What will the Viken king say?"
"We will find out soon enough. His men sail home on the morrow, and they will tell him all." He waved away her worries. "I have n
