Astrid narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, I suppose that’s what I get for trying to be civil.”
Cormac took a step nearer, advancing. “And now you’re avoiding the topic.” He felt like a wolf on the hunt, finally nearing his prey. He’d almost gotten her to have a real conversation with him, and he wasn’t going to give up the chase just yet.
“What is it you want me to say, exactly?” she challenged, ever ready for battle.
He was close enough now that he could smell more than just the pine trees. A delicate, sweet fragrance filled the air between them—it could only be Astrid. Something primal and long forgotten came to life, drawing him even closer to her.
“We fear only that which we cannot control,” he whispered. “You can ensure that your children learn all those things, no matter your husband. I want you to tell me what you are really afraid of.”
He didn’t think she would really do it. When her shoulders fell in defeat and the light left her eyes, he knew he’d struck true.
“If I lose my brother, my mother, the people here in Dyflin, and the traditions we share…” She went quiet for a long while. “I’m afraid I would lose myself, too.”
Her answer was so honest, so raw, and so unexpected that it tore at Cormac’s heart. He closed the small distance left between them.
Without thinking, he raised his hand to gently cup her porcelain face. Flecks of snow tickled his palm, icy pinpricks against his fingers. “The man matters more than the culture.” His fingers caressed the smooth skin of her cheek. “A good man will help you hold onto the things that matter. Whether Gael or Ostman or something else entirely.”
Her honey-colored gaze clouded over with desire. He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t stop touching her. His thumb brushed her bottom lip, and he realized that if he did nothing to stop himself, he would kiss her.
More alarmingly, he realized that he wanted to do just that.
Astrid’s lips parted invitingly, her breath a puff of white between them.
His heart raced, his body ached. He couldn’t risk it. Before he made a bigger mess of the situation, he dropped his hand back to his side and stepped away, heading for the hall.
How could he have let that happen? Where had his years of training and discipline gone?
He’d come so close to kissing her, to giving her a real reason to reject him and ruining his only chance of convincing Sitric to wed Sláine. Even still, his fingers ached at the memory of her soft skin beneath his hands. As he climbed the hill to Sitric’s hall, he berated himself. He had utterly failed at the one thing he wanted to accomplish.
Because after that appalling lack of self-control, Astrid would have no doubts about his growing feelings toward her.
Chapter Seventeen
The sun rosehot the following morning, providing enough warmth to offset the chill that gripped the air these days. Astrid pulled her cloak tighter about her shoulders as she strode across the tournament field toward the temporary halls they’d constructed for their competitors. The breakfasting hour had not yet come to an end, and Astrid hoped to catch Cairell at his morning meal so she could finish these cursed interviews.
He was the only one she hadn’t managed to meet with two nights prior. She knew that she’d been putting off this particular conversation, though she couldn’t imagine why. As her brother had pointed out that first day, Cairell may be her best chance at a marriage to a fellow Ostman. Perhaps, instead of avoiding it, Astrid should take this interview more seriously.
And, perhaps, that was precisely why she’d been avoiding it.
She shouldn’t want Cormac. Shecouldn’twant Cormac. And yet, all she’d thought about since they stood together in the snow yesterday was the feel of his hand on her cheek, warm against the bite of the winter air, and the look in his eyes as he stared into hers. Gods, she’d have sworn he was about to kiss her.
Even worse, her treacherous body hadwantedhim to kiss her. Shoving that appalling revelation into the back of her mind, she opened the doors to the hall where Cairell quartered.
These halls, as they were temporary, didn’t have large central hearths like the ones in their holding. Instead braziers lined the narrow corridors around the edge of the hall’s center, castinga soft orange glow on the room. Compared with the chaos of the past few days, the halls on the gaming field felt oddly quiet, empty enough that the servants’ footfalls echoed hollowly between the timbered walls.
A few folk sat at the tables finishing up their morning meals. Astrid had skipped her own, with little appetite this particular morn. All she wanted was to get this interview out of the way, and to get Cormac out of her mind.
Just as she’d hoped, she found Cairell sitting at one of the tables breaking his fast.
“May I join you?” she asked, walking over and standing opposite him.
He grinned up at her, his thick, golden brown beard wiggling as he did so. “I wondered when I’d get my chance with you,” he replied, gesturing that she should indeed take the seat across from him.
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to meet with you the other night,” she began. “It had simply grown too late, and I’m afraid I wouldn’t have been a very good conversationalist.” Astrid did not mention that she could have very well found him yesterday, but instead had gone on a walk with Cormac and nearly kissed him. The very thought of his name brought a tightness to her core, a sensation that had become irritatingly frequent these days.
“Did you see the snow yesterday?” Cairell asked.
“I did,” Astrid replied with a small smile. She should be the one leading this conversation, yet her thoughts continued to return to Cormac, to the way he looked at her. His eyes fiercely blue, their intent perfectly clear.
