How to Drive a Dragon Crazy (Dragon Kin #6)(18)

And woe to any who dared enter her tent without permission.

But to Macsen, it must have seemed that Éibhear was there with permission because he didn’t bother to attack. Yet he was annoyed that someone other than Izzy was in his space, which meant he did what he always did to males that he felt didn’t belong.

“Gods!” Éibhear demanded, trying to push Macsen off. “What is that smell?”

“Oh . . .” Izzy smirked. “He must have gotten into the beans again.”

“He does like beans,” Samuel added, his hand under his nose to block out the smell. Considering all the hard years Samuel had done in the military, forced in by his father when he was barely nine, it always amazed Izzy that he couldn’t tolerate a few farts from a dog.

Then again . . . it seemed that Éibhear couldn’t either.

The dragon threw Macsen across the room and tried to sit up, but Macsen only scrambled back to his really big feet and launched himself again at Éibhear’s head.

By now, Izzy had her hand over her mouth, her body shaking as she hysterically laughed, Samuel leaning against her, his laughter ringing out.

“Don’t just stand there, woman! Get him off me!” He threw Macsen again, but, as was Macsen’s way, he merely bounced back and came at Éibhear once more. That was the thing about Macsen, the thing that many enemy soldiers had learned over the years . . . Macsen didn’t go down easy and once down, he didn’t stay down. It simply wasn’t in his nature.

The dog was just going for Éibhear again when Fionn stepped in, motioning to Izzy.

“What?” she asked once she stood next to the woman.

“We have a problem.”

When Éibhear finally had the dog pinned to the floor he realized that, except for the animal, he was alone.

Feeling something gnawing on his booted foot, Éibhear looked down at the dog. At least, he felt sure it was a dog of some kind. At the moment, it was trying to tear off the thick leather.

Éibhear pressed down harder and, instead of calming down, the beast only became more irritated, fought harder. Impressed, Éibhear lifted his foot and the dog scrambled away, before spinning around to face him and squaring off again.

Studying the thing’s size, Éibhear leaned down a bit and asked, “You’re not a god, are you?”

With a snarl, it launched its body at him and Éibhear swung his fist, knocking the dog across the tent and out the back.

Satisfied, Éibhear sniffed the air and followed Izzy’s scent. She hadn’t gone far. Only a few feet away from her tent, surrounded by her officers. A small contingent of soldiers stood at the ready, and another officer was on his knees, two soldiers guarding him.

Éibhear walked up to Aidan and the others.

“What’s going on?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“Your general thought she’d killed the ogre leader. She hasn’t.”

“A decoy?”

“Aye. The ogres were tipped off by him there.” He nodded at the soldier on his knees. “Then while the general and her troops were fighting the decoy, he went into a nearby human town, grabbed one of the local girls off the street, and—”

Éibhear held up his hand, not needing to hear any more, and turned to watch this play out.

But then he remembered this was Iseabail he was dealing with. Not Annwyl. For if it were, the bastard’s head would be rolling right by Éibhear’s feet at this moment.

Instead, Izzy, although clearly disgusted, turned to her officers and began discussing “laws” and “rules” and what this worthless bastard did or did not deserve based on his dishonoring his role as a soldier blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!

Gods! Was she joking? Why was she wasting her time and, most importantly, his own?

Unwilling to wait a second longer, Éibhear looked at Aidan and motioned to the soldier with a tilt of his head.

Aidan frowned; then his eyes grew wide. He immediately shook his head, never one to just take his damn orders. So Éibhear focused on Uther. The only problem with Uther was that he was a little slower to grasp things, mostly because he was easily bored and didn’t always pay attention. By the third, adamant tilt of his head, Uther blinked and said, “Oh!” He chuckled. “Sorry.”

Shaking his head, Éibhear stood back and waited.

Although two of her officers wanted a hearing, the rest just wanted the soldier’s head removed so they could focus on the ogres. Izzy didn’t mind bothering with the niceties—when they had the time—but they now had the ogre leader’s correct location, so at the moment, they really didn’t.

She nodded at Fionn to keep an eye out in case any of the soldier’s comrades might try to intervene, while Izzy began to pull her sword from its scabbard.

She almost had it clear, too, when she heard Brannie say, “Uh, Iz?” mere seconds before the betraying soldier’s head and part of his shoulder tumbled past her legs, landing a few feet away.

Everyone fell silent, her officers refusing to meet Izzy’s gaze. Because they knew. It might take much to piss her off, but once she was . . .

“What just happened?” she asked her cousin, unwilling to turn around.

“Uhhhh . . .”

She was about to demand that Brannie say something besides “Uh” when Éibhear appeared in front of her. “Now can we go?” he asked, grinning.