Chapter 11 #2
This was no doubt down to the woman cantering by his side, her fair hair flying in the wind, her face turned up to the sun, her lips curled up in a smile.
Gratitude flooded through Torsten. In just a few days and despite her dubious reasons for coming to him, Aife had given him a purpose and his confidence back.
He now felt ready to confront his demons and trust in his ability to perform, if not with a woman, at least for a woman.
It was a first step, more than he could have hoped for, and one that could one day lead to a more fulfilling love life, a life in which he was not afraid to be what he was supposed to be.
Odd how life worked. He and Aife had grown up side by side, and not once had he thought of her as anything other than a friend, someone like his own sister, Eyja.
All it had taken for him to see her differently was that wicked laugh.
Yes, a laugh she had directed at his brother…
He should not forget that. She had not come to him because of the desire he inspired in her, she had not been interested in him as such, only in provoking another man’s jealousy.
She had thought she could use him to make herself feel better and get what she really wanted—another man.
True, she had since apologized and gone out of her way to help him in turn, but the fact remained. She’d wanted to seduce Sven, maybe she still wanted to, and they had now agreed to put an end to whatever was between them. He should stop seeing her as the answer to his questions.
The only problem was, it was easier said than done.
It seemed that the last few weeks had irremediably changed things between them.
They would have to find a new way to function, one that was suited to their unique situation.
Friends didn’t know the taste of one another’s pleasure.
Lovers didn’t usually pretend nothing had happened between them.
Well, that was a problem for another day. For now, he wanted to enjoy the moment.
“I’m going to ask my father to give me Ghost,” he told Aife, once they had brought the horses back down to a walk out of consideration for Imp’s age.
Even if what had been between them was over, she deserved to know that he was now restored to his old self.
And it felt good to acknowledge it out loud.
“He’s already got more horses than he knows what to do with, so he won’t begrudge me this one.
Devil has already sired five foals this year. ”
Ghost was a four-year-old colt, full of spirit, ideal for a skilled rider seeking a challenge. Like all his father’s horses, he was descended from Demon, the stallion bought upon the Icelander’s arrival in his new country more than thirty years ago.
“I’m glad. It was time you replaced Satan,” Aife agreed, a smile on her face.
Yes. It was time. Time to start living again.
They soon reached the sea and after a short trot along the edge of the cliff, Aife brought her horse back down to a walk again, indicating a beach down below.
“We’ll go there, it’s ideal for what we want to do.”
They negotiated their way down the path leading to the middle of a small, crescent-shaped bay, flanked on either side by imposing rock formations the color of rust. Under the powdery blue sky, the sea was shimmering as brightly as a tapestry woven with diamonds.
Overhead, a handful of seagulls soared and swooped in graceful arcs, sending an occasional squawk, the sharp sound slicing through the distant rumbling of the waves.
The beach was completely deserted and the tide was as far out as it could be.
Perfect, or so Aife declared in a competent air.
Torsten had no idea, having never gone cockles-picking before.
“Don’t you want to go for a swim beforehand?” he asked, nodding to the sea in the distance. “It’s a lovely day, even if the wind has picked up.”
He knew Aife loved to swim. In fact, she was the best swimmer he knew, much better than he was, because although he could swim adequately and perhaps even faster than she could in the lake next to the village, he was nowhere near as comfortable in sea water.
Her father, Sigurd, who’d lost his parents and younger brother when their boat had capsized, had made sure to teach his wife to swim as soon as he’d met her, and then taught his children from a young age.
As a result, Aife could swim in rough seas without ever getting tired or scared.
“No. Not today.” Despite her answer, she was staring at the sea longingly and he guessed that she was foregoing the pleasure of a dip because he was here.
Knowing he would not be able to keep up with her in the choppy waters, or indeed willing to go in these conditions, she preferred to stay with him.
He was touched, but loath to see her sacrificing herself for him.
“I wouldn’t mind waiting for you here,” he encouraged.
Indeed he wouldn’t. He most especially wouldn’t mind seeing her emerge from the water in her wet shift, the transparent fabric clinging to her body like a second skin, highlighting her slight curves.
Her hair would cascade over her shoulders in a ripple of gold, her nipples, puckered by the cold, would do their best to pierce through the thin linen.
Or it might even be that she went into the sea naked, considering that they were alone.
His throat went dry at the idea—while another part of his body flooded with blood.
By the gods, was that why he was trying to convince Aife to go for a swim?
So that he could see her naked and see the shape of her breasts, find out the exact shade of her intimate curls?
That night in the ruins it had been pitch dark and she had kept her clothes on, even when he had stroked her.
He had not thought to bare her breasts and suckle her while he used his fingers on her, which proved what an inadequate lover—and a perfect idiot—he was.
Well, he would not make the same mistake again.
If he ever had her under him again, he would make sure to look his fill before devouring her.
He would take her soft nipples into his mouth and tease them until they grew rock hard.
He would then lick every inch of her gorgeous—
“Do you remember the day all of us went to the beach?” he blurted out, in an effort to steer his mind away from the scandalous thoughts.
Aife burst out laughing. Predictably, his groin, already affected by his musings, tightened further at the sound he’d come to love.
“How could I forget? It was a rather memorable moment.”
Yes. It had been. That day, his and Aife’s siblings, all nine of them, had gone to the nearest beach, a few miles from where they were today.
The two families had always been very close, and Wolf and Sigurd’s children had spent most of their time together so there was nothing extraordinary in that, but it had been the first time they’d gone to the beach alone, under the supervision of the two eldest boys, Steinar and Elwyn.
Against everyone’s advice, Eyja had gone to swim in a shallower pool filled with seaweed.
Predictably, she had become entangled in the mess.
When she had emerged from the water covered in slimy, brownish strands, a veritable maritime monster reminiscent of the sea god Nj?rd himself, everyone had burst out laughing at the apparition.
Her hair had been so tangled with the sticky algae that it had proven almost impossible to comb when she’d reached home that night, and there had been talk of cutting it right back.
Torsten had been the one saving the day.
Young as he was, he had made a comb with spaced out teeth that had allowed Frigyth to restore the hair to its usual slickness.
For days, though, Eyja had smelled of the sea and glowered at any villager who dared remark on it.
“I’d never seen Eyja so vexed,” he commented, remembering the expression on their friend’s face.
To her utter annoyance, the boys had called her Nj?rd for weeks after the incident.
Aife had been the only one kind enough not to tease her.
“Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so vexed since. ”
“No. And even though it’s been years, I think anyone who values their life should avoid mentioning it to her. Even Moon might not get away with it.”
Torsten let out a scoff. “Aye. He might well lose a part of his anatomy if he dared remind her of how she slipped on the slimy rocks and, because of the weight and the slipperiness of the seaweed, could not get up until he and Eirik lifted her back to her feet.”
“You could have gone to help her,” Aife accused, letting out a fresh burst of laughter. This one was joyous and light, nothing like the sultry richness that never failed to rouse him. Instead of stirring his senses, it tugged at his heart, which was perhaps even more worrying. “You were closer.”
“I was, and so were Steinar and Sven. But we were laughing too much to move, and being the imp’s brothers and used to seeing her get herself into all manner of trouble, we thought it fair to let others deal with her for once.”
“Mm. I suppose. She’s always been reckless, has she not?”
She sounded rather envious, which surprised him. Surely Aife didn’t think herself dull? She was nothing of the sort. “Yes, she has. She wouldn’t have done half of what she’s done otherwise.”
He knew Aife would understand what he was talking about.
A few years back, his little sister had taken the rash decision to go to war.
Disguising herself as a boy, she had joined the army of Saxons recruited to fight the Norse invaders.
Fortunately, Moon, who had gone also, had taken care of her and made sure she came back home unscathed.
It was during that adventure that his friend had come to see the imp in a different light and fallen in love with her.