She spluttered into laughter. “Did you pay attention to my family at all? Normal? Without you, I should have been trapped here, at the mercy of whomever Edward decided to pawn me off on — likely some old man with no teeth and wandering hands.”
Mordred chuckles, “oh I fit only one of those criteria” he tells her, moving around behind her to tickle her, “I have wandering hands.”
Summer tried to squirm away and discovered she was trapped between Mordred and the table. Elbowing him did no good either; he was wearing his chain mail, and his fingers sought out every gap in her cuirass. “Mercy!” she gasped through giggles. She fell back against his body. “That’s not the sort of wandering hands I meant!”