Page 37 of Hot & Heavy

"What?"

Definitely shrill.

She heard a tsk-ing noise beside her from the troll. She reached behind him, discreetly, and pinched his buttock.

"She just pinched the lieutenant's ass," one of the spies remarked to the general with a smirk.

Apparently, she hadn't been as discreet as she'd intended.

"Will they lop off my hand for that sin?" she asked Ian sweetly.

"Get serious," he warned.

"Your name, young lady?" the general demanded.

I have not been called young in many a year. Should I laugh or kiss the man? Instead, she decided it was time to be truthful… or somewhat truthful. "I am Madrene Olgadottir." In the Norselands, women took their last names from their mothers, and she was the daughter of Olga.

Ian muttered something that sounded like, "Another friggin' name!"

She muttered back at him, "Turn so I can pinch the other side of your arse. Methinks you need matching cheeks."

Ian burst out laughing.

The general and his spies frowned at him… and at her. Apparently, laughter was not allowed in this country's military.

"Ensign Wilson. Ensign Baxter," the general said loudly.

Two women dressed all in brown came forward. They looked as if they had poles up their arses, too.

"Take Ms. Badir—"

" I told you that is not my name."

"Take Ms. Olgadottir to the women's quarters for a shower, then bring her to my office, and call General Assim and Commander Kelly to be present as well. Do not let this young lady out of your sight."

"Are we ever going to eat?" Madrene asked as her stomach growled.

"After our… meeting, you will eat. But before that, you will have to go to the women's quarters for a shower." The general sniffed dramatically. "I don't think the cooks would let you near their food."

She felt her face heat with embarrassment. "You would smell too, if you were covered with camel spit."

The general fought a smile, though what mirth he found in her words, she could not tell.

The women came forward, walking stiffly, then flanked her on either side. When they put a hand on each of her elbows to lead her forward, she shrugged out of their grip. "For the love of Frigg, I can walk myself."

"They want to prevent you from escaping," Ian told her. He had stepped aside to make way for the women.

"I am not such a halfbrain that I would attempt to flee in the midst of the troll kingdom. I will wait till later."

Ian rolled his eyes, then turned to the general. She followed the two women to whatever fate held for her.

The last thing she heard Ian tell his commander was, "With all due respect, sir, don't hurt her."

That made her feel a mite better; so she asked the women warriors, "Perchance, could I have a horn of mead? My throat is drier than a dragon's tongue. No doubt it is due to the ride I just had in a bird up in the sky. Son of a god! That would dry the spit out of even a hardened warrior. Is that rouge on your lips?

I like it. Better than the harem houris who rouge their nipples. Oh, mayhap you rouge your nipples, too.

Do you two need to use the privy? I only ask because you walk just like Baldr the Blacksmith when he has the roiling bowels and must needs find a bush quickly. Leastways—"