Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
M agnus woke up early, as per usual, and went to the chicken coop in search of eggs with which to break his fast. He had spent an agitated night, thinking about the woman sleeping in the room at the back of the forge, with her beautiful green eyes and luminous skin. Her skin that was more delicate than that of his oaf of a brother. Really, what had possessed him to say such a silly thing? Moments after meeting Agnes, he had established himself as an idiot who had no notion how to talk to women, not the impression he wanted to give.
When Bjorn had come back from accompanying Dunne to Mercia, he had brought with him another Saxon to the village. The poor girl, who, his friend had informed him discreetly, was fleeing a life she didn’t desire, needed a place to stay. It had taken no more than two heartbeats for Magnus to know he could not bear having anyone else offer to shelter her.
Why that was, however, he wasn’t sure.
She was a tiny, timid thing, who had looked at him in awe mingled with apprehension, not a reaction he was entirely comfortable with. He’d always been attracted to confident women who did not let his stature impress them. He knew he was taller than most men in the village, and days spent hammering in the forge ensured he had developed muscles that rivaled even those of Wolf, the village leader. For that reason, he tended to choose lovers who were on the voluptuous, and assertive side. With them, there was no danger of a mishap. They were strong enough, physically and mentally, to deal with him.
But the problem was, the women he usually favored didn’t favor him. And them being brazen ended up causing him more trouble than they were worth. Edith came to mind. As to confidence, surely it had nothing to do with size, and a woman who only reached up to his shoulder and yet was brave enough to stare at him in the eye could teach him a thing or two about it. Perhaps he’d been put in the path of the kind of person he needed rather than the sort he thought he wanted. It was worth pondering about at least.
He was finishing his eggs when a voice cut through his musings.
“Magnus, I knew you would be up. Do you have a hammer I could borrow?” Wolf walked in through the open door, a smile on his face. “I want to start repairing the fence around the vegetable patch and orchard and mine is too small.”
“Yes. I have what you need at the forge. Let me get it for you now.”
The interruption was welcome. He’d spent more than enough time daydreaming about the little Saxon’s soft skin and beguiling ways. It was time to get on with his day.
Quietly, so as not to waken Agnes, he pushed the door of the forge open and walked over to the tool bench. Just as he grabbed the hammer he was looking for, the door to the back room opened—on a surprised, stark naked Agnes.
Everything rushed south at the same time. His heart plummeted to his boots, his blood raced to his groin, his hands fell to his sides and the hammer dropped to the floor, missing his feet by inches.
Magnus stared at the woman revealed in front of him.
He couldn’t help it, he didn’t even try to stop himself. She was too beautiful. He allowed his gaze to roam over her greedily, taking in every glorious inch before fastening on her breasts. Her perfect, round little breasts topped with rosy pink nipples. His throat went dry at the same time as his mouth started salivating. Had he ever seen anything more arousing than her lithe body? No, he had not. The fact that he’d had no warning whatsoever that she was about to walk into the room only made the sight more shocking. Usually, when he saw a woman’s breasts, it was because she was already in his arms, already under him, it was because he’d already made up his mind to have her, and made sure to feast his eyes on her beforehand.
This was nothing like that. He’d been afforded a glimpse of a woman who had not agreed to bare herself to him and the forbidden element added an undeniable thrill to the moment.
He cleared his throat as he placed his hands in front of his crotch. After the way he’d stared at her, the last thing he needed was frighten her with the proof that the sight of her nudity had turned him into a randy stallion ready to cover a mare.
“What in Odin’s name are you?—”
As soon as he spoke, the spell was broken. Agnes shrieked and disappeared back into the room, slamming the door behind her.
It was only then that Magnus saw the gown and shift she had draped by the fire embers to dry overnight. How had he missed them? If he’d seen them, he might have guessed she was naked in the other room and made some noise so as to warn her she was not alone. It would have been a pity though. He regretted shocking her, but he could not regret having seen her. Never had he seen a more graceful, enticing woman. He’d noticed she was pretty when she’d arrived, of course, and on the slender side, but he’d never guessed that once she was naked, her lean body would be so compelling.
“Magnus, are you still here?” The voice was hesitant.
He picked the hammer from the floor before answering. Yes, he was still here, still hard, still stunned. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry, I know this is your forge, but I need you to leave, so I can get dressed. My clothes are in the other room, you see.” She sounded slightly breathless, and he hoped panic was not the cause. He would hate for her to be wary of what he would do now that he had seen her naked. She had nothing to fear, he had no intention of pouncing on her, even if a certain part of his body urged him to do just that. “I washed them last night.”
He walked over to the forge to retrieve the pale blue linen dress and impossibly small shift she had placed on the stool. They looked almost like children’s clothing and a smile tugged at his lips at the thought. There was nothing childish in the body he had seen. Slender as she was, Agnes was all woman. Thus far, only buxom women with generous hips had stirred his blood. Right now he could think of nothing more arousing than the tight little breasts and lean hips he’d just seen.
“Your clothes are still damp, I’m afraid,” he told her, after having ascertained the fact.
A silence. “Oh.” Now Agnes sounded dejected. Good. At least she was not afraid anymore.
“I will go and get you one of my undershirts. It will keep you warm while I go and see if someone in the village has a dress I could borrow for you. Ingrid might do.”
His first thought had been to ask Wolf’s wife, Merewen, whom he knew better than most, but any dress of hers would have swamped Agnes and he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable—or rather, more uncomfortable than she already was.
“Thank you. I don’t mean to be such an imposition.”
“You’re not.”
She was anything but. Impositions didn’t look anything like her. They didn’t make him hard. They didn’t have creamy skin, pert breasts, pink nipples and slim legs. It was impossible not to imagine how that skin would warm under his touch, how those breasts would fit in his hands, how those nipples would feel in his mouth, how those legs would wrap around his waist while he?—
“Are you still here?”
Damnation, yes, he was, and with an erection to rival the hammer he was holding in his clenched fist both in length and in strength. This wouldn’t do. He would have to wait a moment outside the forge before he went hunting for a dress for her. He could not go call on Ingrid in such a state. The poor woman would only take fright.
“Yes. I was only taking some tools I need,” he lied. “I’ll go get the shirt now.”
As she slipped the oversized shirt over her head, Agnes tried very hard to ignore the scent of it.
Smoky, yet fresh, as if it had been dried outside, masculine yet sweet, as if it had been spread in a flower-strewn meadow. It was Magnus’ scent, as enticing as he was. Everything here was his. It was his shirt, his forge, his life she had disrupted. She now was part of his world, whether she wanted it or not.
And this world was as different as the one she had left behind as night was from day.
Here, she was not insignificant, the daughter of a man who despised her, but a woman in her own right, and beautiful with it. Magnus certainly seemed to think so. His gaze had been as hot as the coals burning in his furnace when he had walked in on her naked earlier and looked his fill. No man had ever looked at her like that before. No man had seen her naked before. No man had made her want to throw herself into his arms. Everything about this was new, unsettling, potentially dangerous.
Not that she feared Magnus, but herself.
Knowing she could not afford to catch their attention, much less stir their desire, she had always avoided men’s company. It was the safest way to act, because the day she gave one the impression she would welcome his advances, all would be lost. He would pounce and she would be powerless to defend herself. She had seen and heard enough of men to know they were ruled by their physical urges, urges that could only put her in danger.
Agnes wrapped the soft shirt around her. It was so big it engulfed her twice over but still it was not enough to chase the chill spreading through her at the thought of a man taking her to bed.
It was not the possession she feared, even if she’d heard the first time could hurt, it was the consequences. Humiliation if her lover abandoned her after having had what he’d wanted from her, marriage if he wanted more of her. In other words, a lifetime of misery, children.
Death.
Her parents’ marriage had not been a happy one and had made her dread the same fate. Her mother had found herself constantly with child, or nursing a babe. She had died at a relatively young age, exhausted by the strain put on her body. In her short life, she had borne ten children, three of which she’d had to bury within a week of their birth. Her husband, Orvyn, had never loved nor cared for her, he’d only seen women as bodies to rut on when the need took him. He had not stopped to wonder whether her mother wanted him in her bed mere days after giving birth, or worried about the consequences for her health if she got with child every year. It had been a miserable life, one Agnes had sworn she would not have.
But then she had been told that her father had found her a husband, an old man who only wanted her for the pleasure her young body would offer him in his late life. The thought was horrifying.
That was why when Bjorn, the Norseman who’d come to visit Brigit, had offered her the chance to leave the village and travel south with him, she’d agreed without hesitation. She did not regret having done so, even if she had left all she knew behind. Here, with no father to pressure her into anything, no old man lusting after her, she would be free to live the life she wanted. The only girl in the family, and the youngest of the surviving children, Agnes had heard all her life that women were only good for two things, slaking a man’s lust whenever he wanted relief and bearing the children that inevitably followed, and this without complaint.
Well, she had the audacity to think otherwise.
“Agnes? Are you here? I have a dress for you.”
Magnus’ voice broke through her grim musings, as welcome as a beam of sunlight in a dark tunnel.
“Yes. Come in.”
It was only when Magnus’ gaze fastened on her with the intent of a hawk’s that she realized she should have asked him to leave the dress in the other room for her to retrieve when she was alone. She also understood from the tightening in his jaw that the shirt, oversized as it was, did little to hide her neck and throat. The collar hung so low on her that it left part of her bosom exposed. The blue in Magnus’ eyes swirled and his body tensed, proving he was every inch the hot-blooded male he appeared to be.
And yet, to her surprise and relief, he made no move toward her. He didn’t even look his fill, like he had earlier, when he’d seen her naked. After the initial shock, he lowered his gaze to the floor, as if he felt at fault for staring at her. A most unexpected reaction in so virile a man, and endearing.
Her shoulders relaxed and she understood why she had felt at ease with him from the beginning. Here was a man who would not take advantage of her. He might desire her, think her beautiful even, but he would never overstep the mark. Whatever he took from her, she would give freely.
“Here you are. A dress and a shift that will fit you much better than my shirt.” Eyes still on the ground, he handed her a soft woolen dress and a plain, serviceable shift. “I asked Ingrid for some clothes. She’s the same build as you, I would say, so everything should fit you fine.”
Agnes felt herself flush at this reminder of why he could claim to know her size. Had he seen this Ingrid naked, too, she wondered, to be able to compare the two of them thus? Was she his sweetheart? Was that why he had gone to her to borrow the dress? Did he love her? And what difference did it made if he did?
The unwelcome questions assaulted her all at once but she could not ask any of them out loud.
“Ingrid?” was all she said. She had no idea who the woman was.
“She’s Bjorn’s sister,” Magnus explained rubbing the back of his neck. He knew that, apart from Dunne, Bjorn was the only person she knew from the village so it stood to reason he would use him to make her see who Ingrid was. But this answer did not satisfy her. What she really wanted to know was, what was Ingrid’s relationship to him.
“Thank you. I hope she didn’t mind.” Perhaps if she kept him talking about the woman, he would eventually say something to bring some light into the matter.
“Not at all. Don’t worry about it.”
Mm . It seemed she would have to ask a direct question if she wanted a better answer. But she could not work up the courage. After all, it was none of her concern who he and Ingrid were to one another. She should just stop worrying about it.
“I think I’ll get changed now.”
Though she had intended this as a dismissal, Magnus didn’t move. Did he mean to stay here while she removed the shirt and got dressed into the clothes he’d found for her? Agnes shuffled toward the window. Suddenly the sizeable forge seemed too small for two people. Had she been too hasty in thinking he posed no threat to her?
“Forgive me,” he said when he saw her retreat. “You have nothing to fear from me. I will go now.”
Her heartbeat calmed instantly. She had not been too hasty in trusting he would never be any danger to her. “I will be as quick as I can. I know you have to work. And I’m sorry about this morning.”
“Sorry?” He blinked.
“I always wake up before dawn, and I didn’t think anyone would be up at this hour. I didn’t mean to...”
Her voice trailed. She hadn’t meant to what? Startle him? But she hadn’t. She’d been the one almost jumping out of her skin when she’d seen him in the forge. Embarrass him? It could not be, when she had been the one naked. Scare him? No, he hadn’t looked in the least frightened when she’d walked into the room. Rather... transfixed.
“There’s no need to apologize. I will now know that you wake up as early as I do, and I will knock before entering the forge.”
“Yes. Thank you. Do you think we could we forget what happened?”
He stared at her a long moment. The look on his face seemed to say: “We can try. But I’m not sure we’ll succeed.”
Which was her opinion also. But it was worth a try. At long last, he answered.
“Of course. It’s already forgotten.”
With those words, he nodded, and left.