Eahlswith stayed where she was, stunned into silence. The place between her legs, the “sweet spot begging for his caresses” had gone liquid. Or swollen. Or hot. She didn’t know which. Probably a combination of the three. And her mind was now the consistency of a puddle of melted snow.
“Are you still cold?” he asked, sounding just as affected as she was. Respectful of her wishes, he had not made a single move to take her into his arms, even if she could see from the look in his eyes and the bulge at the front of his braies that he was desperate to do what he’d just described.
“No, I’m not cold,” she rasped, averting her gaze. “But I’m hungry. Let’s make dinner.”
Sven nodded his agreement slowly. It was better they stopped talking about what he wanted to do while his cock was still pulsing and his control was hanging by a thread. What had possessed him to tell Eahlswith what he wanted to do? He should have known it would only send him into a flurry of need.
Yes. Better to start cooking.
Before she could stand up he stopped her with a raised hand.
“Have you got another pair of stockings?” Her shoes were soaked, so she couldn’t put them back on, but the floor would be cold on her bare feet. He couldn’t allow it.
“No.”
He’d suspected as much. Without a word, Sven sat on the stool and removed his own boots and socks. “Here, you can wear these until we go to bed,” he said, handing her his woolen socks. They would be enormous on her but it was better than nothing.
“Thank you,” she said, keeping her gaze averted.
While she put them on, he turned to the table and concentrated on breathing. How was he going to survive another evening without touching her? It would be bad enough until they went to bed but as soon as she lay down next to him he would be overcome by the need to plunge inside her soft heat. How would he control himself?
Eventually she joined him, looking rather flushed. He resisted looking at her feet, even if they were covered with her skirt. The idea that she was wearing something of his was very pleasing, intimate.
“Do you still have your nuts and dried meat?” she asked, finally looking at him.
“Yes.”
“We can perhaps start with those while I make the soup.”
He nodded, and extracted the small basket from his saddlebag. “Here. Help yourself. What can I do to help?” heasked, when she reached for the half cabbage lying in the middle of the table.
“Carpenter, washerwoman and now cook?” Her eyes glimmered at the pleasure of the jest they shared.
“You haven’t seen the extent of my skills,” he couldn’t help but reply. As he could have predicted, his cock lengthened at the comment. Damnation, what was wrong with him? He’d only just about managed to coax it down.
“You can start by chopping this cabbage into strips while I go get the rest of the salted pork from the storeroom.”
“How thin do you want the strips?”
She tilted her head, as if considering. It amused him to see her taking the question so seriously. “As thin as possible. Then we will see how talented you really are.”
If she thought she could issue a challenge and not see him rise to it, she could think again. Having something to concentrate on would help keep his desire in check. Once the cabbage had been reduced to strips barely thicker than horse hair, he watched Eahlswith assemble everything together in a big iron pot. She had such assured gestures that he could have watched her cook all day. She clearly was a talented cook because it took her no time to prepare another hearty soup flavored with the fat from the pork and the surprising addition of thick cream. A good idea he would replicate at home.
“That was delicious, thank you. Do you want a piece of cheese to finish?” he asked, reaching into his bag for the cheese he’d bought after leaving Osbert’s house.
“You bought food for us. That is conclusive proof that you intended to spend another night under my roof,” she said, shaking her head. “Not that I doubted it.”
“No. You remind me of my sister, you know,” he said, as he chewed the cheese.
Her surprise at the comment was evident. Nevertheless she tried to hide her pleasure with an offhand response. “Oh? You try everything you can to fuck your sister then?”
Sven almost choked on his mouthful of cheese, so shocked was he by her use of the crude word. Really, the woman was fearless. And yet… In the firelight he couldn’t be sure but he thought she’d gone the color of a newly unfurled wild dog rose. That was intriguing. She had just asked him the most provocative question she could have asked, she had behaved with complete abandon in his bed and yet she was capable of blushing like a young maiden. Which made her look lovelier than ever.
Was it any wonder he was so enthralled? No.
“This is what I mean. Eyja is bold as you please. A veritable imp.” He had often wondered how his friend Moon could have married such a spirited woman, who was bound to turn his life inside out, but now he thought he had a fair idea. When the woman in question was not a younger sister he’d spent all his life with, he could see the appeal. Turning something inside out was not always bad, as it often offered a new perspective. It was not until you looked inside a shell that you saw the marvellous colors swirling about in its depths.
“Do you have many brothers and sisters?” Eahlswith asked, cutting herself a slice of cheese. He could tell she was regretting her rash question and was trying to steer the conversation away from the type of women he liked to fuck.
