“Don’t make them too long, either, else you run a greater risk of talking yourself into a bad rhyme.” She’d seen it many a time, especially the longer the contest went on. “Now you try.”
He blew out a heavy breath, setting down his ale and knitting his brows.
“Many a man can wield a sword,
“But few, indeed, are such a disgrace to their lord.”
Astrid laughed so hard her ale flew back into her cup. “That was better than I expected,” she admitted, unable to stop grinning. “But you need to make it more clearly personal. You didn’t name the man who was a disgrace, so the insult is weakened.”
She stood, taking a few steps right in front of him as she thought up another example. “Your opponent could counter it,” she explained.
“How happy for me, thatyoupointed that out,
“It saves me the trouble of watching you rout.”
Once again, Cormac laughed, this time so hard he had to set down his ale so it didn’t spill.
Astrid couldn’t help but join him. “Gods, that was awful, wasn’t it?”
“Wait, wait.” He held up his hands, a look of pure mischief on his face.
“Rout or rot? They’re both the same,
“When spoken by a man with your stink and name.”
He barely finished the last word.
Astrid doubled over at the atrocious insult, falling onto the bed beside Cormac. “I can’t decide if that was awful or brilliant,” she gasped between laughs.
Cormac let himself fall backward, his head facing hers on the soft blankets. His whole face lit as he looked at her, filled with infectious mirth. Blue eyes sparkled like gemstones, or like freshly fallen snow. Laying like this, so close to him, put Astrid in mind of the day they collected the evergreen boughs.
Of the day she thought he might kiss her.
Her eyes fell to his lips, to the way they pulled tightly across his face in a grin yet somehow still looked so full. Before she could shake some sense into herself, he moved toward her, sealing her thoughts with a kiss.
His lips felt just as soft and full as they looked, tasting her tentatively. She felt the smile on his face as his hand came up to her cheeks, as his nose brushed gently alongside hers.
A rush of heat flooded her body. She should stop this. She shouldn’t want this. Yet, whether the ale or the atmosphere or something else entirely, Astrid let herself have this one moment. Wrapping one hand over his shoulder, she pulled herself toward him and kissed him right back.
Chapter Twenty
Good lord, shewas kissing him.
By all rights, she could’ve smacked him and he would’ve deserved it. He’d fumbled his way through drinking and rhyming until he was so deep in his cups that he’d convinced himself this was a good idea.
And, somehow, she’d agreed. Instead of fleeing, she held his shoulder like a tree in a storm, her shuddering exhale disappearing into his mouth.
Every muscle in his body tightened at the taste of her on his lips, the feel of her beneath his fingers. His thoughts were too dulled by ale to be of any help, so he let it all go. There was no more hiding how he felt or what he wanted. His tongue teased her, parting her lips and deepening the kiss.
Her body rolled against his, delicious curves pressed greedily against his hardening desire. A sinful moan escaped her, sending a shiver down his back and setting a fire in his blood.
Then she pushed him away.
Astrid was up and out of the bed before he could even manage an apology. Clearly, he’d misread her. The ale had dulled his mind more than he realized, a mistake he hoped hadn’t done irreparable damage.
Cursing himself for a fool, Cormac poured himself another cup of ale.
She didn’t speakto him at all the next day. Or the one after that. Or even the one after that. They played moreknattleikrand were taught to row the longboats, leaving Cormac as exhausted physically as he was defeated mentally. He tried to corner her to properly apologize, but she managed to avoid him at every turn. He grew so distracted between trying to fix his blunder and performing in all the various matches that he completely forgot about theflyting.
