Sandra Hill - [Vikings II 04] (20 page)

Ian pressed the fingertips of both hands to his eyeballs in a futile effort to calm his pounding brain. Besides, if his hands remained idle, he just might leap over the desk and throttle him-who-had-no-brain.

Taking Ian’s silence for permission to proceed, the dimwit did just that. “I understand that our SEAL teams will be going to jump school soon in far off George-hah, though I find it hard to believe that jump school is what Cage tells me it is. Surely you would not make your soldiers jump out of the sky and float to the earth like bloody birds. I for one
refuse to kill myself by splattering my body in a thousand pieces; a sword to the heart would be preferable, if you ask me. Besides …” His words trailed off as he noticed Ian’s red face and bulging eyes. He concluded quickly, “That is why I needed to speak with you. Together we must needs come up with a plan to smoke out Alison’s enemy, and to keep her safe whilst doing so.”

“Do they ever shut up on your planet, Magnusson?”

“Huh?”

“There is a rule about holes.”

“Is this another of your bloody motivating sayings?”

Ian glared at him, though he had to smile inside, knowing how the trainees felt about his irritating motivational quotes. “As I was saying, the thing about holes is, if you are in one, stop your damn digging.”

“Huh?” the dingo said again.

Ian counted to ten silently, then said icily, “Let me see if I understand you. One, you were in the home of a superior officer of the opposite sex last night for reasons I do not want to know. Definitely a high-level infraction of Navy rules. Two, I was aware of the Breather phone calls Alison received in the past, but you are saying they continue and that her apartment was broken into, police were called, and that last night you personally saw a man in her yard. But no one thought to let me know, least of all my sister. Three, there is a guard dog at Alison’s house that I was unaware of. Four, you are telling me that you do not
choose
to go to jump school. Is that the whole friggin’ story, Mister Good News?”

“Well, there is one little other thing.”

“I am afraid to ask.”

“It appears I am a time-traveler.”

Ian grinned.
What a fruitcake!

“And methinks your sister is my destiny.”

Ian started to laugh then, and once started, could not stop. What else could he do?

Clean sweep it was not …

By mid-afternoon, Ragnor had run from one end of the Coronado beach to the other at least a hundred times, had completed endless numbers of pushing-ups and jump-in-jacks, had survived the O-Course three times including the Slide for Life, climbed a rope wall as tall as a small mountain five times, having fallen off only twice, and had sand in every wrinkle and orifice of his battered body. In between, he’d been in the lean-and-rest position for long periods of time, which involved the body being parallel to the ground with no sag and his weight being held up by his extended arms and tips of his boots. And he’d been told to “hydrate”—which meant drink water from a vessel attached to his belt—so many times that his bladder was about to explode. Still, the chieftain was not satisfied that he’d been punished enough. And, to give the chieftain and other instructors their due, they were in prime condition, working just as hard as the poor trainees.

The chieftain grumbled now at being forced to give him a reprieve in order for Magnusson to keep his appointment with Doctor Fine-gold. Holy Thor, did he have a lot to tell the head healer!

Nobody had been willing to listen to his claims of time-travel. Mostly they’d just laughed at him or shaken their heads sadly at his assertions. Bloody hell, he couldn’t blame them. He could hardly believe it himself.

Actually, his teammates had been more interested in knowing what had happened betwixt him and Dr. MacLean for those missing six hours afore he’d returned to the sleeping hall. Of course, he’d told them nothing. That had not stopped them from speculating in a most crude and rude fashion.

“One hour, Magnusson,” the chieftain bellowed at him now. The man had perfected the art of fine bellowing. If he was not careful, the chieftain would burst that vein in his forehead one of these days. By thunder, but he would make a good mate for Madrene. They could nag each other to death. Of course, now that Ragnor believed he had time-traveled, there was the little problem of how to send the chieftain back to Madrene, especially since he hadn’t a clue how to get back himself. Besides, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to return, now that he’d met Alison. Mayhap he could lure Madrene here by some trickery; she would ne’er leave her beloved farmstead willingly, not even at the prospect of a half-bald, ill-tempered SEAL chieftain for a bed mate. Problems, problems!

“And you’d better be back here ready for advanced surf rescue. We all want to see if you can set any more records for swimming. Ha, ha, ha! And remember, if something is hard, it must be worth doing.”

Nag, nag, nag! I swear, if I hear one more miserable inspirational dirge out of your mouth, Chieftain, I might just see how much sand can be stuffed down that hole.
He tried to swagger away from the exercise arena, just to annoy the chieftain, but his legs felt like butter and every muscle in his body burned and his bones actually creaked. So all he managed was a careful walk.
Pride was great in him, but by the time he arrived at the medical building, he felt like collapsing.

Then he saw something that made him perk up immediately. Rather, some
one
.

Alison.

Her lips were still kiss-swollen from their lovemaking of the night before, and he liked to think that her pinkened cheeks showed a blush as she recalled all that they had done. Bloody hell, even he might consider blushing over all they had done. On the other hand, perchance she was having second thoughts about having been intimate with a thousand-year-old man. And whilst on that subject, he gave himself a mental pat on the back for being so virile at such an old age.
Ha, ha, ha! This is just wonderful. Making jests in my head, and then laughing at my own jests.

In one hand, Alison carried a parchment sack imprinted with “Noble Barn,” or “Barn and Noble,” whatever the hell that meant. What a peculiar country, to give nobility to a barn!

But that was neither here nor there. The important thing was Alison, who was headed toward him with steely determination in her green eyes. He did so appreciate a determined woman!

He smiled.

She did not smile back.

Uh-oh!

There is the Triple Crown, and then there is the Triple-S …

Alison had awakened that morning with a smile on her face.

No second thoughts. No recriminations over casual sex. Who was she kidding? There had been nothing casual about her encounter with the Viking SEAL trainee. Even during her routine five-mile run before breakfast, she’d kept on smiling. Then she had smiled during a quick stop at a bookstore before heading to work.

No way did she buy Max’s time-travel nonsense, but clearly something had happened to his memory as a result of the concussion. She should report his condition to authorities, but that would mean an automatic dismissal from SEAL training. Instead, she’d bought him a bunch of
English as a Second Language
books and tapes, along with a Walkman which he could use even when sleeping at night. In addition, she’d tossed in some rudimentary math and history books and tapes. If these didn’t jog his memory, or if he didn’t heal more on his own, she would be forced to take action.

But that was before. This was now. So much for her good mood! Her smile had frozen on her face only seconds into a meeting a few moments ago with her brother. Max, the man she had built so many foolish dreams on, had gone blabbing to her brother. The jerk! Max, not her brother. Well, actually, her brother, too. Why didn’t either of them realize that she was a strong woman? She could take care of herself. And if she couldn’t, she would be the one to arrange additional security, not either of those Neanderthals.

“You are in such trouble, buster,” she said, seething, as she came up to the grinning moron and poked a finger in his chest. He must have come to his appointment with Dr. Feingold right from the morning exercise evolution because he wore a grungy
T-shirt, equally grungy shorts, and heavy, scuffed-up boots. His face, neck, and arms were marked by equal parts perspiration and sand.

Max looked wonderful. And she remembered just how wonderful he looked under all that grunge.
Aaarrgh!

“Me? Why am I in trouble, sweetling?” he asked in a silky purr, coming way too close to her for a public corridor. He put up a hand and rubbed a strand of her hair between thumb and forefinger, as if fascinated.

Before he had a chance to lean down and sniff her hair, which he seemed inclined to do, she shoved him away and said, “Because you betrayed me, you jerk.”

“Me?” He frowned. “How so?”

“By talking about me to my brother. Behind my back.”

“Oh, that,” he said as if it were nothing.

“Yes, that. Here.” She shoved the shopping bag into his hand. “These are some books and tapes I bought for you … before I realized what a snake you are.”

“You bought me a gift?” The expression on his face was priceless. You would have thought she’d given him a Rolex.

“Don’t distract me, you louse. Take the stuff and enjoy it, because I don’t plan on seeing you again.”

“Of course we will be seeing each other again,” he said, peering into the bag, then setting it down on the floor.

Before she had a chance to realize what he was about, he lifted her by the waist, opened a large broom closet behind her, and walked them both inside. It was as black as coal inside till he pulled the string on the ceiling bulb. He must be familiar with
the broom closet for some reason, she thought. But that was beside the point. Way beside the point!

“What do you think you’re doing?” she squealed as he backed her up against a rolling utility table, then lifted her up so she sat with her feet dangling off the floor. He shoved her skirt up and stepped between her spread thighs.

“Thanking you,” he murmured as he sniffed her hair and murmured something about strawberries, which was the scent of her shampoo.

“For what?” she gasped out. Little tingles of sensation were ricocheting throughout her body just from his breath near her ear.

“Your gift today. Last night. What is about to happen. Take your pick.” Now he was outright blowing in her ear, and it felt damn good … dammit.

“A simple ‘thank you’ outside would have sufficed. And get one thing straight—nothing is going to happen now.” She tried to turn her face away from the kiss she sensed was coming, but he plowed his big fingers into her hair, holding her face in place.

Then he kissed her.

And she surrendered. Just like that. She couldn’t help herself. Like a wanderer in the desert who had been thirsty for too long, she welcomed him. There was no explanation for her behavior. He was just a man, like any other she’d known before. Her heart and her traitorous body didn’t see him that way, though. Every time she saw him, even from that day on the grinder when he’d returned without medical permission to BUD/S, it was as if some inner being recognized him, saying,
There you are, sweetheart. I have been waiting for you forever.
And it
was the same every time she saw him again. Strange!

“I missed you,” he murmured after kissing her into a panting blob of hormones.

“How could you miss me when you’ve been working out so hard today?” she argued. “I can see that Ian gave you a grueling workout today—as punishment for something or other, I suspect.”

“Brooms,” he said, of all things, and smiled against her mouth. “Dost think I cannot run and think at the same time? I am a many-talented man.”

Boy, do I know how many talents you have!
She smiled back against his mouth. “I’m mad at you,” she said and nipped his lower lip.

“I’m mad
about
you,” he replied. “What are these things anyhow?”

She glanced down and saw that he was running his palms over her stockings from knee to upper thigh and back again. No wonder she’d been tingling in that region! “Stockings. Pantyhose, to be precise. And you’ve probably put a dozen snags in them with those calluses on your hands.”

“How far up do they go?”

There he went again with that stupidity about everyday things. “To the waist.”

He groaned. “Another form of chastity belt.” She was about to correct him, but he’d raised her skirt and proceeded to pull down her stockings, all the way off, including her high-heeled pumps.

“Max, this is not a good idea. If we get caught in here, we’re both going to be busted.”

“I am not precisely sure what ‘busted’ means, but whatever it is, we will be happily busted.” With those ominous words, he pulled her butt to the edge of the
table, then released a very impressive erection from his shorts and entered her all in one fluid motion.

Her heart practically stopped with the intense pleasure that one stroke generated.

But then he pulled back out. All the way. With horror. And said, “Oops!”

“What do you mean, ‘Oops’? Come back here.” She tried to grab for him, but he stepped away and held out his arms to keep his distance.

“I didn’t use a cone-dome, and I have none with me. Do you perchance have any cone-domes with you?”

“No, I don’t have any condoms with me,” she replied with visible consternation. “Jeesh, do you think I have sex at work every day?”
Any day?

“I hope not,” he said, then grinned at her. She loved the way he grinned … kind of lopsided and sexy. “Not to fear, dearling, I will just have to show you the Viking S-Spot.” With those words, he threw her legs over his shoulders, causing her to topple backward onto the table.

“Eeeekkkk! You already showed me the Viking S-Spot,” she pointed out with a little gurgle of embarrassment at her vulnerable position.

“Ah, but this will be different. ’Tis the Triple-S, known by only a few Norsemen and used only on very special women … those who are strong enough to withstand the torture and worthy enough to be given the gift of supreme ecstasy. Legend says that women are unable to speak afterwards, so intense is the pleasure. Legend also says that the woman is ruined for any other man afterwards, her standards for peaking having been raised so high.”