Sandra Hill (15 page)

Hah! When fjords turn to mead!

Pretty Boy smiled before he gave her a warm hug. “Are you sure you don’t find me unresistible?”

She laughed.
Not while the lout is in the room.

Omar of the dark coloring—part Arab, she would guess—gave her an odd message after his light kisses on both her cheeks: “May Allah bless your pillow tonight.”

Nobody better be coming anywhere near my pillow.

JAM squeezed her hands. “God bless you, Mrs. MacLean.”

I am to be called Miss-us MacLean now? Ah, in the seal world, women must take their husband’s name, unlike my country, where the woman retains her mother’s name.

“I would not have performed this ceremony if I didn’t think it was the right thing,” JAM continued.

She nodded. It felt right to her, too.

Sly the Black—or so she thought of the tall man in her mind—grinned and lifted her high in his arms. “Make the sucker beg, sweetheart. Make him beg.”

I have no idea what that means, nor do I want to know.

Geek, the young man of great intellect, pulled her into a hug and said into her ear, “Come to me when you’re ready. I’ll help you find your country.”

That was the most hopeful thing she’d heard all day. She smiled her thanks.

Ian saw Maddie smile at Geek and gritted his teeth.
She doesn’t smile at me that way. And why should she? I’ve been a world-class horse’s ass.

So, what did he do, bumbling idiot that he’d become? He said, “Are you done sucking tongues with my teammates?”

She gasped at his crudity, and several of the guys protested his words, including Cage, who suggested to him, “Lighten up,
mon coeur
. It’s just a custom.”

He knew that. Although Maddie had her nose pointing to the ceiling, he saw the hurt in her eyes. Or maybe it was fear. This had to stop. He had to stop.

Twining his fingers with hers, he pulled her over to two folding chairs at the side of the quonset hut which served as the chapel. She resisted, of course. He pushed her down into a chair and sat beside her, still holding her hand.

She tugged.

He tugged back.

She growled.

He growled back.

Ian realized suddenly that he enjoyed sparring with the shrew. She wore the same outfit she’d had on last night … not the usual bridal fare, but then, he wore a cammie uniform. She looked magnificent. He probably looked like a dork.

She thinks I’m handsome
, he reminded himself. And smiled.

“Do not think you can melt me with a smile.”

Melt? Oh, my God!
“It never occurred to me that I had the power to … melt you.”

“Hah! You are a man. Men think with their dangly parts.”

No way am I going to react to that. Dangly parts, indeed!
“Listen, this is a scintillating conversation, but we have to talk. The shit is going to hit the fan any minute now, when CentCom hears what I’ve done. I’m sorry if I’ve been rude, but I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She tilted her head and studied him. “Could you lose your command over this?”

Maybe.
“Nah!”

“I am sorry, too, if I have been ungrateful. ’Tis just that I ne’er expected to wed again. I have been on my own these past thirteen years, with neither father nor husband to control me.”

“I can’t imagine any man being able to control you.”

She shrugged. “Well, they tried.” She gave him a slight smile then.

And his heart lurched. “We must come to an understanding here while we have this minute alone.”

She nodded. Then sniffed first one arm, then the other. Apparently, she was still fascinated with scented soap. In fact, she looked as if she was considering sniffing him, as well.

Lordy, Lordy!
Distracted for a moment, he shook his head to clear it. “There will be no sex between us.” He felt his face turn hot, but the words had to be said.
An annulment will never be given if we do the deed.

“And you think that will disappoint me?” She glanced up from her sniffing. “Karl is the only man I have coupled with, and it is not an experience I yearn to repeat.”

He should have been surprised, but he wasn’t.

“And do not be trying to convince me that you would be more virile in the bed furs than Karl was. Better men than you have tried. I am not interested.”

I could make you interested.
He just stopped himself from speaking those words aloud. She would cut him off at the knees … or somewhere else. But he knew without a doubt that it was true. That hot kiss between them moments ago had convinced him if nothing else did that the two of them would make sparks in the hay. “Okay, that’s settled. No sex. There are a couple other things. You can’t be telling anyone that this is a temporary marriage. They’ll make us stay and get it annulled here, meaning you won’t be able to leave the country.”

“What reason will we give for the quick marriage?”

His face flushed again. “Love. Red-hot passion. Whatever. Just don’t act like you usually do.”

“How do I usually act?”

“Like I repulse you.”

“I only wish that were so.”

Uh-oh. She’s about to torpedo me, I just know it.

“If ever I were going to reverse my loathing for the bedsport, that kiss of yours would have convinced me. Glad I am that you do not want to mate with me. I am not sure I would be able to resist you.”

Sonofabitch! You can’t tell a guy that he turns you on, then expect him to control his libido, as if it has an off-on switch.
He would have taken back his earlier words about no sex, but his nemesis came up then. Dan the Slime Spy.

“Congratulations, Ian. Is this the lucky lady?”

If he dares to try to kiss her, I’ll knock his teeth out.

But Dan just shook her hand, a gesture that seemed to puzzle Maddie.

“What are you doing here, Dan?” Ian asked bluntly.

Not at all fazed by his rudeness, he handed Ian some documents. “The general sent these.”

He frowned.
The general knows I’m here? In the chapel? Getting married?
“What are they?”

“Travel papers. For you and the little lady.” Ian smiled smugly.

Ian took hold of the schmuck’s arm and pulled him a few feet away from Maddie. Then he cocked his head. “General staff knew about my wedding plans?” Then an unbelievable suspicion entered his mind. “Did they have a hand in this?”

Dan shrugged. “Not exactly. Let’s just say your wedding to Ms. … uh, Olgadottir … fits into the government’s surveillance plans.”

“Dammit! No matter how you spin it, I’ve been railroaded.”

“Hey, man, take it easy. You get to enjoy a beautiful wife … for now.” Ian was eying Maddie like she was a popsicle and he’d like to lick her up one side and down the other. “And you get to serve your country at the same time.”

“This was your idea, wasn’t it, dickhead?”

“Tsk-tsk-tsk! Sticks and stones, Kermie. No one made you do this. But we didn’t put up any opposition either.”

“Get out of here, slimeball, before I kick your ass up to your tonsils.”

Dan smirked at him.

“Do not threaten my husband, you worthless piece of dung.” Maddie had come up beside Ian and heard at least some of their conversation. “If my father were here, he would skin you alive.” She had her hands on her hips and was glaring at Dan with belligerence.

All Ian could think was,
Look at her breasts in that shirt when she puts her hands like that. I am in male chauvinist heaven. Hope I’m not drooling.
Belatedly, he pondered her words.
I can’t believe this. I am being defended by a woman.

Dan gave Maddie another vulgar once-over, then turned and walked away.

“Would your father really skin a man alive?”

“Well, not this fellow, but Steinolf, the man who stole Norstead and degraded me so … yea, my father would skin him alive and feed his heart to the pigs. This man he would probably throw into the sea.”

Unbelievable!
Ian inhaled and exhaled several times to calm himself down.

“Even if he is not as vile as Steinolf, I do not like that Dan person, not one bit,” Maddie went on.

“You and about a zillion other people.”

“He kept staring at my breasts.”

“Maddie, everyone stares at your breasts.”

“Not really. Leastways, not in my country. Karl called them udders.”

He gave her a look of disbelief. “Karl was a jackass.”

She smiled then. At him. A full-blown smile which came from the heart and made her eyes dance. He felt the smile in every cell of his body.

Then she put a hand on his forearm and said, “Sometimes you are not such a troll.”

Give me your tired, your poor …

One day later, Madrene was so tired and confused and lonely and disheartened that she felt like crying. But she had not wept for two long years, since the fall of Norstead, and she refused to succumb now.

She had ridden in an enormous bird known as a jet plane across the ocean for hours and hours, more than half a day. Most of the others inside the bird, at least two hundred, had worn military uniforms of one kind or another. Meals had even been served to the passengers, and there had been a privy. All this inside a bird.

It frightened Madrene to realize how much farther advanced this country was over her own. Even with all the adventuring that Norsemen did, none had ever reported such a civilization.

She had not wanted to cling to her new husband, but she had. When the bird had taken off. When she had seen clouds outside her window. When she had realized how far she was traveling from all that was familiar to her. When she smelled his man-scent or when he looked at her just so.

Then, late afternoon on the day after her wedding, they had landed in Ian’s homeland, called Ah-mare-ah-ca. There, she’d been subjected to still more marvels. They rode in a horseless boxed cart with wheels, called a car, to Ian’s keep in Sandy-egg-go. Everywhere she looked, there were people, hundreds and hundreds of people, all scurrying somewhere or other on important business. And the buildings were so close together here. No landed estates as in the Norselands, but small buildings with small plots of grass in front and behind.

Ian had told her that everyone was equal in this country, that there was no royal class. She could not fathom that. Even the Saxons had royal families, tradesmen, cotters and thralls. Her father had been a jarl, comparable to a Saxon earl.

She and Ian had come to somewhat of a truce.
Theirs was a marriage of convenience which would be ended sooner rather than later. She was agreeable as long as she could work on a plan to return to Norstead. Ian gained naught from their arrangement, except his honor, but she might just have a way of raising coin to repay him.

When they arrived at Ian’s home, he helped her out of the tax-he car and said, “Be it ever so humble.” He paid the tax-he car man, then led her up a stone walkway by putting a hand under her elbow. He slung his cloth carry bag over his other shoulder.

His home was modest by Norstead standards … as small as one of the stables, and there were no upper levels. He had told her that he lived alone in this cottage, with no servants; so it was no doubt big enough for his needs. There was a grassy section in front, like the other cottages had, but the back led to a sandy beach and the ocean. At least the smell of salt air was familiar to her.

When they got to the doorway, he put his bag down and inserted a key in the lock. He turned then and grinned at her. “Should I carry you over the threshold?’

“Whatever for?”

“A bridegroom is supposed to carry his bride over the threshold, for good luck.” Before he even finished his words, the brute picked her up in his arms, kicked open the door and walked inside.

Madrene was not a small woman. “Put me down. I am too heavy for you.”

He chuckled and nuzzled her neck. “Think again, sweetheart.”

She could not recall any time in her thirty-one years that she had ever been lifted in anyone’s arms.
Her mother had died when she was three. If her father had ever carried her, she did not recall it. There were always so many children about.

For just a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the experience. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders and buried her face in the crook of his neck. She could swear he issued a soft moan. His skin smelled of pine and man. She could grow accustomed to that scent.

Nay, I could not
, she immediately corrected herself.
This is a temporary arrangement. I should not become too comfortable here.
“Put me down,” she demanded.

“Prickly already?” Ian laughed and set her down. It seemed as if he deliberately let her body slide over his, but she was no doubt wrong about that. He did appear to be in some discomfort.

“Are you in pain?” she asked.

He coughed and barely choked out, “No,” though she thought she heard him mutter under his breath, “Hell, yes.”

She looked around a small room which had comfortable stuffed chairs, a fireplace and low tables. Pale brown carpeting covered the floors, even to the walls. It was so clean and plush, a person could sleep on it, unlike the rushes in her home, which were a constant chore for her to rake clean and sprinkle with sweet rosemary. The smooth walls were white, and on them were framed paintings, like the one over the fireplace that she would study later … a roiling sea with a ship in peril. There was also a black box with knobs on it; she would ask Ian about its purpose at another time.

For now, this was his great hall, unlike any she had ever seen. She liked it.

He had been watching her closely for a reaction to his home. No doubt modesty had caused him to refer to it as humble, which it definitely was not. Everyone knew that only the very wealthy could afford to have paintings on their walls.

“Welcome to my home,” he said.

She could not tell if he was teasing her, or serious. She chose to take him seriously. “I thank you for your hospitality.”

“My pleasure.” Once again, he muttered under his breath, this time saying, “Or pain.”

He took her hand and showed her a bathing room, two large bedchambers, one of which held a bed big enough to hold a small army and the other a desk for doing business, and then to the kitchen, which garnered her greatest admiration.