“Can you tell me just what you think you’re doing?” she whispered, though she was sure Osbert would not be able to hear. He had fallen asleep as fast as usual.
Sven looked at the pieces of wood in his hand and the hammer at his belt. “I’m about to nail these two planks next to the ones I already?—”
“Not that! You know very well what I mean.”
He tilted his head and she could see that he was fighting a smile. “No, I don’t know what you mean. I would have thought it obvious I was repairing the roof, yet you seem confused.”
“I’m not…confused!” she hissed. How could he play with her thus? “I know you’re repairing the roof. Butwhyyou are doing it, when you don’t even know Osbert and he hasn’t asked you to do anything, is what I don’t understand. And why are you pretending you cannot speak our language?”
He sighed and placed the planks back down on the table. “Alva. I’m repairing this roof because it needs to be repaired and no one else is doing it. I may not know Osbert, but you do, and you care about him.” The expression on his face was one she had never seen before. One she would not have thought possible to see on a man such as him. He was no longer teasing her. He seemed…dejected, as if he’d hoped better from her. “As to me not speaking your language, I thought it the best way to avoid a conversation in which you both tried to dissuade me and convince me it was not my responsibility to see to the roof.”
“But it’s not your responsibility to do that,” she said feebly, utterly undone by his generosity. She didn’t know much about the Norseman, true, but what little she did know, pointed to a good man. Damnation, this wouldn’t help keep her fascination for him at bay, quite the contrary.
“It might not be my responsibility, but it’s my pleasure.” He shrugged. “Cwenthryth told me you were looking for someone to see to the roof because you cannot do it yourself. Well,Ican. Why would I not want to help a poor old man you care about stay warm and safe for the winter when it costs me nothing? What else was I going to do today? Feed the pig? Gather wood for the fire? I already did that before leaving.”
Put like that, it sounded very reasonable. “But we have nothing to give you in ex?—”
“I want nothing. Except perhaps…”
Eahlswith’s breath caught in her throat when Sven arched a brow. Was he really about to ask what she thought he was going to ask? How would it make her feel to know she had paid for his help with her body? How would Osbert react if he ever heard that she had sold her favors in exchange for his well-being? He would be horrified at best, shun her at worst. It would be unbearable.
Before panic overwhelmed her, Sven finished his sentence.
“A smile?”
All the tension left Eahlswith’s body at the two words. Was that all he wanted? He wasn’t about to blackmail her into surrendering. She was so relieved the smile he was after instantly bloomed on her lips. “I can do a smile,” she murmured.
“Good,” he said, smiling right back. “I prefer it that way. You’ve done nothing but scowl at me since I arrived.”
Had she? She hadn’t been aware she was doing it. “I’m sorry. I was surprised, that’s all.”
“Fret not, I could tell you were.” He glanced at her feet, and his smile disappeared. “How is your foot by the way? I meant to ask you.”
“It’s fine. I told you, it was never a serious injury.”
He nodded. They both knew he should go back to his task and she should finish what she was doing but neither seemed willing to move and put an end to the conversation.
“Can the old man see?” Sven surprised her by asking next.
“Not well at all. Neither can he hear as well as he used to.” It was sad to see him reduced to a shadow of what he had been a mere five years ago. No doubt grief was contributing to his decline.
“You’re truly fond of him, are you not?”
“Yes. He’s like a father to me.” He had almost been her father-in-law, so it was no wonder.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Sven said, picking up the two planks again, “I’d like to make sure the hole is covered before nightfall, in case it starts snowing. I don’t trust that heavy sky.”
Yes, that was the whole point of his intervention, what she had told Cwenthryth she needed to do, so why was she questioning him instead of letting him work?
Once Sven had exited the door, Eahlswith turned her attention back to the onions waiting for her on the table. She was certain their smell was not responsible for the tears stinging hereyes when she started to chop, but something altogether more worrying.
A moment later, Osbert awoke.
“What is that wonderful smell?”
“I’ve started to cook soup for tonight,” Eahlswith answered, stirring the pot. “It’s leek, your favorite.”
“Perfect.”
