“I think this might have been a palace once,” Aife mused, looking at the stone arching over their heads. She had never really wondered about the building’s past as a child, but it seemed obvious to her now. It was too grand, too ornate to be anything else.
“Yes, you’re right, it might have been a palace,” Torsten answered in a flat voice. He seemed to say that he cared not one way or the other, not when they had something much more significant to discuss.
“I wonder what those Romans ate, what they wore, and what they did all day? What they thought? Probably the same as us, all things considering. We always seem to think that people who lived many centuries before have nothing in common with us, that they looked and behaved vastly differently. But I doubt that is the case. People are people, they have the same needs and hopes, don’t you think, no matter where or when theywere born? They crave recognition, tenderness, they need to be loved.”
There she was, rambling on again because she couldn’t face what she felt, couldn’t find the courage to do what she really wanted to do or say what she wanted to say. She took in a sharp inhale. Would she ever be brave enough not to hide behind a stream of nonsensical words…to confront what she felt?
“Aife. Why don’t you just tell me what’s on your mind instead of asking me questions about Roman people you don’t care about?” Torsten suggested, his voice slightly more animated now that he’d had the confirmation she was not unaware of what they needed to do, but merely uncomfortable. Having known her all her life, he knew about her propensity to ramble on when she was nervous.
She closed her eyes and decided to speak at last. If she could be brave and honest with anyone, it was with him.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did. For everything. For kissing you without warning or permission, for lying to you about the reason, for landing you into trouble with my brother, for getting you almost killed today, for making you consider killing a man, for?—”
A warm hand landed on hers before panic could overwhelm her.
“I understand. You’re sorry. Now, would you like to explain to me why you really kissed me? And please, be honest this time.”
Torsten didn’t sound angry as much as dejected. And because she had made him feel so bad, she decided to bare her soul and her worst insecurities. If it made her feel bad, then so be it. It would only be a fair punishment for what she had made him go through.
“I will do my best.” She screwed her eyes shut, unable to look at him for embarrassment. “But I must warn you, it’s pathetic. Idid want to attract Sven’s attention, like Moon told you, which is bad enough, but I fear it’s even worse than that.”
When she’d noticed that the failure of her plans to provoke Sven’s jealousy had not devastated her overmuch, she had come to the conclusion that the problem was a deeper one. Kissing Torsten had been about her, no one else. She had no faith in herself and did not trust her ability to seduce men.
“What do you mean?”
“I wanted to make myself feel better, give others and myself the illusion that I, too, could be with someone, could attract a man. I wanted to be like the others, for once.”
“I see nothing pathetic in that.”
“Are you listening to what I’m saying?” Aife asked, daring to look at Torsten at last. Lying on his side, his head propped in his left hand, he was scrutinizing her intently. His right arm rested atop the furs covering his chest. The naked skin appeared smooth and flawless, the muscles underneath sculpted to perfection. Her fingers itched to touch him. Why had she thought that she preferred overly muscular men? This was more than strength, it was grace.
So beautiful.
“I am listening,” he said earnestly. “And I’m telling you I see nothing pathetic in wanting to be like the others.”
She made a gesture of exasperation. Couldn’t he see? “I kissed you because no one else will kiss me, because deep down I know my cousin is right. No one has ever taken a real interest in me. I’m nine-and-twenty and I’ve never been with a man.”
“So? Me neither.”
A snort of incredulous laughter was wrenched out of her. Really, was that all he had to say? She’d noticed how he seemed to go out of his way to make her laugh of late, but this time it felt out of place.
“Torsten, please be serious.” This was the bane of her life. She didn’t know what to make of the fact that he didn’t seem to take her seriously.
“I am being serious. I’ve never been with a man.” All the mirth disappeared from his face and he clenched his jaw, as if wondering whether to carry on. “Or a woman.”
The world stilled around Aife. Torsten, never been with a woman? Impossible.
“But…”
“But what?” His brown eyes, so unusually compelling, glimmered in the darkness. “Did you think all men rut with every willing woman they can find?”
Like Sven?
“Well…”
In truth, she had rather believed that. But now that she thought of it, she was forced to reassess her first impression. Her eldest brother, Elwyn, had only ever been with his wife, Bee. Her other brother, Eirik, though older than her as well, had never been seen with a woman. That was not to say he was without experience, but he certainly didn’t bed his way around the village. Torsten’s brother, Steinar, had married at aged twenty and remained faithful to his wife despite her denying him access to her bed. Thorfinn had not taken any interest in her advances because he’d been in love with Rowena all his life. Torsten had just admitted to being a virgin. So, perhaps he was right. Perhaps Sven was the exception rather than the rule. She wasn’t sure how that made her feel.
Well, she would have to examine this later. For now, she was talking to Torsten and he’d just revealed something surprising. He was worried about not being like the others, just like her—a virgin, just like her. But how could he be? Sigrid had mentioned that he’d been with her friend, at least, and surely he looked too good for women not to have tried to seduce him?
