CHAPTER7
Bartlett stood outside her door trying to digest what he’d learned and wondering how it would apply to his long-term plans. He would have Merry for his own. There was no question about that. He didn’t doubt he could please her. He’d never had any complaints, yet. Then he heard it. The sound of muffled laughter could not be concealed, even by the thick door. Walking to the window that faced the front of the chalet, he peered inside and watched her stagger to the plush blue sofa. Collapsing onto it she held her ribs as she rocked back and forth. Then she reached for the phone.
While he couldn’t hear the conversation, it was obvious his little elf was having a grand time. For a moment he thought about beating on her door and demanding to know what the hell was so damn funny, but he decided to go another route. Getting back into the sleigh he asked the driver how his night was going.
“It’s been busy, which is good for me and the wife, but I’m nearly done for the day. After I drop you off I’ll be heading home,” the elf said as he snapped the reins.
“This might seem a little presumptuous,” Bartlett began, “but would you have time to stop off for a drink with me? I’ll buy.”
“I’m not gay,” the driver replied easily. “I know wearing this sort of clothing might give humans that impression, but it’s our uniform.”
“I’m not gay either,” Bartlett replied. “I just have a few questions I need answers too and I’m not really sure who to ask other than a male elf.”
“Female trouble with that pretty one we just dropped off?”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Bartlett answered with a heavy sigh.
“Well, as I said, I’m off for the night. I guess I could have a drink or two with you. After all, it is the holiday season.”
“Great. You pick the place. I’m not familiar with the nightlife around here yet.”
The driver nodded and turned the sleigh around. It was only a few minutes later when they pulled up to The Caribou, a quiet little pub with only three sleighs in the yard. Once inside his new friend led the way to a table in the corner.
“I’m Mitt, short for Mittens,” he said reaching out to shake Bartlett’s hand. “My mother was a bit of a prankster and thought it was a cute name, but I don’t tell everyone that,” he continued while holding up two fingers for the bartender. A couple of minutes later two mugs of spiced ale were delivered to the table.
“Nice to meet you, Mitt,” Bartlett said as he handed over the money for the drinks to a barmaid.
Mitt took a sip, sighed in pleasure, and wiped the foam from his mouth.
“Now, what seems to be the trouble?” he asked, leaning forward.
Slowly, quietly, and clearly, Bartlett began to relate everything Merry had shared with him that night. Within moments Mitt was chuckling, which quickly turned to laughing and progressed to giant guffaws, drawing the attention of the other patrons of the pub. Soon their table was surrounded by interested elves eager to share in the joke. Bartlett nodded at the newcomers and continued with his story. One male elf’s opinion was helpful, but he would feel a whole lot better if he heard multiple viewpoints. When he was finished he took a large gulp of his ale before thumping the glass on the table while the group continued to roar with laughter.
“So,” he began. “How much of what she told me is true?” he asked seriously.
“Not one tiny bit,” Mitt replied, his answer echoed by the crowd. “She’s lied to you in a most appalling manner, Bartlett. I’d say she either hates your guts or she’s trying to get even with you for something.”
Bartlett could not fail to notice that there was an inordinate amount of back-slapping and chortling going on around them. It seemed the male population was the same the world over.
“What’s the lady’s name?” one handsome elf asked. “I want to be sure I avoid her.”
“No worry about that,” he replied. “I intend to claim her very soon.”
“Lad, are you sure you want to be mixed up with a wicked little elf like that?” another man asked. “She sounds like a lot of trouble to me.”
“I’m sure of two things,” Bartlett replied confidently. “I’m sure I want her and I’m positive that once she’s mine she won’t be pulling these kinds of stunts anymore.”
“How are you going to manage that? She seems to be nearly fearless if she’d lie to a human man like that.”
“Oh she’s sure of herself, I’ll give you that, but once I turn her over my knees for a good, old-fashioned spanking I think she’ll mind her manners,” he assured them.
“Well, best be careful,” Mitt warned. “Some elves have a bit of magic in them. Not all, but some. Yours might just be one of them.”
“How would I know?” Bartlett asked curiously.
“It’s hard to tell, but a sure way is when you’re intention is to take them to task for poor behavior and the next thing you know you’re kissing them instead. That’s a sign, young man and you’d best we on your guard.”
“I will,” he stated firmly. “Do you want another drink, Mitt?”
