Chapter 3 #2
Aife bit her bottom lip because this was the difficult part. He might not mind helping her in principle, but the man she was trying to seduce and stir into action was his own brother. He might mind that. Perhaps she had better come up with another, more acceptable explanation.
“I had seen my cousin, Edita, walk by the forge when I kissed you,” she improvised. “She’s visiting from Mercia.”
“Yes, I know.” He still didn’t see what this had to do with anything.
“Well, the truth is, I cannot stand her!” Aife exploded, as years of resentment and restrained feelings burst out of her.
“For years she’s been flaunting the appeal she exerts over men, belittling me in the process.
She never misses an opportunity to mock me for being too small, too slender, unable to get any man interested in me, and I’m tired of it, do you hear?
Tired of hearing her tell me she already has another husband in mind, someone who’s been in love with her for years, while I’m nine-and-twenty and still unwed.
I saw her walk past, arch a supercilious brow at me, and I snapped.
I’m not proud of it, but I snapped. I did the first thing that came to my mind to show her that I, too, could appeal to men.
I thought that if she saw us kissing, if she saw me in a man’s arms, she might finally cease her mocking. ”
It was not a complete lie. She had wanted someone to see them, and Edita’s boasts did make her feel awful and insecure.
Torsten did not need to know that the two were unrelated.
And now that she thought of it, she wished Edita had truly seen them kiss.
It might put an end to the hurtful taunts about her inability to ensnare a man.
Heart beating hard, breathing labored, Aife waited.
Torsten was still looking at her, jaw clenched, eyes glowing, as if trying to decide what to make of her explanation.
Would he think her ridiculous? Think she was lying?
Demand they went to confront Edita there and then?
She had no idea how she would react in his place. Anger seemed a safe guess.
“You should have told me why you kissed me,” he said eventually, an odd expression on his face. Was he…disappointed? At least he didn’t appear angry, which was a relief. “Instead, you made me believe that you… Forget it, it doesn’t matter.”
Make him believe what? For the first time Aife considered the possibility that she might not have been the only one affected by their unexpected kiss.
What if, like her, Torsten had been overwhelmed by the heat flaring between them?
What if he’d hoped she had kissed him because she’d been moved by an excess of desire for him?
If this were the case, it would be a blow to find out she had only meant to placate a bothersome cousin.
But she could not change her version of the story now.
The truth would hurt him even worse.
Suddenly the tension between them became unbearable.
Torsten was looking at her with naked, masculine hunger.
He was no longer the trusted, harmless friend who knew her inside out—he was an impossibly alluring, potent male, able to unlock her deepest yearnings and make her body quiver with desire.
Aife had no idea how to deal with that man.
“I see that it was stupid of me,” she blurted out, ashamed, and angry at herself for ruining everything between them. “I’m sorry. I swear it won’t happen again. Please, forgive me.”
Before Torsten could say anything, she turned around and fled.
“Wulfric wants to plant a plum tree next to our house when we get married, because he knows the fruit is my favorite,” Edita announced, with the air of someone who’d just been told she would be the next queen of Mercia. “He says he wants to pick a plum every day for me to break my fast.”
“I’m not sure how he’s going to manage that in winter,” Aife mumbled under her breath—and in Norse, like her father often did in his niece’s presence.
Though in reality, she could probably not have bothered switching languages.
There was little risk her cousin would hear her while she was extolling the man’s qualities, so at least she could safely let out some of her frustration.
As the days progressed, it was becoming harder and harder to hide her irritation.
Really, was her future husband’s supposed fascination for her all Edita could talk about?
Didn’t she have a life outside of him? The two women had gone mushroom gathering that afternoon, and inevitably, after a bland start involving the differences in weather between here and Mercia, the conversation had turned to her cousin’s future husband.
Wulfric says my eyes are the color of the sea. Wulfric has bought me the most beautiful ring, look. Wulfric loves to hear me sing, he says I have the voice of an angel. Wulfric, Wulfric, Wulfric.
Aife didn’t know how long she was going to stand it, today less than ever.
Since her conversation with Torsten two days ago, she’d been unusually tense, which was little wonder.
She had hurt a friend’s feelings, all because she couldn’t accept that she didn’t have what it took to capture a man’s attention, never mind his heart.
She was not even sure Sven had seen the kiss.
He probably hadn’t, because if he had, she had a suspicion he would have delighted in mentioning it to her.
This was precisely the sort of things he would delight in doing.
Yes, she had used Torsten, for her sole benefit, and in vain.
As if that were not enough, she had then lied to him, claiming she had done so to put Edita back in her place.
The whole thing sat ill with her and she didn’t know how to make amends.
What if Torsten was too hurt to consider forgiving her? What would she do then?
“What about you?” Edita asked, as they came to a halt near the bridge.
“What about me? You want to know if I like plums? Yes, I do.”
Edita’s laugh crawled under Aife’s skin. Did Wulfric like the irritating sound as much as he liked the angelic singing, she wondered? It had not yet been mentioned, which might be a clue.
“No, silly! I mean, have you found someone like I have found Wulfric?” She nudged her elbow playfully. “I seem to remember you mentioning a Thorfinn last time we met?”
Thorfinn, Knut’s brother. Yes. Yet another man who’d caught her attention, another man who’d paid no heed to her.
Aife picked a mushroom from the basket and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger.
Was her cousin determined to make her feel bad by reminding her of her past failures? Apparently so.
“Thorfinn got married last year, to Rowena,” she said eventually. The woman he’d been in love with all along. How had Aife not realized he’d already found the woman of his dreams? From the start, she’d been fighting a losing battle.
“Oh, dear, yet another man who could not see what a gem you are. Who was the other one you were interested in? Was it Haakon? Or Ralph? I forget. Well, not to worry. I’m sure eventually someone will see that a woman doesn’t have to dazzle to be a good wife.
I actually think most men would prefer to marry a plainer woman, who will not stir the lust of all the passing men and cause them endless worry. It makes for an easier life.”
The mushroom was reduced to a pulp when Aife bunched her hand into a fist. How had her cousin turned into such a viper?
“How did you and Wulfric meet, by the way? You never told me and I cannot deny that I’m curious.”
Though she was loath to hear more about the man, she would, if the alternative was having to explain that she feared no one would ever see what “a gem she was.”
“Oh, you’re right. I did tell you he was a friend of Eowald’s, but I never told you about the day he finally declared his love to me, did I?”
Aife gritted her teeth while Edita launched herself into a detailed—and highly inappropriate—explanation of how the man had pounced on her during the Midsummer celebrations, mere days after his friend’s funeral.
By the gods, it was going to be a long afternoon.
I’m sure eventually someone will see that a woman doesn’t have to dazzle to be a good wife.
Torsten clenched his jaw. Had the woman truly said such a spiteful thing to her own cousin?
Of course she had, he knew he had not misheard.
In fact, placed where he was in the communal smoking room, he’d had no choice but to hear the whole excruciating conversation the two women were having by the bridge just behind.
He’d even sneaked regular peeks through the door to see how Aife was dealing with the deluge of thinly-veiled insults.
Not well, if the expression on her face was to be believed.
She’d told him the other day that she had wanted to put her cousin from Mercia back in her place because Edita often mocked her supposed lack of appeal.
He had not doubted her, there had been too much emotion in her voice when she’d explained what she felt, but this was a lot worse than he had imagined.
The woman was going out of her way to make herself look good, and in the process was making Aife feel lower than dirt.
There was no mistaking the self-satisfied look on her face or the scathing words.
Worse, he could see from the lack of spark in her eyes that Aife thought Edita was right, and no one wanted her.
Well, it would not do, and enough was enough.