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“Maybe if you’d cut it in New Zealand, it would have been a signal to him,” he says.
I hesitate. “I just couldn’t. His displeasure would have been overwhelming. I’m not that strong. I’m not rebellious, and I don’t like confrontation.”
“It sounded as if you did just fine with Jason the other night.”
“Maybe, but that came at the end of three months of harassment and frustration. Straw that broke the camel’s… you know. And I’d just spoken to you. It gave me courage.”
He smiles at that.
I break open my second scone and put half of it on his plate. “Finish that off for me.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I’m quite full, and I can see you have a healthy appetite.” I wink at him before piling on the jam.
He chuckles and reaches for the spoon, knocks it off the dish, and spills jam onto the tablecloth. “Shit,” he says. “Sorry.”
I chuckle and scoop it up. “Don’t worry, I’m getting used to it.”
He sighs. “I’m sorry you’ve had a difficult time with men.”
“I’m sorry you’ve had a difficult time with women. I think we’re both a little ashamed of our sexes.”
“Yeah. I don’t understand men who want to control women. They should be protected, not dominated.”
Protected is an odd word to use. “You think of us as the fairer sex?”
He thinks about that, licking his fingers free of jam. “Most of the women I know are strong and formidable. I don’t know anyone who’d dare to call Elizabeth weak and feeble.”
“Ha, no!” I give him a curious look. “What’s your mum like? I’ve never met her.”
“Fearless,” he says. “She’s always called herself a shield maiden, like Lagertha.”
“Side question, but was Lagertha a real character, or is she just from the Vikings show?”
“A twelfth-century chronicler called Saxo wrote about her, but experts think she probably wasn’t real, and that her tale was inspired by the Norse deity Thorgard.”
“Mm. Interesting. Anyway, so you don’t see women as weak and feeble?”
“Not at all.”
“But you were ready to fly over here with Huxley to protect me?” I tease.
He finishes off his scone, wipes his mouth with a serviette, and picks up his teacup as he leans back. “Honest opinion?”
“Always.”
“Today we’re told that women can do anything. Mentally, I believe that to be true. Physically? I’ve yet to meet a woman who can beat me in an arm-wrestling match.”
“Do you arm wrestle many women?”
He grins. “You want to try me?”
I try not to look at his bulging biceps. “No… but I get your point.”
“It seems a shame to pretend we’re exactly the same. You know what sexual dimorphism is?”
“The male is larger than the female?”
