The suggestion had her heart wobble anew. Whatwasthat? 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—andeverythingwithin 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.
4
“Here, let me help you fold this.”
Aife smiled her thanks to her mother and handed her one end of the sheet she’d put to dry in the field earlier that day. “Did you want to see me?” she asked, once they had gathered the rest of the clothes that now smelled of lush grass.
“Yes, to tell you that Thorfinn and Rowena are moving into their new house tomorrow. A group of us are going to help. Will you come too?”
“Of course.”
