Chapter 2 #2
Sven had been right, he looked preoccupied, for want of a better word, and she wondered if something had upset him.
Had he heard whispers about his supposed lack of virility?
Was that what the matter was? Had Gudrun started to repeat what Sigrid had told her?
Her heart went out to him. It would be awful if that were the case.
She still had no idea if she should believe the story of him being unable to bed the woman from the other village, but she hated that it could hurt him.
“I’ll be all right,” he said, sounding rather dejected.
“Can I help in any way?”
He stared at her but didn’t answer. Just then in the corner of her eye she saw Sven and Freydis stand up from the bench. In a moment they would be gone, and she had no illusion as to where they were going, or rather what they would be doing once they got there.
She threw herself into Torsten’s arms before she could think.
“Kiss me,” she breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He didn’t move, only blinked, his disbelief obvious.
No wonder. Barely a moment ago she’d asked how she could help him overcome his dejection.
It would look as if she thought she could simply kiss it away, a ridiculous proposition, admittedly.
But it was too late to back down now. In the distance, Freydis laughed.
Aife acted on instinct.
Lifting herself onto her tiptoes, she placed her lips on Torsten’s mouth.
He froze and for a few heartbeats they remained glued to one another, eyes open wide in disbelief.
Then something totally unexpected happened.
What had been meant to be a mere touching of lips, a way to show Sven that she, too, could be kissed, turned into something wild and utterly out of her control.
All it took to spark the change was for Torsten’s hands to close around her waist.
Instantly, Aife melted.
Her eyes closed, her lower body pressed itself against his, her fingers wove themselves into his hair and her tongue darted out of her mouth, coming to tease the corner of his.
As if he’d been expecting her to do that, he opened for her, and his taste, spicy and masculine, hit her with the force of a wave crashing ashore.
A groan escaped her throat. She hadn’t imagined for a moment that he would taste so irresistible, smell so alluring, or feel so perfect against her.
Kissing an old friend should feel weird, not familiar, and kissing someone by surprise should be awkward, not arousing.
And yet… And yet being in Torsten’s arms felt as natural as breathing, and the feel of his lips on hers stirred a dark desire in an unsuspected part of her, one buried deep in her soul.
Why was that?
She’d only meant for the kiss to last long enough for Sven to see them before leaving, but she ended up forgetting everything and making the most of the incredible moment.
Because it was incredible. This kiss was unlike any she had ever shared, and the feelings it provoked inside her were completely new.
Though Aife was not as experienced as she would have liked, she was not completely innocent either.
As a young girl, she had kissed a handful of village boys.
Recently, as she’d grown more selective, such opportunities had become rarer. She just hadn’t seen the point.
What was certain was that none of the kisses she’d received had felt half as decadent or as…meant to be.
The ground under her feet became unstable, so much so that Torsten had to lean her again the back of the forge to steady her.
He did so effortlessly, without breaking the contact of their lips.
Aife moaned her appreciation, savoring his confidence as well as his honeyed taste.
Who would have thought Torsten would be so manly? So delicious?
Eventually, she forced herself to draw away.
When she finally dared to look at Torsten, his deep brown eyes were swirling in a mixture of emotions amongst which she recognized desire, confusion, and anger.
Oh, what had she done? She had kissed someone she was not interested in wooing and who felt nothing for her other than friendship.
She had kissed one brother when she wanted another one.
It had been a stupid thing to do, but for a moment she had been blinded by jealousy and resentment, unable to think.
Sven had been talking to her, enjoying her story and laughing, looking at her with his amazing blue eyes.
It had been perfect. And yet as soon as Freydis had arrived, he’d forgotten about her and rushed to the wretched woman’s side.
This was clear proof that she was a friend to him, nothing more, someone he didn’t have to worry about pleasing, someone whose feelings he didn’t need to spare.
Well perhaps he would take an interest in her as a woman if he saw that others did.
Weren’t men competitive and inclined to jealousy?
He had dismissed her to go to Freydis, and she had wanted to make him see that she didn’t mind, because she had her own man.
For weeks she had tried to make Sven see her differently and it hadn’t worked.
It was time to try something new.
“What was that?” Torsten’s voice was hoarse, and no wonder. If she, who had initiated what looked like a seduction, didn’t quite understand the desire flooding her as soon as their lips had touched or couldn’t make sense of the sensations the kiss had provoked in her, he would be utterly baffled.
“I don’t know. Forgive me, I just…wanted to kiss you.” That wasn’t a lie even if, admittedly, she hadn’t wanted to kiss him for the reason women usually kissed men.
They were still pressed close to one another, his hands were still about her waist, keeping her upright against the wall of the forge, for which she was grateful, for her legs didn’t yet feel able to support her.
Really, she had been utterly taken by surprise by the intensity of the moment.
But how could she not, considering what happened?
Aife swallowed, not having expected that being pressed against Torsten would feel so right.
It was as if, physically, they were a perfect fit.
Hulking men were all very well and good to look at from a distance, but Aife was only a short woman, and rather slender.
It didn’t take a lot to make her feel uncomfortable.
In fact, when she stood next to Sven, she often thought that they would appear ridiculous to onlookers.
Torsten, by contrast, was masculine without being overpowering, strong enough to make her feel feminine, but not overwhelmed.
He also looked…well, impossibly handsome, she now realized.
Had his jaw always been so strong? His lips so full?
His eyes so fascinating? From close-up she could see that they were not just brown, as she’d always thought.
There was a whole range of emotions swirling underneath the surface, like clouds gathering before a storm.
The blue eyes she was used to gazing into, living as she did in a Norse community, seemed flatter somehow, less mysterious.
She glanced over to the bench by the oak. Sven and Freydis were gone, which did not surprise her. The kiss had lasted much longer than she had meant it to last, and it had turned her world on its head.
Aife disentangled herself from Torsten’s arms, feeling caught out.
It was time to forget the fleeting madness overcoming her and revert to a more normal behavior.
They were friends, not lovers, and she was in love with his brother.
She had told Cwenthryth as much only the other day, so she could not be admiring another man’s eyes or reveling in the heat of his embrace.
“Do you often feel the urge to kiss men like this?” Torsten rasped. By the gods, even his voice was different today, husky, as rough as a cat’s tongue, and the effect on her was just as thrilling as a lick from the animal would be.
“No, I don’t.”
Would he believe her? Would he tell his brother what she had done? Did she want him to? What would be Sven’s reaction if he knew that she and his brother had kissed? Would he even care? What would happen now?
Questions she didn’t have the answer to jostled in her mind.
Just then the door of the forge opened on Magnus. Oblivious to the tension between them, the blacksmith gestured at Torsten, a smile on his face.
“Ah, you’re just in time. Come. I’ve finished the last nail.”
Aife had kissed him.
Torsten still could not believe what had happened earlier that day.
Right after the preposterous thought that he would like to kiss a friend had crossed his mind, she had kissed him.
Apparently, she had felt the inexplicable urge too, though why that might be, he could not fathom.
His desire had been roused by the realization that she was the woman whose laugh had inflamed his imagination, but what had pushed her to kiss him?
She had looked as bewildered as he’d felt afterward, and more than a little guilty.
He could understand the feeling. This was Aife, a woman he had known all her life, his best friend’s sister.
She was only a year younger than he was, and by an extraordinary coincidence, she had been born on the same day as he had, on the day their Saxon mothers called Michaelmas.
Which, he acknowledged with a frown, was neither here nor there.
It didn’t create any particular bond between them.
It didn’t make her special to him anymore than it made him special to her.
They should never have kissed. And yet they had done just that.
It had not been a quick, sweet kiss either, quite the opposite.
It had been hot and wild, decadent, almost scandalous considering they had been out in the open, in full view of everyone.
She had ground herself against him in flagrant invitation, woven her fingers in his hair to keep him close and swirled her tongue around his in a sensual dance.
He had almost lifted her into his arms and used the wall at her back for support, while he settled himself between her spread legs and rubbed against her heat to ease the ache in his body.
Because his cock had gone hard at her proximity—rock hard, even.
Knowing how difficult he usually found it to get aroused, Torsten had never imagined that such a thing could happen during a mere kiss, with Aife of all people.
What would he have thought if she had kissed him only a few days ago, before he’d heard her laugh, he could not imagine.
It would have been even more disconcerting, and he probably wouldn’t have gotten aroused.
Perhaps it was for the best that she had taken the initiative to kiss him first, because he couldn’t bear to think what she would have done if he had kissed her with no warning and no explanation, in the middle of the village. Would she have slapped him or—
“Are you going to hammer the nails in place or what?” Steinar’s disgruntled growl cut through his confused thoughts. “I won’t be able to hold the plank in place forever. ’Tis heavy, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Recalled to the task at hand, Torsten lifted his hammer.
A group of men had assembled to finish building the hut for Thorfinn and Rowena.
The two of them had married the year before, and Rowena had just given birth to twins.
The home they’d had until then would quickly become too small for the growing family, and everyone had agreed to build a new, bigger one by the river.
Torsten had been amongst the first to volunteer for the day, as it provided him with the perfect excuse to avoid Aife.
He was unsure how they could face one another after the passionate kiss they’d shared.
It was not as if they could become a couple, was it?
They were just friends. What had happened was a mistake—it would never happen again.
Perhaps they would manage to put it behind them.
“What’s up with you, anyway?” his brother asked in his usual gruff manner. “You seem distracted today.”
“Perhaps because I am distracted,” Torsten growled back. He could be gruff too, if the mood took him. “And perhaps it is none of your business why.”
Steinar shrugged, not in the least perturbed by this less-than-gracious answer.
“All right, have it your way. I don’t really care anyway.
As long as you keep hammering, you can think what the bloody hell you want.
But I don’t intend to remain stuck here all day.
I have a wife and children to go back to. ”
Yes, Torsten thought as he pounded a dozen nails into submission, and wasn’t that the whole problem?
He didn’t have anyone to go back to.