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Startled, she jumped, and the full cup of wine sitting before her almost tipped over. Thanks to his quick reflexes, he managed to catch it and move it to the center of the table.
“You boor! I am not your little anything.”
“We shall see.”
“Did you have to scare me like that?”
You do not know scared yet, sweetling. He sat down in the chair opposite her. “You should be more alert. After all, you are in a foreign country.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “How did you get in here? Ivar will not be pleased.”
“Actually, Ivar told me where you were. It seems we have a common friend back in the Norselands. His cousin Snorri Straggle Beard and I fought side by side at the Battle of Blue Fjord. Ivar considers me a friend now.”
“I shall have to tell him otherwise.”
“If you do, I will have to add another night to your tally of bedsport.”
“Verily, your threats are becoming tiresome. Do you seriously think I will agree to let you sate your lust on me?”
He laughed. “First of all, I will not be sating my lust. It will be a mutual sating. Second, they are not threats. When you come to my bed, it will be willingly. Well, somewhat willingly.”
She glared at him.
I am beginning to find her glares charming. How pitiful is that? “I expect that it may take a little whetting to sharpen the blade of your passion. My blade, on the other hand, is already whetted.” Where do I come up with this stuff? Finn must be wearing off on me.
“You must have a rock betwixt your ears. In what circumstance could you imagine my giving free consent to mate with you outside of marriage? Not,” she quickly added, “that I would want you for husband now.”
He smiled, getting an inordinate amount of pleasure from baiting her. “Not that I would want you for a wife, either, but I am a soldier at heart, Drifa. I know how to fight battles on the field and off. As I told you before, everybody has a weakness. I will find yours.”
Once again, she got that odd look of fear on her face, and he sensed that there was some secret she was hiding from him. Ah well, he would find out in due time.
“I have no weaknesses where you are concerned,” she asserted, and was about to stand up.
He put a hand on her shoulder and shoved her gently back down. “Do not get your innards in a twist, dearling.”
Her chin shot up at the use of the endearment.
So he used it again, of course. “I suspect, dearling, that the weakness I seek is already in you. I suspect that you have a passion for me that you are struggling to bridle. I suspect that even now your breasts are aching and there is a wetness pooling betwixt your legs.” Bloody hell! I am arousing myself here.
She gasped and sputtered for something to say, something tart and biting, no doubt. Women fought their own passions betimes.
“And I suspect,” he quickly added, “that you would like to pick up one of those urns and clobber me over the head. Again. But I have to warn you, I will not allow another head drilling. My manpart is already too big.” And getting bigger by the moment.
“You ... you ... you lusty, ignorant, full-of-yourself, deluded troll!”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk! Methinks you need some more expletives to add to your stock. Perchance I could take you through the marketplace and teach you some new ones. In different languages even. Yea, the marketplace is teeming with foul words.” And foul other things, too.
“Oh, thank goodness!” Ianthe came through the doorway and blew some stray hairs off her forehead. “I wanted to lead you through the bazaar today, Drifa, to show you some special places, but now that Sidroc has offered I can get back to my very difficult customer.”
“Oh, nay, that is not necessary, Ianthe,” Drifa said. “I have Ivar and my other guards to go with me. We can just browse today. Perchance there will be another day when you and I can shop together.”
“Of course,” Ianthe said, “but still—”
“It will be my pleasure,” Sidroc told Drifa. And it would be. There were places and things he would show her that no one else would. “I insist.”
While Ianthe called for more wine, Drifa hissed at him, “Begone!”
He responded with honeyed cordiality, “Uh-uh, my thorny flower. I am going to be your very own bee, pricking you at every turn. Bzzzz!”
