She glanced over to the bench by the oak. Sven and Freydis were gone, which did not surprise her. The kiss had lasted much longer than she had meant it to last, and it had turned her world on its head.
Aife disentangled herself from Torsten’s arms, feeling caught out. It was time to forget the fleeting madness overcoming her and revert to a more normal behavior. They were friends, not lovers, and she was in love with his brother. She had told Cwenthryth as much only the other day, so she could not be admiring another man’s eyes or reveling in the heat of his embrace.
“Do you often feel the urge to kiss men like this?” Torsten rasped. By the gods, even his voice was different today, husky, as rough as a cat’s tongue, and the effect on her was just as thrilling as a lick from the animal would be.
“No, I don’t.”
Would he believe her? Would he tell his brother what she had done? Did she want him to? What would be Sven’s reaction if he knew that she and his brother had kissed? Would he even care? What would happen now?
Questions she didn’t have the answer to jostled in her mind.
Just then the door of the forge opened on Magnus. Oblivious to the tension between them, the blacksmith gestured at Torsten, a smile on his face.
“Ah, you’re just in time. Come. I’ve finished the last nail.”
Aife had kissed him.
Torsten still could not believe what had happened earlier that day. Right after the preposterous thought that he would like to kiss a friend had crossed his mind,shehad kissedhim. Apparently, she had felt the inexplicable urge too, though why that might be, he could not fathom. His desire had been roused by the realization that she was the woman whose laugh had inflamed his imagination, but what had pushed her to kiss him?
She had looked as bewildered as he’d felt afterward, and more than a little guilty. He could understand the feeling. This was Aife, a woman he had known all her life, his best friend’s sister. She was only a year younger than he was, and by an extraordinary coincidence, she had been born on the same day as he had, on the day their Saxon mothers called Michaelmas.
Which, he acknowledged with a frown, was neither here nor there. It didn’t create any particular bond between them. It didn’t make her special to him anymore than it made him special to her. They should never have kissed. And yet they had done just that. It had not been a quick, sweet kiss either, quite the opposite. It had been hot and wild, decadent, almost scandalous considering they had been out in the open, in full view of everyone. She had ground herself against him in flagrant invitation, woven her fingers in his hair to keep him close and swirled her tongue around his in a sensual dance. He had almost lifted her into his arms and used the wall at her back for support, while he settled himself between her spread legs and rubbed against her heat to ease the ache in his body.
Because his cock had gone hard at her proximity—rock hard, even.
Knowing how difficult he usually found it to get aroused, Torsten had never imagined that such a thing could happen during a mere kiss, with Aife of all people. What would he have thought if she had kissed him only a few days ago, before he’d heard her laugh, he could not imagine. It would have been even more disconcerting, and he probably wouldn’t have gotten aroused.
Perhaps it was for the best that she had taken the initiative to kiss him first, because he couldn’t bear to think what she would have done if he had kissed her with no warning and no explanation, in the middle of the village. Would she have slapped him or?—
“Are you going to hammer the nails in place or what?” Steinar’s disgruntled growl cut through his confused thoughts. “I won’t be able to hold the plank in place forever. ’Tis heavy, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Recalled to the task at hand, Torsten lifted his hammer. A group of men had assembled to finish building the hut for Thorfinn and Rowena. The two of them had married the year before, and Rowena had just given birth to twins. The home they’d had until then would quickly become too small for the growing family, and everyone had agreed to build a new, bigger one by the river.
Torsten had been amongst the first to volunteer for the day, as it provided him with the perfect excuse to avoid Aife. He was unsure how they could face one another after the passionate kiss they’d shared. It was not as if they could become a couple, was it? They were just friends. What had happened was a mistake—it would never happen again. Perhaps they would manage to put it behind them.
“What’s up with you, anyway?” his brother asked in his usual gruff manner. “You seem distracted today.”
“Perhaps because I am distracted,” Torsten growled back. He could be gruff too, if the mood took him. “And perhaps it is none of your business why.”
Steinar shrugged, not in the least perturbed by this less-than-gracious answer. “All right, have it your way. I don’t really care anyway. As long as you keep hammering, you can think what the bloody hell you want. But I don’t intend to remain stuck here all day. I have a wife and children to go back to.”
Yes, Torsten thought as he pounded a dozen nails into submission, and wasn’t that the whole problem?
He didn’t have anyone to go back to.
3
Aife came to an abrupt halt, wondering what to do.
Torsten was in the field on the other side of the path, hammering the nails Magnus had given him two days ago to the fence of the sheep enclosure. There simply was no way to reach the village without walking past him and being seen. But was it such a bad thing? After what had happened outside the forge, it was imperative they cleared the air without delay. The last thing she wanted was for things between them to become awkward. They were friends, had practically grown up together, and she would hate for her moment of madness to ruin what they had. Torsten was a dear friend, and she couldn’t imagine not having him in her life because of a stupid mistake.
Damn it all, why didhehave to be in front of her when she’d taken the foolish decision to provoke Sven’s jealousy? Anyone else would have been better. Torsten was the last man she should have kissed, considering he was the brother of the man she was trying to attract. Or perhaps Steinar would have been the worst choice. After all, he was married, and to a woman who was a good friend. Yes, kissing him would have been even more awkward, but knowing this did little to ease her mind.
While she built up the courage to go to Torsten, she remained hidden amongst the trees, watching him plant a sturdy post next to a crumbling one, which he then uprooted and threw into a pile behind him. After taking a swig out of his wineskin, he repeated the whole process. It was fascinating to watch because he was swinging his heavy-looking mallet with disconcerting ease, his movements both elegant and strong.
Eventually, stiffening her spine, Aife walked straight to him. The more she waited, the more flushed she seemed to become. It would not do. Better to get it over with.
“Good morning,” she said, putting her basket full of herbs down next to the pile of discarded wooden posts. Her foraging had been successful that morning. She had all the St John’s wort she needed for making her tinctures and oils, and she had even found some late flowering meadowsweet. The blooms’ scent wafted around her, adding a sweetness to the moment.
