Chapter 3 #2
“Believe it or not, that’s what happened.
Same thing for all of Max’s, rather Torolf’s, family.
..the Ericssons and the Magnussons.” Max was the SEAL nickname for Torolf Magnusson whom Britta had known from a young age.
“They’ll tell you that if you meet them.
And Hilda, too. Not to mention Geek, and Cage and JAM. You remember them?”
“Yo, Pretty Boy!” Cage yelled from an upstairs stair well. “Haul ass, buddy. Lean Mean is lookin’ fer you.”
Okay, convincing Britta about time travel would have to wait. Hell, he wouldn’t believe it either. Wasn’t sure he did even now. “Let’s make a deal here, honey. You ring out of WEALS, and I’ll find a way to send you home to the past.”
“Nay, let’s make this deal, honey. I do not ring out of WEALS, and you learn to live with the fact that I am to become a woman warrior in your land.”
He bit his bottom lip to keep from making a derogatory remark.
“You are not aware of this fact...not that you would care...but my father wants me to wed one of his evil toads or be dead. I have been hiding in a nunnery for more than a year. There is no reason for me to go back.”
Britta? In a nunnery? He clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from saying something he for damn sure shouldn’t.
Suddenly, her face brightened as something seemed to occur to her. “Didst say that Hilda is in this land?”
He nodded. “She and Max are married. In fact, they have a son, named Ivan.” Sometimes known as Ivan the Terrible. Their one-year-old son had been given that name before anyone had met Sammy. Now Ivan was considered a saint, in comparison. “They also have a baby, Ranulf.”
“That is wonderful. See. One more reason why I should stay.”
“I could take you to her. She runs a kind of women’s shelter.”
“Hah! So you can dump your responsibility for me on Hilda. I do not think so.”
“Britta, you have no clue what torture you’re going to have to endure to get your body in shape.
” Although, truthfully, I like your body just the way it is.
“And I’m going to be one of the taskmasters wielding that whip.
” Whips? Hmmm. “Do you think you can take orders from me?” I can think of a few that might be fun.
That last question seemed to give her pause. The stubborn wench! “Orders regarding military matters?”
Well... “Of course.”
“Yea, I can.”
“So be it.” He threw his hands up in the air with resignation. It’s your funeral, honey. “Here’s your first order. Come over here and give me a kiss.”
She laughed. “Still trying to seduce me, lout?”
“Oh, yeah!” He backed her up against the wall and nuzzled her neck.
She tried to twist away.
Which gave him better access to her neck. He gave the inner whorls of her ear a quick lick.
She gasped.
“I’ve missed you.”
“Liar.”
“I wish.”
“You wish, why?”
“I don’t want to miss you. I have enough problems in my life right now, without falling in love.”
That one knocked her speechless.
It knocked him speechless, too.
Which gave him the opportunity to swoop in and lay his lips on hers. And, man, she was so sweet. Just like he remembered.
With a moan, she opened her lips to his kiss, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss, tasting her.
Suddenly, she went stiff as, uh, let’s say, his you-know-what and shoved him in the chest. “You tricked me,” she accused.
“I did?”
“Yea, you did,” she said, glancing down at her nipples sticking out of her T-shirt like pointy sentinels. Quickly, she glanced up at him to see if he noticed her condition.
He did. Hell, his you-know-what was also sticking out like a sentinel, of a different sort
“You use your charms...tempting words and wicked fingers...to bestir wicked yearnings in me. But you will not succeed. I would fain stay here than return to my other life, and it has naught to do with you.”
Zach liked the fact that she considered his words tempting and his fingers wicked. And he really liked those wicked yearnings he was stirring up. Good signs, both, in his opinion.
As she opened the door, about to storm off, presumably back to the grinder, he called out to her, “Just for the record, Britta, I kissed you for one reason, and one reason only.”
She paused, turning back to look at him. Her brown eyes were huge. Her full lips were rose-red from his kisses.
Just then, his cell phone rang. He flipped the lid on the second ring, still smiling about Britta, when he noted his home phone number on caller ID. His smile disappeared.
“Pretty Boy, you will not believe what your kid did now. You know that stash of condoms you used to have in your bedside table?” It was Omar, who must be back from the hospital, helping Madrene, bless the man.
“Uh-huh.”
“Let’s just say, a few of your neighbors are about to have heart attacks because of the water balloons pelting their windows.”
Forget heaven. It was more likely that hell was just a few steps away.
I know how to make you feel better, baby...
It was the end of the day...well, end of the afternoon, though it felt like the longest day of Zach’s life.
He’d already showered and changed, prepared to go home for the day. There would be another team of instructors taking over the evening run on the beach for the WEALS class.
But then he noticed Britta standing on the grinder. All alone.
Even though he’d advised the stubborn woman to ring out, over and over and over, he had to concede that this first day of exercise had to be even worse for Britta, who was not only in a strange place, but a different frickin’ time.
Today’s evolutions hadn’t been as difficult as first day for first phase BUD/S, but they’d been damn grueling. A lot of men broke under less.
And much of the pain had been delivered by him, a regular Marquis de SEAL.
The other women and some of the instructors had left for the chow hall across the Strand Highway. He’d thought Britta went with them. Apparently not.
She was leaning against a device made of logs that SEALs had long ago aptly dubbed the “Dirty Name”.
Perspiration covered her from her scalp, which had to feel itchy, to toes which probably pinched by now in her nasty boondockers.
She pretended to be relaxing, but probably couldn’t move.
If experience proved true, every muscle, bone and sinew in her body ached, even her eyeballs.
“Are you all right?”
Britta did not even open her eyes. “Nay, lackwit, I am not all right. Didst come to gloat?”
He thought about telling her that the correct way to address an officer was “No, Lieutenant Floyd, sir,” but only for a second. “C’mon.” He tried to take her hand.
She shoved his hand away with her fist.
“A fist? You going to punch me, or something?”
“If I unclench my fingers, I might collapse.”
Oh. “You can’t stay here, sweetheart.”
“Why not?” She must be tired if she didn’t argue with him about not being his sweetheart.
“Because you’ll be performance-dropped in a flash if the commander, or F.U., sees your condition. Unless you want to go ring out?” And be my babysitter. He added that last hopefully, to himself.
She opened her eyes and looked as if she actually would like to punch him.
“I will not quit, Zack-hairy. And if anyone dares attempt to drop me, they will find out just how hard I can drop them.” Then she seemed to notice something about his appearance.
“Why is your hair wet? And your clothing clean? You even smell good...like mint, whilst I smell like a randy goat.” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“You have bathed,” she accused him as if he’d committed some heinous crime.
He laughed.
Now her fists resembled claws.
He made sure he wasn’t within clawing distance. “Okay, if you’re not going to quit, how about a shower? A nice hot shower should make you feel better.”
She sighed. “I know what a shower is. There were several in that amazing bathing room in the women’s sleeping chambers. We were shown around after the noon meal. I would love a shower.”
When she did not move, Zach raised his eyebrows at her.
“I cannot move,” she admitted. “My knees and elbows have locked.”
“Oh, baby.”
“Why dost thou refer to me as baby? I am no baby.”
“It’s an endearment, like darling, or sweetheart, or hot stuff.”
“That is ridiculous.” She put a hand to her forehead. “I am not hot.”
Wanna bet? While she was pondering how ridiculous he was, he put his right arm around her waist and arranged her left arm over his shoulder so that her body weight was leaning on him.
“Whaaaat?” she screeched trying to escape his hold.
“I’d pick you up and carry you, but someone in the command center might notice. Then both our asses would be in a sling.”
“I have not the strength to fight you now, or ask how two of our arses could be put in a sling, but this is all your fault.”
“You said that before. How do you figure?”
“When I stood on that cliff with Sister Margaret, drinking her famous mead—”
“Margaret’s mead,” he hooted with laughter.
She flashed him a scowl of annoyance for his interruption. “—I intended only to fake my death, not to swish through time. Not that I believe I have actually time-traveled.”
“So how is this my fault?”
“I was content with my life afore you meddled.”
“Meddled? No, no, no! I do not meddle.”
“Yea, you came sniffing at my woman’s fleece with sweet words and stolen kisses, tempting me.”
His grin was full-blown now. “My nose was nowhere near your...woman’s fleece. Believe me, I would have remembered that. And, oh, baby, did you say I tempted you? Whoo-ee!”
“Have a caution, rogue. Continue to make mock of me, and you may find my boot planted betwixt your thighs.”
He glanced down at his crotch. “I love it when you talk sexy to me.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Back to that temptation business...?”
“You started a fire in my loins...”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. First, woman’s fleece, and now there was a fire and I didn’t know about it.”
“The fire did not ignite till you were gone.”
“Isn’t that always the case?”