‘I am surprised you have any.’ He had meant it as a compliment. But her face fell and he sensed he had offended her. Although, why any woman wouldwantto be proud, he could not imagine, as it was a trait he despised. Still, he felt bad for hurting her feelings. He always seemed to say and do the wrong thing; it was why he was better left alone.
‘My clothes are probably dry now,’ she said, looking away from him at the fire.
Leaning forward, he checked her clothes. ‘They feel dry.’ He gathered them up and placed them in front of her.
‘Thank you,’ she said, but she did not pick them up, and only watched him expectantly.
It took him a moment to understand what she wanted, and hot discomfort raced down his spine. ‘I will cover my eyes, but I am not leaving... Have you heard the wind?’
‘Then cover them!’ she snapped, and his hand flew to his face obediently. No one had ever made him move so quickly before. This woman seemed to have an invisible hold on him. He would have smacked a man for talking to him so rudely.
‘I have!’ he growled back, although he felt like an idiot for not understanding her sooner.
In a way it would have been kinder for him to see what was happening. As it was, listening to her dress was a tender kind of torture. Blocking one of his senses only left his mind free to fill with sensual images and fantasies more elaborate than what was probably happening beyond his palm.
The soft ripple of furs as she stood, the sweet thud as she dropped the bedding to the ground. Would she stretch those curves? Arch her back like a cat? He heard the sensual rasp of linen on skin as she pulled on her shift. Followed by the soft crunch of woollens as she put on her apron dress and cloak. The sharp click of bronze brooches and the rattle of beads as she fixed her clothing in place, and then the light thud of her bottom as she returned to a sitting position.
He was rock-hard in only a matter of moments, and must have let out an exasperated breath because she said irritably, ‘You can look now. I only have my socks and leg wraps left to put on.’
He should have kept his eyes covered, because the sight in front of him was too tempting to ignore. Her hair was fully out of her braid now, and there was a slight curl to her pale locks that made him want to wrap a handful around his fingers and tug them lightly. Her body was deliciously curved, full hips and breasts that would spill over his hands if he tried to cup them.
She had one leg bent as she pulled on a sock, the lamb’s wool gliding over curved flesh to be tied just below her knee with a red ribbon. Her thighs were covered withbraies, a sensible undergarment considering the season. But one calf and foot were still bare, and he drank in the image like a man dying of thirst.
That small glimpse of naked skin would be enough to fill every night to come with pleasant dreams. He stifled a miserable sigh when she pulled on her remaining sock and began to tie her leg wraps over them, winding the woollen strips over and over to keep her warm through the night.
How he wished she would let him warm her through the night.
But he had been reckless once before, and it had caused him a lot of heartache and loss. He would not act rashly tonight.
None of that seemed to matter to his body right now, and he became entangled in a web of lustful thoughts.
What would she do if he tried to touch her? Kiss her? Make love to her?
Would she push him away or welcome him into her warm embrace? Would she bend towards him like a bow, and whisper his name with whining pants? Would their lovemaking be slow and tender, or wild and fast? Either way he did not mind—as long as it was with her.
He ached to know the answers, but even he, who avoided society and its pointless rules, knew that such a thing would shock her. Possibly offend and frighten her too. He would need to tread carefully.
Except he could not think straight with her body so close, and how did Gudvangen men court their women anyway? He had been too young to care about such things when he had visited as a child, and when he was older, he’d been too rash to think to ask.
He wished he knew the answers now.
The fire was too hot, the air too tight in his lungs, and when she fidgeted in her seat and accidentally brushed against him, he felt as if he would lose his mind. It reminded him of the panic he sometimes felt in large, suffocating groups, except his instinct now was to grab hold of her and kiss her.
‘I need to go outside,’ he said in a strangled voice.
‘But it is snowing so badly.’
‘I will be fine.’ Then because she looked worried, he added reassuringly, ‘I won’t be long. Sten, guard her!’ he commanded and pointed at Embla.
The dog gave a light snort of acknowledgement and then rested his head on his paws as if to sleep. Sten was probably grumpy because he had not had a proper meal, but Runar knew he would still obey him.
He only wished he could appear as relaxed. His body felt as if it were burning up with a fever. He wanted nothing more than to tear off his last remaining clothes, wrap Embla’s limbs around him, and allow himself the pleasure of drowning in her soft heat.
Instead, he would cool down outside and remind himself that he was not a beast, no matter what the people of Gudvangen called him.
Chapter Three
Embla watched her strange companion run from the cave as if he were charging into battle. Except all his weapons and thick coverings remained abandoned on the ground.
