Chapter 9 #2
Little by little this attitude had started to grate on him and he had begun to wonder why he had been so entranced by her.
He had probably been too young to see past the desire she created in his young, virile body, too flattered by the way she looked up to him to question the true nature of his feelings when they had met.
Everyone had told him he was in love with her and he had been, in a manner of speaking, but with a bit more experience he would have seen that she could never be the woman for him.
He needed someone stronger, more spirited, some fire that would have added a much needed spark to their everyday life and intensity to their lovemaking.
Wolves do not mate with tamed dogs. They need to be with their equals.
But as shy as Solveig had been, as passive she had been in bed, she had not deserved to die.
Guilt gnawed at his insides. If only he had not lost his temper that night, she would still be alive…
Wolf grabbed the axe resting against the wall and started to hack at the pieces of wood he had not touched the other day, reducing them to kindling in the blink of an eye.
He would never know if he had lost or one two people that day.
He had come to suspect that Solveig might be with child, in fact that had been the cause of the argument.
Excited at the prospect of becoming a father, he had asked her about it.
In typical fashion, she had refused to answer clearly, murmuring that she could not yet be certain and did not want him to be disappointed if she was not.
“I am your husband, not just a passerby!” he had roared.
“I have the right to know if you think you may be carrying my child or not. I can cope with the disillusion if you’re not, I understand that sometimes women can make mistakes about such matters.
Are you so afraid of what I would do if you gave me false hope?
Are you so afraid of me, the man you married, that you never speak your mind? ”
Fueled by the need to hear he was indeed going to be a father, Wolf had turned on Solveig in an unprecedented outpouring of recriminations. All the pent-up frustration of the last few months had come bursting out of him, along with some criticism she probably didn’t deserve.
The people in the street had surrounded them, not trying to hide their curiosity.
His wife had recoiled, both in fright and the shame of having such a private argument in the middle of the village.
The sight of her discomfort had brought some sense back into him.
What had been wrong with him? He’d ordered her not to be afraid of him while acting like a maniac.
No wonder she’d cowered, for once she’d had every reason to!
After leaving her at the door of their hut, Wolf had gone into the forest, intent on sleeping off his anger and frustration alone. Once he had gone back to the village, he had calmed down and was ready to apologize to Solveig for his unwarranted outburst.
But he had never been able to make amends.
Solveig had died because of him, because he had not been able to control his temper, there was no point pretending otherwise.
The fact that he had lost his head in such public a place had allowed his unknown enemy to strike.
After such a shocking display, no one had even blinked at the suggestion that he had strangled her in a fit of anger and he had been sentenced to exile.
He sat on the bench and placed his head in his hands.
Solveig’s death was a burden he would carry until his dying day.
And now he had frightened yet another woman he cared about, a woman he had just married, a woman who would surely turn away from him after today.
Hadn’t Merewen already threatened to leave?
What if, in the light of what had just happened, she decided to put her threat into action?
He could not very well tie her to the hook by the door to stop her from coming and going, could he?
She was his wife, not his slave!
“Wolf! They have finally found Magnus!” someone called from the other side of the hut. “He’s in a bad way. You have to come!”
He swore under his breath. Not now! For once he would have liked someone else to attend to the villagers’ needs.
He would have liked to stay and mend whatever had been broken between him and Merewen before it was cracked beyond repair.
But perhaps it would do him good to walk away and calm down before he faced her again.
When he came back he would be calmer and he would be able to explain to her what had happened without snarling or pinning her to the wall.
He found her at the fire pit, stirring a pot of broth. Even if she did not look up at his entrance, the sight reassured him. She would not be thinking of cooking if she was paralyzed with fear.
“The villagers need me. I will be back shortly,” he said, hoping that this would be the case.
Merewen nodded, looking at the spoon in her hand instead of him.
“Perhaps it’s for the best,” she said slowly. “I need to think. I need time to come to terms with everything you told me, everything that happened this week.”
Yes. She probably did. Still, he was loath to leave her on her own in such a moment. He needed to reassure her, not give her the opportunity to get her thoughts into a tangle or mull over how violent his reaction had been. It would lead to nothing good.
She turned her back to him, ostensibly to start cleaning the leeks. He knew she was just avoiding him. There was no use insisting.
Wolf left, unable to shake the feeling he was doing the wrong thing.
When he came back after dusk, having been detained for far longer than he wanted by a rambling Magnus, who had managed to find himself embroiled in a befuddling series of adventures, the hut was empty.
Where was Merewen? Night had fallen a while ago.
She should be safe inside, not wandering outside alone in the dark!
Wolf slammed the door with such violence that the axe hung on the wall fell to the floor with a thud.
He should have trusted his instinct and stayed with her!
He should have guessed that she would try something foolish!
She’d said she wanted to think. Well, as far as he knew, thinking didn’t require a person to vanish into the night!
It could be done anywhere. So, had she lied, and instead left him, unable to bear the idea that she was married to a violent murderer?
He’d wanted to protect her and instead he had driven her away, thereby exposing herself to danger.
Did he have to make the wrong decisions all the time?
And then he saw the note.
I need time alone.
She had used a piece of coal from the fire to write the four words onto one of his tunics, for want of something better.
She needed time alone! Away from him, she meant, away from the monster who scared and killed his wives! And now that she was gone, he would never persuade her to come back, even supposing he knew where she was!
Wolf fell onto the pallet and roared. His temper had cost him a second wife, and this one had not even been married to him a day! What was wrong with him? Merewen was on her own, which was to say, in danger, and it was through his fault.
For the first time since he had been forced to leave his village, he felt as if he would never find peace ever again.