Chapter 8
Sven bit back a groan.
He had expected that having Eahlswith with him on Gulltoppr would be sweet torture but this was a hundred times worse than what he had anticipated. A hundred times better. He barely resisted the temptation to steer his horse the other way so as to prolong the ride for as long as possible.
When they finally came in view of the village, he stopped before they could be seen together and jumped down from the saddle.
Fortunately, he still had a couple of planks in his bag.
He’d been unable to use them as they were too short to be nailed to Osbert’s roof, but they would be ideal for what he wanted to do.
Fumbling in the bottom of the bag he extracted a particularly sharp nail and looked up to address Eahlswith, who was watching him, brow arched.
“Tomorrow I will bring you new boots,” he said matter-of-factly. “We have an excellent cobbler here at the village. Bo is a friend. I’ll go speak to him, see what he can do and—”
“No.”
Of course he’d expected it, but her refusal still grated. Precisely because he’d guessed she would refuse, he would have preferred to surprise her with the new pair of shoes, thereby avoiding an unnecessary conversation. Unfortunately, that was not an option, as he needed to take her measurements.
“Listen, it is not a question of money,” he said, guessing that would be the reason behind her objection.
“You’re here to help my family, look after my nieces, help my sister-in-law, set my brother’s mind at rest. That is priceless.
The least I can do I ensure your comfort while you’re doing it.
” This time Eahlswith didn’t reply but she still looked unsure. He hated it. “Please, let me do this.”
To his relief, she took the hand he was offering and jumped onto the ground.
Then she obeyed his silent instructions to place her booted foot on the plank and didn’t move when he traced the outline of it with the nail.
Then he drew the other foot on the other side of the plank.
With this, Bo would be able to make her a pair of shoes that would allow her to walk in the snow without getting wet.
The ones she was wearing really were good for nothing, and they had still not completely dried.
The new pair could not come quickly enough.
“Thank you, he said, standing back up.
“I think I should be the one thanking you.”
“No. I won’t be the one making the boots.”
“You know very well that is not the issue here.”
Yes. He did. Still. He would have done much more for her.
“If it were up to me, I would also get you a new pair of stockings and gloves so this is nothing.” She reddened when he nodded at the ones she was wearing.
He could tell she was fighting the urge to hide her hands behind her back.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that they, too, are worn out. ”
“Please. You have done enough for me already.”
No. Whatever he did for her, it would never be enough. Sven forced himself to move and put the nail and plank back into his bag. It was either that or give her another kiss and he could tell that, this time, she might well push him away. The explicit rejection would be too hard to handle.
“Let’s go. Cwenthryth will be waiting for you.”
They climbed back on Gulltoppr and a moment later they were in front of his brother’s hut. Sven handed Eahlswith down, enjoying the feel of her in his hands. What was it about her that set his blood on fire? She was hardly the first woman whose waist he had held…
“Come to find me tomorrow night. I’ll give you the boots then.”
He could have brought them to the hut, of course, but he guessed she would prefer it if no one knew he’d had them made for her, instead pretending they had been in her bag all along.
After all, the two of them were not supposed to know one another.
The way she nodded indicated he was right.
She didn’t want to be seen accepting a present from him.
“Thank you, Sven. For everything.”
Everything. The boots and the night of passion.
The wind had picked up since they’d exited the forest and was now whipping tendrils of hair about her face. He reached to remove an inky strand from her eyes. If she had been his wife he would have suggested she braided it around the temples like the people in his village did.
His wife.
He swallowed as the idea exploded in his mind.
It was not the first time he had imagined himself married, of course, but this time it felt just right, not merely like wishful thinking.
With the other women, his reason had prevailed.
It had told him that they could perhaps fulfil the role of wife.
With Eahlswith, his Alva, his heart was doing the talking.
And it was urging him not to give up until he’d made her his in all the ways a man could make a woman his.
The door opened, preventing him from doing or saying anything else.
Cwenthryth beamed when she saw that her friend had arrived.
Despite her obvious delight, though, Sven did not miss the dark circles under her eyes.
If they worried him, he could not imagine what his brother would think when he looked at his beloved wife.
No wonder Steinar had arranged for her to have help while he was gone. She looked exhausted.
“I was about to go to the well,” she said, indicating the bucket in her hand.
“I’ll do that.” Eahlswith immediately volunteered. “You go—”
“No, I’ll do that. You two get back inside, where it’s warm. I’ll bring the bucket back in a moment, when I’ve seen to Gulltoppr.”
“Thank you.”
Sven barely repressed a snort. No one had thanked him more than this woman had today.
But he didn’t want her to thank him for bringing in water for her, making sure she had dry feet or even giving her pleasure in bed.
Any man, anyone could do that. Instead, he wanted her to accept what was between them and agree to see what it could develop into.
Unfortunately, she didn’t seem ready to.
Well, at least, she was here for a few days. He would make sure to make the most of this unhoped for opportunity.
Eahlswith watched Sven walk away, Gulltoppr following him like a pup would. The two of them made a striking pair. The true Heimdallr and his golden-maned steed could surely not look more magnificent.
“I should have guessed Sven would go to the well for us. He’s very thoughtful, like his two brothers,” Cwenthryth told her, leading her into the hut.
Indeed, the wind was bitterly cold and she was glad not to have to have to worry about filling the bucket.
In this weather, she wouldn’t be surprised if there was a layer of ice to break to access the water.
“Yes, it was thoughtful of him to offer to go to the well.”
What else could she answer? He was thoughtful, generous and patient, undoubtedly.
She should know. Another man would have pressured her into accepting what they both knew she felt by now, or at least tried to convince her that if she didn’t want him to become part of her life, at least she could allow him access to her body.
He had done neither and she was grateful for it.
“How come he brought you to the village?” her friend asked, closing the door behind them. “I thought Steinar would have.”
“Apparently your husband ran into his brother as he was reaching the town gate and, as he wanted to get to the harbor to meet a Danish merchant, he asked him to bring me to you instead.”
“Mm. What was Sven doing in town that early in the morning, I wonder?”
Eahlswith busied herself with putting her bag into a corner of the hut to avoid having to answer—and hide her face, which had likely gone bright red.
What would Cwenthryth think if she realized he’d spent two days repairing Osbert’s roof?
She would, understandably, wonder what could have motivated him to help a man he didn’t know and who was connected to a woman he’d seen only once in passing.
“Now. Tell me what I can do to help,” she said, straightening her back. They had better get to the important part of this conversation and stop talking about Sven altogether. She was here to forget about him.
Cwenthryth let out a sigh. “Having someone to look after the girls while I get the sleep I need would be wonderful.”
“I will do much more than that. You are not to cook a thing or see to the animals or go into the forest while I’m here, do you hear?
” Her friend did look exhausted, but hopefully, it wouldn’t take too long for her to recover if someone else did what needed to be done.
“The only thing you’ll be allowed to do is feed Liv and give Sanna motherly kisses when she needs them. This I cannot do for you.”
“Oh!” To her horror, since she had only meant the comment as light-hearted, Cwenthryth burst into sobs.
“What is it? What have I said?” Eahlswith asked, taking her into her arms. Panic flooded her chest. Was there something she should know about the girls? Liv was sleeping in her cot but she hadn’t seen little Sanna yet.
“You’ve always b-been here for me. You were there when I— When the— And now you’re here with me again, but this time I have two beautiful babes with me and though I’m t-tired, it’s too much joy f-for me to—”
Unable to carry on, Cwenthryth tightened her embrace.
Eahlswith held her, understanding what she was referring to.
Her own eyes filled with tears at the memory.
Three years ago, Cwenthryth had lost her unborn babe.
That this baby had been the product of a rape had not lessened the shock of it, and the loss of blood had endangered her life.
Eahlswith had been the one to find her on her bloodied pallet and then help her to deal with the whole mess.
It had been awful and it did feel good to now be able to help her deal with the very real joy of having two healthy little girls.
“Hush, you’re exhausted and need to rest, that’s all. You will feel better after a nap, I promise. I’m here. I will always be here. After what you endured, I am delighted to help you look after your children.”
“Thank you. I’m so glad to have you here. I’ve missed living next to you.”
“Yes, me too.”
Though she knew Cwenthryth had found her place in the Norsemen village, it did mean that they didn’t see one another as often as she would have liked.
A thought flashed through Eahlswith’s mind.
Could she come live here also? She stilled.
Of course not. The only Saxons living here were the ones married to one of the inhabitants and she knew that would never be her, even if she did know a Norseman who might—
Enough. She had come here to forget about him, not to think about marriage!
Just then there was a brief knock on the door. As if he’d sensed she was thinking about him, Sven entered the hut, bucket in hand. He froze when he saw the two women in the middle of the hut, hugging one another and crying.
“What happened?”
He was instantly on alert, placing the bucket down and scanning the hut for the source of their distress.
Had he been wearing a sword at his belt, it would be in his hand right now.
The image sent shivers all the way down to her toes.
Sven with a sword at the ready and a look of thunder in his eyes…
Heimdallr, god of war, indeed. The man had the body of a warrior, even if she guessed he did not have an aggressive bone in that chiseled body.
He would, however, be the first to jump to his family’s defense when needed.
“Nothing happened, don’t worry,” Cwenthryth told him, wiping at her eyes. “I guess I’m just overwhelmed and need to sleep.”
He nodded, looking somewhat reassured. “You do, Steinar told me as much this morning. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing, you’ve done more than enough by bringing Eahlswith to me. Thank you.” She smiled at him. “And thank you for the water.”
“’Twas nothing.”
Eahlswith stole a glance at the bucket at his feet. As she’d guessed, floating on top of the water were shards of ice. Brr. A shiver went down her spine and she shuffled closer to the firepit. She hated the cold.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then.”
Eahlswith inhaled when their gazes met, hers black as a moonless night, his clear as a sun-filled day. Until the morrow, he seemed to tell her.
Yes.
Her plan to forget about him was destined to fail. She was going to spend the next few days at the village, in constant danger of running into the very man she had hoped to avoid.