With those words, Torsten grabbed her by the waist. The contact of her slender body made his loins flare in ways Bera’s lush curves had failed to do. This was most unfortunate—andunexpected. Wasn’t he angry at her? Wasn’t he supposed to be, if not immune to desire, at least hard to arouse? Yes, and up until then, he had always been. His own inadequacies, coupled with the resentment he felt for desiring this woman who had make a fool out of him, caused him to react a lot more strongly than he would have otherwise, be a lot cruder. His hold around Aife tightened at the same time as his resolve hardened. She wasn’t to know he was about to issue an empty threat, that he would never be able to follow through on it, she just needed to see that it was dangerous to play with fire.Hemight not burn, but another man would.
“Do you want me to fuck you where you stand? Make you scream my name?”
“No!” she rasped, trying to push him away. Her eyes had gone wide as cart wheels and no wonder. This was a side of him she had never seen before, a side he hadn’t known he possessed, a side he wasn’t sure he liked at all.
“No,” he said bitterly, releasing her and taking a step back. “There would be no point in us doing anything, would there, since Sven isn’t here to see.”
“S-Sven?”
“Don’t even start pretending that he is not the reason you wanted to act as if you and I were involved.” His brother Steinar’s horse, Fáfnir, raised his head when he started to snarl at her, but Torsten was too incensed to pay attention. “Seducing Sven was your intention all along, was it not? You don’t really care what Edita thinks, and you most certainly don’t care about me.”
“But I do care.”
Aife had never felt so wretched because say what Torsten might, she did care. In the last few days, she had come to care for him more than she would ever have thought possible. Theirmoments spent together had been perfect, and shown her that there was nothing wrong with her.
And now the moment she had dreaded for days had come. Torsten had found out what she had been desperate to hide from him, that she had kissed him to attract his brother’s attention. His reaction was even worse than what she’d feared it would be. Facing his anger would have been bad enough, but the hurt in his eyes was what truly gutted her. How he had found out the truth? Who had told him? Not Cwenthryth, surely? But who else knew about her feelings for Sven?
“Moon told me, in case you were wondering,” he said, as if he’d read her mind.
Of course. She had told her brother the truth earlier that morning, thinking to protect Torsten from retaliation. Well, she might have protected him from physical harm, but she had not protected him from what he saw as the worst humiliation.
Tears fell down her cheeks. How could she explain that she wasn’t sure what she felt about Sven any longer? Since Torsten had held her in his arms and given her a kiss that had turned her world upside down and her body inside out, she had been forced to reconsider what she felt. Nothing had happened the way she had imagined. He’d helped her willingly, he’d kissed her with exquisite skill, passion even, and yet he’d never once tried to take advantage of her stratagem, never once demanded more than what she was ready to give.
And somewhere along the way she had come to feel things for him.
“I’m sorry. I did want Sven to think we were involved with each other,” she admitted in a low voice, feeling both ashamed and ridiculous but wanting to be honest. He deserved that much.
How had she not thought this would end in disaster? Not only had she not attracted the attention of the man she’d set out to attract, but she had wounded a dear friend. Torsten had everyreason to be mad at her. She had lied to him, not just one, but twice.
“I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t think you’d understand.”
The glare he threw her made it clear that it was the wrong thing to say. “Oh. First, you assume that I won’t mind being lied to and used, then you don’t credit me with the intelligence needed to understand a foolish woman’s plan. I’m flattered.”
“That’s not what I mean… Of course you’re not a?—”
Aife knew she would never manage to put her thoughts in order while her emotions were in such disarray. All she could seem to do was blurt out the first things that came to her mind and hurt Torsten further. It was best to put some distance between them for now, give herself time to think of a better way of making him understand what it had really been about—and what it had evolved into.
Her brother’s horse was grazing just behind her, already saddled and ready to go. Torsten had been so upset earlier that he’d not closed the gate properly. It was wide open, offering her a way out of this mess. She would never outrun Torsten on foot, but Grendel would whisk her away and give her the respite she needed.
She placed a foot in the stirrup and hoisted herself into the saddle before Torsten could stop her. As soon as the horse passed the gate and bounded toward the forest, she felt her heart go lighter. She wouldn’t have to continue the painful confrontation right now.
Before disappearing under the cover of the trees, Aife couldn’t help stealing one last glance at the field behind her. Torsten, who’d always been a much better rider than she was, had vaulted onto Fáfnir’s bare back and was making his way toward her.
Damnation, he was coming after her.
7
Torsten had never ridden a horse without a saddle or bridle before, but he did not let that bother him. He and his brother’s mount knew each other well, and Aife had never been the most confident rider. Cantering on Grendel, she would not outrun him on Fáfnir galloping at full speed. Except that she was not merely cantering. When she had seen him vault onto Fáfnir she had kicked Grendel into a frenzied, uncontrolled gallop.
Was she so desperate to avoid him that she was risking breaking her neck? Had he been too harsh, too crude, too frightening?
“Aife, stop!” he called out, cursing her impetuosity and his lack of restraint. This was going to end badly, he could sense it.
Barely a moment later, he was proven right.
As they rounded a clump of trees, Grendel spooked, surprised by the unexpected sight of four men camping by the rocks. Chaos erupted. One of the Saxons’ horses, which was being tethered to a tree, took fright and reared, sending his handler to the ground. The men shouted. Grendel bucked in turn, and Aife was tossed cleanly off the saddle. Before Torstencould blink, both panicked horses were racing back to the village.
“Pour l’amour de Dieu!” one of the men shouted, running after his friend’s mount. “Tonnerre, come back!”
