Chapter 9
“Ican’t.”
“Of course you can,” Haakon coaxed, his voice going even deeper than usual. “It’s easy. Just open your mouth, and put it in. Then swallow. Please. For me. I promise you’ll like it.”
Cwenthryth warily eyed up the pastry he was handing her.
After the longest and most delicious meal of her life, she could not possibly have eaten another thing.
She was as full as she had ever been and still Haakon was trying to tempt her.
The treat looked delicious, she had to admit, but she knew she could not eat another bite, never mind a whole tart bursting with berries.
“I can’t,” she repeated.
“It’s only a small—”
“Have you suddenly gone deaf, man? She told you she was not hungry.”
The growl accompanying the rude declaration could only have been uttered by one person.
Cwenthryth was therefore not surprised when she turned to see Steinar standing behind her with eyes like thunder.
How did he know the man was trying to entice her into eating one last pastry?
Had he been watching them during the meal?
Perhaps, and the way he was glaring at Haakon seemed to indicate he hadn’t liked anything that had happened that evening.
Well, she’d been watching him as well, and she hadn’t liked seeing women throwing themselves at him either. That he had appeared oblivious to their seduction ploys had been small consolation. It had made her feel inadequate and unwanted.
“I think I will go and offer my congratulations to Rowena and Thorfinn,” she announced, standing up.
She was not going to stay while the two men ripped one another over her.
What was Steinar doing anyway? It was not as if he wanted her for himself, was it?
He had no right to be upset, any more than she had the right to be jealous of the women vying for his attention.
Tomorrow they would go their separate ways.
She left before anyone could point out she had already congratulated the happy couple earlier.
Instead of going to see the newlyweds, however, she took refuge behind the smithy, eager for some privacy.
With the bonfires hidden from view, cooling darkness wrapped over her.
Only the faint blue light coming from the moon crescent suspended above the thatched roofs prevented her from being swallowed in obscurity.
Cwenthryth sagged against the wall of the forge, feeling utterly dejected.
Her plan for finding the man of her dreams hadn’t worked.
Haakon had been perfectly amiable, but nothing he’d said during the feast had caused her interest to spark, and every time their hands had brushed against one another—more often than necessary, she was sure—his touch had left her cold.
The fault for her unresponsiveness no doubt lay with the Norseman currently having words with him.
The man she had come to have feelings about.
Yes, that was the obvious explanation behind her misery.
She was developing feelings for Steinar, feelings as far removed from annoyance and resentment as could be, which was a problem.
What had happened in the tree house this morning only made her feel the hopelessness of her situation more keenly.
With any other man, she might have been able to build on the connection they had shared, however brief, however purely carnal, but with a man who wanted her out of his life, what could she do? Nothing.
Waiting for him to change his mind about her would lead nowhere, except to more heartache.
The painful irony of it twisted her guts.
In the end, Steinar would not have to ask her to leave again; she would do that of her own volition.
She had come to him to make sure her body was not abused again, she would now leave to protect her heart.
Staying so close to Steinar would only hurt it.
Yes, but the problem was, going back to town might prove dangerous.
Still, she had to go, make sure Godfrid was gone.
Before moving on, she had to see for herself she was really free from him.
Would she find the courage to go tomorrow?
She closed her eyes. A moment later, she felt a presence behind her.
Without turning she knew Steinar would be standing by the wrought-iron gate.
Her body had recognized him, as it did every time.
How had he known where she would be? Did he spend his time watching her? She was really starting to wonder.
“Why didn’t you tell the man to go to hell?” he growled, when it became obvious she was not going to acknowledge his presence. She couldn’t help smiling to herself. Had she not guessed who had come, the mention of hell would have been enough to confirm the man’s identity.
“Because I would never do such a thing,” she said, finally turning to face him.
“That’s something you would do, not me.” Something he did do on a regular basis, in fact, at least to her.
“And anyway, Haakon didn’t deserve being sent to hell or being snapped at the way you snapped at him. He was only being nice.”
“Nice?” A scoff. “By forcing you to put things you don’t want into your mouth and telling you you would like it?”
Cwenthryth shuffled to her feet, suddenly uncomfortable. “That’s not what he was—”
“Come,” he cut in. “You do know he made it sound like the lewdest possible proposition? Like he was trying to convince you you’d like nothing more than to pleasure him with your mouth?”
Well, no, she had not thought that at the time, but now that Steinar had pointed it out to her, she couldn’t help but wonder at Haakon’s choice of words and the glint in his eyes when he’d looked at her. Both had been very suggestive, undeniably.
Just open your mouth, and put it in. Then swallow.
Lord. How had she been so na?ve? It had been a lewd proposition, he had imagined her on her knees, offering him her mouth to use for his pleasure. Still, if anyone should take offence at the liberty Haakon had taken, it was her, not Steinar.
Embarrassment and annoyance flashed through her, making her snap. In that moment she did want to send Steinar to hell, and see how he liked the place.
“So what if he made it sound that way? What if he propositioned me?” Steinar shouldn’t care, since he did not care anything about her. “What is it to you?”
“You mean you had been about to agree?” he snarled, ignoring her question. “Had I not intervened you would have led him into the woods and sucked him off just for the asking? Is that what you’re saying? That you like it when men ram their cocks down your throat, regardless of what you want?”
Cwenthryth’s shock was such that for a long while she could not move, or utter a sound, or even breathe.
Had he really asked her that question? Had he really talked in such offensive terms to her?
When she finally recovered, two things happened, one straight after the other.
First heat exploded in her chest—and then she slapped him.
Hard. So hard her hand hurt.
Steinar didn’t react, didn’t retaliate, didn’t say anything, he just stared at her, his eyes glittering in the moonlight. It was impossible to know what he was thinking. The heat in Cwenthryth’s chest receded slightly, allowing her to talk.
“How dare you! I do not… I do not…”
The unbearably crude questions had brought her back to what she had endured at Godfrid’s hands. And, unfortunately, she knew all too well that she did not like it when men used her mouth in that way, regardless of what she wanted.
It was too dark for her to be sure but it seemed to her that Steinar’s shoulders had sagged, in defeat or in shame, she wasn’t sure.
She didn’t care either way. The slap hadn’t felt like a victory, more like a desperate attempt to hide her hurt, and if he felt guilty for what he’d said, then it was too late anyway. The damage had been done.
He had split her heart in two.
“Cwenthryth, I—”
“Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it. Just stay away from me, do you hear?”
Oh, but her life was decidedly a cursed one.
How had she had the misfortune to fall in love with a man who could be so horrible?
She’d heard Eyja and Ulf tell her he’d not always been like that, that his new gruffness had been brought on by unhappiness and it might well be true.
But this assurance was no good to her, because he certainly was horrible now, incapable of trust and compassion.
She had better stay well away from him and preserve what little dignity she had left.
Cwenthryth ran in the direction of the forest, tears blurring her vision.
Not that she could see where she was going anyway.
Under the cover of the trees, it was so dark that she soon had to come to a halt for her own safety.
Anything could be hiding ahead of her. A hole, a low branch, an animal ready to pounce.
It was better to stop moving now that she was alone.
No sense in hurting herself because of an impossibly overbearing Norseman.
He was probably not interested in coming after her, since he thought so lowly of her.
His harsh words rang in her ears in an incessant chant. His silky voice didn’t make them any less unbearable.
You like it when men ram their cocks down your throat, regardless of what you want.
She had been shocked to hear that was what he thought, but perhaps it was inevitable that he should think her the most debauched wanton.
Hadn’t she admitted to not being a virgin this morning?
Hadn’t she agreed to being, in his own words, “fucked” against a wall?
Hadn’t she rubbed herself against his mouth in encouragement when he’d devoured her?
He had every reason to think she would have followed Haakon into the woods and let him use her in any way he wanted.