Sandra Hill (17 page)

She is standing so close I could kiss her without … Get a grip, man, get a grip!
“Hah! That scaredy-cat probably gave me rabies, or blood poisoning or something.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. I was just kidding. She’s had shots.”

He could tell that Maddie didn’t understand.

“I do not think that I need to sew up any of these scratches, deep as some are. I do wish I had my special healing ointment here. It has cured many an injury, including a festering sword wound on Dar the Deaf one time. Mayhap you could take me out in a forest sometime and I will gather the herbs I need.”

Sword? Dar the Deaf? Herbs? I am not going to ask.
He could take only so much of her standing close to him—
she smells like Irish Spring soap
—and touching him.
Even in my pain, I can imagine those hands doing something else, and not just to my skin
.

Quickly, before he embarrassed himself, he went
into the bathroom and took a cold shower. When he came back, he wore a tank top and sweats; his feet were bare. He usually slept nude, but these would have to suffice for pajamas tonight. Which brought to mind something he needed to discuss with her. But first, he should feed the wench.

“Maddie, where are you?” he yelled from the kitchen.

“Right here.” She was standing behind him. “You don’t have to bellow.”

“Do you have to sneak up on me?” he griped.

“Do you always blame everyone else?”

“Aaarrgh!”

“That is what men say whenever they have lost an argument.”

“Aaarrgh!” he said again.

Within minutes he had reheated the tomato soup in the microwave, made fresh grilled cheese sandwiches and poured them both glasses of Pepsi with ice. He put the food in front of her at the kitchen table, then plopped down on the opposite side. He was already halfway through his food when he noticed that she hadn’t started. She was just staring at her dinner.

“What?”

“I’m not sure how to eat this. The cheese bread I can handle. I see you using your fingers. But I’m not sure I could use a spoon and get this thin liquid from the bowl to my mouth. And what is this beverage with ice floating in it?”

“It’s Pepsi. Try it. You’ll like it.”

She took a sip and smiled.

“How would you eat tomato soup where you live?”

“What’s a tomato?”

He laughed. “A tomato is a fruit.”

“This broth looks like blood. Are you sure it is not blood?”

He crossed his eyes at her continual questions.

“This is what we would do in my land.” She picked up the bowl in both hands and took a drink.

He laughed again. “Well, that’s one way to do it. But if you were out in public, it wouldn’t be appropriate.” He used his spoon in his own bowl to demonstrate. “See?”

She frowned with skepticism.

He shook his head at her cluelessness. Was it an act? Or was she really that ignorant of normal everyday table manners? He got up and went behind her, showing her how to hold the spoon and bring the liquid carefully to her mouth. “No, don’t lean over the plate. Bring the food to you.”

There were a few dozen SEALs over in Coronado who would get a kick out of the idea of Ian teaching anyone table etiquette.

“Why must you make eating so difficult here?” With that, the stubborn woman lifted the bowl to her mouth and drank it down. Then she polished off two sandwiches and chugged down her Pepsi. She must have been as hungry as he was.

Now he leaned back in his chair and said, “Maddie, we need to have some house rules here.”
Rules are made to be broken. No, no, no, I did not think that.

“Oh?” Her body tensed. Someone must have done her wrong real bad for her to be so distrustful.

“When I went to my bedroom earlier, you were sleeping in my bed.”

“Was I not to sleep there? I did not see any other bed in your keep.”

“It’s not that.” He could feel his face heat up. Dammit, he’d developed a pattern of blushing around her, and he hardly ever blushed. “You and I can’t sleep together and then get an annulment, if you know what I mean.”

She just looked at him, incredulously. “Do you mean we could not resist each other?”

Well, yeah!
He was a little bit insulted by her incredulity. “I don’t know about you being tempted by me, but I sure as hell am hot to trot for you.”

She smiled.
The witch!
“Ian, your bed is big enough for twelve people. You stay on your side. I stay on mine. Good Lord, we would probably hear an echo if we spoke to each other in bed.”

He had to grin at that. It
was
a king-size bed.

“And actually I
am
tempted by you, much as I fight it.”

Uh-oh!
He stopped grinning. “You have got to stop saying things like that to me.”

“Why?”

Because I like it too much.
“Discretion is the better part of valor.”

She furrowed her brow. “Another of your sayings! Do you not value honesty?”

“Of course I do, but some things are better left unsaid. Why take unnecessary risks?”
I sound like a total dweeb.

“Is that all?”

“No, that’s not all.” He exhaled loudly. “You were
naked
in my bed.”

She put her hands out in a “so what?” fashion.
“People in my land sleep naked. It saves wear on clothing and there is less sweat to be washed out by the house carls. Plus, it is more comfortable. Except when I have my monthly flux; then I wear bedclothes. And betimes when Karl was
drukkin
and I did not want him to touch me. Do you sleep in your clothing?”

Way more than I needed to know.
He felt himself blush again. “I usually sleep naked, but I’ll be wearing clothes for damn sure if you’re in the same room, let alone the same bed.”

She shrugged. “I can do that. Anything else?”

Yeah, there’s a lot more.
“No, I’m going to bed.”

“Me, too.”

Oh, boy!

Do men really think they can order women about?

Madrene awakened at dawn as she always did, but she was alone in the big bed.

In the darkened room, she had heard her seal bedmate tossing and turning throughout the night before he finally fell asleep.

Finally she’d turned his way in the dark and advised him, “Why don’t you pleasure yourself to gain release? ’Tis the best thing to do when sleep eludes you and coupling is not a possibility. Leastways, that’s what Karl used to do.”

From across the bed, she’d heard a choking sound, then laughter. “You are a piece of work, Maddie. Why don’t you say what you really think sometime?”

Now she heard water running and concluded that Ian must be in the showering room. Again. He had showered the night before. What need was there
for another showering? She sat up at the side of the bed and shook her head with wonder. Vikings were known for their cleanliness, but this was excessive.

He came into the room with a towel wrapped around his middle. And stopped abruptly at the sight of her. His eyes, before he turned away, surveyed her body and liked what they saw. She was wearing a long white tea
shert
of his over a pair of tight
braies
, made of a fabric called lay-tax. She knew that because Ian had told her yesterday when she’d seen some girls running down the street wearing similar garments.

He opened some drawers and pulled out dark hose and a white undergarment similar to her panties, but different. Before he returned to the bathing chamber to put them on—though she suspected he would normally do it here—he remarked, “I’ve got to go in to the base for several hours this morning and probably part of the afternoon. Maybe we can go buy you some clothes after that … and stop somewhere for dinner.”

She nodded. “What am I to do all day? I would like to be useful, but your house is so clean and organized, there is no work for me. That was what I did all my life … until I was sold to the harems, of course.”

“You cleaned and organized for a living? Like Molly Maids?”

Her brow furrowed, as had become her habit around him, and she continued, “Before I was sold to the harems, I ran a vast estate.”

“How vast?”

“One hundred hectares of land. Two hundred
fighting men, fifty cotter families, twenty-five house carls and maids, ten thralls, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You sure do know how to tell a whopper, lady.”

“I do not even see any gardens for food.” She ignored his words because, frankly, she did not understand what a whop-her was. It sounded painful. “And there is not a cow for milk. Nor chickens for eggs. I could weave a tapestry if there is a loom about. Or polish swords. Or …” She let her words fade out as she noticed his gaping jaw. “I have never relished idleness.”

“Idle hands are the devil’s work.”

“For a certainty. That is one of your lackwit sayings I can agree with.”

He shook his head as if to clear it and said, “Just stay here till I get back. Watch TV. Take a bubble bath. Do your nails. I don’t care. Just don’t leave.”

“I will do as you command,” she said to him, but inside she said,
I must needs explore this new land to find out how to return to Norseland. I wonder where I could find a horse.

I smell a rat …

Ian started to feel suspicious the moment he entered the Naval Amphibious base at Coronado. Everyone was rushing him through to headquarters.

Within a half hour he knew why, and he was not a happy camper.

Commander George Harding was there, along with his XO Jack Bell; Lawrence Sanders, a high mucky-muck in the CIA; a representative of the Pentagon; and—the biggest surprise of all—his father.

Commander Harding told him to sit down when he threatened to leave the room. Good thing it wasn’t his father who gave that order. The mood he was in, he would probably have told him to go screw himself.

He inhaled and exhaled to calm his temper, but it did no good. A short time later, he said, “Let me get this straight. You know that Maddie isn’t a terrorist. You don’t know who she is, but that doesn’t matter … not for the sake of whatever goal you have for this half-assed brainstorm that can probably be traced to Dan the Prick Sullivan. You expedited my marriage to her and made her departure from Iraq a piece of cake. From the minute I got off that chopper and brought Jamal in, this plot was being brewed. Sonofabitch!”

“Watch your tone,” his father advised.

Ian ignored the bastard. How could he do this to his own son?

“Let me reiterate,” the commander said. “This woman can lead us to a whole network of Jamal’s operatives.”

“She doesn’t know jack shit, if you ask me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sanders, the CIA guy, told him. At least this bunch of dodo birds knew enough not to send Dan Sullivan. “We’ve already put the word out that we’ve got in custody a woman who infiltrated the terrorist camps and has been there the past year. We’ll let an ‘unnamed source’ slip a tidbit or two about this modern-day Mata Hari to the
Washington Post
. We’ll say she has enough data to bring down the entire Al Qaeda network. And that she’s in a safe house on the West Coast. Aljazeera and the major news media in this country will eat it up.”

“Ian, we need to draw out these tangos once and for all,” his commander tried to convince him.

“They’ll know she’s with me. I didn’t make any secret of the fact I was bringing her back. My home address is unlisted, even here on the base, except to my direct chain of command, but still, you know damn well they’re going to find it … and Maddie.”

“That’s the point,” Sanders said.

“You want to set Maddie up as bait.”

Sanders shrugged. “She won’t get hurt.”

“The hell you say. You can’t guarantee her safety.”

“Yeah, I think we can. You’ll be guarded at all times, surreptitiously, of course. In fact, you’ve been tailed by at least two men since you got married.”

Ian closed his eyes and clenched his fists.

Commander Harding came up behind Ian and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s for the greater good.”

“That sounds like something a politician would say when he’s done something slimy. How long do you expect this operation to last?”

“Two … three weeks at the most.”

“And the marriage?”

“Annulled as soon as you two file the papers after that. As long as—”

“Forget it,” Ian interrupted. Geesh! Now they were interfering in his love life, too. “Ain’t gonna happen.”
I hope. I pray. I hope.
“How about Maddie? What happens to her after this is all over?”

Sanders said, “Either a safe house and new identity here in the States, or we’ll fly her wherever she wants to go. Give her a little money to help her get adjusted, too.”

“Are there guards watching my house now?”

They all nodded.

“If I agree to this … and I am only saying
if
… I demand that this be a SEAL operation. No CIA within a mile of me or my home.”

“You have no right to make demands,” his XO said.

“We have to be involved,” Sanders protested.

“Why are you being so difficult?” his father demanded. “You don’t have any feelings for this woman, do you?”

He gave his father a scorching look.
You traitor. What kind of man are you that you would sacrifice your child for some “greater good”? Ah, hell, it’s the same old thing. Loyalty to country comes first, even above family.
His father didn’t even wince.

“Actually, it might work better if this is a SEAL op. If men are seen anywhere near his house, people will assume it’s just a friend or teammate dropping by for a beer.” Commander Harding’s face turned red with excitement. “It could work. What do you think, Ian?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m so pissed right now I can’t think straight. Let me think it over.”

Harding said, “I could order you to do it.”

“But you’d rather you didn’t have to. Right?”

Harding nodded.

“Give me twenty-four hours to give you an answer. And let me talk it over with the other members of my squad. Then … we’ll see.”

Just then, a cell phone buzzed in Sanders’s pocket. “Excuse me,” he said. “They wouldn’t call me here unless it was something I needed to know.” He put
the small phone to his ear. “Sanders here. Yes, yes. Uh-oh!” Sanders looked over at Ian when he said “Uh-oh!”