Eahlswith could have kicked herself. To think she’d actually slipped out of Cwenthryth’s hut in the middle of the night to go find Sven in bed in spite of her best judgment… And while she’d been tossing and turning, battling her conscience, wondering whether she could allow herself to see what could become of her feelings for this man, he’d been bedding another woman. It was so pathetically predictable that she wanted to scream. What an utter, utter fool she’d been.
There was nothing else to do but leave.
Sven’s voice sliced through the predawn gray light. “Alva, wait!”
Wait? Was he serious? Did he really think she would want to listen to him now, when another woman’s scent was still on him? She didn’t start running, turn her head or slow down. She didn’t indicate that she had heard him in any way. Let him come after her naked if he dared, she would not even dignify him with an answer.
There was a frightful curse in Norse and Eahlswith thought for a moment that she had won, and he’d given up. This victory, if victory it was, left her hollow.
A moment later, however, she understood that he had not given up. He’d only taken the time to cover himself before setting after her like a wolf after his prey. Before she could pick up her pace, a hand closed around her elbow, stopping her retreat.
“Don’t touch me!” she snarled. She, too, could bear a resemblance to a wild animal if need be.
Sven let go of her instantly, his attitude unusually earnest. “Alva, please?—”
“I told you not to use this name!” Not now, not when she was already fighting tears. She didn’t want to be reminded that he was the only person other than Edwin who had given her a special name.
Seeing that there would be no escaping him, she turned to face him.
Dear Heavens, despite the freezing weather, he was bare-chested, bare-legged and barefoot. The only piece of clothing he was wearing, if one could call it that, was a piece of fur wrapped around his loins. It was a sight to behold, one of pure decadence and savagery, utterly dangerous, an attack on her womanly senses and a challenge to her reason.
Under her cloak, she shivered. His bare feet were half buried in the powdery snow and his hair was already crowned with tiny snowflakes. Forget Heimdallr, at the moment he was the very image of the god of the cold and darkness. Höðr, was it? Right now she struggled to remember.
“So, who is she?” she asked, lifting her chin. His beauty would not be allowed to sway her in any way. She was angry, she reminded herself, she had every reason to be. Instead of ogling him, she should make him feel guilty for hurting her.
To her relief he didn’t even pretend he had no idea who she was talking about. “Her name is Freydis. But I swear I had no idea she was in my bed. I was sleeping and I woke?—”
“No idea? You were naked!” He still was, more or less.
“I always sleep naked. You of all people should know that.”
She did know that. But she had forgotten. In any case, that was not the issue right now. “I heard you tell her that you would go to see her tomorrow,” she accused. Surely he wouldn’t deny that?
“I do want to see her.” Once again he did not even try to lie. “Because I want to talk about what she did, make her understand that I’m not available anymore. She thought I might be, which is why she came to me. But she needs to be told in no uncertain terms that I’m not and I didn’t want to do that while I was naked and angry at her presumption.”
Her heart missed a beat. There was such earnestness in his voice that she could not help wanting to believe him. Despite herself, she was impressed by his attitude. He was not trying to pretend she had misread the situation or minimize what had happened. He was even doing his best not to place any blame on Freydis. What if it really had been a misunderstanding?
“Did you?—”
“Eahlswith. I’m sorry but could we please do this inside?” He glanced at his feet. No doubt his toes would have lost all feeling by now. “I promise I will answer all the questions you have but, to be perfectly honest, I can’t feel my feet. Or my fingers. Or my…nose.”
She blushed. He’d said nose but he’d meant cock, she was sure of it. Oddly his effort at politeness caused something in her chest to melt.
Would it serve any purpose to let him freeze to death? No. She wouldn’t even derive any satisfaction from it. Besides, she wanted answers because she was starting to suspect she mighthave jumped to conclusions and this was not as bad she had first thought.
“Let’s go back in,” she said, nodding toward the hut.
Relief seemed to sweep over Sven, as much because she’d accepted to listen to him as at the prospect of going back to the warm interior. “Thank you.”
Eahlswith led the way, not sure she wanted to look at him just yet.
Once he’d closed the door behind them, Sven put on his shirt, braies and boots faster than anyone she had ever seen. Then he threw two medium-sized logs into the fire and crouched down to warm his hands over the flames.
Refusing to feel guilty for causing him discomfort, Eahlswith waited. Eventually, he spoke.
“The woman you saw is Freydis, as I told you. She was born in the village, like me. We dallied a few months ago.”
A few. What did he mean by that? Eahlswith’s heart skipped a beat. Four or five?
