Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
T he moon was high in the sky when Magnus finally made his way back to his hut. His plan had worked. It was the middle of the night. By now Agnes should be asleep, safe in the corner he had prepared for her, as far away from his pallet as it was possible to be while staying within the confines of the hut.
Careful not to wake her, he opened the door inch by inch. Nothing. He let out a silent sigh of relief. She was sleeping, as he’d hoped, and not standing stark naked in the middle of the room. It was safe to come in. Avoiding looking in the corner in case a beam of moonlight revealed a part of her all too tempting body, he collapsed onto his bed—and almost flattened the woman lying on it.
“Agnes!” He instantly rolled off her, shock radiating from his every pore. “What are you doing here?”
“Magnus?” She sounded bewildered, as if he’d just woken her, nervous, as if she feared his intent, and slightly breathless, as if he’d crushed her under this bulk. A dreadful combination. “You t-told me to sleep in your hut tonight, don’t you remember?”
“Of course I remember. But I didn’t mean you should sleep in my bed!” He sounded gruffer than he wanted but his control was hanging by a thread. Feeling her warm, soft body under him had been a shock he’d not been prepared for.
“I’m sorry, I thought that one was your bed?” She gestured at the pallet in the corner.
“No. That’s the one I prepared for you.” He had piled it high with blankets and furs to make it as comfortable and inviting as possible. How had she not guessed this would be the one allocated to her? He was a man, he didn’t need all that comfort around him.
“Forgive me. I’ll go to it then, and leave you to sleep in your own bed.”
His hand shot out of its own accord. When his fingers made contact with her wrist they wrapped around it like a shackle. Her impossibly delicate, fragile wrist. He forced himself to ease the grip. “No, Agnes. Stay. Please.”
There was a pause while she absorbed what he’d said. All he could see in the darkness was her shadowy form, all he could hear was his heart drumming in his chest. What would she do now? Would she scream and flee in fright at the demand? To his relief, she did neither.
Instead she asked. “Why do you want me to stay?”
He had no answer to that question. He had no idea where the request had come from, because he was not drunk, and he certainly had no intention of taking advantage of the fact that they would sleep next to one another. “I don’t know. It just feels right to have you here with me. You have nothing to fear, I swear I won’t take advantage of you.”
She stared at him, her eyes glittering in the moonlight. Had he ever seen a more beautiful woman, he wondered for the hundredth time? He might have, but not a more compelling one.
“I believe you,” she said eventually.
“So you will stay?”
“Yes.”
A joy the likes of which he’d never felt before, quiet and all the more perfect for it, spread through his chest. “Let me go get more blankets and furs from the other pallet, so you can be comfortable.”
“I already am.”
Ignoring her protests, he stood up and went to the other side of the room. He would not have her inconvenienced in any way. When he came back, he made a nest for her, next to his sleeping place. She lay on it without hesitation and closed her eyes. Feeling more content than he had ever felt, he settled himself next to her.
“Did I hurt you when I fell on you?”
“No.”
“I’m three times as heavy as you are, I must have?—”
“You didn’t.” She sounded half asleep already. “I’m all right. So warm and comfortable here.”
“Let us sleep then.”
He gave a rueful smile. As if he would be able to sleep with her by his side, so close to his heaving chest. But to his surprise, he was soon overcome by an irresistible torpor and he did fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
In the morning, Agnes woke with her hand in Magnus’. She could not recall reaching out to him in her sleep or him asking if he could hold her. But here they were, fingers entwined, and it felt good.
Natural.
He was still asleep, his head thrown to the side, his other hand resting over his chest. The sight was oddly moving. Feeling privileged to be allowed to do so while he was oblivious, she examined him, taking her time. His beard, in particular, fascinated her. Saxon men tended to be clean-shaven, and right now she couldn’t think why they would choose not to grow beards. But, of course, it might not suit them as well as it suited Magnus. Because suit him it did. The golden hairs provided the perfect frame for his sensual mouth. They looked so soft she almost reached out to stroke them. And his full lips were so tempting, she fought the urge to place her own over them.
Instinct told her it would be both the most satisfying experience of her life and the most dangerous, because kissing a virile man like him could only lead to more. But right now, he was asleep, so perhaps she could dare? She leaned over, irresistibly drawn. Could she?—
The furious banging on the door tore a shriek from her lips.
Jolted awake, Magnus bolted into a sitting position, and as she was so close to him, his head almost collided with hers.
“What the—” A sentence in Norse, coming from the other side of the door cut him off and he barked a brief answer in the same language. “It’s Sven,” he explained, glancing at the window through which the sun was pouring into the hut. “It’s much later than I thought it was,” he mumbled, sounding caught out.
Agnes’ consternation matched his own. Lost to her contemplation of his perfect face, she had not realized what time it was. But they had said they would leave early, so it was no wonder his brother was wondering where they were.
“We should go,” she said guiltily. If she had not agreed to sleep next to him, she was certain neither of them would have overslept.
She made to get up but Magnus caught her by the wrist, much in the same way he had done the night before. The heat of his fingers over her chilled skin was delicious. The night had been unseasonably cold and she found herself wishing he could warm her all over.
“No, wait... Just another moment, please.”
What was this? He wanted her in his bed, but not as a lover. He wanted to lie next to her, not over her. He had made no move to seduce her last night, as promised. So what did this mean? What did he want?
She lay back down on the pallet, waiting, guessing there was something on his mind.
“I like having you in my hut,” he said eventually. It sounded like a confession. “I’ve never lived with anyone and it’s nice.”
It was. The only people she had lived with, her own family, had seen her as little more than a servant, they had mocked, used, or just plain ignored her. With Magnus, it was different. She could be herself, and her efforts were appreciated. He liked what she cooked, he was grateful for her help at the forge, small though it may be, and he never demanded she do anything. Quite the opposite. He was going out of his way to see to her comfort. Like he had last night with the pallet.
Unable to resist, she snuggled up closer to him. “I’m cold,” she said by way of an explanation. It was not exactly a lie, even if she was in no danger of freezing.
“Come here.”
A huge arm wrapped around her shoulders. The gesture was as natural as if they’d slept together a thousand times and she pressed herself against his chest, relishing the sense of security it gave her.
“You’re so warm,” she mumbled, wondering if she was not about to fall back to sleep. There was a rumble against her cheek. It took her a moment to understand that Magnus was laughing.
“I suppose I spend so much time by the fire that the heat has seeped into me.”
“Mm. Maybe.” Whatever the explanation for it, she already knew she would want to snuggle up next to him every night, which was problematic. There was no guarantee he would want to have her in his bed tomorrow night or indeed any other night.
With reluctance, Magnus let go of Agnes. She fit so perfectly against his flank that he could have stayed entwined with her all day long but it was high time they left, if they wanted to go into town and be back to the village before nightfall.
Bloody Sven.
“I suppose I had better go get the cart ready.”
He barely resisted the urge to place a kiss on her forehead before he got up. The impulse was odd to say the least. Since when did he kiss women on the forehead? He had only ever kissed them on the lips or in the sweet place between their legs, in the heat of passion. This would have been different, a proof of tenderness and respect, and he didn’t quite know what to make of it.
He took a swig of ale before exiting the hut. Sven was waiting outside, idly cleaning his nails with a twig. His mouth curled up when he spotted him.
“Sleep well, little brother?” Never had Magnus wanted to wipe the smirk off anyone’s face more. “What happened to the industrious blacksmith who wakes up at dawn? Did he find something better to do? I wonder what that might be. Or maybe I don’t.” The wretched man waggled his brows.
“I told you yesterday to shut your mouth,” he growled. “I suggest you keep it shut or you might find yourself with a dislocated jaw before long.”
Sven seemed about to reply, then thought the better of it. Perhaps he had seen that this was no idle threat. “Where did you find her anyway? You’ve had your share of women, but I’ve never seen you with a Saxon before.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
Why had he answered as if he and Agnes were really a couple, Magnus wondered? Oh well. Too late to rectify the impression now, Sven was already convinced they were involved, and if it helped keep his filthy hands from her, then all the better. Not that he had much hope his brother would heed his warning. He never did.
“A bit young for you, is she not?”
“She’s no child,” Magnus said defensively before thinking the better of his reaction. Sven was only trying to rile him again. He should be ignoring the taunts. “She’s slight, it is not the same.”
He knew Agnes to be about Bjorn’s age, which was admittedly younger than his usual conquests, but old enough to be bedding him. Not that they were sleeping together, of course...
The thought did little to appease his anger, because he wished they were, and not just to hold hands.
“Mm. If you say so.” Sven threw the twig away with a flick of the wrist.
“I do. Now, I thought you were eager to leave.” He strode in the direction of the stable where his mare was waiting. “So let’s go.”
Settled between two enormous Norsemen Agnes was intimidated into silence. She let them talk above her head about people she didn’t know and places she had never visited. For once, she wished they were talking in Norse, as it would have given her the perfect excuse not to join in the conversation, but Magnus insisted they talked in her language when in her presence. The intention found favor with her but there was no denying she was ill at ease and fast regretting her request to go into town. Why had she told Magnus she could do with buying a few items there? It was true, but she should perhaps have waited for a more opportune moment to go. The latent animosity between the two men was making her uncomfortable. She felt like a rabbit caught between two snarling beasts.
“What brought you to a village of Norsemen then, Agnes?” Sven asked her after a while. Had he been anyone else she might have thought he was trying to make her feel less excluded. But she guessed he was merely looking for another way to rile his brother. Evidently, he thought she had come here to be with Magnus and wondered how a man like him could possibly have attracted her.
She decided to put the insufferable man back in his place. If she had decided to come here to be with Magnus, then it would be the best decision she had ever made, and she would be sure to leave him in no doubt about it.
After all he had made his brother endure, he had it coming.
“Bjorn and Dunne came to visit my village a few weeks ago and offered me the opportunity to travel south with them. I accepted, not knowing what was waiting for me, but considering what I found, I’m mighty glad I did. I’m not sure I will ever go home now.”
For good measure, she threw an adoring glance at Magnus, one that caused heat to flush to her cheeks. In normal circumstances, she might have been embarrassed, but right now she didn’t mind, as it only added to the effect she was trying to create. The smile she got in return was blinding. Magnus had seen what she was doing and was grateful for her efforts. But she was glad to help when it cost her little. Besides, nothing she’d said had been a lie. She was glad to have accepted Bjorn’s offer and she truly had no intention of going back home. John the miller’s father would be waiting for her there, or another of her father’s vile friends.
It didn’t bear thinking about.
She spent the rest of the journey with a strong thigh pressed close against hers.
Finally, they reached the town. It was bustling with activity. Agnes looked around, aghast. She had never been in such a big, busy place and found it hard to adjust to the noisy crowd and so many comings and goings.
“It’s market day.” Magnus had not missed her reaction. “Forgive me, I didn’t think to tell you. Is it a problem?” he asked in a lower voice, leaning toward her while Sven jumped off the cart with a satisfied grunt.
“I...” It was not a problem, exactly, but suddenly she wished she was back at the forge with him. This was overwhelming, much more so than she had expected, and she felt rather silly. “I didn’t think the town would be so big, that’s all.”
Magnus nodded, as if understanding what she was not saying. “If you can wait to buy what you need, I’ll take you back another day, when it’s quieter. Or we can go to the other town on the other side of the forest if you prefer. It’s a bit further but not as big. We don’t have to stay here if it makes you nervous.”
In truth, it did. Having never left her village before Bjorn’s arrival, she was not used to being in such strange surroundings. Everything here was bigger, noisier, more daunting. But how could she tell Magnus that when he had only agreed to come for her sake? He had sacrificed a day’s work for her, surrendered to his brother’s will for her. She could not make him appear a fool now.
In the end, she didn’t have to say anything. He gathered up the reins and called out to Sven, who had started talking to a man selling tanned leather skins.
“You’ll make your way home from here,” he said, turning the cart around. “’Tis not so far and I would like to get back home before the night sets in. Today being a miserable day there won’t be light for much longer, and we set off later than we’d intended.”
“Well, whose fault was that?” Sven didn’t sound impressed at his brother’s defection. “I thought we’d agreed you would take me to?—”
“You thought wrong. Goodbye.”
Agnes saw from the way Magnus’ shoulders relaxed that he was pleased to be the one to dismiss his brother for once and she couldn’t help but share in the satisfaction.
“If you’d rather we took him home before getting back to the village, it’s no problem,” she forced herself to say, though in truth she was relieved to be rid of Sven’s oppressive presence. She couldn’t wait to be alone with Magnus again.
“No.” He gave her a smile that went straight to her heart. “Thank you. This is the first time my brother and I part with me having the upper hand. It feels good, and I owe it to you.”
“Me?”
“You gave me a reason to stand up to him. When it was only me, I saw no harm in letting him indulge in his petty games. It seemed to be the way of things, as immutable as the changing of the seasons.” He shrugged, before something hardened in his eyes. “But I will not have him making you uncomfortable in any way. And so thanks to you, at last I found the strength to stand up to him. I can only hope it will be the start of a new relationship between us, a more peaceful one. It’s about time.”
By now a lump had formed in Agnes throat. He was thinking of her, first and foremost, he was being mindful of her comfort again. No one had ever done that before. He was grateful to her for giving him strength when the notion of a woman like her giving a man like him strength should have been ridiculous. She felt on the verge of tears. Magnus saw it and mercifully behaved as if there was nothing more normal in the world than for a woman to cry for no reason.
“Shall we?” he asked, clicking his tongue to the mare.
Agnes could only nod.