“I… Thank you.”
It was not what she had expected him to say, an unusual compliment, but lovely. Anyone could have told her she was beautiful—well, potentially they could, because in reality, no one had. But very few people would have chosen to praise her laugh instead. And she found that she rather liked that. It sounded more sincere, not something chosen to please her.
To hide her turmoil, she bent down and started to run a hand over the tiny rocks at her feet, wet and mingled with coarse sand, finding the rustling sound soothing.
“I used to bring a piece of rock home every time I went to the beach with my father when I was small,” she told Torsten, who’d knelt down next to her, his head only inches away from hers. “I always took ages to find one, which annoyed him, and ended up selecting one of the smallest ones I could find.”
“If that’s the case, why didn’t you just bring grains of sand? It would have saved your poor father a lot of frustration.”
“I suppose I could have.” She laughed again, and made the mistake of looking at him at the same time. There was a look on his face she would have described as pure lust had she thought herself capable of provoking that emotion in men. But she wasn’t, was she? Besides, she hadn’t done anything other than laugh and agree with him.
“Fuck, Aife, but I do love your laugh.”
Why did it sound as if he’d just told her the most scandalous thing she’d ever heard? The place between her thighs, the place he’d helped her stroke the other night, rippled. By the gods! Had she been a man, her shaft would be hard as rock. But she was a woman, and her insides had gone soft as butter.
“All right, I’ll take this one,” she said, picking up a pebble at random.
With her mind still reeling from their proximity and his unusual compliments, she could not focus. But she did want a memory of this day, this moment with Torsten. The stone itself was of no import, all that mattered was that every time she looked at it, she would be reminded that, for a heady moment, he had looked as if he wanted her.
And for a heady moment, she’d wanted him.
All of him.
It was then that she realized. Thorfinn, Haakon, Sven even, they had been little more than infatuations. If truth be told, she had never imagined things would work out between them. She had simply been desperate to find someone and they had happened to be there. Her relationship with Torsten, by contrast, had been real, based on mutual liking, not physical attraction, and strong enough to survive the deception she had inflicted on him. She had been dazzled by the other men’s appearances but she had fallen in love with Torsten because of who he was. It had crept up on her while she was busy looking at his brother.
In love.
Yes, she had to be in love with Torsten, it was the only explanation for how she felt. She felt stupid, like someone who had been handed a real gem and had not seen it because she’d been too busy sifting through common rocks to notice.
“What do you think of this one?” she asked him, her throat dry. “Should I take it home?”
He let out a scoff, not in the least impressed by the piece of rock she was holding out, with reason. It was misshapen and of an uninspiring gray color.
“That one is a monstrosity and you know it. It’s not even that small, so it will look ridiculous in the middle of your collection. I’m sure we can do better than that.”
He let his fingers sift through the rocks between them a moment. Aife watched him, fascinated. He really did have the most nimble fingers, long and assured. Another ripple warmed her core when she remembered just how nimble they could be when they touched a woman, when he touchedher. Was that all she would be able to think of when she watched him from now on? Probably. She did not see how she could not.
All too soon, he ceased his search and placed a small pebble on her open palm. “How about this one?”
It only took Aife one look to understand that this would be the rock she brought back home and cherished forever. It was perfectly round, polished to a smooth finish and almost translucent. The color, of a deep, honeyed amber, reminded her of Torsten’s amazing eyes. The misshapen monstrosity was instantly dropped to the ground and forgotten.
“Yes. You’re right. This one is perfect,” she said, lifting it in air to admire the way the sun pierced through it, revealing the myriad of hues hidden within. Just then a seagull squawked and swooped right above her. Surprised by the jarring noise and theunexpected move, Aife ducked—and dropped the little rock at her feet.
“Oh no!”
She’d meant to keep it as a souvenir, and now it was lost amidst thousands of almost identical rocks she’d trampled in her surprise. Not daring to move or use her hands in case she unwittingly buried it any further, she searched frantically with her eyes. Torsten helped, but they could not find it.
“Let’s go get more cockles,” she said, standing back up after a while. No need to cry over what would never be.
Just like the beautiful pebble, Torsten would have to remain a memory treasured in her heart.
12
After what felt like an eternity bending over in an awkward position, Torsten straightened up and stretched his aching back. By the gods, he was definitely more at home in the forest, despite the lovely view. Ahead of him, the sea had advanced quite considerably and was now lapping at the rocks huddled to his left, frothing as it surged and retreated in a rhythmic motion. Where was Aife? Lost to his search, he had not seen her disappear. Was she hiding behind the tallest of the rocks?
He was considering going to check when he heard her cry of—was it delight or dismay?—from behind him. Alarm spiked through him, an instinctive reaction. Had the Normans come back? Was someone else attacking her?
“What is it?” he asked, turning to face her.
