“I hear that you have a cure for cock burners,” he said in a low-pitched voice.“I have a treatment, not a cure,” Robyn answered, looking up from her seat.Stepping back, the man pulled his sword and threatened, “Hastert wants it. I’ll take it...”Whatever he might have added failed as his sword wielding hand was lopped off by the downward sweep of Miriam’s sword. Les grabbed the remaining hand and forced the attached arm up the ugly man’s back, and Miriam whipped out a cord to fashion a tourniquet above the stump. The two frog-marched their prisoner to the fireplace, and Miriam used a red-hot iron to cauterize the wound. The man screamed and fainted.Les took the opportunity to relieve the wannabe robber of his weapons and purse. The man wasn’t rich, but his pinches would pay for that night’s lodging and dinner. When the man woke, Robyn handed him a mug of unwatered wine and told him, “You’re alive because I have something for sale, and I assume Hastert is a customer. You can tell him. She kicked off her shoes. There was nothing else left to take off. She turned to face him, her heart pounding. Her belly moved in and out with nervous little breaths. She started to fold her arms but she fought the urge to cover her breasts. Her hands fidgeted at her side. The light in the room, so warm and friendly a moment ago, had transmuted into the penetrating glare of a showroom spotlight. Every inch of her naked body was exposed to Sam Valentine’s critical gaze. He sat back down on his desk to study her. He focused on her breasts, firm and pointy she liked to think, but maybe they drooped just a little. And there could be no doubt that one was slightly larger than the other. He focused on her belly, which quivered at being the center of attention. He barely glanced at her appendectomy scar. He lingered over the stretch marks on her thighs, and stared openly at the irregular patch of darkness at her crotch, penetrating it with his magical heat vision. Every spot he focused on.
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