Chapter 3 #3
He had been angry at the time for the deception she had played on him, but he could see that she had not lied; she really was convinced she could not capture any man’s interest. Kissing him to silence her cousin’s taunts had not been her best idea, but he understood now that she had genuinely not meant to hurt him.
And she was right, they were friends, and he had no feelings for her, or at least he was not supposed to have feelings for her.
How could she have suspected that he would take it so badly?
Only a few days ago he would have laughed the whole thing off and told her she was welcome to kiss him as much as she wanted because it didn’t mean a thing.
Yes, but a few days ago, he’d not stroked himself to release while listening to her laughing. A few days ago, she’d not been the woman responsible for the best, most wicked moment of his life.
Still, none of this was her fault. He should apologize to her for barking at her, find a way to make amends. And he knew just how.
Just then he spotted his brother Sven exiting his hut in the distance. Perfect. Any other man would have done, but he knew he would easily goad his hot-headed brother into action. This was the perfect opportunity to put Edita back in her place and let out his frustration at the same time.
Making sure the two women could not see him, he exited the smoke room and signalled to his brother to hurry to his side. Worried by the urgency of the gesture, Sven almost ran to him. “What is it?”
“Hit me.”
Sven arched a brow at the admittedly odd request. “I’m sorry?”
“Hit me. Now. Don’t think about why, just do it. Or will I have to tell you exactly what a bastard you can be sometimes to motivate you?”
A scoff. “That won’t be necessary, I already know that. And I can definitely hit you if that’s what you want. The question is, can you take it?”
With those words, Sven threw the first punch. But because he did not really put his heart into it and Torsten had been prepared for the blow, he did not find it hard to block it.
“Come, is that all you have? Perhaps I should have gone to Ulf,” he teased, using their thirteen-year-old nephew as bait. “He would have done a better job of it.”
Grinning, he pushed at Sven’s chest. His brother stumbled backward and cursed between his teeth.
His next punch was in earnest, and this time, he did make contact with his chin.
Torsten’s head snapped to the side and he groaned.
By the gods, but that hurt. This might not have been the best idea he’d ever had.
Suddenly he sympathized with Aife. It seemed that it was all too easy to make wrong decisions while in the heat of the moment.
Just as he was straightening his back and preparing himself to receive another hit, he heard a cry coming from the bridge.
The two women had seen him and Sven fight and they were wondering what was happening.
Finally! He didn’t want this to go on for longer than necessary.
His little brother was no weakling, and now that he’d been baited, he would not relent.
But Torsten could not allow him to come out as the victor.
He had to win, that was the whole point.
“Yield,” he told Sven under his breath, crouching into a defensive position.
“Never. You wanted a fight, you’re getting a fight.”
Another punch. Torsten barely managed to sidestep it. Not a man used to getting himself into trouble, he was already getting tired. They had better put an end to this quickly, before he got hurt.
“This isn’t about you, or even me,” he said, aiming a kick at Sven’s shin. “Yield. I’ll explain later why. This is important and I’m sure you’ll agree with me when you know what it is.”
There was a pause. Then a sigh. “I’ll yield if you at least make it look like you know how to throw a punch. I have a reputation to maintain, you know.”
“If that’s what you want.”
Putting all his strength behind the blow, Torsten hit him square on the jaw.
Sven went reeling backward, arms flailing, before collapsing flat on his back, his head thrown to the side.
Torsten wiped his mouth, hiding his smile.
This would do very nicely. His little brother had always had a flair for the dramatic.
Panting, he made his way to the two women, who were looking at him with wide eyes.
Edita seemed impressed by his performance, but Aife’s blue eyes were veiled with worry and incomprehension.
Before she could ask why on earth he was fighting with his brother, he put the basket she was holding on the ground and took her hand in his.
“Aife. That’s the fourth of your suitors I’ve sent to the ground now. What more can I do to prove to you that I can take care of you? Please say you’ll consider having me.”
The air around them seemed to still.
“Men are fighting over you?” Edita asked Aife, blinking hard. The sheer disbelief in her voice was an insult in itself. Torsten’s stomach twisted. The woman was vile and that blasted Wulfric was welcome to her.
“Men are losing over her,” he growled, not even looking at her.
His attention was wholly focused on Aife, who had gone a bright red color.
He found himself thinking that it was rather adorable.
“It’s not the same thing at all. But I’ll make sure I’m the one she chooses.
Please, Aife, say you’ll at least consider me. ”
Aife’s throat went dry when she understood what Torsten was doing.
He was making it look as if she were as popular in their village as Edita was claiming to be in hers.
Even though she had hurt him, he’d come to her aid, he wanted to help her put her cousin in her place.
Her heart wobbled, a most unusual sensation.
But what should she answer? Torsten was still holding her hand, looking at her with eyes full of hope.
Though he’d only asked the question for her cousin’s benefit, after the kiss they’d shared, she couldn’t help but wonder if she should consider him as a suitor.
When she’d seen him fight with Sven she’d worried about the outcome, but oddly enough, she’d been more worried about the damage he would do to himself than to the man she was interested in. It was all very disconcerting.
“I, too, have had men fighting over me,” Edita piped up, unable to bear not being the center of attention for once. “And I told them I would not—”
“I care not what you told them,” Torsten snapped, not even looking at her. “In fact, you can leave. I need a word with Aife, alone.”
Could a silence be loud? Apparently. Aife could practically hear Edita’s outrage, and it took all her inner strength not to burst out laughing.
At last, someone who had the courage to speak to her cousin the way she deserved, someone who took her side.
She had never seen this uncompromising side to Torsten before and she rather liked it.
“You did that for me?” she asked, once they were alone.
“Yes. And no.” He shrugged. “I did have a score to settle with Sven anyway, so this was as good an opportunity as any.”
Why did she have the impression that he was lying? She was touched, all the more so that they had not parted in the best of terms and she had feared he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with her.
“You’ll have a bruise, I fear.” She brushed his left cheekbone. It was red, testimony to the violence of the blows he’d received for her. She could only imagine how much a hit from a man of Sven’s bulk would hurt. “Here and likely all over your body.”
“Bruises are nothing,” he answered roundly, as if annoyed she thought him too weak to bear a little pain.
She didn’t, but she hated the idea of him suffering on her account.
“Listen, Aife, I’m sorry for snapping at you the other day.
I didn’t know what to think of what you told me, but after what I just heard, I understand why you would have wanted to put the woman back in her place. She is vile.”
“Yes, she is but that is no reason for you to get hurt. It was my issue to deal with, not yours,” she said quickly.
“And I too am sorry for what I did. It was inconsiderate of me. I should have at least asked your permission before I kissed you. Or at least explained afterward why I had done it and not let you—”
Torsten cut her off by covering the hand she was still holding at his cheek. “Hush. It’s all in the past now. Or…perhaps it doesn’t have to be.”
“What do you mean?” With his body so close to her, his gaze planted into hers and his hand cradling hers, she was finding it very hard to think.
“We could carry on pretending. For Edita’s sake. I mean.”
Aife blinked, afraid to have misunderstood, hoping she had not. “You want to pretend we’re involved?”
“Why not?” He shrugged again. The gesture made it appear as if he cared not one way or the other, but the light in his eyes belied that first impression.
That was the good thing about warm, brown eyes, she decided.
They had the ability to catch fire when a thought crossed their owner’s mind.
Blue eyes could only shine brighter, a much less devastating effect.
“If I can help you survive your cousin’s visit, isn’t it my duty to do so? ”
Well, no, it wasn’t. It wasn’t anyone’s duty. Aife knew she should say no. This was all wrong. She slid her hand from under his and took a step back.
“Yes. Please,” she said, before she could do the wise thing and refuse his offer. “That would be most helpful.”
Helpful. What a dreadful word to describe what she had felt when she had kissed Torsten. It had been incredible… She had enjoyed their kiss, more than she had expected, more than she had the right to.
“Well, then it is decided.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Feel free to kiss me whenever you see Edita watching us.”
The suggestion had her heart wobble anew. What was that? Nothing or no one had made her heart wobble before. Her cheeks heat, yes, many a time, her loins burn, on occasion, but her chest squeeze and what was inside quiver? Never.
“Very well,” she breathed, grateful beyond measure.
“How is your thumb, by the way?” Torsten asked, nodding towards her hand.
“My thumb?” Oh, the bee sting. Aife had completely forgotten about that. “It’s fine, thank you. But you never told me why it is that you got stung so many times?”
She’d thought she knew all there was to know about him. Apparently she did not, because she’d had no idea he was prone to bee stings—or that he could kiss like she imagined only the gods kissed.
“Growing up, I was usually the one helping my father gather honey in the forest. My other brothers never had the patience for it, especially Sven. And as you can imagine, collecting what the poor creatures have painstakingly created is not without risks. But the rewards are worth it.” He cocked his head, considering.
“I think ’tis a good lesson to teach children.
If you want to eat something sweet, you have to earn it first.”
Why was Aife under the impression that Torsten was talking about something other than honey? Something like their kiss outside the forge? As soon as the thought crossed her mind, her tongue darted out of her mouth to lick her lips, as if to try and recapture the memory of it.
“I never eat honey,” she said, before she could blurt out that she was craving more of his sweet taste and was prepared to do what was needed to earn the right to it.
“You don’t?” Torsten sounded shocked.
“No. I used to love it as a child, like everyone else, but one evening, when I was about eight summers, I forgot to close the honey pot after helping myself. The following morning, I dipped my finger in the jar and brought it to my lips before realizing it was crawling with ants.” She made a face, remembering the awful sensation on her tongue.
It had still been dark in the hut and it had taken her a moment to understand that she was actually eating ants.
By then it had been too late. “Since then, I haven’t been able to eat it. ”
“Mm. I’m not surprised, but I think you should give it another try. I’ll take you into the forest and show you how good it really is.”
It was then that Aife understood she would not be able to resist the urge to kiss him a third time. This man had fought his brother for her, he wanted to help her, he’d promised to feed her honey, he made her heart wobble, he looked impossibly compelling. It was more than she could handle.
Amazed at her own daring, she seized him by the hand. “Oh no, Edita’s right here, coming this w—”
She was in his arms before she could finish the sentence.
Torsten kissed her with fierce intent, as if he’d been waiting for the permission all along.
Unlike the last time, he’d not been taken by surprise.
On the contrary, he had been the one initiating the kiss, if admittedly in answer to her request.
And the difference was staggering.
Torsten had been accepting, he was now in charge.
The kiss had been heated before, now it was scorching.
He smelled of delicious, resiny woodsmoke and salt, as if he’d just come out of the smokehouse, and Aife already knew she would never eat smoked meat again without thinking of this moment.
While his tongue, sweeter than the most delicious honey, plundered her mouth, his hands closed possessively around her waist—and everything within her wobbled.
By the gods, but the man could kiss.
And she was not sure she would ever get enough of it. She moaned into his mouth, too overwhelmed to be ashamed. After what seemed like an eternity of bliss, he drew away.
“Still here?”
What? Who? Still where? What was he talking about? Oh, yes, Edita, the whole reason for this shattering kiss. Holding on to him for fear she would waver if she let go, Aife pretended to check behind him. “No. She’s gone.”
“Good.”
She could only agree. “Yes.” Very good indeed.
All too quickly, Torsten released her and winked. “Until next time, then? I’ll make you taste the best honey.”
I think you already have.
As she watched Torsten walk away, Aife wondered if he’d guessed Edita hadn’t been anywhere to be seen.