Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
T he bucket was heavier than she had anticipated, she should not have crammed it so full. Agnes gritted her teeth. Another few steps and she would be inside the forge. Surely she would be able to make it to the table? It was not so far.
Just as she passed the door, she stumbled and ended up crashing against the door frame leading to her room. The bucket fell at her feet, scattering turnips and onions everywhere, Panting, she thanked her lucky stars the door had been opened. She would have smashed headfirst against the wood panel otherwise.
When she finally felt steady enough to move, she found that she could not. Damnation, the back of her dress had caught on something she could not even see and she could not reach it to disentangle herself.
As she debated what to do, the door to the forge opened behind her. Thank God, Magnus was here. She had started to fear she would have to rip Ingrid’s dress to free herself. Her new friend had assured her she was in no hurry to get the dress back but Agnes had no intention of giving it back with a big rip in it.
“Could you come in here a moment?” she called out, guessing he would not have realized the situation she was in. “I’m trapped.”
It was ridiculous to ask for help for such a thing, but she hadn’t managed to free herself, no matter how much she’d tried, so she might as well ask for Magnus’ help. Better to sacrifice her pride than tear a garment that did not belong to her.
A hand landed on the small of her back, warm and strong. “Trapped, are we?”
Agnes stilled. Was this really Magnus? Suddenly she wasn’t so sure. He felt just as massive behind her, and he’d entered the forge as if he had every right to, but his touch felt odd, and his voice sounded somehow lighter than the blacksmith’s, with a mocking edge she had never heard before and that made her uncomfortable. He might tease her, but he never made her feel inadequate.
She twisted around and gasped. It wasn’t Magnus at all, even if he looked very similar. But since her arrival in the village she’d had chance to see that all the men here were tall, blond and muscular. No wonder in the corner of her eye she hadn’t seen anything suspicious.
“My dress got caught on a nail or a hook or something as I brushed past the door,” she explained, wishing now she had not called out to him. The hand poised on her lower back seemed to have burned a hole through the wool of her gown.
“Mmm, yes, so I see. What will you give me as a reward for freeing you?”
“Reward?”
“Yes,” he purred, oblivious to the strangled sound she gave. “I think you should make it worth my while, don’t you?”
“No.” The word darted out of her mouth. After all, she was not asking for anything too taxing.
Instead of backing away, he laughed at her answer. “A spirited one, hey. My brother will have his hands full with you.”
“You’re Magnus’ brother?” Now she understood the similarities between them. He was not just any Norseman, he was the brother she had heard mentioned a few times.
“Sven. At your service.”
“Then if you are, please, would you unhook my dress? I don’t want to damage it any further.”
“I can certainly help you... remove it altogether.”
The hand at her back slid lower. Everything within Agnes tightened. She was trapped, literally. If he wanted to tear the dress from her or claim his “reward”, as he’d called it, for helping her out, she could do nothing. Even if she had been free of her movements, the man was too massive for her to have a chance at escaping his lust.
Her heart started to beat a frantic rhythm. What was she to do?
“Sven?”
The voice cut through the panic building inside her. She had been about to snatch at the dress, and run away, regardless of the state of it. She was sure Ingrid would have understood, when she explained her predicament.
“Magnus. Here you are, bursting in at the worst possible moment, as ever.” The glee in Sven’s voice as he told his brother he was not welcome grated on Agnes’ already frayed nerves. There was animosity there, not just good-natured teasing. “Do you think you could give us a moment? I was about to see to the girl’s dress.”
No, no, no ! He’d made it sound as if the undressing would happen with her full agreement and they would tumble into bed afterward. She tried to turn around to face Magnus, explain what was really going on, but with her dress caught she could not move as she wanted and, try as she might, she could not see past the man standing right behind her.
The man who still had his hand over the swell of her buttocks.
“It’s not what you think, my dress snagged on a nail when I walked too close to the door frame just now,” she blurted out. “And I could not seem to unhook it on my own, so I?—”
“Yes,” Sven snapped, as if he hadn’t enjoyed her cutting through his explanation. “As I said, I was about to help her remove?—”
“ I will do that, and you will wait outside.”
The words were little more than a growl and all of a sudden the man blocking her view vanished, presumably pushed away by a hulking blacksmith. A heartbeat later Magnus was standing in his place, just as tall, just as forbidding, but not half as frightening. All the tension left Agnes’ body in one rush. With him she was safe. He would help, and he would not rip her dress to shreds or throw her on the bed to claim any dubious reward afterward.
As if to prove her right, Magnus started to tug at the material of her gown without a word. Anger was radiating from his body, an anger she wasn’t sure was directed at Sven. It might be directed at her. A moment later, she was free.
Not daring to face his ire, she kept her back to him. “I swear nothing was about to?—”
“You and Sven can do what you want.”
“But I do not want to do anything with him! That’s the problem,” she cried out, turning around at last. She could not bear to have him think she had been about to beg his brother to take her to bed. “He made it sound as if I did, but I don’t. I would have run away, only, I was trapped, as you saw, and he?—”
“Did he touch you?”
“N-no.” But he might well have, had Magnus not arrived. She would not have put it past the man and his hand had already been on her, in much too low a place to pass as innocent. However she did not think it a good idea to point it out to Magnus, who already sounded mightily aggrieved. “He only scared me. For a moment I didn’t know what to think. I’m not even sure he wanted to do anything other than tease me or upset you.”
“I’m sorry he scared you. Sven is...”
Magnus let out a sigh instead of finishing the sentence but she thought she understood all the same. Sven enjoyed getting the upper hand over his brother, and he’d jumped on the opportunity to upset him. She had only been a tool in his petty games, most likely he’d felt no real desire for her.
“You’re right, he wouldn’t have hurt you, he’s not a dangerous man. But for all that, he enjoys riling me, and if he thought that you and I... That is, if he thought you were my...” He waved his hand as if unable to find an acceptable way to say what he wanted to say. Again, there was no need. She understood all too well. Sven had thought the two of them were lovers. “There has always been this competition between us, and he is confident in the fact that he nearly always wins. He will have wanted to see if he could make you choose him instead of me.”
“Yes, I think that’s exactly what he wanted,” Agnes said in a breath. My brother will have his hands full with you . That was what he’d said, which proved he’d thought they were a couple. She shuddered at the man’s presumption and forgot to be embarrassed. He’d thought she was his brother’s lover, and yet he had tried to seduce her. Magnus was right. He did like to rile him and get the upper hand over him. How despicable. “But how could he suppose I would do such a thing? Prefer him to you?”
If she really had been involved with Magnus, why on earth would she have jeopardized what they had for a man she didn’t even know, who was arrogance personified?
There was a silence before Magnus answered. “Because most people do.”
“Most people?”
“Our parents, for one. Sven has always been the perfect, oldest son. Perhaps because he is the image of my father, in looks and personality, he’s always been the favorite. I was only ever a replacement at best, a disappointment at worst.” He made a grimace. “It’s not just them, though. I told you. People usually do not choose me.”
Agnes stared at him in disbelief. Who in their right mind would choose anyone over him? Much less an overbearing, overconfident braggard? In her opinion, there was no contest.
She shivered, and Magnus took a step forward. They were now almost touching but she didn’t step back. She would never step back from this man.
“Are you sure you’re all right? He didn’t frighten you too badly? I saw how he was holding you.” He growled, as if the idea displeased him.
“A-a little.” There was no point in lying. When she had felt the man’s hand on her and heard him talk about rewards, she had taken fright. For a moment it had looked as if her worst nightmare had come true. “But then you arrived. I’m all right.”
She stayed very still, resisting the urge to burrow into his chest. It was not just the relief of having him come to her aid that made her want to hug him, it was the pain she’d heard in his voice when he’d said no one ever chose him. She knew about that, about never being seen as worth considering. Magnus appeared so different from her, so much stronger, she’d had no idea that they would have this in common.
He nodded, as if thinking the same thing and not knowing what to do with the revelation either. Then he seemed to get hold of himself and looked at the chaos in the room.
“Why are there are turnips and onions everywhere?” His lips quivered. “Did a Saxon farmer come to request a metal fence to put around his vegetable patch in my absence?”
She smiled at the jest, enjoying the restored companionship between them. “No. It’s all my fault, I stumbled and dropped the bucket I was carrying. I’m sorry. I told you I was clumsy.”
“No.” His smile vanished as he took in the quantity of vegetables on the floor. “You simply take on tasks you should leave to other people. Next time you have to carry such a heavy bucket, you call me, you understand?”
“I will.”
An awkward silence settled between them. It felt as if they had made a much more significant pledge.
“Now. The room where you sleep is the one I usually give Sven when he visits. Of course he could always come sleep in the hut with me this time.” Magnus started to rub at the back of his neck, the gesture betraying intense discomfort. She had seen enough of the two brothers to understand why he never welcomed him under his roof and would prefer to keep it that way.
“It’s not a problem. Let him sleep where he usually sleeps. I can sleep with you. I mean...” Heat flooded her cheeks when she realized how it sounded. “I mean in your hut.”
“You would do that?”
“Of course. It’s better than a ditch in the forest.”
Magnus recoiled as violently as if she had slapped him. “If one of us had to sleep in a ditch, it would be me, not you!”
She could not help a smile at his vehemence. How had he not seen it was a jest? “But neither of us has to sleep outside, that’s my point. I trust you.”
The declaration had moved him, she could tell from the way his eyes glimmered. Her own chest tightened in turn. But, of course, she trusted him. She felt as if she had known him all her life.
“I’ll go prepare a pallet for you in my hut, then. Thank you.”
Magnus was still trembling when he exited the forge, overset by a mixture of anticipation at the idea of having Agnes under his roof, gratitude at the trust she had gifted him with and anger at his brother’s behavior toward her. The way he’d held her had been highly inappropriate. No wonder she’d taken fright. As to his own reaction, blind rage, it was perhaps less easily explicable.
Outside, Sven was waiting, a smirk on his face, looking not guilty in the least.
“Well, now, little br?—”
“What are you doing here?” Magnus cut in. He was not in the mood to endure any teasing from him today, and certainly not about Agnes. When he had seen his brother bent over her, as if about to kiss her neck, and heard him talk about removing her dress, his blood had run cold.
No, not her , his whole body had protested. Sven could seduce all the women he wanted, but he could not touch her, he could tease him as he usually did, but he had better not cause her a moment’s discomfort. His ire and determination must have shown on his face, because Sven answered his question seriously, as if knowing that doing anything else would earn him a fist in the face.
“I came to ask for Wolf’s advice.”
Of course. How had Magnus not guessed? The Icelander was the first port of call for the Norsemen around. Once he’d become a man, Sven had elected to go and live in a Saxon village alone, but every now and then he still needed to consult with Wolf on some issue or another.
“How long will you stay?”
“Not long. I will leave tomorrow.” Sven tilted his head. “Tell you what, you can take me back home in your cart. ’Tis a rather long walk from the village to here.”
Magnus scoffed. How like Sven to assume he would just do his bidding. “I have work here, you know. I can’t just leave on a whim.”
“It would not be the first time you’ve done it.”
“No, but?—”
Just then the door opened on Agnes. He saw from the way she blushed she had not expected to find them so close to the forge and would have stayed inside if she’d known where they were. He gave her a reassuring smile and turned to face Sven again.
“I’m not taking you all the way back home,” he said, switching from Norse for her benefit. The last thing he wanted was for her to be ill at ease when she imagined them talking or even arguing about her. “I have done on occasion when I happened to have business in town, but I don’t this time.”
“People always need something or other from town,” Sven said with an exasperated wave of the hand. “Why can’t you be like anyone else for once?”
There was small inhale of breath from his left side. Agnes. He might not have heard it coming from someone else but somehow his senses seemed to be attuned to her. He turned to address her once more.
“Do you have need of going into town?” It was the only thing he could think of to explain the way her eyes had suddenly brightened, as if in expectation.
“I-I could do with buying a few items,” she admitted in a whisper. “I left home rather precipitously.”
Of course. How had he not thought of that? Why, she was this very moment wearing a dress belonging to another woman. She would welcome the opportunity to get some things for herself.
“Very well,” he agreed. “We’ll leave early in the morning.”
Sven let out a burst of laughter. “You will do for her what you will not do for me, I see,” he said, reversing back to Norse. “Well, I cannot say I blame you. She’s quite a pretty?—”
“Shut your mouth,” Magnus snarled in the same language. “And if I see you put your hand, or even just a finger on her ever again, I will cut it and feed it to my dog. Is that understood?”
The outburst was so unprecedented that Sven did not even think to smirk. Satisfaction swelled within Magnus. Why had he not done that before? It was not so difficult to put his brother back in his place.
“Understood. Now, shall we go and see Wolf? What I have to tell him will be of interest to you.”
“You go. I’ll join you in a moment.”
First, he had to prepare a pallet for Agnes in his hut. At the idea of her sleeping so near him, his body gave a jolt. Another jolt, he should say. He seemed to be constantly aroused around her.
That decided him.
Instead of joining her as quickly as possible, as he would have liked to do, he would stay drinking and talking with Wolf and Sven long into the night. He would wait until she was safely asleep before going back home. That way he would not risk doing something stupid, like pouncing on her as soon as she looked at him in that way she had of looking at him.
Yes.
That was what he would do. Talk to distract his mind from thoughts of Agnes, drink to dull the edge of the desire he felt for her, and hope it worked.