Chapter 16
Should she go see Torsten this morning, Aife wondered? After so many days without him, she was dying to see him.
How would he be feeling today? Better, she hoped.
What if he was still unable to stand up? Then she would do her best not to cry.
Would he want to see her? She hoped so.
The questions came hard and fast in Aife’s mind, swirling as fast as the leaves twirling outside her hut, whipped up by the fierce autumn winds. The weather had turned in the last few days, just like her life had recently changed. Summer was definitely over.
After much soul-searching, she decided to chance it and go see Torsten. There was no other choice. If she didn’t, she would drive herself mad. She wrapped herself in her cloak and opened the door—only to find herself face-to-face with the very man she wanted to see.
Standing on his own two feet.
“Oh!” she hugged herself, sobbing, overcome by a wave of relief so powerful it robbed her of all her strength. “Oh, Torsten.”
Before she could fall to the floor, Torsten drew her against his chest with a powerful arm, holding her upright.
She had the impression he would have preferred to sweep her into his arms but didn’t trust himself not to collapse under the extra weight.
With reason. Only a few days ago, he’d been told he might never walk again.
That he was here was miraculous enough. Risking injuring himself would be foolish.
She clung tight to him, running her hands all over his back, assuring herself he was whole, relishing in his warmth and strength, his wonderful scent.
“You can walk. You can walk,” she repeated incessantly.
“Yes, I can walk,” he soothed. “I’ve been practicing on my own for days, aided by my brothers and then by wooden staffs, following Helga’s advice. And my first visit when I finally got out of the hut was for you.”
Aife drew away, surprised. Surely he should have gone to reassure his parents, his siblings, first? He looked at her with such an expression that once again, her heart wobbled, something it only did in his presence. It seemed unable to function properly when he was in front of her.
“You came to me. But…why?”
Had Wolf told him about the encounter in town with the Normans?
He had not exactly promised he would not, and it had been obvious he’d not approved of keeping it a secret from his son.
So was this why Torsten was here? To remonstrate with her about putting herself in danger?
He didn’t look angry, but it was a possibility. She waited nervously for his answer.
“I came because I—” He stopped, as if thinking better of his first answer. Then he cleared his throat and started again. “I came because there is something I promised to give you days ago.”
“What is that?”
Instead of answering, he led her back inside the hut, a hand on the small of her back.
After closing the door behind him, he unfastened the brooch holding his cloak closed, folded the garment, and placed it on the back of the only chair.
Aife watched his every move as if she had never seen him before, as if no one had disposed of his cloak in her presence before.
Then, to her surprise, he reached out to unfasten her own cloak.
It was removed without a word and placed on top of his.
This would not be a brief visit then… He clearly meant to stay a while.
Her heart leaped at the thought. She had missed him so much.
Would that he stayed forever, here in her hut.
Finally, unable to wait another moment, she asked. “Why are you here, Torsten?”
“To give you this.”
He reached into the purse at his belt and extracted the most exquisitely crafted comb she had ever seen.
The teeth were thin and regular, the antler shaft carved with swirls of leaves and berries that seemed ready to pop out.
Of course, the comb. She had not forgotten his promise to give it to her, but she had not dared remind him of it when he’d lain in bed, waiting for his body to go back to normal.
“You remembered.”
“Of course. Here, it’s for you,” he said, placing it into her hand. It felt smooth and warm, the size perfect for her to hold. Aife stared at it, then at Torsten in disbelief.
“Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?” she asked, running a finger over the end of the teeth. It was so beautiful, he could have sold it for a good price or bartered it. Why was he giving it to her?
“I’m sure.” He smiled the smile she had come to adore. “I already have a comb, and I only have one head so a second one would be quite unnecessary. Besides, I can always make another one if need be.”
“Well, thank you. It was sorely needed. I’ve been using my mother’s since Edita left.” She ran a hand through her wild, tangled hair, feeling self-conscious. “As you can see, I haven’t had the time to go see her yet this morning. The wind when I went out to let the chickens out didn’t help.”
His smile widened but he didn’t comment. Perhaps she didn’t look as frightful as she feared. At least he didn’t seem to find her ridiculous. “Will you let me comb it for you now?”
Not waiting for her answer, he gestured that she should sit on the stool behind her.
Unable to resist the temptation, Aife did as she was told.
Her eyes fluttered closed as soon as Torsten lifted the heavy mass of her hair from her shoulders.
This would be decadent, unlike anything else she had ever experienced, not so much an explosion of the senses, but rather a stroking of the soul.
Carefully, he separated a long strand from the rest and began to comb, making sure to hold the hair near the scalp firmly until all the knots were loosened so as not to hurt her.
Aife was fighting the urge to groan and moan and sigh. Never had the simple act of combing her hair felt so good. The man really did have the most nimble fingers she could imagine.
“Here. All done.”
Already? She could have sat there all day, being taken care of. She stood back up on slightly shaky legs and took the comb he was handing back to her. Unfortunately, she could not offer to return the favor. His luscious hair looked impeccable.
“Thank you,” she said, closing her fingers around the comb possessively. She already knew it would be one of her most treasured possessions. “I love it. I will be sure to hide it the next time Edita comes.”
Something hot and fierce flashed in Torsten’s eyes. Anger? “Next time Edita comes, she will not dare steal anything from you, believe me. And she will not dare make you feel like a failure for being on your own. Because next time she comes, she will see you with a man.”
Her breath caught in Aife’s chest. Did she dare hope he meant what she thought he meant?
“With a…man?”
“Yes.”
With me, Torsten wanted to add. Because, as true as it was that he had come to show her that he could walk and give her the comb he had promised her, he had, in reality, come for a much more important reason.
He was going to tell her what he felt and ask her to marry him. As he’d lain in bed alone in his hut, feeling his body get stronger by the day, he’d had time to think about his next course of action, and there had been only one he could agree on, only one that made sense.
He’d sworn to himself that if he ever recovered the use of his lower body, he would not shy away from what he felt.
For the first time in his life, he’d found someone he wanted to be with, someone who allowed him to be the man he could be, someone who gave meaning to what he did and did not make him feel he was lacking in any way.
He was not going to let this chance at happiness pass.
Too much time had been wasted already, and after his brush with death, he knew that there were no guarantees he would get to live until a ripe old age.
He could at least make sure he spent the time he had with someone who made his life complete.
But he could not ask Aife to be that person, not yet. There was one thing he needed to know first.
“Aife,” he began, taking her free hand in his. She was still holding his comb as if it were the most precious thing she had ever held. “There’s something I need to know. Do you still have feelings for Sven?”
There it was, the all-too important question.
He knew his brother would never respond to her advances, but that didn’t mean she had forgotten her intentions regarding him.
Did the woman he’d come to love, love another man?
Torsten’s heart went in his throat while he waited for her answer.
As much as he was desperate to be with her, and give what was between them a chance to blossom, he could not be with someone who was lusting after his brother.
Any other man would have been bad enough but Sven… It was just impossible.
“No.” The word tore through the silence with the precision of one of Magnus’s double-edged swords.
“You don’t?” It seemed too good to be true. Only a few weeks ago she’d been doing everything she could to make his brother see her differently, using him to attract his attention. “Because you were—”
“I don’t,” she cut in. There was such earnestness in her tone that he instantly knew she was not lying.
“And in truth, I don’t think I ever had feelings for him, not that kind of feelings anyway.
I realized it the day we went to the beach together, because earlier that morning he’d asked me if he could come with me and I’d refused.
I…” Her cheeks went a delicious red color when she made her confession.
“I think I merely lusted after him, it was never…like it is with you. I lust after you as well, but I also laugh with you, I dream of you at night, I worry about you, I want to eat cockles with you, watch you sleep, confide in you, ask you questions, watch the sun set while nestled in your arms. It’s everything with you. I—”
I love you.
She didn’t say the words, but they still filled the resounding silence.