Sandra Hill (16 page)

Madrene had managed the affairs of a vast estate. She had been a warrior leading fierce fighting when Norstead was attacked. She had been a shrewd trader of goods in the marketplaces of Birka and Hedeby. But at heart she was a woman who could appreciate a good kitchen.

“Oooooh!” she said, putting both hands to her chest. “What a wonderful kitchen! I could live my entire life in this space alone and be happy.”

“It’s only a kitchen, for God’s sake! Don’t have a freakin’ orgasm over it,” Ian said.

“What’s an orgy-asm?”

His tanned face flushed at her question, leading her to assume orgy-asm had something to do with sex. That was the only thing she knew that could bring a blush to a man’s face.

Before he could answer, she knelt down to the floor to touch the gold-marbled tiles. They were not
stone, but some other material. Like the carpet in his solar, it was exceptionally clean.

Ian was leaning against the doorjamb, watching her with amusement.

She did not care if she appeared foolish. This kitchen was a marvel.

There were wood doors and drawers above and below what Ian told her was a countertop, which had real tiles of a lighter shade than the floor. Inside those compartments were dishes and pots and pans and cutlery and foodstuffs. “I know a few kings who would swoon at all this luxury.”

“Know a few kings, do you?” Ian inquired lazily. Obviously, he thought she lied.

“I do, you doubting oaf. But that is not important. How do you maintain your keep so spotless?” While she talked, she was fiddling with some metal contraptions from which hot and cold water flowed into a metal basin. It was like the showering apparatus she’d used back in Baghdad.

“I have a cleaning lady come in every two weeks,” he said. “And I’m away a lot.”

“But you must do some work yourself in between.”

He shrugged. “Coming from a military background, I tend to be neat.”

“This is beyond neat,” she observed. Now she stood before a large white object built in between the wooden compartments. “What is this?”

“You know, this game of yours is getting old. I could buy your being so sheltered that you didn’t recognize an airplane or common female underwear, though those are a stretch, but a stove? No way!”

“A stove? This is a stove? What is its purpose?”

“Give me a break! It’s for cooking, and you very well know that.”

She frowned. “I thought … what do you do with the fireplace in your solar, then?”

“It’s for building a log fire and sitting there on a winter evening.”

“For warmth?”

“Holy shit, no! It’s supposed to be cozy.”

“A fire just to sit afore with no purpose? You jest.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Show me,” she demanded, pointing to the stove.

He exhaled with disgust, but he turned on a knob, put a pan of water on top of a round implement, and waited. Soon the water came to a boil.

“This is wonderful! No smoke. No mess.”

“If a stove makes you swoon, I wonder what you’ll think of this.” He opened the door of a very large box made of the same white material as the stove. Out came a blast of cold air.

She jumped back, frightened at first. “What is it?”

“A fridge for keeping food cold. So it won’t spoil.” He took out a piece of cheese from the lower section to show her. Then he pointed to the frozen meat in the top section.

“I am so confused,” she said, sitting down on a wooden chair.

“You can say that again.”

“Where am I?”

“San—”

“Not that,” she interrupted. “I mean, what strange land is this? I ran away from an Arab man whose family lived in a tent, and end up here in a land of magic. I just do not understand.”

“Me neither.” Once again, disbelief and disgust
rang in his voice. “Well, I’ll leave you here to drool. I’ve gotta go next door and get my roommate.” He was opening the back door.

“A roommate? Someone lives here with you?”

He laughed. “You could say that. Her name is Samantha.”

“Will Samantha object to my being here?”

“We shall see.” The brute had a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Madrene was in shock.

He has a woman.

But he told me he was not married.

He married me.

It must be his lover.

Oh, what am I going to do? I must needs find another place to stay.

She walked through the house again, touching polished woods, and fine bed coverlets, admiring the showering stall in the bathing chamber, lying down on the solar carpet to see if it was as soft as it appeared. But her heart had gone out of her newfound joy.

He has a woman.

Worst of all, Madrene realized it wasn’t just for practical reasons that she was so devastated. Somehow, somewhere these past few days, she had become attached to the lout. Not just attached. Attracted.

Should I leave?

Where shall I go?

Just then the back door opened, then slammed. He was back. With Samantha. Madrene stood in the hall corridor near the front door, waiting.

Ian came in and with him was …
a cat!

A big fat cat that could be the sister of her own Rose. A lump formed in her throat. The man had a
cat. How would she ever resist a man who cherished a cat?

“Maddie, I would like you to meet Samantha. The most ornery cat in the universe. Sam, this is Maddie, the most ornery woman in the universe.”

Sam hissed at him as if she understood, jumped out of his arms and walked over to rub against Madrene’s legs.

“Samantha’s the only thing my fiancée left behind when she walked out three years ago. We called the cat Sam until I discovered that he was a she and …” His words trailed off as he realized that she wasn’t listening to him at all.

Madrene picked up Sam, which was a feat because the cat was huge, just like her precious Rose back at Norstead. She held the cat up to her face for a kiss. Tears welled in her eyes.

Finally, when she’d cuddled the cat and petted her and showed how much she liked her, she turned to Ian, who was leaning against the wall, watching her with amazement.

“That cat never goes to anyone,” he marveled.

“She reminds me of my cat, Rose. What a gift your cat is to me … I mean, your cat’s presence here on this day!”

He raised his eyebrows at her.

“It is an omen, I think. A sign from the gods that everything will work out for me,” she said.

“Don’t you think that’s reading a little bit much into a cat?”

She shrugged. “There is another thing I should forewarn you about.”

“Omens and warnings,” he scoffed. “What?”

“I think I could love a man who loves a cat.”

She loves me, she loves me not, she loves …

“No, no, no!” Ian put his hands up in the air to halt her words. “You are wrong, wrong, wrong.”

“How so?” she asked, walking into the living room and sitting down on the sofa, cradling Sam in her lap.

“Two things. One, this pain-in-the-ass cat is not an omen or a gift, or anything else. Sam is a high-maintenance, stubborn, in-your-face, hair-shedding, hair-ball-puking animal who doesn’t know her place.”

“Shhhh,” Madrene hissed. Sam hissed, too. “You will hurt her feelings.”

He rolled his eyes. “You cannot insult this cat. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“Poor little cat,” she cooed, giving Sam another kiss on her ugly little cat lips.

Little? Sam could be the poster cat for Chubbettes Cat Food.

“What was the other thing?”

“Huh?” he said. Then, “The other thing is, you are not falling in love with me. Uh-uh! No way! Not over a cat or any other jack thing in the universe.”

She looked at him with skepticism. In fact, she was licking her lips—the same lips that had just kissed a cat—and looking at him as if she were a nymphomaniac, and he’d just invented sex.
What a thought!

“Look, it’s seven o’clock, and we’re both beat. Jet lag and all that. Why don’t you take a shower while I fix us something to eat? I’ve got to be up early to meet with the Commander.”
And get my ass chewed to smithereens.

She agreed, putting the cat on the floor with reluctance. Sam immediately jumped up onto the sofa, which was a no-no. He could swear that was a smirk on the cat’s face, daring him to try to dislodge her now that she had a new friend. He decided to wait till Maddie left the room before booting the feline into the kitchen where she belonged. There was a cat bed there, which Sam rarely used.

After that, he made some grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, which was about all he had in the house till he went grocery-shopping tomorrow. He had heard the shower turn off about fifteen minutes ago, so he went to see what was holding Maddie up.

In the bathroom, her shirt, fatigues, panties and bra lay on the floor. He thought about picking up the lingerie, but decided that might be a bit perverted. But, uh-oh, what was Maddie wearing, if these items of apparel were here?

His head shot up and he looked toward his
bedroom. There was a ringing in his ears, and his heart started racing. His cock had already been at half-staff, just ogling her undies. Now it was full-tilt boogie. He held a towel up to his middle and walked into his bedroom, flicking a lamp on in the darkened room.

Then he stopped dead in his tracks.

The reason Maddie hadn’t come to eat was because she was asleep. In his bed. And she was NAKED.

Ian’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

She was covered with a sheet from her groin to the top of her breasts, but that didn’t matter. He saw more than enough. Her damp pale blond hair was spread on the pillow under her head. Her eyelashes were honey-colored and long, curling naturally against her flushed cheeks. Her legs ran on forever. Her waist was small, flaring out to the curve of her hips. The shape of her firm breasts was crystal clear.

Jessica Simpson had nothing on her.

How could I possibly not have seen this magnificent body on that hag back in the cave?

What the hell am I going to do?

He was only a man. He could not live in the same house with a woman who looked like this, a woman who claimed she could love him, a woman who came from nowhere and claimed his cat was a frickin’ omen, a woman who was still under suspicion of being a terrorist. He would have a nonstop hard-on in her presence from now on.

He decided to do the thing that most SEALs did when they were stressed out. Run. Changing into a pair of nylon shorts and running shoes, he went
jogging on the beach. He ran five miles. It was totally dark when he came back to the sandy stretch behind his back deck. Bending over at the waist, he panted to get his heartbeat down. Then he looked up and realized that Maddie stood in the bedroom doorway, which led onto the deck. Backlit by a lamp, she wore one of his white T-shirts. And only that.

“Shit!” He groaned and decided to run another five miles.

You run, and run, and run, why? …

Madrene had a new concern to add to her long list of concerns. She had cast her lot with a barmy man.

There he was, running. Not just running, as in running from an enemy, or running to get something, but he appeared to be running for the sake of running. Up and down the sandy beach, for an hour or more.

He was a nicely built man, she would give him that.
Very
nicely built. But then, the men of Norseland were much the same, tall by birth and well muscled by necessity, being warriors always on the alert for a good fight. Still, she got that fluttery feeling in her stomach when she looked at his body as he ran.

He stopped once, down by the water. So riddled with exhaustion and probably pain was he that he was bent over at the waist. But what did he do? He looked up toward his house and began to run again.

Sam came out and rubbed herself against Madrene’s bare leg. “Meow, meow, meow!” Madrene could swear the cat was saying, “What a lackwit!”

Yea, he must be demented.

Sweet temptation …

When he came in from his run, Maddie was on her hands and knees, butt in the air—very fine butt, by the way—licking his kitchen floor.

I swear to God, my life is going down the toilet. What next?
“What the hell are you doing down there?”

Maddie hadn’t realized that he’d come back. Her head shot up and she fell over, first on her side and then into a sitting position.

At least she’s wearing fatigues and a T-shirt. I’m not sure I could resist her bare butt. I’d probably be down there licking, too … but not the floor.

Meanwhile, Sam, who had been licking beside her, let out a howl of outrage as Maddie apparently sat on her tail.

“Oh, it is you.”

What? You’d think I was some intruder. I live here, for chrissake!

“You scared me. You scared the cat,” she accused him.

Said cat, belatedly deciding to show a little fear, shot up into the air and landed on Ian’s bare chest.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!” he cried as he tried to pry Sam’s claws from his flesh. He had about fifteen pounds of fur ball mauling him. “I’m going to have this cat declawed. First thing tomorrow.”

Sam dug in deeper.

Maddie got up and came over to help take the cat off of him, cooing at the beast like it was the injured party. “Poor cat. Did you get scared by the big man? Everything is fine now.”

Finally the cat was off of him. Sam stood on the floor for a moment, arched her back to show how
fierce she was, gave him “the look” which she’d perfected so well, and sauntered off to do what she did best—sleep. “Poor cat? I’m the injured party here.” He walked over to the sink and wet a dish towel. He was about to wash the scratches when Maddie took the towel from him.

“Let me.”

No way!
“I can do it myself.”

“I can do it better, you stubborn lout. I’ve tended wounds much worse than this for my fighting men.” With that, she began to dab gently at the blood seeping out of the wounds, and, yes, she did seem to know what she was doing. “As for my siding with the cat. She did not know any better. You scared her.”