Chapter 8
As she finished the last spoonful of gruel sweetened with honey, Cwenthryth wondered the same thing she had wondered all week. What would happen next?
Steinar had invited her to eat something in the hut because he’d not wanted to give his sons cause to worry, but she could tell his wishes had not changed despite the intimacy they’d just shared.
If anything, things had gone even more awkward between them.
The look in his eyes when he finally dared to look at her was telling.
He wasn’t sure how to handle what had happened, but he still didn’t trust her, and he still wanted her gone—the sooner, the better.
She cleared her throat. This time, there would be no hiding anywhere in the village. She wouldn’t put it past him to escort her back into town himself to make sure she was gone for good.
This time it was really over.
She stood up and placed her empty bowl on top of the other three.
Should she offer to wash them? Would it not be seen as an attempt to prolong the moment and ease her way into Steinar’s good graces?
Well, what if it was, she thought with a sudden burst of anger?
It hardly mattered. He already thought she was trying to take advantage of him and his sons’ good nature.
Nothing she did now would change that, so she might as well be polite and act as she would in normal circumstances, stay true to her principles.
Without a word, Cwenthryth took the bowls and spoons and headed toward the river. No one tried to stop her.
While she washed the bowls with quick, efficient gestures, she observed the view offered to her.
The trees were vibrant with different shades of green, the sun was high in the sky and warm on her back.
Summer was still in full bloom, but soon the days would start to shorten, the food would become scarce, the cold would settle over the land for months on end.
It made it more imperative than ever for her to find a permanent refuge.
Sleeping in ditches would not be an option in winter.
Perhaps she could go south and not stop until she’d reached the sea, leave her old life behind, and start in a place where no one knew her.
Where no one would doubt her story.
Gritting her teeth against a fresh onset of tears, she stood up. She was done feeling sorry for herself, since no one cared anyway.
When she came back to the hut, she found herself walking alongside a young woman who arched a brow when she saw that she was headed toward Steinar’s hut with clean bowls and spoons in her hand.
Her surprise was understandable, as it looked like a very domestic arrangement.
The girl, obviously someone from the village, would be wondering who was this Saxon woman who appeared to live with Steinar and washed his dirty dishes.
When it became obvious the two of them were going the same way, the Norsewoman smiled and Cwenthryth ended up telling her her name. It seemed silly to ignore one another until they reached the hut, where introductions would become inevitable.
“I’m Rowena,” the girl answered, “Caedmon and Ingrid’s daughter. The goldsmith and his wife?” she added, when Cwenthryth’s expression made it clear she had no idea who those people might be.
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t really know anyone in the village. I… Apart from Steinar, that is.”
Oh, yes, she definitely knew who he was.
She knew him so well that she could still feel the tremors he’d created in her body earlier that morning.
His caresses had been as scandalous as could be, and yet she’d not been embarrassed, as if they had shared such intimacies a hundred times before, as if men as virile as him were supposed to go down on their knees to pleasure women in such a selfless manner, plunge their tongue inside them and make them—
“And I know his sons, of course,” she added, pushing the lewd thoughts away. What was she doing, thinking of such things while talking to another person? “And his sister, Eyja, and Moon, and little Frida. I have met Rorik as well, but only very briefly.”
She was rambling now, but it was no wonder.
She had just spotted Steinar standing in the doorframe.
No doubt the sound of voices coming his way had drawn him out of the hut.
He was glowering, as he was wont to do every time someone talked to her.
No doubt he would be thinking that she was trying to get Rowena to side with her before leaving, which she was not.
Unfortunately, at that moment, they came to a stop in front of the hut and the girl said the one thing guaranteed to raise his hackles.
“Never mind. You’ll be able to meet everyone tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?” Cwenthryth asked, doing her best to avoid looking at Steinar. Not that it mattered what was planned for the following day, as she would be long gone by then.
“My wedding. I’m marrying Thorfinn, the blacksmith’s son.” Rowena’s cheeks went a beautiful pink color, betraying her joy at the prospect. “Our fathers have been working together for years, and we practically grew up together. It was only a question of time before we fell in love, I suppose.”
It was an interesting way of seeing things.
Eyja had told her more or less the same thing the day she’d given birth to her daughter, that she had married an old childhood friend who’d suddenly become more.
Cwenthryth had never thought such a man would ever tempt her into matrimony.
All the boys she had grown up with seemed somehow immature.
Or perhaps they were not, and the issue was with her; but she still saw them as the children they had once been.
That made it impossible, in her mind, to see them as men who could rouse irresistible desire inside her.
In bed with them, she would feel too self-conscious, as if they were doing something wrong.
She would much rather fall under the spell of a handsome stranger, be struck by his masculine presence the first time she laid eyes on him.
That idea was so much more exciting.
Well, on principle, it was. Because in reality, of course, handsome strangers were more prone to glower at her and send her to hell than fall under her spell.
She should know. Such a man was standing in front of her right now, and it was clear he didn’t see her as the answer to his life’s questions.
“I’m sorry, but I won’t be here tomorrow. I was actually about to leave the village,” Cwenthryth hurried to tell Rowena, not wanting to give Steinar any more reasons to think her a schemer.
The girl looked horrified, as if her departure had been intended as a personal slight.
“Oh no, you can’t leave now! You absolutely have to stay another day at least, and celebrate with us.
The more, the merrier. My brother, Haakon, will be glad to have someone new to meet, especially a woman as lovely as you. ”
Cwenthryth thought she heard Steinar growl, and the sound sent shivers all down her spine.
Dear Lord. Eyja had told her that his name meant stone, and she’d agreed that it was a fitting name.
Then she’d found out the previous day that his father’s name was Wolf, and here he was, all-out growling like the wild beast. What else would she find out about him?
Was the cloak he wore in winter made from the pelt of some fearsome animal, an animal he shared his gruff temper with?
“Please. Say you’ll come,” Rowena pressed, taking her hand in hers.
Cwenthryth had no idea why her presence mattered so much to the girl.
They didn’t know one another, they had only just met.
Had she promised her brother she would find him a bride from outside the village and she’d finally seen a chance to make good on that promise?
Was that what this was about? Was this Haakon looking to settle and his sister thought she could help?
She was about to refuse, but then she realized that she was done with having a man who had no right over her decide what she could or could not do.
For a whole year she’d endured that precise same thing and hated it.
But it was over now. There was no reason she couldn’t accept Rowena’s kind invitation.
Steinar did not own her. If he didn’t want to have her sleep under his roof tonight, then he didn’t have to.
She could go to the tree house for one last night, or even to Moon and Eyja’s.
She was certain they would welcome her in, even if she preferred to be on her own.
Or she could sleep in a ditch, if she had to.
She’d done it once, she could do it again.
In any case, she would be there tomorrow to celebrate the new couple’s union.
She smiled at Rowena, feeling happier than she had in weeks.
“I will be delighted to come, thank you.”
That night, without asking for permission, Cwenthryth went to sleep in the tree house. Though Steinar had to have suspected her intention, he did nothing to stop her. It was not quite an agreement, but as close to one as she would ever get from him.
As soon as she entered the small space, she was assaulted by memories of their fiery encounter of the morning.
What he had done to her had taken her by complete surprise.
Considering how formidable he was in life, she had imagined he would be a demanding, if not downright dominating lover.
Instead he’d been tender, generous, patient.
Perfect, exactly what she’d needed.
Without even taking her, he had shown her what lovemaking was all about.
When Eahlswith had told her that being with a man was one of the most pleasurable things a woman could experience, Cwenthryth had not believed her.
Based on what she had gone through with Godfrid, she’d deemed it both degrading and painful.
In one masterful demonstration, Steinar had changed her opinion forever.