Gertrud feared him and his wild ways, and insisted all the children stay in her chamber whenever he was near. So that was where Embla had stayed on the rare occasions he came to sell his goods, and it was also why she had never met him personally.
She had only arrived in Gudvangen when the Jarl had needed a midwife. Gertrud had insisted on either Embla or her mother delivering the child, wanting a familiar face from her old home at the birth. And then... Embla had somehow stayed...fortenyears.
It was another example of her weakness. She could never say no to anyone who asked for help.
She shuffled forward, fumbling to remove her mittens so that she could light the fire. The tinder was dry and well packed, and it bloomed with flame in only a single strike of the flint. Embla gave a happy cry of delight, and then reached for the cauldron.
Perhaps, it wasn’t the hunter’s meal after all, but the gods who favoured her? She had helped many people in Gudvangen over the years. Could it be Frigg, the goddess of childbirth, reaching out to protect one of her loyal followers?
Whoever had left this bounty didn’t matter. Embla would accept it gladly, and face the consequences later.
Chapter Two
There was a woman asleep in his furs!
Runar was so stunned by the sight that he stared at her for a long time, wondering if he had imagined her. Hewanteda woman; that was true. Regularly he daydreamed about having a family of his own, but no one in his mother’s tribe had ever appealed to him, and Gudvangen...had been a disaster.
But there was a woman here now, dropped in his bed as if she were a gift, and this onedefinitelyappealed to him.
She was pretty and curvaceous, with messy blond hair that was barely held by the braid down her back. Her face was pale, with splashes of pink on her cheeks and lips. She looked soft and warm, the very opposite of his daily life out in the wild. She had used every one of his blankets and furs, even the ones he normally used to block the wind and create a shelter with. All were wrapped around her tightly, as if she were used to gentler treatment and afraid to catch a chill.
What was she doing here?
He wanted to demand an answer, but when he opened his mouth to speak, only a dry rasp came out. Hot embarrassment flushed his face, and he felt even more ridiculous when he realised he was blushing in front of a sleeping woman completely unaware of his presence.
Taking off his fur hat, thick cloak, and mittens, he dropped them down in a pile at his feet. Then he whistled for Sten, who came bounding into the cave at his master’s command. The hound stopped short when he saw the woman lying by the fire, and tilted his head towards Runar as if in question.
He shrugged. ‘I have no idea who she is...but I do not think we should eat her.’
The woman jumped with fright at the sound of his voice, and gave a loud shriek of terror that caused Sten to bark with distress and run around the cave, hunting for danger. The stupid dog was trying to protect them from a non-existent predator.
He gave another sharp whistle and Sten returned, giving his hand an apologetic lick as he did so. The woman stared at him with wide eyes and clutched the bedding closer to her chest. Her shoulders were bare, and looked as pale as milk in the firelight. He followed her gaze as she glanced at some nearby boulders and he realised she had taken her clothes off to dry.
A wise decision if she had got them wet, but the knowledge she was naked beneath made him uncomfortably aware of his own desires. The campfire was beginning to dim, the logs he had left crumbling to ash, and he turned and picked up a log from the woodpile at the side of the cave. In the summer, he always cut down a tree and stacked the firewood for this very purpose.
‘Who are you?’ he asked, glad that his voice sounded almost normal.
How long had it been since he had spoken to another person?
He had last spoken with his mother’ssiidain the autumn, when the tribe had arrived as they usually did to live by the frozen lake for the winter. He had gathered their items for sale, and then left for his annual trip to Gudvangen. After trading he had met with his mother once more, but that had been months ago, before the arrival of the heavy snow.
‘Embla,’ the lady whispered, her voice soft and as gentle as a summer breeze.
A memory surfaced of his father telling him about the Norse religion. As with most things, it had seemed like a foreign land to him at the time, and he had been wary to learn anything that might separate him from his mother in the future.
Oddly he remembered that the Norse believed the first woman was called Embla. The name suited her, because she was perfect, as pure and dazzling as freshly fallen snow.
Now he knew her name, he was certain that he wanted her.
She swallowed deeply, her blue eyes wide with fear. ‘I got...lost.’
‘You did?’ He eased down into a crouching position, hoping he would appear less intimidating that way. He knew he was larger than most men, and might seem threatening to her, even though that was not his intention.
She nodded and then shivered. ‘Is this your home?’
He smiled at that. ‘You think I live in a cave?’ Strangely, his playful teasing didn’t seem to reassure her, and she took another deep gulp of air.
‘Do you?’ Her question was light, but also slightly troubled.
