He raised a brow. ‘You may get in first. Try to sleep. Don’t mind me. Sleep and I are strangers.’
Svanna needed no second urging and dived under the pile of furs. She wrapped her arms about her legs and curled up into a ball. She screwed her eyes tightly shut and struggled to breathe normally, but every particle of her was aware of him and the way he moved about the room, dousing all the torches until one faint tallow light remained. He settled down on the stool, staring at the flickering light.
‘Easier to sleep if you relax,’ he said when she eased her legs straight. ‘You are safe here. No one is going to mock you. No one is going to harm you while I keep watch.’
Svanna propped herself up on her elbows. ‘Sleep brings uneasy dreams.’
The bed sagged slightly when he sat down. He blew out the final light. The soft thump of clothes hitting the rush-covered floor resounded in her ears. She turned her head and vaguely made out that he’d undressed. One fur now covered him while he lay on top of the other furs. ‘A compromise.’
‘Is that what you call it?’
He lay back and closed his eyes. ‘In truth, I find the last few days have been much more tiring than I had anticipated.’
He turned his back to her.
In the darkness she listened to his breath, which slowly but surely became more rhythmic. Her eyes grew heavy, and she realised that he was correct—the last few days had been exhausting. In the morning, this unsettledness would go. She’d return to being the dependable person she’d been for the last few years, instead of this one who was willing to challenge warriors or who wanted to be loved for herself instead of tolerated for what she brought to a marriage. She hated that the thought made her unaccountably depressed.
Chapter Eight
Svanna struggled to waking, uncertain of where she was, but a heaviness pressed on her limbs.
Her dreams were filled with running away from Turgeis in the herb garden and frantically trying to find somewhere to hide. She kept searching for Tippi to save her, but there was no answer. Eventually she discovered a safe place, a haven where she knew she would be safe.
She fumbled about for a few heartbeats, trying to get her bearings, frightened suddenly that she was back in Agthir before Maer’s return, and everything was about to crash down about her ears with Turgeis trapping her again. She gave a little cry of distress and thrashed about with her arms, beating with her fists.
‘Rest now,’ a voice murmured in her ear and the fear vanished from her. ‘All is well. It remains far too early in the morning to emerge. Nothing happens without your consent.’
A heavy arm came across her and pulled her back against him. She knew she should make a token protest, but the feeling of being truly safe swamped her senses and she drifted off to sleep again.
She next woke with a start to the grey dimness of early morning. One hand was tangled in his hair, while the other one was splayed over his naked chest. Somehow, during the night, their bodies had become intertwined with the furs. Rather than having several furs between them, as had been the case when she’d drifted off, now the only thing separating her body from his naked one was her under-gown, a garment which was now rucked up about her hips.
The truth hit her—rather than maintaining her distance as she’d thought she would, when caught in her world of dreams she’d decided that snuggling close was the best option. His arms had been the ones she’d sought during her bad dream. She stared at the dark shapes of the tapestries on the walls and tried to make a memory to store away, but she also knew it was not what they had agreed. How hollow her declaration of having only a platonic marriage sounded now.
He remained still and seemingly unaware that her movements had entangled their limbs. Perhaps the Norns had listened to her prayers after all.
She might exit this embrace without him ever being aware of the intimacy they had shared. The thought caused a small bubble of hope to rise within her. Perhaps everything was not as dire as she’d first assumed.
She started to ease away, removing her hand from his warm chest, but he captured it.
‘I was enjoying that.’
‘What do you mean?’ She was aware of how high-pitched her voice had become. She swallowed hard and tried again. ‘Dawn is breaking. Jobs must be attended to. You mentioned to Lord Sigmund that sailing back to Eire as soon as possible was desirable.’
‘Stay,’ he whispered next to her ear. His breath fanned her earlobe, making a warm curl start in her nether regions. ‘Like this. There is no need to stir. Yet. Rest awhile longer.’
‘Stay?’ Her voice was definitely at the top of her squeak range and hysterical laughter was about to explode, but she didn’t want to move. She wanted the warm curl thrumming inside to grow into an inferno. ‘I’m not sure that is wise. I didn’t mean to and can only apologise. We had an agreement.’
His breath traced her jawline and the need to go vanished, driven out by the insistent warm languor. ‘Apologise? For what?’
‘For disturbing your sleep.’
He smoothed a tendril of hair from her forehead. ‘I can’t remember when I last rested this easy.’
‘Blame it on Sigmund’s mead.’
His finger playfully stroked her nose. ‘Most of that ended up on the rushes when people were distracted.’
She jerked back. ‘You poured it out? Lord Sigmund takes great pride in the mead he serves.’
