Nine:
“But look at him! He’s so fecking small! Ye couldn’t possibly expect me to be friendly with a leprechaun!”
Olaf waved his finger in Sir Edenshire’s direction. He crossed his arms over his chest and made a deep masculine noise to express his annoyance. The small warrior rolled his eyes and murmured, “As if I’d willingly take a long arse hike to feck-all Iron Fae territory with ye! If not for my daughter’s brother being taken, hostage.”
Small in stature, but not in spirit, clearly.
“Papa, just ignore Olaf. He tends to kick off about all sorts. It’s what he does. That and drive everything with a pulse and a t**t batty.”
I snorted and grinned cunningly to my old friend.
“I’m afraid my daughter-in-law has the right of it, old mate.”
My remorseless teasing earned me a baleful loo
