Page 45 of My Fair Viking

"Save your soppy words for someone who cares."

"Lord, I love a sharp-tongued woman. Makes one wonder what else she can do with it."

He poured a small amount of that Scottish brew uisge-beatha on the cut to further the cleaning and to dull the sensations in the skin before he inserted his needle.

"For the love of Valhalla! Why are you wasting good brew? Do you intend to lick it up… like the dog you are?"

"There is a thought," he said with a laugh. "Would you like me to?"

"Nay!"

She sat in one chair at the table and he at the other. He forced her to lay her arm flat as he began sewing… tiny, tiny stitches that really would be almost invisible. In order to distract her from what he was doing, he asked, "So what does a woman warrior wear under a tunic such as this?"

He thought she might say "Nothing" as he had about his Arab robes, but, nay, the woman was always a surprise to him.

"A codpiece."

He had to laugh at her quick wit. "Can I see it?"

"When the sun shines in Niflheim."

"Would that be comparable to 'When hell freezes over'?"

"Precisely."

When he was done stitching her wound, he acted quickly. Grabbing her by the waist, he tossed her onto the table face down and flipped up her tunic. She was screaming like a banshee and trying to rise, but he had one hand firmly on her neck and the rest of his body weight pressed over her bottom. Leaning back, he noted that she was not wearing a codpiece, but she did have on some kind of loin cloth. He ripped it off so that he could examine her arrow wound.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking to see what kind of butchery Bjorn performed on your buttock. See, you should have let me do the work. The wound is healing nicely, but you will have a scar there for life. Not to worry, though. It rather resembles a star. Attractive, really. Methinks I should rub some healing ointment on it, though."

She made a gurgling sound of dismay, then yelled, "Do not dare put your fingers on my arse."

He laughed and let go of her, jumping back at the same time, knowing she would punch him in the face, or kick him in some unmentionable spot, if she got a chance.

Quickly she stood and adjusted her clothing, the whole time glaring at him. "I could kill you for that."

"I was just doing my job. You must not think of me as a man when I am acting in my capacity as healer."

"Hah! I do not know of any healer who gets aroused when looking at a woman's arms, or legs, or backside."

"How do you know I was… am… aroused?"

"Your eye color lightens, your nose flares, and your lips part."

What could a man say to that? All he could think of was, "Oh."

Tyra clomped over to the door and swung it open so hard it crashed against the wall. Just before she left, though, Adam decided he would get the last word in.

"One thing, Tyra," he called out to her back. "You have a very nice arse."

That morning, Alrek had decided to iron Adam's best tunic. Now there was a hole over the heart.

Kristin had made up his bed, but the linens were so twisted that when he tried to arise, he fell to the floor. Now he had a goose egg on his forehead.

Tunni brought a pitcher of water all the way from the scullery and spilled most of it along the way. The chambermaid was chasing him right now.

Besji almost fell down the hole in the garderobe. Adam caught her just in time.